Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Deathtroopers in black ran every which way, but Luke hardly noticed them. He struggled with his father’s arm draped over his shoulder, that black suit weighing them both down. Darth Vader, the most feared monster in the galaxy, inscrutable and menacing behind the mask, was just a man. To Luke he was so much more than a villain with breathing problems, but not even the Emperor had truly understood that.

Finally Vader’s artificial knee gave way and he sank to the floor, dragging Luke down with him. Luke let out an involuntary moan. People continued to run. Oh, right. They needed to evacuate the ship.

Luke carefully extracted himself from his father’s quite literally iron grip and scrambled to his feet, trying to shut out the ambient panic in the Force as he dragged his father by the arms onto the gangplank of the escape pod. Do or do not, there is no try. Luke thought of that cave on Dagobah where he faced his own fearful conjuring of the mighty Sith lord. Said Sith lord was in fact merely his own severely disabled father. Everyone had been wrong, not least Vader himself.

The suit made Vader too heavy to drag. The front panel of Luke’s shirt had come unhooked, allowing the white lining to peek through as the fabric panel flopped down. Luke could feel the sweat trickling down his face, into his eyes. It burned more than tears would have. He continued to struggle with his father’s heavy form, only succeeding in getting him to sit up.

“Luke,” Vader began in that terrifying baritone. “Help me take this mask off.”

“But you’ll die.” Luke felt a spike of worry in his heart. Much of the galaxy would welcome the prospect of a dead Vader, but Luke no longer saw a monster. Here was the father he had never known, the man he had longed to meet properly, to understand. If he died, that chance to love and forgive would be gone forever.

“Nothing can stop that now. Just for once, let me look on you with my own eyes.” Vader’s breath was ragged, even through the vocoder.

Blaster fire continued in the distance as Luke nodded and removed the outermost helmet with a hiss. There was still a black plasteel unit that completely covered his father’s head. Luke frowned in concentration as he unclasped it at the bottom and gently lifted it off. There was a creepy crinkling noise as Luke peeled it away, revealing the palest face he had ever seen.

There was a still-red gash—no, a scar—on Anakin Skywalker’s bald head and his blue eyes were red-rimmed and watery. Luke gazed into the eyes for a long moment. Frankly he was not sure what he had expected, but the eyes were still a surprise. These were the same blue eyes that Luke saw in the mirror, only much sadder.

“Now, go, my son.” Vader spoke with great effort, his real voice much softer than the harsh snarl of the vocoder. “Leave me.”

“No. You’re coming with me. I’ll not leave you here, I’ve got to save you.”

“You already have, Luke. You were right, you were right about me. Tell your sister you were right.” Vader closed his eyes. The skin of his eyelids looked purple and flaky as pain registered on his face.

“Father.” Luke addressed him. “I won’t leave you.”

Vader began to sink back down, gasping softly. Luke shook his head, focusing on his own cybernetic hand stroking his father’s body. He bowed his head. That was when he heard a faint voice in his mind. “Use the Force, Luke.” He would know that voice anywhere. Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Luke placed his flesh hand on his father’s forehead and drew on the Force, the way the two ghosts had taught him, entering a healing trance. Vader sputtered and revived just enough to drag onto the ship.

Once on the ship, safely in hyperspace, Luke returned to his father’s side for another intense burst of Force-healing. If he expended too much energy on each bout Luke himself would become an invalid, so he would have to pace himself. Besides, he had never tried Force-healing before. He knew that this was not his strong suit as a Jedi, but he needed it to work. Leia had never truly met their father, at least, not as such. Luke channeled his love and hope, confident that these emotions were of the Light.

Leia felt a strange disquiet as she watched her brother’s ship land on Endor. There was another presence on that ship, one at once familiar and qualitatively different. She had not known that she was Force-sensitive until recently, but she had many years of sensing people. It was a vital skill as a spy senator, after all. She frowned as she concentrated on the other presence.

When the gangplank came down and Luke appeared, she gasped. There was a person floating behind him, black cape dangling down, flapping in the breeze. She would know that figure anywhere. Darth Vader. What was Luke thinking?

“Hey, I need a medical team. Father needs emergency care.” Luke called to the crowd of rebels who had come to meet him as he floated his father out of the ship, holding him steady until a stretcher could be brought. Once he was satisfied that his father was taken care of, he descended the gangplank and joined his sister.

“Luke? What are you thinking? I hope you know what you’re doing.” Leia crossed her arms and stood straight, looking imposing for someone of her stature. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t go around telling people that my father is Darth Vader.”

“It’s all right. He’s all right. He’s on our side now. Well, at least, he’s on my side. He’ll love you, too. He knows I have a sister but he doesn’t know that’s you. He killed the Emperor, Leia. I think he deserves another chance.”

Leia shook her head and said nothing. That monster could not possibly be her father, not in a way that mattered. No, he had been complicit in the death of her real father, Bail Organa. It was hard to imagine the rest of the rebels accepting Darth Vader, not unless everyone was convinced that he had truly had a change of heart and had something useful to contribute. Resources were scarce enough as it was.

“Does this mean the Empire is going to collapse on its own? I don’t think so. We have work to do, Luke.”

Later, when Luke had a free moment, he slipped into their makeshift medical facility to check up on his father. He had an oxygen mask strapped to his face and he seemed to be either asleep or unconscious. Luke gently picked up one of the cybernetic hands in his own artificial hand. They had a long way to go, but at least now they had a chance to be a family.

When Luke emerged from the medical center, Han was waiting for him. “Hey, kid, I’m glad you survived. Leia told me about our new POW.”

Luke smiled sadly and shook his head. “She’s decided to frame it like that, huh? Darth Vader—Anakin Skywalker—is my father. Of course I brought him home. We defeated the Emperor together, my father and I.”

“You mean he just up and quit being evil?” Han was smirking now. From his tone it was clear that he did not believe that Darth Vader, evil Sith lord, war criminal, mass murderer, that Darth Vader, could one day just randomly decide to be Luke’s cuddly, harmless old dad.

“Yeah. He’s not really evil. I saw it in his eyes. I was right, there still was good in him. I love him, Han. He’s still my father.”

“I hope you’re right.” Han shook his head. Then he caught sight of Leia out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, Leia.”

Leia joined them, which meant a round of hugs for all. Han smiled at Leia sadly. “You love him, don’t you?”

“You mean Luke? Yes, yes I do.” Leia smiled in fondness.

Han’s facial muscles twitched in an attempt to shift his sadness into a smile. “All right. I understand. Fine. Now that we have him back alive, I won’t get in the way.”

Luke started chuckling. Leia flashed a mischievous grin once Han’s intent registered. “Oh, it’s not like that at all! He’s my brother.” Leia pulled Han closer to her and drew him into a kiss. Han continued to look shellshocked and confused for a moment before he gave himself over to the kiss. He would worry about the implications of this later. If Darth Vader was Luke’s father and Luke was Leia’s brother—oh well. That could wait. Tonight, they would celebrate.

In the evening the Ewoks joined them for a victory celebration, singing and dancing. Luke hugged his sister, then Han. Han would soon be his brother as well. Luke noticed that Han was picking up on Leia’s pensive mood. Luke gently reached out to Leia’s mind through the Force. She would need training, but he could see to that. As his twin sister Leia was nearly as strong in the Force as he was, after all.

Aha, it was just as he thought. Leia was still processing her shock and horror at realizing that Darth Vader was her father, and that Darth Vader was now living with them, on the rebel base. She would have to decide to what extent they could justify pouring resources into his medical care. He should probably be tried for his crimes, and not be given a free pass simply because his children were rebel leaders.

Leia clenched her fist. How could she forget Alderaan? That monster now in the medical center was responsible for that. Technically Tarkin was, but Vader had certainly not stopped him. And what of all his other crimes? She had seen him cut down Obi-Wan Kenobi. She had not known the old Jedi master in person for long, but she had grown up hearing stories. Her father had been friends with the man, after all. Besides, Master Kenobi had been an important figure in Luke’s life and training.

“Come on, Leia, it’s time to dance.” Han entwined his arm in hers and led her into the cleared space where the rebels, Ewoks, even the droids were dancing. She cast one last look at Luke and shifted her attention to Han.

Luke stood off to the side, smiling at the revelers. “Luke. Good job, Luke.” He heard a familiar voice calling his name. He turned around to face the transparent blue forms of three ghosts, all dressed in Jedi robes. Luke smiled at Old Ben and Master Yoda, then nodded at the third, unfamiliar figure.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Qui-Gon Jinn.” The tall human man with long hair and sad eyes introduced himself. “I was responsible for bringing Anakin into the Jedi Order and starting the chain of events that ended here. Anakin made his own decisions, of course, but I was always watching. You have enabled him to fulfill his true destiny as the Chosen One.”

Luke nodded again. “He’s my father. I love him.”

Master Yoda began to make a harrumphing noise, but was met with a glare from Old Ben. “We completely misunderstood the teachings on attachment. I need to apologize to you, Luke. I told you to kill your father, when you were listening to the Force much better than either of us. We acted out of fear. And I didn’t tell you the whole truth, again out of fear. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you, Ben.”

“There are still a handful of Jedi who survived, although each one is isolated. To complete your training, and to help you train your sister, you should seek them. Your father can help. May the Force be with you.” Qui-Gon smiled as the three ghosts faded away.

Leia slipped into the medical center late at night. She needed to see Vader for herself. Luke was a naïve farm boy. If he was being deceived, she would need to know so that she could protect her brother. Years in the Senate and as a spy and rebel princess had made Leia much less trusting.

Here he was. Even without the iconic black helmet and with all kinds of tubes and external gadgets attached to his compromised life-support suit, she had no trouble identifying the monster. She felt herself being drawn to his bedside. Seeing him prone, defenseless, helmetless would be cathartic for her.

She strode up to his bed and peered at his face, which she had never seen before. He barely looked human to her, with his pale skin, scarred bald head, scrofulated purple eyelids, and oxygen mask. He seemed oddly small without his helmet. If she disconnected his oxygen mask, if she shut off the rest of his life support, he would die. She could exact revenge for Alderaan, Tarkintown on Lothal, Obi-Wan Kenobi, for all the things he had done. It would be easy, not to mention cheaper than providing medical care, keeping him in custody, putting him on trial for his crimes, and then executing him anyway.

Leia noticed the lightsaber still clipped to the monster’s belt. She padded softly around the bed to the other side and gently unhooked the lightsaber. It felt right in her hands, as if it had been hers all along. She ignited the blade and basked in its crimson light. It would be so easy to drive it into Vader right now, to cut his head off, to slash through his skull vertically. The blade was singing, or was it screaming, in her hands when she felt another presence enter the medical center.

“Leia? What are you doing?” Luke drew his own green blade and rapidly closed the distance between the entrance and his father’s bed. The Force was swirling around his sister, angry, power-mad, bloodthirsty, mocking, red, Dark.

Leia seemed to snap out of her trance. Her sneer dropped and she turned off the lightsaber in a swift motion. She looked up at Luke, eyes wide in horror. “What am I doing?”

“You don’t know? You were about to stab Father.”

“HE IS NOT MY FATHER!” A voice not her own was screaming inside her head. Leia dropped the lightsaber, which clattered to the floor and rolled away.

“You’re right, he needs to be properly tried for his crimes. I—I don’t know what to make of this situation, Luke. I never thought I would see him like this. He tortured me before. I didn’t know he was my father, and I hope he didn’t realize that either at the time, but there was something about him, something strangely compelling. I grew up with a good father, Luke, Bail Organa. I still think of him as my real father. Vader is responsible for his death, along with all of Alderaan. I won’t be able to forgive that so easily.”

“I understand. I don’t expect you to, certainly not right away. But anger is bad for your soul, Leia. It’s corrosive. Fear, anger, and hate are what made Father turn into a monster. One evil wizard in the family is quite enough.”

Leia let out a short, bitter laugh. “You think I’m in danger of becoming like him? I didn’t grow up with him. He had no influence on my upbringing.”

“Leia, you need training. You’re Force-sensitive, too. You have a lot to be angry about, and the Dark Side is particularly tempting for untrained Force-sensitives. Father can help. He can help us find other Jedi survivors so that we can rebuild a new Jedi Order and continue to get better at using the Force.”

Leia put a hand on her forehead. “Let me think about this for a while. If you want to go find other Jedi teachers to join your new Order, I won’t stop you. You’re a knight, the Jedi are your people. But I’m a politician and military leader. The Rebellion needs me, especially in the next phase, as we transition into being a civilian government.”

“Fair enough. Think about it carefully, let the Force guide you. But first, I think you should go to bed. We’ve all had a long day.” Luke moved from his position across the bed from Leia and hugged his sister.

“You too, Luke. Don’t stay up too late.” Leia smiled at her brother and left the medical center.

Alone with his father, Luke took one of the man’s hands and closed his eyes, trying to reach his father’s mind through the Force for another healing session.

"Luke. That was your sister, was it not?”

Luke startled. That voice was in his head. He opened his eyes and stared at the seemingly unconscious form in front of him.

“You have succeeded in forming a Force bond with me. I had one with my Jedi master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and another with my padawan. Now I have one with you. You have usurped the remains of the bond I had with my Sith master. Now that he’s gone, everything feels different. I feel light-headed, woozy, like a bad hangover.”

Luke smiled. “Obi-Wan Kenobi was my master, too, until you killed him. Then I had Master Yoda, and now I have three ghosts guiding me. Welcome aboard, Father.”

Luke’s father pondered this for a moment. The death of the Emperor certainly hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt, like coming off of powerful drugs. Force, what had Anakin spent the past twenty-two years doing? The horror of it all began to sink in as the mangled remains of Darth Vader began to reintegrate themselves into a replica of Anakin Skywalker.

In the morning Han came into Leia’s makeshift office, ostensibly on business. “Yeah, one more thing. I’ve been thinking about your family tree. Darth Vader is your father, too, isn’t he? That’s pretty messed up.”

“I know. I’m not dealing with it very well. Luke seems to be totally smitten, which is weird and worrisome, but that monster is a murderous madman. I don’t really feel comfortable having him in our base. I wanted to pull the plug on him, but Luke won’t hear of it. I just hope Luke doesn’t get hurt.”

“I don’t exactly have pleasant memories of him, myself. On the other hand, I wasn’t very lucky in the parent department, either. Luke had an aunt and uncle who were at least decent.”

Leia nodded. “I think we need to try Vader for his crimes. If we let him get off scot free, we won’t have any moral legitimacy. The galaxy needs closure.”

“I agree. Well, see you around, your Worshipfulness. Don’t forget to eat lunch.”

“Thanks.” Leia smiled at the retreating form. “Oh, and Han? For the record, you’re still a scruffy-looking nerf-herder.”

He groaned and turned around. “Yeah. And now you’ve made me act half-witted, too. Pine for me in my absence.”

Chapter Text

Luke returned to his father’s bedside in the morning for another round of Force-healing. This was a bit of a misnomer, since what Luke was really doing was more maintaining his father’s condition so that it would not get worse. He was filling the gap between the care his father needed and the care they could give.

“Good morning, Father.” Luke smiled.

“Hello, Luke. How is your sister?”

“Still mad at you. You did torture her and blow up her homeworld.”

“Yes, I know. She has every right to be angry. But we need to be careful with that. Look what anger did to me.”

“About that. I think Leia needs training. I heard from my ghosts that you can help me find other surviving Jedi. Do you have a list or something from the years that you hunted them?”

“I did. But it’s not up-to-date. There is another way, though. I told you about my Force-bonds yesterday. Obi-Wan is dead now, although it sounds like you’re still in communication with his ghost. My other bond, aside from the one with you, was with my padawan. I never felt her die. I think she’s still out there, somewhere. If we can find her, she is our best bet. Ahsoka Tano. Leia probably knew her, if she was a rebel.”

“Thank you, Father. Do you know where she is?”

“The last time I saw her, we fought on Malachor. I left her for dead there.”

“Malachor. That’s a long way from here.”

“It’s also the site of an ancient Sith temple. If you go there looking for her, be careful.”

“Chancellor? May I speak with you a minute?” Leia stepped into Mon Mothma’s office. The new chancellor smiled warmly at the young princess.

“Yes, of course. Come in, dear.”

Leia slipped into the tent, closed the entrance flap behind her, and took a seat on one of those uncomfortable cheap folding chairs. “I’m sorry to bother you when there is so much work to do.”

“Not at all, dear. What’s on your mind? I know it’s important.”

“It’s Darth Vader. Luke brought him back with him, and now he’s in the field hospital. I think he needs to be tried for his crimes, although Luke says he’s defected to our side now. I’m not entirely unbiased in this matter, because Darth Vader is my father. Luke’s father, too. I fear our family ties will cloud my judgement.”

Mon Mothma looked up from her tea in surprise. “I knew your mother, Leia. Your birth mother. Padme Naberrie, who was professionally Senator Amidala of Naboo. I didn’t know for sure who your father was, but I always suspected it was the Jedi knight Anakin Skywalker. He was supposed to be dead. I suppose he was dead, in the sense that he was Darth Vader.”

Leia stared. “You knew the man he used to be. Luke claims that Vader is back to being the good man he was before, but Luke is also innocent and trusting. I don’t trust Vader and his supposed change of heart.”

“Many in the new Republic will share your opinion. If and when he shares intelligence, it will need to be cross-checked. We may be able to commute his sentence in exchange for cooperation, if we do try him and he is found guilty of war crimes.”

“And Luke wants to go off searching for other surviving Jedi. Can we really spare him, though?”

“Yes, I believe we can. It will be a while before Darth Vader is in good enough condition to stand trial.” Mon Mothma took another sip of tea.

“That’s another thing. We don’t have the resources to squander on medical care for criminals.” Leia was fiddling with her blaster handle now.

“Leia, you don’t remember the old Republic or the Jedi, but your mother would have wanted to believe in the good in him, would have wanted to give him a chance.”

“But she’s dead, has been dead for all of my life, so I can see that it didn’t work very well for her. And didn’t Vader kill her?”

“Perhaps. But don’t forget the values we’ve been fighting for, Leia.” Mon Mothma sighed. It was times like this that she really missed her old friends in the Senate. Padme, Riyo Chuchi, Bail Organa, Onaconda Farr, and even Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore, who was not officially part of the Republic Senate but still shared its better values and nobler instincts.

Leia bowed her head, acknowledging the point. “You’re right. We must not stoop to the level of the Empire. Thank you.”

Leia found Luke still in the field hospital, still holding his father’s hand. The supine figure did not look dangerous, but Leia still did not trust him. The Emperor himself had not looked physically dangerous, either.

“Luke?”

“Oh, hello there. Father has told me where he keeps all his classified information. He says the datachip was in the hilt of his lightsaber. The one you dropped yesterday. Where did it roll to?”

Leia frowned. “Now you tell me? I don’t want to handle that lightsaber again. It made me feel murderous and strange.”

“All right, I’ll look for it. Oh, and Father says any standard astromech droid can read the data. You can review it in the war room with the commanders.”

Luke let go of his father’s hand and dropped to his knees, searching for the lightsaber. He could not see it. Where did it go? It was not under the bed. He closed his eyes and tried to connect with the crystal inside the lightsaber.

“What are you doing, Luke?” He heard his father say over their bond.

“Leia dropped your lightsaber and I’m trying to feel for it in the Force.”

“Ah. I can help.”

Luke felt his father inside his mind, tuning into the crystal inside the lightsaber, calling to them. Sure enough, the crystal started to feel closer, louder. Luke held out his hand, his eyes still closed, and summoned the lightsaber to him. To his surprise, he soon felt a comfortable weight resting in his lightly-cupped palm.

“We found it, Leia.” Luke rose to his feet, smiling at his sister, the lightsaber held up triumphantly above his head.

“We?” Leia asked, one brow raised. She did not like the sound of that.

“Father and I have formed a Force-bond. I can talk to him inside our heads. He’s lucid, even though he can’t really talk out loud. I can communicate.”

Luke felt the hilt of the lightsaber for signs of the datachip. Aha. He pushed a second, smaller button below the ignition. The bottom of the hilt sprang open, revealing a secret compartment. There was the datachip. Luke handed it to his sister.

“Thanks, I’ll take this to the war room and find Artoo to read it.”

Alone again with his father, Luke tuned back into his mental bond. “Thanks, Father. This will help us end the fighting sooner.”

Anakin Skywalker smiled. His mouth was not visible, but his eyes were smiling. They were a little less red today. Luke realized that his father never slept or ate. No wonder he looked like that.

“Leia. That was the name I picked out first when I found out your mother was pregnant. I knew we were going to have a daughter. And she looks just like her mother. I didn’t feel you in the Force, though, during your mother’s pregnancy. I thought my daughter died when her mother did.”

“Leia is more charismatic, more intense than I am, so I’m not surprised she overshadowed me. She’s talking about trying you for your crimes, too.”

The invalid closed his eyes, unable to sigh. “Yes, that is only right. I can present a list of the crimes I remember committing. You’ll probably hate me when you find out all the terrible things I’ve done. I deserve to be hated.”

“Hey. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering, remember?” Luke was smirking, his lopsided grin very similar to the one his father used to sport back in the old days.

“You spent more than enough time with Master Yoda, I see. Speaking of which, I think Ahsoka is still on Malachor.”

The thought of that place gave Anakin the creeps now. As the steady stream of anger and hatred and fear that had been bombarded at him through his Sith training bond disappeared, replaced with waves of love and comfort from Luke, the Dark Side and its artefacts and temples suddenly felt cold and dangerous again, the way they had when Anakin was still a Jedi. The closest parallel to this experience, if Anakin were to describe it to a non-Force-sensitive, would be a particularly bad hangover or even withdrawal from an addictive substance.

In the war room, Mon Mothma, Han, Wedge Antilles, Admiral Ackbar, Chewbacca, and the rest of the Rebel Alliance leadership were watching with baited breath as Leia inserted the datachip into the reader slot on Artoo, and the data was projected for all to see. There were blueprints, battle plans, maps, deployment details for all Imperial troops and droids, lists of suspected traitors, Inquisitor report files, and all sorts of other sensitive information.

“Wow.” Han was the first to speak. “If all this is genuine—wow, just wow.”

Chewbacca roared his agreement with that assessment. “Qwhhh!”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. All these enemy positions could quickly change, especially now that the top leadership of the Imps is out of the picture.”

“Where did you get this information, Princess?” Admiral Ackbar asked.

“Our new POW, Darth Vader. He has expressed a willingness to cooperate, to give us intelligence. We will need to verify his leads, but he has shown no sign of resistance or hostility so far.”

“Can he speak? Can he make a public announcement, order the remaining Imps to surrender or something?” Wedge focused on the practical.

“Good point. As far as I can tell he is mostly nonverbal, which is not surprising given his oxygen mask, but he has been communicating telepathically with Luke. I know, I know, it’s some kind of Jedi thing.” Leia had noticed Han’s incredulous expression.

“What are we going to do with him?” Wedge frowned. “We’ve never had a prisoner who was this high-profile before.”

“We give him a fair chance. He wants to help us, and has apparently told Luke he’s willing to provide a list of his crimes for our consideration, even stand trial. If he is found to be trustworthy, we might pardon him for some of the crimes in exchange for his help.” Mon Mothma stood, pensive, gazing at the intel. “I remember the man he used to be, before the Empire. He was a good man originally.”

“But he has twenty years of being evil.” Admiral Ackbar pointed out. “Don’t you think he should at least be supervised?”

“Yes, you’re right about the need for supervision. We have Luke and Leia, and of course all of us. We need to make sure not to leave him alone, especially if he recovers enough to wander around. We should take turns, vary his minders, so that no one individual spends enough time with him to get corrupted, if that is his strategy.” Mon Mothma was thinking aloud, but her stately manner and measured tones made her remarks sound like a formal decision. Many of the rebels were nodding.

“Another item on our agenda is Luke’s request that he be allowed to go to Malachor to search for the former Jedi, Ahsoka Tano.” Leia spoke up. A murmur went through the room as veterans of the rebellion remembered one of the original Fulcrums fondly.

“She’s alive? She’s a legend. I’d love to meet her.” One of the younger rebels mused.

Leia was almost dismayed when it was agreed, almost unanimously, to send Luke to Malachor. Worse, a sizable minority wanted Leia to go as well. Han’s expression had clouded when that proposal was made.

In the hallway afterwards, Han cornered Leia. “I don’t want them to send you to Malachor. By all accounts it’s a dangerous place.”

“I don’t answer to you, Han. You don’t get to tell me where to go or what to do. If you remember, I rescued myself on the Death Star. I can manage. Luke should probably have me with him.” Han’s expression of concern came across just controlling enough to hook her rebellious streak. She was going, then.

After Leia stormed off, Chewie emerged from the shadows. “Yeah, you were right about how to get her to go. Lando owes me some credits now, since he bet that I couldn’t talk Leia into going. The Chancellor will be pleased, since it was originally her idea.” Han placed a hand on Chewie’s shoulder and smirked.

Leia found Luke in the field hospital. “Luke? I’m going with you to Malachor. We’re verifying the intel from the datachip now.”

Anakin Skywalker smiled. Malachor was not a nice place to arrive alone, especially if one was as trusting as Luke. He remembered another boy who had been too naïve on Malachor. His errors in judgement had led to his Jedi master being blinded. Better for Luke to have his sister with him. On the other hand, Leia had a great deal of Dark capability in her. Sending her alone to Malachor would be a disaster. The two needed each other for balance, like Kenobi and Skywalker back in the Clone Wars.

“Luke, I also have a holocron. It’s voice-activated, so it will only respond to my voice. Not my real voice, but my voice distorted through the vocoder. If you wear my helmet, you may be able to activate it. If it works, tell it to execute Order 199. That’s the unconditional surrender of all Imperial troops loyal to me. I added it to the protocols for when I inevitably challenged my Sith master and struggled to overthrow him. The restored Republic can benefit.”

Luke’s eyes went wide. “You can end the war with just one spoken command?” Leia gasped to hear her brother’s question.

“Yes. Maybe. Do you still have the helmet?”

Luke nodded. “Yes, we do still have your helmet and the vocoder. Do you really think I’ll sound enough like you?”

“Hey, what’s going on? I can only hear one side of this conversation, you know.” Leia crossed her arms.

Luke and his father exchanged glances. “I doubt you want to create a Force-bond with Father. If you create one with me, you’ll have some access to Father as well. How does that sound?”

Leia eyed father and son suspiciously. “Oh, all right. It’ll be easier to keep tabs on both of you that way.”

Luke smiled. “Here goes, then.” He closed his eyes and sharpened his focus, honing in on his sister’s Force-presence. “Leia.” He found her. “Open up your mind.”

Leia closed her eyes and took a breath. All of her life she had been so guarded, so private in her own mind, without even realizing that she was shielding herself in the Force. It took some effort to open that up.

“Luke. I can hear you.” This was weird. Leia had never spoken to anyone mind-to-mind before. She opened her eyes in bewilderment.

Anakin Skywalker was smiling. “Now, the holocron.”

“Where is it, Father?” Luke broadcasted the thought across two bonds at once. He had had no idea that he could do that. This was wizard.

“It’s embedded in a secret compartment inside the hollow of one of my cybernetic legs. Yes, I know. I don’t need pockets and luggage to carry things, when I have plenty of storage inside my suit.” The part of Darth Vader that was still Anakin Skywalker had seen to that. If he was to be more droid than man, at the very least he had wanted to modify his parts to add cool features and increase convenience.

Luke gently lifted the blanket he had placed over his father’s trunk and felt along the artificial legs. Aha, here was the tab for opening the secret compartment. Luke pressed the tab and the lid swung open. Inside the leg was a pyramid-shaped holocron that glowed red. It felt angry and hot in the Force, especially with Luke handling it. “I don’t think it likes me,” Luke observed.

Leia was staring at the object. “Can I see?”

Luke handed the Sith artefact to his sister. She turned it over in her hands. It felt neutral to her, like it approved of her. What did that mean?

“Hmm. Maybe Leia should be holding it when you impersonate me to voice-activate it. Or, you could activate it here, with the rebel leadership watching.” Anakin Skywalker tried to push down his unease about his daughter’s clear affinity with the Dark Side. She was not actively or consciously Dark, but she was definitely at risk. He could see the fire in her nature, which would make her a charismatic leader, a brilliantly bold and compassionate general, but also a sadistic and evil Sith lord if she Fell. Leia was so much like her father in temperament.

Leia put the holocron down, onto the bedside table. “I’ll go consult the Chancellor. She should be present when we activate the holocron.”

Anakin Skywalker suppressed a wince when his daughter mentioned the Chancellor. Of course, she was talking about the woman whom Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker had known as Senator Mothma, and not Sheev Palpatine, but the word still felt raw. All told, he had wasted more than thirty years listening to that monster, from the time he was nine until now. He was only forty-four now, but his body was so much older. The blanket Luke had pulled over him was not really necessary, certainly not over the shoddy cybernetics that had been inside that suit, but it was the thought that counted. It had been a long time since anyone had treated him as a human person instead of a terrifying monster.

Chapter Text

When Leia returned, she had not just Chancellor Mothma but several of the most important rebel leaders with her. Leia picked up the holocron, while Luke held the vocoder up to his mouth. Anakin Skywalker concentrated on the holocron, although it was not easy to concentrate on much of anything in his current condition. The top of the pyramid floated up, detached, and then the corners. He gave the signal to Luke to intone the command.

“Execute Order 199,” Luke drawled through the vocoder, doing his best impression of his father’s distorted rasp. He held his breath for a moment, afraid the holocron knew that he was an imposter.

And then it happened. A figure appeared of one of the Inquisitors, the one that Darth Vader had thought the most promising to train as his Sith apprentice before he had known about Luke. That was only a couple of years ago, but it felt like it had been centuries. Life could change beyond all recognition in just a short time.

“It shall be done, my lord.” The recorded figure bowed, then disappeared. This would kickstart the systems that would disseminate the order.

“What about publishing images of Lord Vader as he is now?” One of the rebels piped up. Concern flitted across Luke’s face. Making an example of him or showing him off like a Kowakian monkey-lizard was not in line with their values, surely.

“The galaxy should know that I have defected.” Anakin Skywalker told Luke over their bond, gazing at him expectantly.

“He says the galaxy needs to know about his defection.” Luke gulped. He had never imagined becoming his father’s mouthpiece.

Wedge entered the field hospital. “We just got some reports in that the intel we received on the datachip checks out. It’s genuine.”

A murmur went through the assembled rebels. A sizable minority had believed that any information provided by Darth Vader was not to be trusted.

“Luke? Take dictation on my official statement. The Rebellion should be able to release it, along with images of me without my helmet. I know I’m not pleasant to look at, but the people need to see that I am no longer Darth Vader.”

Luke nodded and began writing something while the rebel leaders watched, not entirely certain what was happening. Leia pulled out her datapad to capture an image of the former Sith lord, propping him up against the headboard of his bed, posing him with his helmet on his lap. When Luke finished taking down his father’s public statement, he handed his datapad to the Chancellor.

Mon Mothma read through the statement carefully, considering every word and the impact it would have on the galaxy. She blinked away tears as she handed it back to Luke, then smiled at the invalid. “Welcome back, Knight Anakin Skywalker. We missed you. I approve the release of this statement.”

If Luke and Leia were to go to Malachor, the rebels would need to put some more effort into Vader’s medical care, since they would not be able to rely on Luke’s Force-healing. Now that Vader was a valuable source of intelligence and had expressed willingness to stand trial, they could not simply let him die.

It was a long way to Malachor from Endor, especially with just two people. Luke sat in the cockpit most of the time, even though they were in hyperspace for most of the way. He kept his eyes open, watching the white light streaming by, as he tried to meditate in the way that Old Ben had taught him. No, do or do not, there is no try. He had to smile at the thought of the tiny green troll who had turned out to be one of the greatest and wisest Jedi ever to live. At least, that was his reputation.

Luke gently probed along his bond with his father, intending to check in with him to make sure he was all right. If something felt wrong, he could use the ship’s communication systems to alert Wedge or Han.

Oh no. Disquiet and concern was leaking across the bond. “Father, what’s wrong?”

“I know I pushed the Emperor down that reactor shaft. He ought to be dead. But I can feel him again, albeit faintly. Not quite him, but an imperfect copy. Oh. A clone. He had himself cloned. I should have known. There are still plenty of Imperial sympathizers; the war is not yet over. One of them may have initiated the process.”

“A clone. We couldn’t have known. If they’ve just started growing him, maybe it’s not too late.”

“Luke, I fought with clones in the Clone Wars. Each clone is an individual person. If this clone is removed from the conditioning and special upbringing, then he might turn out to be a decent person, unless there is some kind of chip in his head.”

Images of Order 66 flashed through Anakin Skywalker’s mind. The younglings looking up to him with hope in their eyes, the horror on their little faces when he drew his lightsaber and cut them down like summer grass on Naboo. He shuddered at the memory of his own actions and how it felt when thousands of Jedi Force signatures were extinguished. Never again.

“I’m also concerned about Leia. Don’t leave her alone on Malachor. You should be all right, but I worry about her. Her Force signature is naturally Darker than yours. She needs guidance and training.”

“Yes, Father.”

At that moment Leia came into the cockpit, stretching from having napped on an uncomfortable bunk. “You’re talking to him, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I was talking to Father. He says to be careful on Malachor, and that he thinks the Emperor has been cloned.”

Leia rested both hands on the back of her brother’s chair. After more than twenty years of Darth Vader trying to snuff her and the people dear to her out, now he was showing fatherly concern. How dare he. On the other hand, he did need to make it up to her and Luke somehow.

“How does he know about the clone?”

“He can feel his Force-bond with his master reviving slightly. He was going to supplant it with a bond with me, but now he can feel a distorted, still-weak version of the Emperor. This is serious.”

“If it’s true. We should definitely prepare for this possibility. My father—I guess that’s Senator Organa to you—told me about the Clone Wars. I asked why they didn’t clone a Jedi, maybe Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he said it doesn’t go very well when they try to clone Force-sensitives.”

“So we might be dealing with a defective copy of an evil Sith lord. Wow.” Luke fingered his lightsaber. The galaxy was still a dangerous place.

When they finally landed on Malachor, Luke looked around him and shuddered. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was in the darkness. The dark was not a clean, inky dark, but hazy and miasmic. He could barely make out the tall structure in front of him, all sharp triangles and broken pillars.

He tuned into the Force, looking for the Force signature of a living being. The Dark Side energies of this place were making him sick to his stomach, but a glance at Leia walking next to him showed that she was not affected.

“Can you feel anybody, Leia?”

His sister closed her eyes and concentrated. “I knew of the original Fulcrum, but I didn’t know she was Ahsoka Tano or that she had been Vader’s Jedi padawan. I’m not sure I’ll recognize her Force signature. I didn’t even know I was Force-sensitive at all until recently, remember?”

“Well, let’s get on with it, because this place gives me the creeps and it’s even affecting me physically.”

They continued walking into the interior of the structure, although now Leia was in the lead. The gate swung open for her and she strode confidently down the central nave of the temple, barely looking at the statues flanking the walkway. Her eyes were focused on a broken tower straight ahead.

They drew nearer and nearer to the tower, until they came to a stop in the open space in front of it. Luke saw old-looking lightsabers with a different hilt design from all of the lightsabers he had ever seen before. He closed his eyes and frowned. There was great pain, anger, and fear lingering in this place. Many battles had been fought here. One of those battles, of course, had been between his father and his former padawan, the very woman he sought.

“What are you doing here, Skyguy? Have you come back here from the past to change things again?” A hooded figure emerged from the shadows. The top of the hood dipped in the middle and she sounded like a sad woman who had experienced much heartbreak and suffering. “Or has this temple conjured you as my final torment?”

Luke bowed. “You must be Ahsoka Tano. I’m Luke Skywalker, and this is my sister Leia. Nice to meet you.” He could not see her face very well, but he could make out white markings cocked in disbelief. She could probably see his smile.

“Luke Skywalker? Anakin? Padme?” She was trying to make sense of her visitors.

“Anakin Skywalker is our father. He said we would find you here. I need your help to rebuild the Jedi Order. Father is helping, too, but he’s bedridden.”

“And how do I know this is not another Sith scheme to hunt down remaining rogue Jedi? I’m not part of the Rebellion.”

Leia perked up. “But you were. I grew up admiring you, Fulcrum. Now that we’ve almost won, please come back.”

Ahsoka came closer to get a better look at the two young people. She examined them through the Force, then noticed that Luke had a lightsaber. “What color is your lightsaber blade?”

Luke unclipped it and ignited the green blade. “Mine is green. I lost Father’s old blue one. I taught myself how to build a new one based on the manuals Old Ben—Obi-Wan Kenobi—left in his hut on Tatooine.” The way Luke said this did not come across as bragging, but as genuine wonder at the opportunities he had been given.

Ahsoka let down her hood. Her face was gaunt and looked even thinner thanks to the markings on her cheeks. She extended a hand to Luke. He offered his flesh hand without hesitation, then added his cybernetic hand for good measure.

“You are indeed Anakin’s son. I can feel the Light in you. You’re bright. You’re as powerful as your father but without any of the shadows in him, so that you feel like a more intense version of Master Obi-Wan. I trust you. And you said this was your sister. She does look like Padme. May I?”

Leia added her hands to the mix. She saw Fulcrum frown for a moment, then regain her composure. “You inherited your father’s shadows. That’s good. The two of you together bring balance. Do you have a lightsaber?”

“No. I don’t trust myself with one. I picked up Vader’s lightsaber and it made me homicidal.” Leia shuddered at the memory.

“His red Sith lightsaber. Dark Side objects respond to you. Ezra was also able to open both Jedi and Sith holocrons. It’s a dangerous path, but these are dangerous times. I trust you. Come on, I know a way out of this temple if you have a ship.”

Luke was happy to follow Ahsoka out, but Leia found herself looking around at her surroundings as she followed behind, almost wishing she could stay and explore. The cracked stones strewn over the floor were a hazard and it was not easy getting around the debris blocking the exit through the lower levels, but there was a strange kind of beauty to the ruined temple.

Luke helped Ahsoka into their ship and they were in hyperspace soon enough. Leia sat pensively, not sure what to make of Fulcrum, that Fulcrum, here in the flesh. It was hard enough to wrap her head around the idea that this woman had been connected to Vader in any way, shape, or form, or that Vader had had another life as a Jedi before the Empire, that he had not always been a monster.

“I didn’t know Anakin had twins. He didn’t know about you either.” Ahsoka spoke. “He unleashed more Skywalkers on the galaxy. Are there just the two of you?”

“So far.” Luke was smirking. Leia elbowed him in the ribs. She and Han Solo were not exactly decorating nurseries or knitting baby clothes just yet. The war for freedom was not even completely over.

“Being subtle with secret lovers is not something Skywalkers are capable of,” Ahsoka noted, matter-of-factly. “Everyone except Anakin and Padme themselves knew they weren’t really hidden.”

“Padme? Senator Amidala?” Leia clarified. “You knew her?”

“Of course. We fought together during the Clone Wars. She was a great shot with a blaster. You mean you didn’t know your mother could fight? Her main weapon was always words, of course, but she made a great mission partner, too.” Ahsoka was smiling in fond remembrance now.

“Leia is a good shot, too.” Luke smiled at his sister.

“I had to rescue myself from the Death Star, along with Luke and Han. The droids and Chewbacca were better at taking care of themselves.”

“Is Chewbacca still alive? I owe him my life, and he owes me his. The Clone Wars.”

The rest of the journey would be pleasant if they could get Ahsoka to tell them stories. It was such a long way that any kind of companionship was welcome.

As soon as they landed on Endor, a large crowd of rebels came out to meet them. Ahsoka recognized many faces among the leadership. There was Senator Mothma, even Wedge. So he had survived. She smiled at everyone, even the younger rebels she had never seen before.

Luke ushered her into the field hospital, to his father’s bedside. Ahsoka gasped to see her old master in his current state. She had assumed that he wore the Vader suit so as not to be recognized, since the Hero With No Fear had been famous across the galaxy, but this man looked almost nothing like the Skyguy she had known. Almost. She looked into the blue eyes and a single tear trickled down her face. His eyes were blue again. The last time she had seen one of his eyes during their fight on Malachor, it had been gleaming Sith yellow.

“Skyguy.” She picked up one of his cybernetic hands.

“Snips. You came back to me.” Despite all the years of disuse and careful shielding on both sides, Anakin Skywalker found that he could still reach Ahsoka through their old training bond.

“I wasn’t leaving you, Master. You’re the one who left us. I can see you’re back.” Ahsoka hardly registered the complicated cocktail of emotion leaking from Leia standing behind her. It was true, then.

“Did you see the statement we released? I can’t talk out loud because of the oxygen mask and my ruined respiratory system, but I dictated to Luke over our mental bond. The war isn’t over. The Emperor is dead, but he still has many sympathizers and I think he’s growing a clone of himself. We need you. Can you ever forgive me, Snips? My daughter can’t.”

“I didn’t know you had defected until Luke and Leia came to get me.” Ahsoka decided to dodge his main question for now. She would need to meditate. This man in front of her was recognizably the man she had known and loved as an older brother, one of the kindest, most fair-minded knights in the galaxy, but there would have to be some kind of reckoning for his years as Vader, not for her sake, but for the galaxy.

“Father, you said you were going to give us a list of your crimes.” Luke spoke up. Something told him the people assembled would benefit from hearing that his father admitted to his mistakes and was willing to take the consequences for them. That was the kind of maturity one expected from a Jedi, rather than a Hutt or bounty hunter or other kind of sleemo.

Wedge handed Ahsoka his datapad for her to see the former Darth Vader’s official statement, which had now been broadcast across the galaxy. Tears glimmered in her big cobalt blue eyes as she read, and then her breath hitched in her throat when she saw the image of Anakin Skywalker propped up in his hospital bed, his black Darth Vader helmet resting on his lap.

This was not the Skyguy she remembered, but not Darth Vader, either. This was someone old before his time, worn down by the crushing weight of crimes committed for an Emperor he hated, for a cause that was never his own, all because of a lie about the fate of his children. This was also a survivor, a Jedi who was willing to face whatever kind of justice could be meted out. Ahsoka realized that there was really no body in the galaxy qualified to try him, except perhaps for an internal trial within the remains of the Jedi Order.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, Luke was taking dictation on his datapad again. “I beheaded Count Dooku, who was the Sith apprentice before me, when he was an unarmed prisoner, instead of taking him into custody to stand trial. I didn’t stop Grand Moff Tarkin from blowing up all of Alderaan. That’s genocide. After my mother was kidnapped and killed, I slaughtered an entire village of Tuskin Raiders, men, women, and children, while I was still a Jedi padawan. I knew it was not the Jedi way but I gave into my anger and hatred to exact revenge.”

“Grandma Shmi? Uncle Owen told me stories about her. He loved her very much. He told me to be proud of my Skywalker family lineage because of Grandma Shmi.”

“Owen Lars raised you? It sounds like he did a good job. Yes, your Grandma Shmi. I still miss her. I don’t sleep much but when I do I see her in my dreams, telling me how disappointed she is in me.”

Luke looked down at his lap, then squeezed his father’s other hand, cybernetic to cybernetic. “It’s not too late. You can still make her proud.”

“Let’s see. I assaulted Senator Clovis with intent to kill or at least maim because I didn’t like the way he was too flirty with your mother. He didn’t know I was her husband, but he was quite a sleemo about it. That doesn’t excuse my response. I fought Snips and left her for dead on Malachor—actually the only reason she didn’t die was because of some Force trick pulled by a young Jedi padawan. I slaughtered innocent civilians on more planets than I can count, but I remember Ryloth and Lothal best. I tortured your sister and your friend. And I maimed you.”

Luke looked at his growing list with dismay. It would be hard to pardon all of this. Even if he could claim that his father had not been in his right mind, this was serious. He sighed. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Brutal revenge killing of the scientist who deliberately designed my life-support suit to be excruciating and to allow my master to control me. I slaughtered Jedi, destroyed the Temple, and killed the younglings. I knew those kids from creche duty and many of the knights and masters I personally killed had been my friends. It’s my fault your mother died. I Force-choked her when she was almost ready to give birth and she died of despair at the monster I had become.”

“Is that what happened? Old Ben refused to tell me details of my mother’s death. He implied that the Emperor stole her life Force.”

“He was there when it happened. My silly old master, still trying to protect me to you even after everything I did, including to him. And you saw me kill him.”

“I did, but his ghost assures me he still loves you, well, at least the Anakin Skywalker in you, not the Vader. Well, thanks for making this list. I don’t know if we’ll be able to manage a proper trial, but we do need to show the galaxy we care about justice and accountability. A lot of people will want revenge, but we won’t do anything petty. I love you, Father.”

Ahsoka finished reading the statement and handed the datapad back to Wedge. “Thank you, Wedge, old buddy. Well, Skyguy, it looks like we’re back to old times. Crazy odds, daily calamities, nebulous enemies who might as well be droids given their intolerance and cruelty, Snips and Skyguy in the thick of things.” She gave his hand another squeeze.

Luke noticed the Chancellor standing with a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Chancellor Mothma, here is the list of my father’s crimes that he could remember off the top of his head. He’s sure there’s a lot more than this. There’s quite a variety.”

“Thank you, Luke. Don’t worry, we’ll treat him fairly. He’s not well enough to stand trial and we don’t have the resources to do much. We aren’t going to sink to the level of the Empire.”

Ahsoka looked up. “Oh. I should have known. Medical supplies are scarce so I can understand why you couldn’t do more for Skyguy. But Luke, you told me your father is alive because of your Force-healing.”

“Old Ben and Master Yoda taught me after they became ghosts.” Luke scratched his head. Where was she going with this? Was she going to teach him more advanced techniques? If so, that would really help all of the injured rebels.

“Good, you know what you’re doing. We can work together. We won’t be able to actually heal him without access to better medical care, but we can keep him stable, get him strong enough for any procedures he might eventually have. And Leia. Have you ever had lessons in Force-healing?”

Leia frowned. She had never heard of Force-healing before she saw Luke doing it on Vader or formerly-Vader or Vader Emeritus or whatever. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s primarily a Light Side technique. We’ll show you how it’s done and you can join us.” Ahsoka smiled at Leia encouragingly.

“I’ll leave you to your Jedi business, then.” The Chancellor smiled wistfully. She missed the old days of the Jedi. A quick glance from the Chancellor at the other people present who were not Skywalkers or Tanos, cleared the room.

“Here we go.” Ahsoka led the session, encouraging the two young people to join her in touching human flesh to channel healing energy. This was not like anything Leia had ever done before, but somehow it felt right to her.

“Anakin. Remember Bakura?” Anakin Skywalker did not need to be able to see clearly with his severely-damaged eyes in order to recognize his old master. Obi-Wan Kenobi was smiling at him, still so friendly after all that had gone down between them. Vader would have felt a need to smash, to strangle, to inflict pain, but Anakin was too weary and heart-sore for any of that.

“Sort of. What about it?”

“They can grow you new organs.” Obi-Wan was smiling brightly, glowing a brighter blue than before. Is this how he appeared to Luke?

“I remember. That was before the war. I’m sure it costs a pretty penny.”

“Since when has Darth been on a budget?”

“Don’t call me that. You know as well as I do that I was never just simply ‘Darth.’ At any rate, I’m not a Sith lord anymore. I don’t have limitless funds.”

“You’re still fun to tease, Anakin. Especially now that I’m dead and you’re bedridden. I can troll you with no fear of reprisals.”

Anakin thought a string of Huttese curses at the light tinkling laugh of the ghost standing at the foot of his bed.

“Language, Padawan.” Obi-Wan wagged a finger playfully. “You know where the Empire kept its money. You put it there.”

Anakin groaned internally. “You want me to go steal the whole treasury off of Jakku. In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t go anywhere. And the whole reason we put the money on Jakku was my gesture of loyalty to the Emperor, demonstrating that I would never go steal it because of course there is sand everywhere.”

“Ah yes. Coarse, irritating, gets everywhere. Classic Anakin. Send Luke, or even Ahsoka. Or any surviving officers whom you didn’t choke. Anyway, you should share with Luke any other locations of resources to steal.”

“You want me to encourage him to steal? Aren’t you his master?”

“Was. He’s a knight now. Now there are two Knights Skywalker.” Obi-Wan was chuckling in that cheekily dignified way that drove people crazy and charmed them at the same time. He was still like this, even as a ghost.

Anakin sighed internally. “I never made the rank of Master. Not even as a Sith.”

“You still could be a Jedi Master. If Ahsoka trains Leia to knighthood, she’ll be a Master, which would retroactively bump you up a notch. I’m sure I can convince Master Yoda’s ghost.”

Anakin hummed to himself, considering this. “Ahsoka was never knighted. She left the Order.”

“Luke can readmit her, then he can grant her the title. That’ll make him a Master before you. Wow, this is fun.” Obi-Wan’s ghost had a most maddening twinkle to his not-really-there eyes.

Anakin growled, then immediately regretted it. His respiratory system was not robust enough to growl, which was why they were having this discussion in the first place. It was all Obi-Wan’s fault anyway.

“Patience, Padawan, don’t Fall again. Now, where were we? Oh yes. You ought to know enough to allow the rebels to steal all kinds of things.”

Ahsoka wandered into the field hospital at this moment, and stopped dead in her tracks. “Master Obi-Wan?”

“Ah, Ahsoka. It’s been a long time. I was just telling Anakin that you should be Leia’s master. She needs training and you’re the only living Jedi we have here who got enough traditional training to do it. I would do it if I weren’t dead. Luke should not be made to train his own sister. At least, not yet. I took on Anakin immediately after knighting but we all know how that turned out. I wasn’t up to the task. It’s too much to ask. You, on the other hand—”

Ahsoka bristled. “I’m no Jedi.”

“On the contrary, you were right, the whole rest of the Order was wrong. You have embraced balance, fought for our true values, brought freedom and hope to the galaxy. You are more than worthy of the title of Jedi Knight.” Obi-Wan’s ghost smiled fondly at his grandpadawan. The best of the Jedi way would be safe in her hands.

“I felt seeds of Darkness in Leia. She’s not overwhelmingly Light in the Force like her brother. Given my track record, I’m not sure that I’m the best one to train her. What if I fail to minimize her Dark tendencies?” Ahsoka crossed her arms, the white markings on her face cocked incredulously.

Anakin sighed through his bonds to the other two Jedi. “That is precisely why you’re suited to the job, Snips. As much as Obi-Wan and I loved each other, he could never understand or help me deal with the Darkness that was part of my nature, because he didn’t really have much of that himself. You understand the Dark impulse in a basically Light Jedi well enough to help Leia come to terms with it and deal with it. Besides, Leia is my daughter and I trust you.”

Ahsoka looked down at Anakin’s life support equipment. “I’m not the only Jedi survivor,” she admitted, not entirely sure whether she could trust Anakin.

“Is Ezra still alive? The last time I saw him was when we fought on Malachor.” Anakin spoke through both bonds at once.

“I believe he is. And Master Plo, too. He’s been in hiding a long time, but he made contact through our bond when he saw your statement, Skyguy. And there might be others coming forward as word reaches them.”

“You had a mental bond with Master Koon?” Anakin had had no idea.

“I did. Not as strong as ours, but we did have one. He’s the one who found me as a toddler, after all. I always thought he was going to be my master. I’m happy to have had you, but he was a good mentor to me as well.” Ahsoka smiled at the memory.

“Then you should be able to train Leia, since you’ll have more and better support than I ever did.” Obi-Wan stroked his spectral beard. “About stealing the Imperial funds off of Jakku—"

Ahsoka’s eyes grew wide. “WHAT?”

Anakin sighed internally. “I put the treasury there because there’s so much sand everywhere, I thought that would make a good deterrent. At least, it would deter me. The Emperor appreciated the gesture.”

Ahsoka smiled, mischief gleaming in her big blue eyes. “I like this. The rebels will love this. I know just the man for the job.”

“Who?” The master and former padawan asked almost in unison.

“Han Solo. He was a smuggler originally. I heard all about him on the trip here. You know, Leia’s boyfriend.” She noticed Anakin’s look of horror. His daughter had a boyfriend with a less-than-respectable past. He was all right as Princess Leia Organa’s boyfriend, but now that Leia Skywalker was known to be Anakin’s own daughter, she deserved better. “Oh come on, Skyguy. She’s a Skywalker-Naberrie. Romantic indiscretion and questionable taste in men is coded right into her genes. Anyway, she was kissing him in the hallway. I think he would enjoy a job like this.”

Sure enough, Han Solo was enthusiastic about this idea. “Jakku? Sithspit planet that’s a giant junkyard, a paradise for the likes of me, and the Imperial treasury just sitting there, mine to steal? Authorized by Vader himself? What’s not to love?”

Chewbacca took a little more convincing. He bayed in concern and indignation at the very suggestion. It seemed to him that the Imperial treasury would be guarded, if not by diehard loyalists, then by warlords and scallywags. At the very least they should have backup nearby.

Wedge was inclined to agree with Chewbacca. This job would not be as easy or as smooth as Han seemed to think, whatever Vader himself had originally said. At least this time it was Ahsoka presenting the plan and not Luke.

“At the very least you should have a smooth talker with you.” Wedge stood with his arms crossed, still holding a hydrospanner.

“Did someone call my name?” Lando Calrissian appeared with a dramatic swish of his cape, grinning broadly.

Han flashed him a lopsided smile. “Yeah, we need a human shield. You coming?”

“Sure. Do I get the Falcon back if we succeed?”

“No.” Han had his arms crossed but his eyes were smiling.

“We shall see about that, I guess. Count me in. With Chewie, of course.”

Chewie roared in amusement. It was going to be an adventure, at any rate. They were the original disaster trio.

Anakin still felt weak. That was to be expected after years of using the Dark Side to power through the hollow decades, living as a façade covering the decay and grief that was the reality of a Sith Empire.

Now, still lying in his hospital bed, he tried to meditate. The Light Side of the Force burned, stung, like breathing too deeply and going faint from too much oxygen. How many years had it been since he had tried to do anything remotely Jedi-like?

“Focus, Anakin. Your breaths. In, out. In, out.” A very familiar deep voice addressed him inside his head.

“Hard to do with ruined lungs and a scarred windpipe.”

“Hey, I can manage it, and I’ve been dead for thirty-five years. With a lightsaber hole in my middle. Focus.”

“Yes, Master Qui-Gon.” Anakin would not admit this, but having the old Jedi, long-dead—and not by his own hand or any of his minions in the Inquisitorius—helped immensely for him to remember.

To remember the boy who wanted nothing more than to fly, free, to be a Jedi and free all the slaves. To remember the padawan who wanted to prove to the whole Order, especially the Council, that they had not made a mistake in admitting him or pairing him with Obi-Wan, to remember the young man who fought for what he believed in at the time, who loved his padawan and old master, who loved his men, and who loved Padme. Now he had two living mementos of Padme and the man he used to be.

Anakin tried again to center himself enough to meditate properly. This time he did not let the screams and swirls of blood and darkness distract him as he burrowed deeper and deeper into his core, where a humanoid figure crouched, wrapped head to toe in chains. The figure continued to emit bright Light, despite the fetters. Anakin reached for the lock on the chains, which fell off with a clatter. The chains dissolved into desert sand with no Darth Sidious to hold them in place.

Ugh. Sand. On the other hand, the mental imagery finally felt like something organic to Anakin himself, not planted there by his Sith master. He prodded at the quickly-shriveling remains of the training bond with Darth Sidious. A new vine-like bond connecting him to Luke had sprung out of its root, choking off the old bond—oh. Wait. There was still a faint murmur of something at the other end of the Sith bond.

Sith held on to physical existence with all their might precisely because the abuse of the Force was unsustainable, so that there was a steep price to pay at death; there was no life after death for a Sith, at least, not as an individual with any agency as a ghost. Was it possible that Darth Sidious was not actually dead? No, this being on the other end of the bond did not feel exactly the same. Similar, yes, but distinct. The way Rex and Cody and Fives and Tup all felt different in the Force, despite being clone brothers. Anakin had his confirmation that the Emperor had cloned himself.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka sat by herself in the makeshift canteen in late afternoon. Lunch was long over and it would be at least an hour or two before anyone thought about dinner. She pulled out a battered old holocron from her robes and played it.

“If you want to use two sabers, Snips, you gotta be solid on your basics.” The holographic Anakin smiled rakishly.

Ahsoka gazed at the figure fondly. She had told herself that he was dead, killed in the Jedi Purge, then she had made her peace with the idea that Darth Vader was all that was left of her beloved master. Now she had Anakin back, but it was not the same. It was not a matter of his face no longer resembling his old self, or his body being broken; too much had happened between them and around them. They could not simply be Snips and Skyguy again, at least, not right away.

She did not hear Leia approach from behind. Leia watched the holographic figure talking. He had a breezy manner and flippant sense of humor that she found charming. He looked familiar, too, with his blue eyes sparking with mischief, well-proportioned face with features that were masculine but still approachable and friendly, and a riot of light-colored waves and curls barely touching his shoulders. If he had appeared in full color, it would have been easier for Leia to identify the figure, to remember who it was that he resembled.

The holographic recording finished playing and Ahsoka became aware of the presence behind her. She recognized the Force signature as that of Leia Skywalker—no, Organa. Ahsoka turned to face the young rebel leader.

“Who was that? He looked and felt so familiar, like someone I know, but I didn’t recognize him.”

Ahsoka sighed. “That was your father. That’s the Anakin Skywalker I knew and loved. I guess you never saw what he looked like originally.”

Leia’s eyes grew wide. “That’s Vader?”

“Not Vader. Anakin. Same person, yeah, I know, but not the same at all. You never knew him. He was the kindest, most overtly loving person I knew. Master Plo and Master Obi-Wan were loving, too, but theirs was quiet, like a river in the forest that was just wide enough to be quiet and peaceful but not big enough for boat traffic, while Skyguy was like a whirlpool. He’d pull in you in and shower his concern and affection on you with a breathtaking intensity. It scared me sometimes.”

Leia tried to imagine the Anakin from the holocron torturing her on the Death Star, freezing Han in carbonite, blowing up Alderaan, or any of the other things she had seen Vader do. It was hard to picture that handsome blond young man who looked so friendly acting like that.

“The first time I saw Luke, I thought he was Anakin come back to me. Your brother looks like your father did when he was young. As I’ve gotten to know Luke better I see a lot more of Padme in him, especially his personality, but I see what Anakin could have been, should have been.”

“Don’t burden my brother with the ghost of his father. He’s already too obsessed with looking for the good in him as it is. There isn’t any. He’s a monster who should have died with the Emperor.” Leia clenched her fist.

Ahsoka regarded her with sad eyes. “As much as you hate him and wish he wasn’t your father, you remind me so much of him. Look at the way you’re standing, the way you clench your jaw and can barely restrain the urge to punch something right now. That’s pure Anakin, Leia.”

Leia twitched her eyebrows. “Are you saying that I’m a monster, too? That I can’t get away from my blood?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Anakin’s passionate nature wasn’t a bad thing in and of itself. He let Darth Sidious manipulate him into channeling that passion in the wrong direction, but during the Clone Wars, he used his fiery nature for good. The way you’ve been doing in the Rebellion. You are both your fathers’ daughter, Leia. You inherited Anakin’s good qualities, too, as well as the double-sided ones.”

Leia looked down, not defeated but angry at herself. “My father was Bail Organa.”

Ahsoka sighed. “I understand that you see the man who raised you as your father more than the man whose genes you share. As a Jedi I never knew anything about my birth family and saw Master Plo, Anakin, and Master Obi-Wan as my family. But I’ve seen the way Anakin looks at you and Luke.”

“I can’t just forget the past twenty years, forgive everything and laugh, ‘oh Daddy!’ or anything like that. He was there when my homeworld was obliterated. That’s genocide. He didn’t stop it, didn’t flinch. I think he enjoyed it.”

“How do you know what he was thinking or feeling? You couldn’t see his face under that mask and you didn’t have a bond with him to read his emotions in the Force.”

“I didn’t need to. He’s a monster. He was there, personally using the mind probe droid on me, he personally tortured me. He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself then.”

Ahsoka looked back down at the now-inert holocron. “You have every right to be angry at Darth Vader. But you know, you hurt yourself more by holding onto the anger. You won’t bring back from the dead any of his victims by holding a grudge. You have grief and anger and confusion you need to process. That’s normal. I won’t tell you to ignore those feelings. That was terrible advice that didn’t work for your father—all right, Anakin—and seeing how similar you are to him, it won’t work for you, either. But you still need to let that go in good time. Don’t let it cloud your judgment. The Rebellion and the galaxy need you to be clear-headed.”

Leia pondered this. She knew the older woman was right, but that did not make it any easier. “I feel like it would be betraying Bail Organa if I forgave Darth Vader and started calling him my father.”

“That’s understandable. I struggled for years with the idea that my master had become Darth Vader, once I figured it out. I even felt at least partially responsible for having left the Order when and how I did. But eventually I realized that Anakin was responsible for his own choices, just as I was for mine.”

“I worry about Luke. He had an aunt and uncle, plus Master Obi-Wan, so it’s not like he was entirely unloved, but he didn’t have a father like I did. He wants to believe in the illustrious Hero With No Fear, wonderful Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker as his father, when our birth father is a monster, Darth Vader. I worry he’s blinding himself to Vader’s true nature in his desire to have a father.”

“What is your birth father’s true nature, though? When I saw him again here, I saw the remains of the Anakin Skywalker I knew. Of course, I also saw a lot of other things in there, which all of us will have to deal with, but he genuinely wants to make amends for the things he did, wants to help end the war as a rebel victory. He has chosen his legacy. Maybe we should respect that.” Ahsoka put the holocron away.

“That’s not how legacies work. He doesn’t get to decide how we remember him. He already had his chance, when he made the choice to do those things in the first place. We’ll use his intel and whatever help he can offer, since that’s the least he can do to make it up to us, but he’ll never be totally exonerated in my eyes.”

“Fair enough. Just remember, though, that the real beneficiary of forgiveness isn’t the forgiven, but the forgiver. We can still try him, of course, since he has a debt to the galaxy, but that’s separate from personal forgiveness.”

Anakin Skywalker felt his heart warm whenever Luke’s Force presence approached. The boy was a delight. Despite all the terrible things that Vader had done, his legacy of terror and violence, Luke and Leia were an achievement he could be proud of. On the other hand, he was also acutely aware of being a burden on his children. His reputation would hurt them, follow them through their lives as they tried to make their way in the galaxy, especially as rebel leaders.

“Bath time, Father.” Luke was so cheerful about examining his father’s synth skin and scrubbing away any necrotic tissue, turning him over, keeping his remaining flesh free of bed sores. Even Anakin himself knew how smelly and disgusting this was. His sense of smell was intact, after all. He was rotting, very nearly dead. His son was so young and full of life. He should not be shackled to an invalid who had committed so many terrible crimes, who deserved to suffer and die for the damage he had caused.

Luke’s hands were gentle, his eyes soft and loving. Despite the color being the same as Anakin’s, those eyes were also Padme’s, the way they gazed at him with so much love and tenderness. Vader did not deserve to be loved like this.

After another session of Force-healing, Anakin always felt better. Guilty, but better. He had not explained to Luke about the Sith spells that reinforced his black suit or the amulet that had been embedded into one of his gauntlets, or the chemical compounds regularly injected into his flesh. He had been led to believe that he would die without the needles constantly poking into him and the strange Sith potion injections, but he frankly felt better without them, provided Luke or Ahsoka or even Leia counteracted the loss of Dark Side power with Force healing. He had missed the Light, loath as he had been to admit it.

The life support control machinery in his chest box needed maintenance. If Luke was as talented with machines as Anakin himself was, perhaps he could help. “Luke? Can you have a look at my chest box?”

“Sure thing, Father.” Luke even frowned gently as he lifted off the hard cover of the control box on his father’s chest and examined the wires and various gauges and buttons. He closed his eyes and centered himself in the Force before touching them, remembering what Old Ben had taught him about channeling the Force. Luke himself had been experimenting with harnessing his positive emotions, mostly love and compassion. They were not of the Dark, after all.

Oh dear. Luke became truly aware of the extent of his father’s medical challenges for the first time. Severely-damaged lungs, other organs with considerable damage, especially his digestive tract, which had had years of stomach acid churning with little or no solid food to absorb it, barely-functioning kidneys, a good deal of metal hardware replacing much of his skeleton, particularly the parts of his spinal chord that were too damaged to support his weight or allow for any movement at all. Luke had never realized that his father would normally be completely paralyzed, or, more likely, long-dead, if he were not a Sith lord.

Ahsoka joined them in the room, gazing fondly at the scene. Luke fussing over his father, checking his IV, adjusting his breathing apparatus, wiping down what little flesh remained, all of that was a tender sight. The boy was strong in the Force, yes, but he was also brimming with love, like his mother. Anakin himself had been so loving back in the old days, staying up all night with Ahsoka in the Halls of Healing when she was a brand new padawan, not letting healers chase him out when she had one of the various fevers that sometimes spread among junior padawans.

“Hello, Skyguy.” Ahsoka smiled as she took a seat next to her old master’s bedside, across from Luke. After all these years, she still loved her big brother, despite all that he had done and become. Love was against the standard interpretation of the Code, yes, but it had saved her and many of the Jedi survivors she had encountered in the Rebellion. Knight Jarrus and his padawan definitely loved each other, and they had “attachments” to the rest of the Ghost crew, but all of that seemed to ground them in the Light. Ahsoka had come to understand that the problem was not love itself, but the obsessive fear of abandonment that led to possessiveness.

Anakin himself was smiling. At least, his eyes were. They were always watery and red, since they were quite damaged, but the Rebellion had put him in the darkest corner of the field hospital, which seemed to help. If Padme, Leia, and Obi-Wan were here, his family would be complete.

“I have good news. Ezra Bridger made contact. He’s alive. He was never properly knighted, but he did get some Jedi training and he’s fairly powerful in the Force so I suppose he could handle a padawan fairly soon, if we find any Force-sensitive younglings. He’s near Ord Mantell. I haven’t seen him in years.” Ahsoka lifted up one of Anakin’s cybernetic hands to her chest. Luke would not know Ezra, but Leia would. Even Anakin knew him, from a certain point of view.

“If I can grant Ahsoka the rank of knight, then maybe I can do it for this person, too. Wow, I had no idea there were still Jedi out there.” Luke was quite pleased at this prospect. Ahsoka chuckled at his enthusiasm, then let her expression reflect a little of the sorrow she felt for the wholesale destruction of the Jedi Order. She had left before the Purge, sure, but she had still felt the deaths. Luke had never known a time when there were thousands of Jedi. Neither had Ezra.

Jakku was most definitely not a nice place. Lando barely seemed to notice the sand dusting his black trousers and swishy short cape, or even the sand that lodged in his dapper little moustache. He smiled that winning smile at nothing or nobody in particular, aimlessly amiable, from the minute he stepped off the ramp.

Chewbacca grumbled about desert planets not agreeing with him. Han had to smile at that one. “Yeah, Chewie, I bet you hate the hot, sandy desert. You’re a walking carpet, as our princess pointed out.”

Lando heard a not-so-light smack as Chewie whacked Han on the shoulder for his remarks. He turned around, still smiling. “Can you knock it off back there? You guys are the smugglers, you should be leading this.”

“Are you sure this is the right spot, Chewie? There’s nothing here.” Han looked around at the expanse of desert. “If there was anything valuable to steal, I would have found it by now—”

Chewbacca cut him off, reminding him that they had entered the exact coordinates that Luke had passed to them from Vader himself. Unless Vader was wrong or duplicitous, this should be the spot.

Han almost tripped on something buried in the sand. “Hey! Who the kriff leaves stuff half-buried—"

Chewbacca was laughing now. He had been right all along. He grabbed the metal handle that Han had tripped over and pulled it out of the sand with his superior strength. It was a portable safe of some kind, heavy and solid. He gave it a good shake, hearing clinking inside. It did not sound like coins. Good, it was not Republic credits, anyway. It might be coaxium, then. None of the three knew the combination.

Once they had loaded the safe onto the ship, Han sent a transmission back to their main base. “Yeah, we found a safe buried in the sand. No idea how to open it or what’s in it, though.”

Luke looked pleased on the other end of the holocall. “You found one of twenty, then. The combination number is 7567. For all of them.”

Han groaned. There were more of those heavy safes, all buried in the sand. Great. On the other hand, they could open the one they had first. “Does Vader remember what’s in there? I sure hope it’s not bottles of blue milk.”

Luke smiled. “There should be Imperial Credits or coaxium in there.”

Chewie reported from the hold that the recovered safe did indeed contain Imperial Credits. It was not entirely certain that the organ labs on Bakura would accept this currency. On the other hand, credits might still be useful.

By the time they had dug out and loaded up all twenty of the safes, Lando was a little less smooth and smiley. He was covered in desert sand and exhausted from sun exposure. Chewie, of course, was the most tired of the three, since he had no way to regulate his body temperature on that hot desert planet, had sand lodged in his fur, and had done the majority of the heavy lifting, despite being the oldest by far. It was really not fair dealing with humans.

Han realized that it was up to him to get them home. He was also drenched in sweat and quite done in, but he was still able to get them into hyperspace and on course. Sitting back in the pilot’s seat, he thought of Luke and the old wizard, Ben. They had both spent twenty years on a similar desert planet, Tatooine. Han had spent plenty of time there himself, but not twenty years. Maybe one had to be some kind of Force wizard to withstand it. Vader himself was from Tatooine, after all.

Vader. He had to hand it to the man, the heist had worked out beautifully. There had been no sign of anything or anyone, no opposition, no complications whatsoever. That was clearly because it was Vader himself who told them to go to Jakku. He had probably killed anyone else who knew where the treasure was. And now Han was in the position of asking Vader for Leia’s hand. He shook his head.

As soon as they landed back on base, Leia rushed up the ramp into the Falcon itself and wrapped Han in a hug. “I need to confirm that you got the safes.” She came up with a likely-sounding excuse, but Han knew that really she wanted to confirm that he was in one piece.

Once the safes were all open, a whoop went out among the gathered rebels. Credits, coaxium, beskar, and all kinds of other valuable commodities had been in there. Leia stood next to Han, her arm around his waist, as she took in the sight. Some of the rebels were murmuring that Vader was now a rebel hero; Leia tried to push this idea out of her mind. No, Vader had done a lot more damage than what could be repaired through a single gesture like this. Even if he did somehow manage to do something big enough to remotely approach proper reparations, his victims would still be dead.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Han whispered.

“Vader. Does he really think this is enough to be a hero now?”

Han sighed. “I think we need all the help we can get. Maybe he’s doing this for his own selfish reasons, but it still helps us. I was in it for the money initially, remember?”

This time it was Leia’s turn to sigh. “You never committed genocide or war crimes on a massive scale. You were only a petty criminal.”

“If I’m not enough of a criminal for you, something can always be arranged, you know.” Han was smirking, but this was his way of camouflaging his concern. It was true that Vader had been much worse than Lady Proxima, Dryden Vos, Jabba the Hutt, Boba Fett, or any of the other villains who had crossed paths with Han. On the other hand, it was not good for Leia to brood about it. He had seen some of her more volcanic moods. That way danger lay.

Chapter Text

Back in the field hospital, Ahsoka was rolling her eyes. “Really, Skyguy? You set the combination to be Rex’s trooper number? Did you ever try to find Rex himself? He was an important part of rebel leadership for quite a while, you know.”

Anakin smiled. Rex always did enjoy blasting clankers and fighting Seppies at impossible odds—just like his general. It made sense that he would choose the underdog position to fight the Empire, too, doing what he did best. Never mind that official propaganda reminded the galaxy every day for twenty years that many of the rebels came from Separatist worlds. Non-human rebels in particular fit nicely into the Seppie stereotype. Even as Vader, however, Anakin never shared his master’s disdain for non-humans, perhaps partially because of Snips.

Wait a minute. What was that? Leia had been watching the rebels unload the contents of the safes when a strange gleaming stone caught her eye. The Sullustan rebel who emptied that particular crate left the crystal, unsure of what to do with it. It looked a bit like a kyber crystal, like the one inside Luke’s lightsaber, but it felt different in the Force. Leia was not certain what to make of it, but she knew it was important.

Disengaging from Han, she moved forward, leaning into the safe to pull out the crystal. She hit her head coming back out again, causing her to cuss. Han was snickering behind her. He seemed to truly enjoy the sight of the princess from Alderaan cussing like a spice runner. Where did she learn that kind of language?

She showed the crystal to Han. “This crystal feels powerful in the Force, but not like the kyber crystals in lightsabers. I wonder if Ahsoka knows what it is.”

Han knew when he was out of his depth. “Don’t ask me, I’m not the Jedi. How should I know?” He gave her shoulder a light squeeze and sent her on her way.

Coming into the field hospital, Leia sighed to see her brother and Ahsoka gathered around Vader’s bedside. She should probably thank him. “Um, thank you for the intel on the safes. The resources are helpful.” Leia kept her expression neutral, thinking that open disdain or outright disgust for the monster taking up a hospital bed would not be appropriate in this situation.

Anakin Skywalker smiled at his daughter as best he could. It was obvious that she hated him, but he knew that he deserved it. He hated himself, too. But Leia was the beautiful, fiery daughter he had always wanted. Finding out about Luke had given him hope, but his daughter was a blessing beyond his wildest dreams. To think that he had once tortured her, completely unaware of her true identity! That was yet another thing the Emperor had destroyed in his life.

“You didn’t just come to thank Father, though, did you?” Luke was smirking at her. Even though they had grown up apart, not knowing of each other’s existence, Luke could still read his sister.

“You’re right. One of the safes contained this.” She showed the crystal to the Jedi, not-quite-a-Jedi, and former Sith. “It’s not a kyber.”

Ahsoka stared at it, deep in thought. “May I?” She extended her palm. Leia handed it to her without a word.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and felt the crystal in the Force. “I think this might be a regenerative crystal. The B’omarr monks on Teth and Tatooine had them. I’d never seen one or touched one during my time in the Temple, though.”

Anakin squinted at the crystal, but he did not really need to see it. “That is a Skywalker family treasure. My mother stole it from Gardulla the Hutt when we were still her slaves. The Hutts on Tatooine had them because Jabba’s palace was originally a B’omarr monastery. Those monks had themselves made into disembodied brains.” Anakin was grateful for the bonds he had with two of the people in the room, since he would not be able to communicate all this otherwise.

Luke’s expression brightened. “Regenerative? Does that mean healing properties?” Hope blossomed in his heart.

“Yes, it does. Those crystals can amplify Force-healing.” Ahsoka remembered a factoid from her junior padawan coursework. “It works best with Jedi healers, but any knight can use it.”

Luke stood up from where he had been perched on the edge of his father’s bed. “Well, then, Ahsoka, I guess I proclaim you a knight. It should have been you knighting me and not the other way around.”

Ahsoka smiled at the boy’s earnestness. “Thank you. I can see what you’re trying to do here, but I do appreciate the gesture.”

Leia stood with her arms crossed. “You want to try to heal him. I’m not against that. If he can talk for himself then he can stand trial. The less physical care and fewer medical resources he needs the better, too.”

Luke beamed at the unexpected support from his sister. “Then you’ll join us.” Never mind that they were basically experimenting on his father. The rank-and-file rebels would probably find it a bit odd if Vader was suddenly restored to health, but Luke did not care about that.

Anakin Skywalker closed his eyes in silent gratitude to the Force. He knew that he did not deserve this. There was no excuse for the terrible things that he had done. It was just as well that he almost never slept, since whenever he did, he was haunted by the screams. The younglings he slaughtered, the Tusken villagers, his men who died in the senseless Clone Wars, the people of Alderaan, all the people he had tortured and killed, all of his victims appeared in a ghostly cavalcade.

Luke took this opportunity to place the crystal on his father’s face, placing it horizontally across his eyes. Luke held the crystal there and began to divert his own life energy to his father, through the crystal. The Force felt different from how it normally did during Force-healing. It felt stronger, like a water shower after years of sonic showers. It enveloped them both, swirling around them, caressing them.

The Force intensified into a crescendo until it began to scream. This must be the signal to stop. Luke opened his eyes and returned to the physical world. He gingerly lifted the crystal off of his father’s face. Anakin Skywalker opened his eyes, a little woozy from the impromptu medical-magical experiment.

“Can you see any better, Skyguy?” Ahsoka peered into his face, concern drawing the white markings on her face into a scrunched-up pattern.

Anakin could not respond at first. The room seemed so dark, so dim. Had someone turned down the lights? Then it hit him. He had not seen this clearly since the Clone Wars. His eyes had been restored. “Yes. I can see clearly for the first time in over twenty years. Wow, Snips, you look much older.”

Leia was staring at him, dumbfounded, once Luke had smiled and nodded at her to tell her the news. Anakin could see her even better now. Force, she looked even more like her mother than he had initially thought.

She sprinted from the room to tell the Chancellor, but in the meantime, Luke handed the crystal to Ahsoka. “This is a revelation. Do you think it’ll work on other parts of him? Would it work on my hand if anything happened to my cybernetic?”

Ahsoka shook her head at the boy’s enthusiasm. “No, it’s not possible to grow back missing body parts. Soft tissues and organs can be regenerated, but bone can’t be grown back. I’m sorry.”

It scared Anakin how open and trusting Luke was. The young man was certainly powerful in the Force, overwhelmingly Light, although he had fought reasonably well, given the obvious lack of the traditional infrastructure for training Jedi. Even his Tatooine upbringing had failed to cast any dark shadows over his psyche, perhaps because he had been a moisture farmer rather than a slave. Luke had not hesitated to do whatever his father said, from the raid on Jakku to recognizing Ahsoka as a knight. Even the crystal he had received and used without once considering any possible side effects on himself.

How had Luke evaded detection all those years? Obi-Wan certainly played a role in that, perhaps maintaining wide-range shielding at all times for almost two decades. No wonder he seemed so old and worn out. On the other hand, Tatooine was a good place to hide. Nobody in their right mind would want to go there unless they were on the run, and the desert had a way of covering up everything.

Anakin gazed up at his son with his restored eyes. He really did look like a younger version of himself, minus the angry edge. His first thought, on finding out that Padme’s baby had survived, had been joy, quickly followed by grief at what could have been, then anger at the Emperor. The idea of recruiting Luke as Vader’s own Sith apprentice seemed ridiculous in hindsight.

“How do you feel, Luke? Is the crystal draining for you? Any side effects?” Anakin asked over the bond. It was strange how naturally the paternal instinct had kicked in, even as Vader.

“I feel fine, Father. A little tired, maybe.” Luke smiled and gently clasped one of the cybernetic hands. Anakin could see the action now; his cybernetics were so damaged that he did not always feel Luke’s touch before, relying on the Force instead. He felt weaker in the Force as well, having to push down the Dark and reach for the Light in ways he had not done in more than twenty years. No, even longer. Anakin realized, looking at Luke, that he himself might have felt this brightly Light if he had not had the Emperor grooming him from the very start of his Jedi training, undermining poor old Obi-Wan at every turn.

Anakin shifted his gaze to his returning daughter. Why had he not noticed before how much she resembled Padme? It was hard to see clearly through his mask, to be sure, but surely he ought to have noticed that the young princess of Alderaan felt familiar in the Force. Stubborn, cocky, devious yet bold, she had said and done exactly what Anakin himself did as a Jedi captured by Separatists, when he had used the mind probe on her. She was strong in the Force but untrained, just as Anakin himself had been as a child. Her brown eyes were watching him with a hard glare, the color Padme’s but the expression his. What kind of father tortures his own daughter? And yet, here she was, at his bedside in the field hospital, against her better judgement.

And Snips. Ahsoka was stunningly beautiful. Strong, wise, but also tempered by suffering. Kinder to herself and others, now that she had a lot of traumatic life experience. She ought to know the risks involved in trying to help Vader, but she sat, holding the crystal, gazing fondly at him. He did not deserve her love or forgiveness, and yet here she was. He knew she was not weak, at least, not as far as Jedi went. A year ago, he would have scoffed at her, tried to kill her, taunting her for still being a Jedi too weak and scared to tap into the Dark Side. He had already left her for dead once.

“Do you feel up to any more? Maybe your lungs?” Ahsoka’s gaze was soft. Even if they simply wanted to improve his condition to save resources, that was still better than nothing. Anakin blinked, not quite strong enough to nod. Breathing better would be good, being able to talk would be even better.

“I think there should be a medic present for that.” Leia spoke up. She got up and went to find one before anyone could say anything, impulsive and acting on her own counsel with no concept of getting other input—just like her father. Anakin smiled internally at the thought.

As soon as a doctor had been fetched, Luke launched into his explanation with breathless excitement. The doctor looked thoroughly confused and alarmed, but Luke hardly noticed. Back in the Clone Wars, clone medics knew about Jedi and their strange methods that worked when they shouldn’t, but the Rodian doctor here had no framework for any of that. He looked alarmed as Ahsoka placed the crystal on his patient’s chest and entered a Force-healing trance. The simple fact of being responsible for the medical care of Darth Vader himself was terrifying enough, but the way Leia was staring surely did not help.

Anakin felt a dull pain in his chest. Was this a sign that the crystal was working? Was it regrowing lung tissue, increasing functional alveoli? Or was he about to suffocate? Anakin did not much care which it was at this point, except that he could easily imagine Luke distraught at his father’s death. It would be worse than when Qui-Gon was killed, since Anakin had not been in the room when that happened; Obi-Wan was.

Oh. No wonder Obi-Wan had been withdrawn at first. Anakin had not had the mental or emotional bandwidth to worry about Obi-Wan and his feelings when he was first apprenticed, afraid as he was that he might be sent back to Watto. As the adult in the relationship, Obi-Wan should have shielded better, but in hindsight his feelings and reactions were understandable. Apparently Obi-Wan was still rubbish at teaching how to avoid attachments, since Luke was clearly attached to his sister and of course to Anakin himself, which was terrifying.

When Ahsoka finally ended the session, Anakin felt dizzy and confused, with green spots dancing before his eyes. The doctor frowned at some beeping instrument and adjusted a dial, then Anakin began to feel better.

“I don’t believe it. That crystal actually worked. Lung capacity and respiratory function has improved to 38% of healthy levels.” The doctor was rubbing his eyes. Anakin thought he looked a bit like an adult version of Greedo. He must still be giddy from the rush of excess oxygen just now.

“We should report this to the Chancellor. I think we should take it slowly.” Leia was looking at the doctor and not the patient.

“It’s your turn, Leia.” Luke nodded at her. Leia hesitated, clearly conflicted.

“We don’t want to strain the patient. How are you feeling, Lord—I mean, sir?” The doctor looked terrified as he addressed Anakin directly.

Anakin met Luke’s eyes, then Leia’s. It was clear that Luke wanted to proceed. His blue eyes were sparkling with excitement, relief, and affection. The boy was irresistible. Anakin gave his consent, for Luke’s sake.

“Very well. But I should like to run the scanner at the same time, monitor the progress as we go.” The doctor still did not sound terribly confident about any of this, but was using his air of professionalism as a shield.

Ahsoka put the crystal back down onto Anakin’s chest and invited Leia to put her hand on it. It took a bit of urging before his daughter finally did. What was she doing? Leia felt disgust and anger roiling inside of her, but pushed it down and reached for the Light as she had recently been taught, imagining her brother’s happy face. She was doing this for Luke.

The doctor adjusted dials and pushed buttons during the session this time, seeming to take comfort in the confidence that following his training could bring. For his part, Anakin kept his eyes open, watching his daughter concentrate. She was actually touching him. To think that all this time, he had had two children, alive. They should have been a family.

When Leia resurfaced, Anakin’s lung capacity was at 72% of a healthy person’s, which was truly remarkable. He still could not really speak much, given the scarring on his vocal chords and windpipe, but he could now breathe unassisted. It felt strange to have his breathing apparatus switched off, and to not hear his own raspy breaths. He would no longer sound like Darth Vader.

The Emperor could have done this for him, but of course he wouldn’t. It was not the Sith way. As soon as he knew that Anakin had Fallen, the Emperor had stopped stroking his ego or even treating him civilly. Anakin had been had, but by the time he realized this, it had been too late. Regret and sadness were only useful for growing his anger and hatred; there was no way out.

But there was. His golden-haired son. And not in the standard Sith way, of taking an apprentice in secret to help overthrow the master, either. Luke loved him simply for being his father, regardless of his actions. The only people Anakin had expected to love him unconditionally were his mother and Padme, Obi-Wan to a lesser extent. Even Qui-Gon had had an agenda—that burdensome business of the Chosen One.

Senator—no, Chancellor Mothma came into the field hospital when Anakin was resting. She spoke in low tones with the doctor, and stifled a gasp when he showed her the readings. At this rate Darth Vader would be able to speak for himself at his war crimes tribunal.

Best of all, the crystal and mysterious Jedi healing would make his care and treatment so much cheaper, helping her justify treating him better than the Empire treated its prisoners. She remembered all too well how General Syndulla had been tortured when she was captured on Lothal. Saw Gerrera would have insisted on killing Darth Vader long ago. He was not alone in that sentiment, which was why she had tried to keep Darth Vader’s presence in the field hospital quiet. She remembered the Jedi knight he had been with some affection.

In the canteen at dinner, Han noticed how tired the Skywalker twins looked. “Hey, Luke, what’s going on? Leia dove into one of those safes this afternoon and disappeared after that.”

Luke smiled. “That crystal has healing properties. It restored my father’s eyes and now he’s breathing unassisted.”

Han stared. “I didn’t believe in the Force—I do now—but that is something I struggle to believe. And I didn’t know your dad had bad eyes. He was pretty deadly as a fighter pilot for someone with bad eyes. No, don’t tell me—” Han groaned when he saw Luke’s grin. “The Force.”

“You’re learning.” Luke’s eyes sparkled. Wedge and a few other pilots spotted them and joined them, so that Luke changed the subject.

Chapter Text

That night Leia lay awake in bed. What were they doing? That breathing sound had been a huge help in knowing when Vader was coming; Vader wasn’t Vader without it. That was the idea, sure, but those eyes that now saw her clearly were the same eyes that watched the probe droid poke and prod her, trying to get into her mind. That robot hand had pressed the buttons on the controls, allowing the electro-rack to zap her with blue lightning. That brain had made those decisions. Granted that Grand Moff Tarkin had been the one to blow up Alderaan, Vader had said nothing. She had had no way of knowing whether he agreed with that or not.

She extended her hand out above her blankets. It would not take much. Vader may have better pulmonary functioning, but his windpipe was still damaged. She could channel the Force into her ten fingers—no, five would do—and squeeze, crunching the scarred windpipe, making those eyes bug out of their sockets, squeezing, crushing, until the infernal breathing stopped completely. For Alderaan. For Lothal. For her real father. For Han. For Obi-Wan Kenobi. For all those children hunted down through the Inquisitorius.

Luke would cry, but he would ultimately accept it. He would repeat mantras like “Revenge is not the Jedi way,” and get on with rebuilding his fantasy vision of the Jedi Order. With Ahsoka to help, he would not need Vader.

But her real father, Bail Organa, would be disappointed in her. Leia let her hand sink back down onto the blanket. Her birth mother would be sad. When she first found out that the Organas had adopted her, she had been shocked and a bit angry, until the Chancellor had told her about her birth mother. Senator Amidala of Naboo was a legendary figure in the rebellion, as one of the early founders, a martyr to the cause. It had been like a lifeday present to discover her other mother.

When Luke told her about her birth father, however, she had felt cheated. That monster could not have sired her. Certainly not with Senator Amidala’s consent. Finding out from Ahsoka details about her birth parents’ marriage had been devastating. Senator Amidala had not been captured, raped, and martyred. She had married Darth Vader of her own free will. She had fallen in love with that evil monster. Leia clenched her fists under the covers.

Anakin actually slept for the first time in a long time. With the return of sleep, however, came the return of his nightmares. He held his mother in his arms as she breathed her last, but as she looked up at him and began to say how handsome he was, her eyes grew wide and she screamed silently. His mother morphed into the Tuskens, into Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi younglings, Ahsoka, any number of nameless victims with blurry faces. He looked up from the corpse in his cybernetic arms and saw Darth Sidious, laughing under his hood. “She gave her life so you could be reborn, Lord Vader.” Was that how Padme had died? Whether she died from his choke, heartbreak over his actions, having her life Force transferred to him, or complications from bearing his children, it was all the same. He had killed her.

Ahsoka woke with a start. She had not felt her old master’s nightmares in years. With a reopened bond and his body weak, his shielding was not what it used to be. He blamed himself for everything. Perhaps he should. No, that was not fair. The Emperor had orchestrated everything.

But still, Skyguy was responsible for his own choices. All of the Jedi had been subject to the same encroaching Darkness, the same blindness, the growing despair and trauma of the war and the corruption that fed it, the impossible situation engineered by the Sith. Ahsoka herself had spent years on Malachor, been framed for Barriss’ attack on the Temple, abandoned by the Order, but she had not turned into a monster. She had gotten a taste of the Dark on Mortis, but had not Fallen of her own will. Anakin was a victim, yes, but he was not blameless. In terms of sheer volume of tragic life events, Master Obi-Wan had things quite bad himself, but he did not Fall.

Now Luke was trying to reestablish the Jedi Order. An idealist like both of his parents. Ahsoka had only gone along with Luke’s declaration of her knight status because he had been convinced that only knights could use that crystal to heal his father. Luke obviously loved his father despite everything, warming her heart. After all, she still loved Anakin too. The boy would be disappointed if he found out about the many flaws of the old Jedi Order. Being a Jedi was a way of life, a code for living a life of service. They should never have been soldiers.

Anakin could not get back to sleep. He knew he needed to rest, since the doctor told him that every day when he wasn’t shaking with fear, as if Anakin could really hurt him in his current condition, but sleep meant nightmares. He went over his list of crimes in his head again, trying to make sure he was not missing any. There was no way he deserved anything less than summary execution. Luke was wasting his time.

He barely noticed the sound of a little droid rolling through the field hospital to his bedside. When the battered old astromech came to rest next to his bed and began beeping, Anakin gave a start. “Artoo?” He tapped the side of his bed in an attempt at binary.

The droid chirped and beeped and trilled excitedly. “Look, Artoo, I’m sorry. I didn’t go looking for you, but it’s just as well.” It had been years since Anakin had tried to communicate in binary in any way, shape, or form, and tapping his metal hand against the metal bedframe was hardly ideal.

Artoo swiveled his dome, accepting Anakin’s apology, then extended a pincer in peace. As far as Artoo could tell, his human friend was now mostly droid as well.

A few planets away, an old Twi’lek woman woke with a start. Marzoon was nice and quiet; how had someone found her after all these years? She felt a presence in her little hut. Familiar, Force-sensitive. No, it couldn’t be.

She sat up in bed and saw the blue figure standing at the foot of it, smiling sadly at her. Had she left a holocron out the night before? But the blue figures of holocrons were never life-sized.

“Hello there.” The figure continued to smile at her.

“General Kenobi. How did you find me here? What happened to you this time? I don’t have a proper clinic here.”

“Oh no, I’m not the one who needs a healer. I’m dead. But Anakin needs your help, Master Che. The Emperor has been defeated, and now Anakin is on Endor, in terrible shape. His children are desperate.”

Vokara Che sighed and rubbed her left lekku. “It’s always your lineage, isn’t it, who break the rules, get hurt, and need me to patch them up again. I didn’t know Skywalker was alive, or that he’d spawned. Why am I not surprised, though.”

“He won’t be alive unless he gets medical help. Ahsoka and his children are trying to Force-heal him with the help of crystals, but he needs a Jedi healer.”

“What is it you’re not telling me, Kenobi? He’s in worse shape than you’re letting on, I’m sure of it. It must be bad if you came to my humble hut as a ghost, to drag me out of retirement, out of hiding.”

“Well, his injuries are my fault, from a certain point of view. He’s in the field hospital of the rebel base on Endor.”

“All right, I’ll go—against my better judgment.” Vokara Che rubbed her eyes, cursing the deterioration in her vision and the stiffness in her joints as she got out of bed, coaxing her arthritic hands to open a trap door in the floor under her bed. This was her Jedi healer first aid kit, which included her lightsaber. She was just an old medicine woman now. Nobody paid much attention to Twi’lek grannies, which was a blessing in the dark days of the Empire.

So Kenobi was dead. That did not surprise Vokara, but Skywalker still being alive did. He was just as reckless as Kenobi, and with that midichlorian count, it must have been difficult to hide as a rebel Jedi. At least he had the decency to get injured enough for Kenobi to summon her from beyond the grave. Somehow it was easy to imagine Skywalker being a rebel, and perhaps he had had a family as a cover. Vokara herself had considered it, since everyone knew that Jedi did not marry, but it turned out that being a seemingly unassuming old lady worked just as well. Perhaps Madam Jocasta Nu had survived on the same principle.

Vokara let her face reflect her pensive, retrospective mood on the commercial transportation she used to get closer to Endor, since this was something one might expect of an elderly person traveling alone. One of the bittersweet realities of age was that nobody saw her and guessed that she had been a Jedi or the Master Healer, that people were quick to assume that she was uneducated and unclever, simply someone more interesting’s grandmother, nothing more, nothing less. This was an asset for staying hidden, but not exactly pleasant.

When she reached Cerea, she was relieved to find a smallish ship already there to pick her up. She had made contact with the rebel base on Endor according to instructions given to her by someone who was honest about being dead, which was strange enough, but something in the Force told her to trust Kenobi’s ghost.

The woman who had picked her up was friendly, offering her hand. “I’m Hera Syndulla. I was told I was to pick up a very important sleeper operative, a fellow Twi’lek female. Given that I don’t see any other Twi’lek women around here, I figured that was you. Welcome aboard.”

“Vokara Che. I’m not sure about being important or a sleeper operative, but I was in hiding for twenty years as a Jedi. I suppose that counts.”

The younger woman smiled as she ushered Vokara to sit in the copilot’s seat. “Jedi, huh? The father of my boy was a Jedi. Maybe you knew him. He was born Caleb Dume, although he went by another name.”

Vokara nodded. Here was another Jedi who had changed his name and started a family as a cover. “I remember him as a little boy.” A quick glance at the green-skinned woman next to her revealed that she was fighting back tears that were threatening to spill from her big green eyes. So he didn’t survive, then.

“I’d love to hear stories. His first inoculation, any episodes from his childhood. My son would benefit from hearing about his father as a little boy his age. Kanan—Caleb sacrificed his life for us when I was pregnant, so Jacen never knew his father.”

Vokara nodded and placed a hand on the leg of Hera’s orange pilot suit. “I understand. We’ve all lost something or someone. I guess I won’t be needing this.” She reached behind her head, cursing the reduced mobility of her shoulder joints, unhooking a broad collar-style necklace. As soon as she had removed it, she closed her eyes and let the Force wash over her again. The sweet relief of being free of the inhibitor she had worn to hide made her feel younger, lighter.

Going deeper into her core, she felt the existence of a few other Force signatures that felt like Jedi. They were getting closer to Endor now. “Are there any other Jedi on your rebel base? I came because the ghost of Obi-Wan Kenobi summoned me, so I know he’s dead now, even if he was involved in the Rebellion at one point.”

Hera frowned. “I never met him directly, although Ezra did. Ezra—Caleb Dume’s padawan, sorry, you wouldn’t know him. That was a few years ago, so I think Obi-Wan Kenobi was alive certainly four or five years ago. Ahsoka Tano is on our base. A pair of Jedi twins, Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, went to Malachor to pick her up.”

Vokara drew a sharp breath. “Luke Skywalker?”

“Yes. Did you know him?”

“I knew Anakin Skywalker. Luke must be his son.”

“Ah, here he is, he’s come to meet us.” Hera smiled when she saw the small welcoming committee at the edge of the landing area as she touched down. As soon as she let the ramp down and the two Twi’lek women appeared at the top of it, Luke came up to the bottom of the ramp.

“You must be Master Che. My father told me all about you.” Luke extended a cybernetic hand to take her luggage, which of course was in fact her medical kit. Apparently the Skywalker penchant for losing hands and arms was passed down to the next generation. Vokara could see even from a casual glance that the workmanship was decent.

“And you’re Luke Skywalker. I hope you’re not disappointed that I’m a seventy-five-year-old woman. I’ve been in hiding for the last twenty years or so.”

Luke smiled at her, looking even more like his father did when he was happy and friendly in the moment, naturally charming when he wasn’t trying too hard to be. He was considerably shorter than Anakin, suggesting a petite mother.

“This way to the field hospital. We’re all gathered around Father’s bed, anyway. I think the Chancellor is there, and Ahsoka, and my sister.”

“The Chancellor?” The word made Vokara shudder, although she knew in her mind that this could not possibly be Sheev Palpatine.

“Chancellor Mothma. Wow, you really were deep in hiding, weren’t you? Like Master Yoda. He was hiding on Dagobah.”

“You saw him? Is he still alive?” Vokara almost let her Jedi cool slip.

“No, I was there when he died of old age. He was not quite nine hundred. Well, here we are.”

Aha, that must be it. Vokara saw a small crowd huddled around a bed in the corner. There was a set of blue and white montrals that she would recognize anywhere, although they were taller now, not to mention the much-longer rear lekku hanging down the Togruta woman’s back.

“Here she is! This is Jedi Master Vokara Che, Head Healer of the old Jedi Temple.” Luke indicated his companion with a sweep of his arm. Hera was no longer following them, having been spotted and tackled by a small boy with green hair.

Ahsoka turned, then smiled. Next to her was a human woman with short red hair and a white pantsuit. This must be Chancellor Mothma. She looked vaguely familiar, although as a healer Vokara Che had not spent much time around the Senate or its politicians. On the other side of the bed was a young woman with brown hair braided into a crown around her head, her brown eyes looking down at the patient with a conflicted expression. There was also a familiar blue and white astromech droid at the foot of the bed. There was no doubt that this was Anakin Skywalker’s bedside.

Vokara came closer to the bed, taking her place next to Ahsoka. She peered down at the patient and nearly gasped. This man looked decades older than the Anakin she had known. He was pale and bald with terrible scars, horrifyingly primitive hardware attached directly—badly—to his body. His cybernetic arms varied wildly in quality, although both looked old. He turned his blue eyes to her and all doubt disappeared. This was unmistakably Anakin Skywalker.

As un-Jedi-like as it was, Vokara began to feel indignation surging within her. The evidence of gross medical malpractice was right in front of her. Given that quality medical care was probably difficult for a rebel to access—

She stopped dead in her line of reasoning. A chillingly familiar black helmet sat on a bedside table, along with medical equipment. A closer look at Anakin’s chest revealed a square black box with flashing lights. She had seen images of that box, along with that helmet. Vokara nearly gasped. This was Darth Vader. Anakin Skywalker had been Darth Vader. Not a rebel at all.

But if that were the case, would he not have had better access to medical care? The indignation began to rise in her again. The medical malpractice was deliberate, then. That made it so much worse. Someone, a medic of some stripe, whether organic or droid, had broken the most basic of the tenets of the healer’s path.

“Still getting into trouble, I see, Skywalker.” Vokara focused on the eyes of the supine figure. This was quite the understatement.

“Skyguy can’t help himself. That’s why we need a proper Jedi master to patch him up again.” Ahsoka was smiling, but there was worry in those big cobalt blue eyes. She picked up one of the prosthetic hands of her old master, the second-most feared man in the galaxy. There was genuine affection in the gesture. Ahsoka had already mostly forgiven him, then.

“Luke and Leia and I have been trying to Force-heal him with a crystal, you’d be better at that. None of us were knighted under the old system. Luke was knighted on Dagobah by Master Yoda himself, but that was far from a traditional ceremony. He declared me a knight so that I could take Leia as my padawan, but that’s not going to be orthodox, either. Luke is trying to rebuild the Order.”

Vokara stared at the young man in question. His Force-presence was blindingly Light, especially for a son of Darth Vader. Oh dear. If this was all that was left of the Order, then they certainly needed her.

Chapter Text

“Can I see the patient files?” Vokara Che noticed a small, nervous Rodian man who seemed to be the field medic. He nodded, relieved to no longer be solely responsible for Darth Vader’s care, and produced a datapad for Vokara to study.

The more she read, the more indignant she felt. Much of the file was Vader’s own accounts of his surgeries as dictated to Luke, particularly the first one, for which he had not been given any kind of anesthetic. That was cruel and barbaric, even for a mass-murdering Sith lord like Darth Sidious. Follow-up procedures were not any better, mostly painful tune-ups that treated him as a droid. Even Temple droids were better-treated than this. The most recent entries were much more reassuring. Skywalker was lucky indeed to have a son to advocate for him like this.

“The current plan, if one could call it such,” began the timid Rodian doctor, who clearly found the whole thing ridiculous, terrifying, and overwhelming, “is to use that crystal to improve organ function to the point that the chest box and the artificial systems it controls can be removed in a single surgery. Spinal repair is another matter, as is replacement or repair of the cybernetic limbs. Whether and how his skin and facial reconstruction are to be addressed has yet to be even considered.”

Vokara nodded. All of this seemed reasonable to her as a Jedi healer, but certainly a civilian doctor would have his doubts. Her eyes scanned the length of the bed, coming to rest on the claw-like toes of the cybernetic feet. She frowned. Having seen plenty of images of Darth Vader stomping about in his black boots, it was hard to reconcile these feet with those boots. Had he been hastily patched up with random scraps, then kept that way? That was madness, not medicine.

The metal hardware emerging from his flesh chest was horrifying as well, as if some parasite had made its home in his ribcage and was now breaking free. It was unnecessarily primitive as an approach and doubtless painful. At least now he no longer needed help to breathe, although he could not sustain speech for more than a word or syllable here or there.

As if on cue his mouth opened. “Mas...ter Che.” His voice was a strangled whisper, nothing like the voice she remembered. At least his teeth seemed to be consistent with standard patterns of natural human dentition, but she had only gotten a glimpse. The metal device jutted out where the lower jaw should be.

“Force-healing and even bacta tanks will only get us so far. There will have to be multiple surgeries if you want to be functional. I’m sorry. I can’t work miracles, but with Dr.—what’s your name?”

“Tsola.” The Rodian supplied.

“—with Dr. Tsola and I working together, we should be able to improve patient condition considerably. Seeing you in this condition, Skywalker, especially from so long ago, I can’t help but wonder what happened to the other combatant.”

“He is the other guy. Much of this damage was inflicted by Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was unscathed.” Luke spoke, looking to his father for confirmation of what he was saying. Vokara realized that the young man had a Force-bond with his father, which he used to be his spokesman. Interesting. Vokara quirked a tattooed eyebrow.

“Kenobi did this to you? That must have been after you entered your Sith phase.” She addressed Anakin directly, even though she knew he could not really talk and was probably not strong enough to nod.

“We mostly need him to be able to talk, so that we can try him for his crimes.” The young woman spoke up. She had a fierceness to her voice and a fire in her eyes that reminded Vokara of Anakin himself. This must be his daughter. Apparently they were not on good terms.

Vokara nodded. That made sense. “Then his windpipe and vocal chords will be our priority for now, although I believe the rest of his internal organs should probably be treated as well to make it easier in a courtroom setting. Mobility and cosmetic procedures can wait. May I see the crystal?”

Luke fetched the crystal and handed it to the Master Healer. She closed her eyes and felt it in the Force. This was not a Jedi artefact. It did not feel Dark either. It was a good thing, since they had already used it.

“Father says that’s a Skywalker family heirloom, a regenerative crystal from the B’omarr monks who built Jabba’s Palace on Tatooine. Grandma Shmi stole it and kept it as the community spirit healer.” Luke had a reverence in his voice toward his grandmother that gave Vokara pause, unfamiliar as this attitude was to a Temple-raised Jedi like herself. On the other hand, anyone who stole healing crystals from Hutts and then used them to help the disadvantaged was a connection to be proud of. “Grandpa Cliegg gave it to Father when Grandma Shmi was killed,” Luke continued his account of the crystal.

“The reason I’m here is Kenobi. He made me come here. The man himself says he’s dead. Anyone want to fill me in on that?”

“Father killed him.” Luke said, a little less sunny than before. “He was my master. Then Master Yoda, then the two of them together as ghosts. I wish Father hadn’t killed Old Ben Kenobi.”

Vokara sighed and shook her head. Dr. Tsola was staring at her, terrified. It was obvious that this patient was dangerous, and here was yet more evidence of that, and yet this Jedi healer was unafraid of Vader himself?

“I remember the first time I met Anakin,” she smiled at Dr. Tsola. “He was nine years old, just admitted to our Order from Tatooine, no medical records of any kind. Kenobi harassed his old crechemaster and me to provide a complete list of all vaccinations Anakin should have had or would need, then doggedly made sure he got every one of them. Same with the de-chipping surgery. I didn’t think it was urgent, since the detonator was already deactivated, but Kenobi would ambush me in the oddest places and hounded me until I removed that chip. Said it was of the utmost importance for Anakin’s sense of security and belonging.”

Dr. Tsola looked a little relieved. Old familiarity was a reasonable explanation for her attitude. It was almost impossible for him to imagine Darth Vader as a child of nine, but then, seeing him without that iconic black suit had been strange, too.

“Kenobi also tried to set up mind healers’ appointments for Anakin, although he again failed to do so for himself as well. I was a little upset when the directive came through cancelling the appointments, straight from the office of the Supreme Chancellor.”

Anakin’s eyes grew wide. Then he remembered. When he was still new in the Temple, his master had sent him to his first such appointment; afterwards, he had happened to encounter the Supreme Chancellor in the hall—no, wait. What was he doing in the hallway in that wing of the Jedi Temple? Anakin remembered telling him that he had not enjoyed his session, that he had floated too many objects in the room. There were no more appointments after that.

And those stories about his old master advocating for him and his medical needs were new, too. Obi-Wan never talked about that. What else had his old master done for him because it was the right thing to do, without ever telling him, never seeking gratitude or leverage or even praise? Was it possible that it was true that he had loved Anakin, the way he had said on that terrible day on Mustafar? Anakin closed his eyes, hard, then opened them again, trying to return to the present moment.

Vokara Che looked some more through his files and clicked her tongue. “Incredible how shoddy the repair work was. And why didn’t they take you to Polis Massa, which is much closer to Mustafar, for emergency care? They neglected their patient all the way to Coruscant instead. Unbelievable. Such infuriating incompetence!”

She flipped to the end and frowned. “No X-ray images?” She wanted to see how much of his lower jaw would have to be rebuilt. At least she knew what Anakin Skywalker was supposed to look like. If he wanted to look more or less like he did, anyway, she would find a way. Well, minus the long blond curls.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. General Dodonna has a report to give and Admiral Ackbar is waiting.” Senator—no, Chancellor Mothma smiled, that familiar kindly sadness playing about her eyes, and left.

Dr. Tsola sighed. “We didn’t have the resources for an X-ray machine or any other scanning devices, but the hidden safes that Darth Vader—Mister Skywalker Sr. helped us find contained enough valuable goods for us to be able to upgrade our facilities. The new equipment should be arriving soon.”

Vokara smiled. “Good. In the meantime, I can scan him in the Force and use the crystals. I brought my own healing crystal as well. Luke, you have a mental bond with the patient. So do you, Tano. I need all hands on deck. We each concentrate on specific organs and apply the crystals for Force-healing. I’ll handle the more delicate parts.”

Admiral Piett could not believe his eyes when the directive came through—Order 199. Lord Vader was calling for unconditional surrender, to the rebels, no less. The Emperor was apparently dead, which had seemed an unlikely outcome. Secretly Firmus Piett was pleased. As terrifying as Lord Vader was, he had seen him in poor condition upon his return from meetings with the Emperor enough times to know that he, too, was not immune to torture. Although Lord Vader had choked plenty of his own men, he generally only punished the incompetent. For this he had Admiral Piett’s terrified respect.

Endor was a strange place for a rebel base. True, there had been a battle there, and Lord Vader had never been fond of the Death Star, but the place was overrun with Ewoks. It was even stranger to find the directive coming from there, since that suggested that Lord Vader was on Endor. There was nothing for it but to make contact.

Luke noticed his father’s comm beeping while his father was recovering from the surgery to remove the hardware in his internal organs. No more catheters, breathing devices, or needles permanently poking him for constant diagnostic monitoring. Spinal procedures would have to wait, and Master Che had decided not to touch his father’s windpipe and vocal chords until she could see the state of his lower jaw once the X-ray equipment arrived.

“Skywalker.” Luke decided to answer the comm. He did have power of attorney, after all. Whoever it was must be in his father’s inner circle, to have his personal comm frequency and to be unafraid to use it.

“This is Admiral Piett. Who is this? Is this not Lord Vader’s frequency?”

“Yes, it is. Father just came out of surgery. I can take a message.” Luke said, brightly.

Admiral Piett opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. Father? Lord Vader had a son? It was true, then. The young man had answered as “Skywalker,” too. Oh. No wonder Lord Vader had been so fixated on locating and capturing the rebel leader Luke Skywalker. Not wishing to get sucked into some sort of family drama, Admiral Piett took a deep breath.

“Tell him that I received the directive regarding Order 199 and will be awaiting further instruction. The same goes for my surviving subordinates.”

“OK, will do. And oh, did you see Father’s official statement?”

Admiral Piett gave an involuntary shudder. He had seen that there had been one issued, but had not been brave enough to open the file and read it.

“No, I have received it but have not yet reviewed it.”

“Well, I recommend that you do. It’ll explain a lot. Anyway, thanks for contacting us, and I’ll be sure to pass on your message to Father.”

As soon as the comm call was over, Admiral Piett slouched back down onto his seat in the small escape shuttle. He was quickly running out of supplies and would have to land somewhere. If Lord Vader was receiving medical care, then the rebels could not be so bad. Lord Vader had evidently entrusted his affairs to his son. The boy must be trustworthy, then, at least as far as Lord Vader was concerned. He took another deep breath and opened the official statement.

His eyes glazed over as he read, unable to believe that the words had been written by Lord Vader himself, or at least dictated or approved by him. So the rumors were true, then, that Lord Vader had been the Jedi General Anakin Skywalker, the one with whom Grand Moff Tarkin had served during the Clone Wars. When he came to the attached image at the end of the document, he stifled a gasp. The face looked almost nothing like the General Skywalker he vaguely remembered from wartime propaganda, and even less like the face he had imagined as belonging to Lord Vader.

In the recesses of his lair in Unknown Space, a misshapen being sat, cradling his obsidian ring in his hands. “My precious.” He sneered at the galaxy at large. What a fool the Emperor was! Now that the Emperor was gone, and with him the Sith Order, his opportunity had arrived. The Sith had kindly removed the Jedi and the old Republic. The rebels would be too soft on the remains of the Empire, and would not be strong enough to take control of the Outer Rim, let alone Unknown Space.

The Moffs would quickly degenerate into petty warlords, easy to play off each other. It might be fun if they rallied behind a non-human, perhaps Grand Admiral Thrawn, in order to camouflage their chauvinism, helping them seem more legitime in the eyes of the rebels until it was time to strike.

Snoke smiled. It was an unhoped-for boon that the one known as Darth Vader for the past twenty years had survived. With neither Jedi nor Sith left in existence, he would be unmoored. By all accounts he had always been plagued by nightmares, and he had plenty of guilt and trauma to serve as a cover for planted nightmares.

Not only did Darth Vader or Anakin Skywalker or whatever he called himself still live, his children did also. His son felt too Light in the Force for Snoke to enter his mind, but his daughter was another story. It had been easy enough to hack into her thoughts when she was emotional. Untrained, powerful in the Force, angry—perfect. Either of them would make lovely pawns.

Anakin woke up from his surgery and winced. There was still pain, but this was post-operative pain, the kind that comes when anesthetics wear off, not the relentless, deliberate baiting pain that had been his constant companion for more than two decades. He looked down at his chest and saw a bandaged-up surgical scar, but no metal hardware emerging from his flesh. What was more, there were bacta strips on some of his previous scars as well.

“How are you feeling, Father?” Luke’s voice reached him through his still-drugged haze. The boy’s face slowly came into focus, worried blue eyes and dark blond hair trimmed higher in the back, off his neck.

“Like in the Clone Wars.” Anakin continued to use his mental bond with his son to communicate, not daring to try using his speaking voice. He could not properly remember what all had been done in this latest procedure.

Luke frowned. He had no idea what the Clone Wars had felt like as an injured Jedi general. “I’ll get Master Che. She’ll want to see you. Oh, and Father, Admiral Piett called your personal comm to say that he got the message about Order 199.”

Anakin attempted to smile, then winced. His whole upper body ached. The surgery must have been quite extensive, then. He watched as Luke got up from his bedside chair, patted his father on the shoulder, and left.

Soon enough Vokara Che was looming in his line of vision. “You woke up in record time, Skywalker. Difficult to keep a good man down, eh? Let me have a look.” Dr. Tsola also appeared in the background, looking at the readings on the machines and jotting them down in the patient file.

Luke had also returned, this time with Snips and Leia. Anakin tried to acknowledge them. Part of him half-expected to see Admiral Piett there as well. Why would he think that, again? Oh yes, that’s right, Luke had taken a message from the man.

Leia still looked vaguely stormy, like she was not entirely convinced that this particular surgery had been necessary, but Snips had tears of relief in her eyes. She picked up one of his cybernetic hands and squeezed, pressing it against her cheek. “You’re going to be able to eat food again, Skyguy. Real food!”

Real food. It had been years since Anakin had tasted actual food. Strictly speaking he had been able to eat orally, even solid food, but it had been too much trouble, requiring as it did that he go into his hyperbaric chamber where he could remove his mask. Not to mention his heightened risk of choking. This was why he had relied on intravenous feeding for years.

Then he frowned. Eating food meant using the fresher. If he did not have catheters or waste collection contraptions attached to him anymore, how was he going to manage? He did not want to burden Luke with dealing with a bedpan. Even if it had been Anakin caring for his own mother, he probably would not have been happy long-term about dealing with something like that.

“Fresher?” All he could manage out loud was one word, with the proper inflection to indicate that this was a question.

Vokara Che smiled. “Good to see that your mind still works. Yes, that will be an issue. Eventually we’ll have you on your feet, but in the meantime, that’s what family is for.” She was eyeing Leia with a sadistic smirk. The latter spluttered in indignation. She was a princess, after all.

Luke grinned. This was ingenious. Putting Leia in charge of bedpan duty, with Luke supervising so as to avoid abuse, would give her a powerful motive to support more thorough medical treatment for her own father. Luke thought for a moment that he heard the light tinkling laugh of Old Ben himself.

Ahsoka caught Leia’s look and clicked her tongue. “Patience, Padawan.” It felt surreal for Ahsoka to be saying that. She had a padawan of her own, as well as Skyguy back. He was almost functional again.

Anakin had mostly recovered from his first surgery when the X-ray and other machines arrived. Vokara Che rubbed her hands in glee, but it was Dr. Tsola who was the most pleased. This equipment would benefit all of his patients, not just the former Darth Vader. As terrifying and evil as the Sith lord had been, his presence had certainly had its practical benefits. You could even say that he had paid for the upgrade to their field hospital—from a certain point of view.

Vokara ran the diagnostic scanning equipment on Anakin’s face and neck. To her surprise, his lower jawbone was intact, with the metal equipment clamped on over the bone. In that case, it was just a matter of removing it, filling in the holes in his bone where the metal hardware was screwed on, and using the crystals to Force-heal his windpipe and vocal chords.

Chapter Text

When Anakin came to after all of this, Luke was there, as always. “Can you talk, Father? Did it work?”

Anakin opened his mouth, intending to only open it a little bit, but found his jaw moved much more easily than before, leaving his mouth wide open. “Luke. Can you hear me?” He tested out his voice, which sounded oddly high to him without the baritone vocoder, especially since he was producing more than a whisper.

“Yes! I can hear you! Father, you’re talking!” Luke clasped one of the cybernetic hands and grinned, looking so much like Anakin himself once did whenever Obi-Wan woke up in the Halls of Healing during the war, or even before that.

Leia felt Luke’s excitement over their bond and dropped what she was doing. She happened to be in the middle of a meeting with rebel military leadership. Ahsoka seemed to have felt something as well, because she caught Leia’s eye.

General Dodonna sighed. “All right, go do whatever Jedi business you have, you two. We were just wrapping up, anyway. And tell Skywalker Sr. thanks again for the intel, we’ve had almost a victory a day for the past twenty days.” He turned to some of the young rebel pilots to discuss bringing Admiral Piett to the base to accept his surrender, along with the remains of his troops.

As soon as Ahsoka saw Anakin without any metal hardware obstructing his face, she broke into a wide grin. “Once Skyguy can talk freely, he won’t shut up, Luke. You’re in for a surprise.”

“Aw, Snips, don’t plant notions in his head.” Anakin tried out his voice again.

Ahsoka ran to his bedside and grabbed his other hand. “And now you sound like you again. I’m so happy for you, Skyguy. Padawan, come closer.” She gestured to Leia with her other hand to come closer.

Leia came closer to the bed and stared at the completely uncovered face. He looked different without any of the metal parts that had made him look like a ruthless cyborg, a killing machine.

“Leia. Luke. I think I sounded about like this before.” Anakin smiled, this time with his whole face, although he quickly thought better of it when the action pulled his scars painfully. Vokara Che clucked at him in fond disapproval, but for a fleeting moment his children had seen his natural smile.

Leia found the whole spectacle unnerving. This man no longer looked or sounded like Darth Vader. Darth Vader never smiled, and certainly didn’t sound like a normal person. She remembered seeing the holographic version of a very young Knight Anakin Skywalker, and her eyes grew wide when she recognized his voice.

If he could be put into a hoverchair, or his mechanical limbs recalibrated to allow him to move—she realized that this might involve dangerous spinal surgery—then he could stand trial. He was talking well enough. On the other hand, if he looked and sounded like this, it would be harder to get a harsh sentence for him, even if he pleaded guilty. There was no way he could be found innocent of all of the crimes he was known to have committed. The only variable was the sentence.

Leia shifted uncomfortably. Why was she so concerned all of a sudden about his trial going more or less in his favor? What did it say about the likely jury that she thought that he would be judged less harshly the more human he looked? No, it wasn’t about his species. Without his mask and that suit, Darth Vader no longer looked evil and menacing; he looked like an elderly disabled man. Harmless.

The shape of his face, especially his jaw, looked disturbingly like Luke. Leia had no trouble accepting that Luke was her brother. She had already liked him when she found out, so that it was a pleasant discovery. This man lying in the bed now looked unbearably like a blood relative. As long as he looked like a droid, it had been easy to dismiss him as being not her real father. That honor belonged to Bail Organa, always would. But now that this creature looked more like her own brother, she found herself faced increasingly with the unavoidable reality that this was in fact her birth father.

“What would you like to eat when you recover enough from the surgery? We could probably get you any meal, within reason, of course.” Luke was still grinning. “Aunt Beru isn’t here, but I do remember many of her recipes, if you want dishes from home.”

Whose fault was it that Aunt Beru was no longer alive? Leia clenched her fist. Darth Vader was at least partially responsible, as representative of the Empire’s cruelty, as its chief enforcer. Luke had forgiven the violent deaths of the aunt and uncle who raised him, almost alarmingly easily.

“Release your anger into the Force, Padawan, it’s dangerous,” Leia heard Ahsoka’s voice through their training bond.

“What’s next on your agenda, Master Che? I might be able to fix up my own mechanical parts. I’m good with droids.” Anakin tried again to smile, before catching himself.

“You are not a droid, Skywalker. All of this would be easier and cheaper if you were, but we can still fix you to a large extent, just the same.” Vokara Che was playing along, relieved and pleased, although the only external clue was the way she had brought one of her lekku over her shoulder and was patting it.

“Hey, don’t disrespect my best friend.” Anakin was dead serious in his tone and expression, giving the organics in the room pause. Vokara Che realized that, to Anakin, being a droid was not an inferior state of being at all. That was discriminatory and chauvinistic.

Looking back, there had been plenty of instances in their years as fellow Jedi in which she had made insensitive remarks. They all had, blissfully unaware of the realities of slavery in Hutt space or the disturbing way in which organics treated droids, hurting poor Anakin without even knowing it. The only person with any inkling was probably Obi-Wan, having lived as a slave himself and experienced the horrors of war as a child solider on Melida/ Daan and life outside of the protection of the Order, but not on the scale that Anakin had grown up in, apparently from birth. Besides, the Order bureaucracy and then the war had hamstrung Obi-Wan in his attempts to accommodate his padawan, as well.

The tension was broken by the stiff-legged approach of another droid, this one plated gold. “Where is everybody? Oh, Master Luke, there you are!”

“Threepio?” Anakin strained in his bed to see. He had encountered plenty of golden protocol droids in his life, especially as Darth Vader, but in his current weakened state, surrounded by people from his past, it was the very first protocol droid he ever built that came to mind first.

“I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations.” The droid approached the foot of the bed, having spotted Artoo. Artoo addressed the newly-arrived droid in a series of beeps and whistles. “Artoo-deetoo, really you ought to watch your language!”

Anakin chuckled as he watched Artoo stick one of his appendages into a small hole in Threepio’s round chestplate, which caused him to fall to his knees. Once he was in this position, Artoo inserted another appendage into Threepio’s head and began uploading his backup of his best friend’s memory.

Once he was finished, Threepio stood up and cast another gaze at the figure in the bed. “Master Anakin? The Maker himself?”

“Yes, Threepio. It’s me.” Anakin smiled as much as his scars would allow.

Later that day, as evening fell over the jungle and the Ewoks started retiring to their homes for the night, Admiral Piett arrived, along with a ragtag band of former Imperial soldiers. Admiral Ackbar himself met him at the landing pad, offering his webbed hand for a quick handshake. Admiral Piett had not been expecting any kind of friendly display, and frowned in surprise.

He was frankly not prepared when Luke himself came out of a large prefab building and waved at him. This was the same young rebel leader who had answered his comm call recently, the one who referred to Lord Vader as “Father” with a disturbing amount of affection.

“We meet again, this time under less tense circumstances. I’m Luke Skywalker. You’re here to see my father, aren’t you?”

“Lord Vader.”

“Yes, well, follow me.” Luke led Admiral Piett back into the large prefab building. Firmus Piett had initially assumed that this was the headquarters building, where there might be a holding cell or even a small office containing Lord Vader, but as soon as he entered, the smell of disinfectant and bacta assailed him. The field hospital. Of course. Had Luke not said that his father had been in surgery?

Nothing prepared Admiral Piett for the sight of rebel leaders, not to mention a random collection of droids, crowded around a bed in the corner. Ah, that was Princess Leia Organa, of Alderaan. What was she doing here?

When he saw the face of the supine figure on the bed, Admiral Piett thought he was being choked. That could not be Darth Vader. Darth Vader was not a human person, certainly not an invalid. This man had tired but almost friendly eyes, which was wrong. “Ah, Admiral Piett. You made it here.”

No no no no. The voice was wrong, too. Admiral Piett just stared for a long moment before shaking off his shock. What was he doing? It was dangerous to offend Lord Vader. The only clue that this was in fact the same person was the familiar black helmet placed on a bedside table.

“Yes, reporting for duty, sir.” Admiral Piett botched his salute.

“At ease, Admiral. I’m not going to be fighting anybody any time soon. I see you met my son properly this time. Have you met my daughter?”

Admiral Piett suppressed his shocked impulse to look around the room for a likely candidate, then his eyes came to rest on Princess Leia Organa, who had flinched. Oh. This was yet another surprise.

“Under less friendly circumstances, yes.”

“I assume you met Admiral Ackbar. You will be debriefed by him. The Mon Calamari. You and your men will be assigned barracks after that. Dismissed.” Lord Vader did not sound imposing anymore, even when giving commands. He sounded more like a Republic military man, or a Jedi general—oh. Skywalker. Of course.

“Yes, sir.” Admiral Piett saluted again and turned on his heels in his usual crisp manner. Nothing in his cadet training or military career had prepared him for this.

“Bring me a cup of water, Luke.” Anakin was relieved to see his son come into his line of vision. He still could not walk or move his cybernetic arms unassisted, requiring Luke’s help to do anything. It was nice to be able to talk, and to eat actual food, but there was still so far to go.

“No, that’s not where the itch is. Scratch lower—no, a little to the right, a little higher, yes!” Luke would understand. It was not like there was any other good option.

“Leia, bedpan.” As soon as Leia came into the field hospital, Anakin found himself giving her directives as if she were a low-ranking Imperial. Unlike clone shinies, Imperials were all the same. It was strange but true that men who were all grown from the same genetic sample were more distinct as individuals than stormtroopers, or even Imperial officers, who were not clones and came from a variety of homeworlds, although most were human. That in itself had been boring.

Leia sucked in her breath as she hauled away the pan containing human waste for disposal. She had done nothing wrong, and yet she was being punished. He was the one who was the war criminal. Why was she stuck dealing with his mess? As he got more and more accustomed to being able to eat and talk, he seemed to take her and Luke increasingly for granted. Having Admiral Piett on the base did not help. Really he should be grateful that they had spent so much time and energy on him when he had deserved to die with the Emperor.

Lately even Luke seemed a little less starstruck. He yawned in strategy meetings, and whenever Leia entered the field hospital, he was almost always there, unless he was at the canteen getting meals for two. She did not have to ask who his dinner date was whenever she saw that.

On the day before Vokara Che was set to perform spinal surgery, Han finally made an appearance. He had a report about his most recent capture of materiel and supplies, but a bigger reason for his appearing in person in the field hospital was simple curiosity. Seeing Luke exhausted and apparently losing weight, not to mention finding himself on the receiving end of Leia’s foul moods, he had begun to wonder what was going on with old Darth Vader.

As soon as he entered the former Sith lord’s field of vision, he was treated to a stormy expression and rather scary frown. “You’re the smuggler who dares to paw over my daughter.”

Leia, who was standing behind the head of the bed, hissed in response. Han noticed just how similar the two of them looked and felt when angry.

“With all due respect sir, the relationship is mutually consensual. And I’m here to give a report.”

Anakin tried and succeeded in growling. This man had better be worthy of his daughter. At least he wasn’t slimy like Rush Clovis in his advances toward Padme. Then again, those overtures had been unwanted. If Leia returned the affections of this half-witted scruffy-looking nerfherder, there would not be much he could say or do. It was not the man’s income source or educational level that was a concern. Anakin had seen him tease Leia, calling her “Your Worshipfulness,” and generally behave like a scoundrel. His daughter deserved more respect than that.

“Proceed with the report.” Anakin pushed down his distaste for the man, Solo, and listened to the account of “liberating” Imperial supplies.

“Good, you got the whole inventory.” Anakin tried to keep the interaction civil and business-like. Back during the war, he had had to deal with Ventress and Pong Krell and plenty of unpleasant people, which he endured—badly—for the war effort. The Emperor had been even more odious. Put like that, Han Solo was not so bad. Small mercies. Anakin tried for a small smile.

“About my reaction just now—sorry to be gruff. I just want to make sure my daughter is treated properly.” This was painful to say out loud. Anakin was not in the habit of apologizing, but then, he had paid quite a hefty price for his stubborn pride.

“Father, we’re twenty-two.” Luke did his best not to sound whiny, but the very nature of this remark made that difficult.

“My point still stands. Your mother was twenty-four when she married me.” Anakin was not about to admit to his children, or to anyone else for that matter, that he had been only nineteen.

“You do not get to talk like that.” Leia hissed. “You tortured me and were directly involved in the destruction of my homeworld, and with it my real family. My real father. You’re not my real father.”

“Leia—” Han put a hand on her shoulder to lead her away, hoping that she could cool down. She was still such a fiery rebel where Darth Vader was concerned, and he understood feeling betrayed, but she needed to keep calm. Han himself had learned this the hard way. Qi’ra and her double-crossing still hurt, but he could not let that rule him, not at this point. That would be letting her win.

Han remembered all of his previous encounters with Darth Vader, especially the day he was frozen in carbonite and handed to Boba Fett for delivery to Jabba. If Leia was angry on his behalf, that was flattering, but also completely unnecessary. No, he should not presume to be the cause of her anger. Alderaan was probably the main reason, although he had a nagging suspicion that Leia cared more about ideas and principles than simple tit-for-tat or personal gain.

Once, a very long time ago, Han had been motivated by something other than mere survival, or scoring the next gig that paid well. That young man had died, killed by Qi’ra. Leia and her merry band of cockeyed optimists and downright crazies had brought glimmers of that boy back.

Perhaps it was the same for Darth Vader himself. Han had heard Luke talk excitedly about the wonderful Jedi hero his father had been, back in the early days, before they knew that this same knight was also Darth Vader. As a Jedi knight, Anakin Skywalker had surely been motivated by something other than bored, casually senseless cruelty or inchoate anger directed at the galaxy and at himself because the most fitting target of that anger had absolute control over everything.

Leia was certainly mature and had been aged by the Rebellion and the war, but she was still so young, really. That was part of what Han liked about her, but it was bittersweet to see the same youthful idealism and strong sense of justice cause her and her family distress.

Chapter Text

As soon as Vokara Che herself came in to relieve Luke, he left the field hospital and found his way to the kitchen. Really he should sleep, but mindless food prep tasks were a good way for him to wind down to sleep. He was not expecting to find Ahsoka already in the kitchen, apparently for the same reason.

“You look pretty worn-out, Luke. Are you sure you’re all right? Full-time caregiving is pretty demanding, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Ahsoka knew better than to ask a lot of prying questions. Luke would tell her anything he wanted her to know. It had been the same with Padme. And Skyguy too, for that matter. Even if Luke never said another word, she knew anyway. She had seen him slumped over his father’s bed, asleep, late at night, only to be roused by his father demanding a glass of water or a bedpan change. Then there were the times when she had caught a glimpse of Luke spoon-feeding his father or wiping him down. Whenever she happened upon scenes like this, Ahsoka had always known to beat a hasty retreat before anyone noticed her, because the Skywalker men deserved privacy. In his current helpless state, Skyguy was as high-maintenance as a crecheling.

“Leia’s attitude doesn’t help. I understand why she’s still so angry, but I take the brunt of that. And Father himself. I know he was used to being in command, having droids swarm about him for these maintenance tasks, and he’s gotten more comfortable here, which is a good thing, but it would be nice to be appreciated sometimes.”

“I imagine he does, or did. He doesn’t always show it in a way that’s easy to understand and accept.”

“And he’s my father, it’s only right that I take care of him, it’s my job, but I struggle with wanting approval.” Luke cast his gaze down at his knife as he sliced the root vegetables with practiced hands. Ahsoka realized, watching him, that he and his father also shared a Tatooine family upbringing, in which chores were shared, even with children. There had been no refectory, certainly.

“That’s natural. I remember feeling that way myself, whenever I brought my master a report card with good marks, or my mission succeeded, only to be given a new, even more daunting task. But Master Obi-Wan told me once, that he doesn’t always remember to express approval in words, and that he often shows his approval and appreciation that way, that it was a mark of his trust. Master Obi-Wan said he used to be that way himself, and he was sorry about passing down some of the worst teaching methods from his master and grand-master.”

Luke finished chopping and rinsed the knife before putting it into the slatted rack to dry. He kept his head down, not wanting to look Ahsoka in the face. She understood his father better than anyone living, probably better than Admiral Piett, even. Uncle Owen could be prickly as well, which was perhaps merely a result of spending one’s life surviving the desert. Luke had also grown up on Tatooine, spending more years there than his father ever had, but he was freeborn. There was a difference.

“I feel like he’s sort of entitled to being waited on, after his early life on Tatooine, and again under the Emperor, in a way. But at the same time it kind of rankles, maybe because I know he’s helpless and neither of us have any choice. If I don’t look after him, I suspect nobody will, at least, not to the degree that I do. I didn’t choose this, neither did he. It was almost easier when he couldn’t eat or talk. It’s a strange paradox.”

“But you were still in communication with him. You did talk to him through your mental bond. So did I.” Ahsoka dried her hands and leaned back.

“I felt like I had to defend him, his very right to life and to medical care. Being his advocate gave me a sense of purpose. I almost wish he couldn’t talk again. Wow, I sound like a terrible person for saying that.” Luke planted both hands against the ledge of the sink, then took a step back, bending in two at the waist.

“Now he can speak for himself. As Jedi we defend the defenseless, speak for the voiceless. You accomplished that mission. You’re in the midst of your next mission. All this is only temporary. Once he’s in even better shape, he’ll be less helpless. Right now he’s just in the awkward in-between stage of needing care.” Ahsoka toyed with one of her lekku as she spoke.

“And then what? We get him back on his feet, he’s autonomous—then he’ll have to stand trial, maybe even be punished when he’s inevitably found guilty. I won’t be able to protect him if he doesn’t need a representative. I guess I worry about him. I know what he did, what he used to be. The galaxy will still see him that way.” Luke straightened himself and wiped his hands again.

“You don’t trust him to take responsibility for his actions? There were plenty of times during the war when he took responsibility for my mistakes. That was his job, as my master, but he never complained about it or made me feel like he was doing me some grand favor. He can handle it.” Ahsoka placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder. It was comforting to have an aunt who understood.

“And then I saw what was in his mind. He was imagining hugging and kissing my daughter, going far beyond that. It was horrifying.” Anakin grumbled to Master Che, some of the smaller medical tools leaping on their trays as he spoke. He was not quite angry enough to levitate them outright.

“You’re a one to talk. Have you forgotten how you came to have a daughter in the first place? It was fine for you to break the Code, I suppose.” Vokara stood with her arms crossed, unimpressed. Anakin needed to calm down to get his heart rate back down to normal so that she could go through her routine checks. Perhaps it had been a mistake to ask him to tell her what had his blood pressure higher than usual.

“That’s precisely why it’s disgusting. I know exactly what’s on his mind, what he’s dreaming of. That’s my child he’s got his dirty paws on.” Anakin closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He could not expect a Jedi to understand.

“Whom you didn’t know was your daughter until after you had tortured her and destroyed everything that was dear to her. Besides, neither she nor General Solo are Jedi in the traditional sense, so the attachments rule does not apply to them. Their relationship is not forbidden. Yours was. I suppose it’s all the same now. Finally.” Vokara Che was relieved to find her patient in the right condition for what she had to do.

Anakin did not much like anesthesia. Having experienced brutal surgeries without it, he was not about to protest its presence, but the sensation of slipping into darkness felt uncomfortably like sinking into a sand pit. Years of torture at the hands—or rather, pincers—of medic droids had taught him not to trust medical professionals or their practices and procedures.

At least this was Master Che. He thought of his first procedure at her hands. His de-chipping surgery. He had not known that Obi-Wan had had to beg for it. In those early days he had been under the impression that Obi-Wan didn’t like him, had never wanted him, blamed him for his father-figure’s death, resented him. By the time Anakin lost his own mother he had already forgotten, but it occurred to him now, as he slowly drifted into unconsciousness, that Obi-Wan had been grieving while pushing down anger. That anger was not directed at Anakin at all, but at Darth Maul, no, Obi-Wan himself.

That was also painfully familiar. Anakin had spent two decades hating a great many things and people, but nothing or nobody more than himself. He had failed Padme. Worse, he was directly responsible for her death, unlike Obi-Wan, who had merely failed to reach Master Qui-Gon in time to save him.

The last image Anakin saw before slipping under was the face of Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking old, sad, but determined and oddly mischievous. He had known that Anakin would kill him. They had been able to guess with uncanny accuracy what the other would do during the Clone Wars; that was what had made them so efficient as a team. They thought as one and acted as one, but with two bodies.

You were the Chosen One. You finally eliminated your master. Now you are the master. It is time for you to take your Sith apprentice. Yes, your daughter. It is your birthright. The two of you Skywalkers shall rule the galaxy together!

Snoke was pleased with the message that he had broadcast into Anakin Skywalker’s mind while he was unconscious. Of course he had no intention of letting the Skywalkers rule, but they could be useful. It would take some time, but both father and daughter were in a good position to catch the messages. The best part was that the father of the two would have no conscious memory of it.

The hidden treasures on Jakku were duly found, which was good. The rebels would get cocky and complacent as more and more worlds fell under their control, as more and more of the surviving Imperials surrendered. This was already happening. As always, the new government would adopt a myopic focus on the Core, neglecting the very real inequalities and grievances of the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions, which would be its undoing, like all of its predecessors. The Sith master, Darth Sidious, had even made the same mistake. Snoke would not.

The fall of the Emperor was not good news, but it was not a complete disaster. The former Grand Admiral Thrawn stood ramrod straight, his hands lightly clasped behind his back. As long as his people were not harassed too much by their neighbors, he did not care much who was in charge of most of the galaxy. The old Republic had completely neglected Unknown Space, which was good and bad. No meddling also meant no protection. The Empire had been much more efficient.

He smiled ever so subtly as he gazed upon his art collection. Research was his strong suite, and now he had plenty to study. The rebels, at least, were a heterogenous bunch. It would be interesting to see what kind of kaleidoscopic patterns of change spread through the galaxy for a new match of galactic dejarik.

“Anakin, Anakin.” A very familiar voice was calling his name. Who was this? This was a man’s voice, so that it was not his mother. A pair of transparent blue arms hugged him. “The chip is gone now. You’re safe, free.”

No, I’m not. The Council saw to that, then the Emperor. No, I can never be free, except in death. Just let me die.

“No, Anakin. You’ve been given another chance. A lot of people have died for that opportunity, Anakin. Including me. The galaxy needs you. Your children need you. You aren’t finished bringing balance to the Force.”

No, I’m tired. I can’t move anyway. I can’t, I can’t—

“You can do it, Father!”

No, I’m a monster. Always have been, always will be. You never saw, never knew. You wouldn’t understand.

“Then you have a responsibility to explain, to face justice. For Alderaan, for all of your victims.”

No, I’m not strong enough. Luke and Leia are the ones the galaxy needs now, not me. I kriffed up the galaxy, nobody can forgive me. No, nobody should forgive me.

“You’re not the one who decides that, Skyguy. Let the galaxy decide for itself, but know that I always love you no matter what.”

I don’t deserve that, Snips. I caused the very disasters I wanted to prevent, became the very thing we were all fighting against.

“Blind we all were. Responsibility to repair the damage all of the living now face.”

I’m not the right person for that. If I try, I’ll just kriff it up even worse.

“Do or do not, there is no try. Don’t center on your anxieties, grandpadawan. Remember, your focus determines your reality.”

Objective reality is too painful, Master Qui-Gon. And I have forfeited the privilege of dreaming. I let my dreams control me, and now the whole galaxy has been plunged into a nightmare for decades.

“Reflect on your mistakes and learn from them, Ani, but don’t look back. There are not enough people in the galaxy willing to help others. You are in a position to do so. Don’t throw away your opportunities. The desert endures. We endure. Remember that you are free. You can do anything, Ani.”

Mom? I don’t, I can’t, not anymore. I blew my chance. I’m not sure I can hold on anymore. But I can’t face you, either.

“Let the people who love you help you, Ani. I love you. I always will. Our son was right, there is still so much good in you, so much you have to give.”

Padme, Angel, I hurt you. I hurt all the people I love the most. There is nothing left in me. No bad, perhaps, but no good, either. I’m empty. Useless. No, worse than useless. I can never make up to you what I did to you.

“Good, good, keep talking, Anakin, stay strong for Master Che. She’s almost done. It’s going well so far. Focus on the Force as it guides her. You’re going to be all right. I’m here for you, although perhaps you still hate me. I know it’s my fault you’re in this condition in the first place. I’m sorry. I still love you, always have, even if I thought I had to suppress it.”

Exegol. The clone of the Emperor was growing on Exegol. Anakin would not be able to explain how he knew, but he was certain. It made sense. Exegol was a Sith planet, and nobody in their right mind wanted to go there. Perhaps Anakin could feel the life presence growing on the other side of the old training bond with Darth Sidious better now that he was mostly unconscious and in surgery.

The planet name of Exegol, along with the mental image of a pale, shriveled, distorted copy of the Emperor growing in a glass tube of amniotic fluid reached Luke. He had been sitting in the field hospital, not entirely awake, exhausted from his caregiving duties. This could be a lead.

Leia was also there, watching from a safe distance as Master Vokara Che and Dr. Tsola worked together on the spinal surgery. It certainly looked complicated and dangerous. Luke had told her that the last time their biological father had had spinal surgery, there had been no attempt made to put him under. This time around he was semi-conscious, by necessity. With all the nerves being handled, they could not afford to make mistakes and find out later, after he came to.

She had been wounded in this fight, even had a blaster bolt removed from her arm with no painkiller. That was incredibly painful. In spite of herself, she felt a twinge of sympathy. Darth Vader had done a lot of terrible things and hurt a lot of people, but he himself had been hurt. That did not absolve him, of course, but Master Ahsoka’s words popped unbidden into Leia’s mind: hating Darth Vader and wishing him ill was not the Jedi way, for sure, and Leia’s own temperament put her at risk of Falling herself, so that she could not afford to hate him like that.

Ahsoka noticed that Luke was sinking into sleep. She moved closer to him, putting his head on her lap, and began stroking his hair. This was like a role reversal, since his hair was the same color as Skyguy’s, although of a different texture. On the other hand, Luke was the same age now that Skyguy had been at the end of the Clone Wars. She noticed Luke murmuring something, so she bent down closer to hear.

“Exegol. The clone…growing…Exegol.”

Ahsoka’s eyes grew wide. The clone of the Emperor, no doubt. Luke had told her about that on the trip back from Malachor when he and Leia picked her up. Ahsoka picked up her other wrist, activated her comm, and spoke in a near-whisper.

“Hera? It’s me, Ahsoka. We just got a bit of intelligence about the Emperor’s clone. It’s growing on Exegol.”

“Copy that. Wow. I think Ezra was not too far away from there the last time he made contact. He can look into it.”

“All right, but tell him to be careful. The clone isn’t necessarily evil yet.”

Ahsoka ended the call, heart pounding.

Ah, so Darth Sidious had chosen cloning for immortality. Sith were always trying to find ways to cheat death, since their afterlife was not pleasant, where it existed. He was not as smart as he believed himself to be, then, since he had orchestrated a war with millions of human clones who had turned out to be individuals. There was no guarantee that a clone of Darth Sidious would be anything like him.

It did not matter. Cloning Force-sensitives rarely went well, anyway. If one focused on the genome, the Force-sensitivity was often lost, even when the clone looked like a perfect copy. If one focused on the Force-signature, the appearance of the clone suffered. With any luck, this clone would be in the latter category, its face and general appearance distorted enough that Snoke could impersonate it.

He chuckled to himself as he got into his private ship for a quick jaunt to Exegol. The rebels would indeed find a Force-sensitive clone of the Emperor, and their soft-heartedness would lead them to try to take the clone home with them. They would not be clever enough to recognize an impostor.

Chapter Text

Admiral Piett stood in the war room, next to Admiral Ackbar, as they looked over the holomaps and other data that he had brought with him when he surrendered. “Here. These are the planets with Imperial holdouts. The Unknown Regions and Outer Rim in particular are full of rogue Moffs who were never actually loyal.”

“Are you saying these holdouts are not true loyalists at all, but merely aspiring war lords?” Admiral Ackbar rubbed his chin with a webbed hand.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

General Dodonna frowned. “But we can’t just offer to recognize them and grant them legitimacy. The citizens of those planets have been oppressed long enough.”

Admiral Piett took a deep breath. Right. That was never a concern for the Emperor, but the rebels had built their legitimacy in the eyes of their supporters on rhetoric about freedom, justice, and equality for all. Beautiful sentiments, yes, but impractical. On the other hand, the rebels, especially the Bridgers on Lothal, had always been better at propaganda. It was not a matter of bombarding the people with a consistent message, but of telling the plebeians what they wanted to hear.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn. If we get him on our side—” Admiral Piett had never known him directly, but had certainly heard plenty of stories. He was cold, calculating, not a nice man at all—prime Imperial military material. It was a pity that the Emperor was so chauvinistic about non-humans, or the Empire might have benefitted from more talents like him. None of that mattered now.

“If we promise him authority over the rogue Moffs, then monitor his management of those worlds, that might be workable, but isn’t he no better than the more efficient Moffs and governors?” General Dodonna was not entirely sold on the idea.

“What are our other options? Killing off the Moffs? Hardly in line with our values. And Grand Admiral Thrawn is a formidable opponent. I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side.” Admiral Ackbar shot Admiral Piett a glare.

“Bribery. We could always bribe them all to behave.” Vice Admiral Amilyn Holdo smirked, tossing her mauve curls as she spoke.

“But where would the money come from to do that? Just because you seem to have more than enough, doesn’t mean the Rebellion as a whole is well-off, too.” General Dodonna sighed. He glanced at her softly-draped golden gown that looked like it was designed for a ballroom, rather than a war room.

“The treasury on Jakku was not the only one. I have information about other caches of wealth. I think there is some merit in the Vice Admiral’s suggestion. An investiture ceremony in which each Moff is presented with some kind of crown or droid or something that is rigged up to spy on them, then sent on their way thinking that being spied on by their new symbol of investiture is some kind of honor, something like this might work. Those of us who were clever at the Imperial Academy went into the military track, while the ones who weren’t often ended up as Moffs.” Admiral Piett stroked his chin, glancing at the young woman who had come up with a rather good idea.

At this point Chancellor Mothma spoke. “That’s not a bad suggestion. Diplomacy should be our first choice, but we know that the Moffs cannot be trusted. There need to be channels for the people to keep their leaders accountable. Using the Imperial infrastructure with modifications is probably the least disruptive approach. Is the technology feasible?”

“Yes, certainly. Lord Vader—um, General Skywalker himself has always been fond of that sort of thing. He might enjoy designing the spy crowns or droids or whatever, as a relief from the tedium of recovery.” Admiral Piett recalled all of the times that Lord Vader himself had been found tinkering with machinery on board the Executor. At first he had thought it was a matter of control, but eventually he had come to realize that Lord Vader enjoyed it.

Chancellor Mothma chuckled. “Yes, I remember. He was that way as a Jedi general during the Clone Wars, too.”

At that point, one of the junior rebels came running into the war room with some new intelligence. “We just received contact from a couple dozen Imperial battalions, with more coming in every minute. They’re all surrendering, bringing their materiel and whatever other resources they have. It looks like it took a while, but they all received Order 199 and saw the official statement from Commander Skywalker and his father. Our supply shortages are over.”

Chancellor Mothma smiled. “Now General Skywalker is truly a rebel leader.” She closed her eyes in relief. Now it would be much easier to justify spending the money on getting him a better set of prosthetic limbs that actually fit him and worked better than the disgrace that the Emperor called a life-support suit. The man had suffered enough, as had the entire galaxy. Besides, it was arguably his money anyway.

By the time Anakin came to after his most recent surgery, Vokara Che and Dr. Tsola had gotten word from the Chancellor about the latest developments in terms of funding for better care, and had taken the opportunity to remove three of the cybernetic limbs. The one that stayed was Anakin’s good arm, the one he had chosen himself during the early stages of the Clone Wars. It had always been far superior to the others.

Without all of the machinery attached to his body, it was now possible to dunk him into a bacta tank. Anakin had never liked bacta tanks, but then, no Jedi did. He discovered, to his relief, that he could move his stumps. Good, that meant his spinal surgery had succeeded. Bacta might help the charred remains of his skin, as well. He tried not to think about how he looked now. Anyone seeing him in this state would struggle to reconcile this with the public image of the fearsome Darth Vader.

Leia came back into the room after he had been put into the bacta tank. She stared up at his mangled form, surprised at how little of him remained. He was less than half the man he used to be, she mused darkly. He deserved what happened to him.

“That’s Father. Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Luke woke up and noticed his sister staring at their father. “They’re going to get him better cybernetics.”

Leia shifted her gaze back to Luke. “He’s still a monster.”

“No. Perhaps he was, but he isn’t now.” Luke still looked so tired.

Leia sighed. Why was her brother so hopelessly naïve? He had lost so much under the Empire, just like everyone else, and yet he was so quick to forgive. It made no sense. Perhaps one had to be blind and a bit dull-witted to be a good Jedi, since Master Ahsoka was always telling her to release her anger when there was so much to be legitimately angry about, and anger was a useful motivator to make things right. She clenched her fist. Luke was certainly Jedi material, if that was the case.

This time Luke sighed. “You don’t survive Tatooine if you’re angry and full of grudges. The desert shifts, there is no justice, no authorities, a person’s circumstances can change overnight. The other side of that is an environment in which people are free to reinvent themselves, let the sand erase their pasts.”

Leia stared. Oh. She had never thought of things like that. Luke did not often talk about his past life on Tatooine. She had assumed that it was brutal, but there was no way to know the details unless Luke told her.

“But it’s only the freeborn who can openly rebrand themselves. Slaves get a reset of everything whether they like it or not whenever they’re sold, and those of us who are freedmen are caught in between. Our last name tells everyone where we came from. Skywalker. I was born free, but Father wasn’t. Our name tells everyone that. Well, at least, anyone from Tatooine would know that. Father deserves the right to refashion himself, too, as a freedman.”

Leia bit her lip. Luke had obviously spent a lot of time thinking about this. “I stand corrected. I was so focused on my loss—Alderaan—that I didn’t think about your experiences and how they shaped you.”

“And how Father’s experiences shaped him. Old Ben told me a lot more details after he became a ghost. He was so close to understanding Father, but there was a Dark shadow cast between them.”

“The Emperor.” Leia looked up again at the man in the bacta tank. Her birth father. Did she really know him? She had a sinking feeling that she knew Darth Vader, but not Anakin Skywalker.

“He might tell you himself once he comes out of bacta, especially if you’re nicer to him. There’s so much we can learn from him, Leia.”

Anakin gazed down at his children from the bacta tank. Luke looked tired, but quietly triumphant. He had seen that look on Padme’s face many times. Leia still looked hard and angry, until she didn’t. Luke must have said something to her. Ah, Luke had gotten at least a little bit of training from Anakin’s old master. Apparently talking down a Skywalker from their fiery, angry nature was part of that training.

“Hello there.”

Anakin groaned. He could not see the Force ghost of his old master, but he could certainly hear his voice.

“I returned to the fields of glory, where the green grasses and flowers grow.” Obi-Wan was singing to him again, his velvet tenor caressing the words of the old song. It was an old Stewjoni ballad that Obi-Wan used to sing to him in the Halls of Healing, whenever Anakin was injured.

“And the wind softly tells the story, of the brave lads of long ago.” There was the usual sadness in Obi-Wan’s voice, that made Anakin want to throttle him. He had no business being sad when he was the cause of so much of Anakin’s torment—no, that wasn’t fair. It was the Emperor all along, telling Anakin that Obi-Wan didn’t trust him, didn’t believe in him, wasn’t listening, didn’t understand.

“If you want me to feel sorry for cutting you down, you’re going to be disappointed.” Anakin did not need to speak out loud.

“On the contrary. I needed you to cut me down. I made it easy for you, put myself on a silver platter. I was the distraction to let Luke escape, but I knew it would be easier for me to watch over both you and Luke this way. Leia too, once Bail was killed.”

Anakin growled. His old master was slippery and tricky, just like—just like a slave. A slave who successfully escapes his master. “You spent a long time on Tatooine. I guess you learned the ways of slaves.”

“I remembered, yes.”

It occurred to Anakin that his old master rarely talked about his past. Was it possible that he had been a slave at some point, too? No, not during the Clone Wars. Before that. But if he had, then wouldn’t he have had a better understanding of Anakin?

“But you’re not from Tatooine.”

“Tatooine isn’t the only planet where there is still slavery, Anakin. I struggled with that experience as a padawan. At any rate, I wasn’t born into slavery—that I know of, since I have no idea what I was born into—and I certainly didn’t spend nine years in that condition so I never felt comfortable telling you about it. I’d blocked out the memories anyway. It was only when I forced myself to forget that I stopped wallowing in all the hurt from my early life. I thought it would be doing you a disservice if I let you dwell on that part of your past. I wanted you to forget, like I did. But that didn’t work for you. In hindsight it didn’t really work for me, either.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“A fact that Darth Sidious used to his advantage. I made so many mistakes with you.”

“You did.”

“I repeated the mistakes that Qui-Gon made with me, and I never told you about how he hurt me. You admired him, and I didn’t want to destroy that. Besides, it wasn’t his fault, not really. His master—Count Dooku—hurt him, too. You broke the cycle, Anakin. You didn’t make those mistakes with Luke and Leia.”

“Only because I didn’t know I had any children at all until they were adults. And I did hurt Leia. Luke, too, quite literally.”

“If you need to blame me for everything to keep yourself sane, I understand. I blame myself, too. I certainly deserve your blame regarding your physical problems. I was taught that there was no turning back from the Dark Side. Anakin was already dead. I needed to kill Darth Vader, but couldn’t quite do it. But Luke believed in you, loved you anyway, because he only had the Force, not centuries’ worth of half-understood slogans blurring his vision.”

“I still have your lightsaber.”

“Give it to Leia, when she is ready. Help Ahsoka guide her, avoid the mistakes that I made with you. She’s so much like you.”

Anakin could feel his heartrate slowing as he began to fade back into sleep. “Sing me the rest of the song.”

“March no more my soldier laddie, there is peace where there once was war. Sleep in peace my soldier laddie, sleep in peace, now the battle’s over. In the great glen they lay a-sleeping, where the cool waters gently flow. And the grey mist is sadly weeping, for those brave lads of long ago.”

When Snoke reached Exegol, he shivered. This place had Dark Side energy, which should theoretically be nourishing to Snoke, but it was an ancient Sith site. Snoke was not a Sith. There was no reason to subscribe to some arcane religious cult that would ultimately hamper him.

Aha, here was the entrance to the ancient temple. He did not have to open the stone slab very wide to gain entry. It was dark in the subterranean temple, but Snoke could see the seats arranged like an amphitheater for rites. In the middle, in what would have been a stage if this had been an actual theater, was a medical-looking contraption with a glass tank. It was filled with a clear liquid that was obviously not water, but in the middle was a humanoid being.

Snoke moved into a position better-suited to look into its face. Its face was twisted and distorted. Good, it looked similar enough to Snoke himself. He would have to find a way to open the top, remove the clone, and climb in, perhaps killing any minders or technicians in the process.

Ezra frowned to look at the message he had received. Go to Exegol? That was not a nice place for a Jedi to go. It was reassuring to know that he was not the only Jedi left, but the mission still sounded like it would be difficult alone. It was times like these that he missed Kanan the most.

He was currently nearest Ansion, coming from Ord Mantell, where he had scouted the remains of the rebel base there. All of this was close enough to Csilla, to which former Grand Admiral Thrawn had eventually returned. Ezra would need to make a supply run anyway. He might as well touch down on Ansion.

At least it was green. Ezra noted, to his relief, that there were a variety of species there. It was always easier to blend into diverse societies. Even so, apparently not all of the battalions had received Order 199 yet, or some of them had ignored it. Whatever the case, Ezra noted the stormtroopers jogging down the main shopping street of the town where he had gone to find supplies.

There was nothing for it but to duck into a shop. Ezra hardly knew what sort of merchandise was on offer; it did not matter. The shop looked more or less closed or out of business, anyway.

“Hello? Are you here to buy used books?”

Ezra was startled by the reedy yet firm voice of an old lady. He had not felt any other presences in the Force here. He frowned. Usually nulls gave off at least a trace Force signature. It was only Force-wielders, and adept ones at that, who knew how to shield so completely.

“Maybe. What do you have?” Ezra turned to face her. The woman was human, short, but surprisingly upright in her posture, given her age. She must be around ninety or so. Her white hair was gathered into a bun at the back of her head. He looked into her face, noting her fierce determination—to do what, he did not know. To survive, perhaps. She had the bearing of a warrior, a sharp intellect reflected in those eyes. This was no ordinary bookseller.

“Books about metaphysics.” She was studying him, too.

“The Force.” Ezra lowered his mental shields just a little bit.

The woman stifled a gasp. “You’re a survivor. You’ve been trained. Those shields, I recognize the construction. I know your lineage.”

Ezra smiled. This woman was not just Force-sensitive, but almost certainly connected to the Jedi Order itself. “My master’s master was Depa Billaba. Did you know her, Master—?”

“Nu. Jocasta Nu. Former Chief Archivist. Yes, I knew her. You’re a Jedi.”

“Yes. Ezra Bridger. I was never knighted, but I was a padawan until my master was killed.”

“You were fairly far along in your training, weren’t you. And you’re on a mission.”

“Yes. I have to go to Exegol, to retrieve the Emperor’s clone.”

“That’s dangerous. I think we should go together, the padawan and the old lady. Not an ideal pair, perhaps, but better than either of us going alone. I’m tired of hiding, especially now that the Emperor is dead. Besides, what do I have to lose? I’m ninety-one anyway.”

Chapter Text

When Anakin emerged from the bacta tank, Vokara Che examined her handiwork in the Force, with Dr. Tsola making the records, although he also spent a good chunk of time with other patients. They both did, really. He was very glad to have a Jedi healer as a colleague, so that he wasn’t the only medic anymore.

Force-healing would take care of the rest. Perhaps Anakin would be ready for his new cybernetics by evening. The limbs had already arrived. A thought occurred to her, that Anakin Skywalker would need actual clothes once she got through with him. Years of living in that life-support suit with nothing on underneath had certainly curtailed any hopes of his having a wardrobe of his own. She remembered his original build. He was significantly taller than Luke.

That just left the matter of his face and skin. Bacta was usually helpful, but the regenerative crystal would go a long way toward helping to regrow his own, real skin. The poor-quality synth skin would slough off; until then, it could be left as-is as a protective covering.

Ahsoka came to see him at this point. “Hey, Skyguy. Congratulations on getting out of bacta.”

He managed a chuckle before he started to cough up bacta. “Always my favorite, Snips. Always.”

Ahsoka would have made another playful remark, but then her comm beeped. Ezra had made contact. Not only that, but he had found himself a Jedi companion on Ansion, near Ord Mantell. Ahsoka gasped when she saw the name. There had been a rebel base on Ord Mantell. How had they missed a Jedi?

“What is it? Is it something you can tell me, Snips?”

“Ezra found Master Jocasta Nu on Ansion, near Ord Mantell.”

“She was alive? After what my men and I did to her?” Anakin got a sad, guilty look in his eyes.

“She’ll have to testify at your tribunal, then. She was the Chief Archivist, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a lot of good intelligence.”

Anakin was about to nod, when Master Che gave him a sharp look. His neck might not be ready for such strenuous action.

“You’re starting to look more like yourself. It would be nice if you could get your face and hair back, but I’m not holding my breath.”

“You won’t mistake me for Chewbacca, then.” Anakin managed to turn it into a joke. Ahsoka realized, too late, that this was perhaps not something she should be talking about so casually. As a Togruta woman she had no way of understanding how human males felt about hair or its absence.

Leia was checking in with the inventory droid when she heard a voice. “I am all the Sith. This is your destiny.” She looked around the storeroom, searching for someone who might have said that. The inventory droid would never in a million years talk about Sith or sound so creepy about it.

The storeroom suddenly felt so cold. She closed her eyes and tried to center herself in the Force, the way Master Ahsoka had taught her. Aha, there it was. She saw an ancient stone amphitheater with a clone growing in the central stage area, except that something was off. Dead long-necked aliens sat in the seats.

Ezra Bridger was in danger. The mission to recover the Emperor’s clone was more fraught than originally thought. She made her excuses to the droid, then nudged Master Ahsoka along the training bond. A quick transmission of images along the bond later, Leia felt a little better.

When she found her master in the field hospital, she stopped before anyone noticed her. Master Ahsoka was teasing the former Darth Vader, patting his shoulder affectionately. This was an intimate moment from the past. Leia was not so much of a philistine as to disturb that.

As soon as the moment passed, Leia approached the bedside. Ahsoka looked up at her. “You had a vision about Exegol, about the clone. Can I share it with Anakin? He’s probably in the best position to know about a Sith planet among all of us, not to mention the Emperor.”

Leia was not terribly happy, but nodded. It was easy to forget that her master had a training bond with the man who used to be a Sith lord, or that he had once been Master Ahsoka’s master. Leia’s grand-master. That was a strange thought.

Anakin’s eyes went wide when he saw the images. “Dead Kaminoan clone technicians. There’s no motive for the clone himself to kill his caregivers, and there is still a humanoid figure in that tank. Unless the clone Force-choked his caregivers from the tank, we’re looking at an intruder.”

“That’s what I thought. I need to warn Ezra to be on the lookout.”

Anakin continued to think. “The being in the tank. It didn’t feel the same in the Force as the Emperor’s clone that I felt on the other side of my old training bond. Granted these things can be distorted in visions, there’s something very wrong. I don’t feel anything there anymore.”

Ezra got the warning message just in time. He frowned and showed it to his companion. She sighed. “The Sith aren’t the only Dark Side Force-users out there, just as the Jedi aren’t the only Light Side Force-users.”

“Then who might we be dealing with?” Ezra remembered his sort-of apprenticeship under Maul with a shudder. Former Sith were no cuddlier than current Sith.

“There are ancient beings who are naturally more powerful in the Dark. We may be dealing with someone like that. Whoever it is must be vaguely humanoid.” She thought of all of the forbidden texts in the Archives that she had access to, plus the hours spent as a padawan, listening to her friend Yan Dooku tell her all about the Sith. He had been obsessed with the academic study of the Dark Side; it was not a surprise but still heartbreaking when he became a Sith lord himself decades later.

“Shall we?” Ezra pushed the button to release the ramp and the two Jedi exited the craft. Jocasta Nu recognized the temple entrance from an illustration she had seen in an old book, so she led the way.

Down, down, down into the depths of the temple they went, Ezra lighting the way with his green lightsaber. When they reached the bottom, he retracted the blade, plunging them both into darkness until their eyes could get acclimated. This must be an anteroom leading to the main arena.

The intruders could be anywhere. Ezra closed his eyes and focused. This place felt more or less like the temple on Malachor. He honed in on the anger, hatred, and fear, but quickly got overwhelmed. There was so much of that here. Maul had taught him how to sift through the ambient pain of a Dark place to find other Force signatures, especially those of Dark Siders who were cloaking with the same emotions that permeated their surroundings.

“He’s still in the arena.” Ezra whispered to Jocasta Nu. He found the hidden door and gingerly pushed it open. There did not appear to be any living beings there, aside from the being in the tank. Ezra slipped into the arena and quickly darted in the hidden passageway beneath the backmost layer of seats. Jocasta Nu moved along the passageway, trying to get a better view of the clone’s face. She came to a stop at a break in the seats and stared.

“Oh.” She murmured to herself. “That’s Snoke. I recognize that face from the illustrations I saw in a forbidden ancient text. We must proceed with caution. He’s dangerous.”

For his part, Ezra had spotted the dead Kaminoan technicians stashed between some of the seats on the other side. This person known as Snoke had usurped the clone’s tank. He must have been hoping to lure the Jedi here and kill them like an Inquisitor, or else hijack the rebel government.

Ezra was standing very still, with nothing moving around him, when he felt cold, clammy fingers close around his neck. Something wet seemed to have climbed onto his back, breathing into his ear, and yet the figure was still in the tank.

“You are foolish, Jedi. You are not the Chosen One.” It hissed in his ear. Jocasta Nu glanced over at Ezra, noticed the odd way he was standing, and shuddered. Snoke had found him. He was still a padawan, really, although he did not have a braid for obvious reasons. Snoke would not be easy to defeat. She cast about in the Force, searching for the real clone. Her heart sank when she detected the remains of a dead being, who felt human in the Force. The clone had been killed. Even if the original donor of the genetic material had been the evil Emperor, the clone himself was innocent.

On the other hand, that simplified the mission. This was no longer an extraction or a rescue. There was nobody left alive to rescue—except for Ezra himself. Think, Jocasta. What did those books say about Snoke?

Anakin woke up again in the evening, feeling better-rested. Wait a minute, something was wrong, missing. Oh. The pain was missing. The pain that had been his constant companion for two decades, the ambient noise of his life—it was gone. Well, mostly. He was a bit sore where he had had the surgery, but that was different.

His eyes settled on Luke’s face. “Thank you, son, for trusting me, for advocating for me. I didn’t deserve it. You are the best Jedi I’ve ever known, Luke. I don’t mean the most Code-compliant. The best Jedi.”

Vokara Che loomed over him. “Are you ready for your new cybernetics? You won’t be bed-ridden anymore.”

He stared. “The regenerative crystal?”

“Yes. We were able to repair a surprising amount of the damage. I don’t know how many more procedures you’re willing to have, but the rest would be with the crystals. No more slicing and dicing.”

Anakin smiled at that. “Sounds good. I’ll be able to stand up in the courtroom.”

Leia had been on her way to the field hospital in search of Luke; she heard her birth father’s remark when she was still not close to the group gathered around his bedside. He was serious about facing justice.

“Ah, Leia. Did you come for Father’s fitting with the new cybernetics?” Luke felt her in the Force, looked up, and smiled.

Leia came closer and nodded. “I got an earful in the war room about how much you’ve helped our leadership. That doesn’t erase what you did, but I do appreciate the gesture. You’re the one who sent us the Exegol lead, as well.” She kept her gaze down, but since Anakin was lying in the bed, it was not hard to meet his eyes.

“You don’t have to forgive me, Leia. I’d be happy if you did, but you don’t have to. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for what happened to your mother. You look a lot like her, but you also look like my mother. She was strong and wise and I still miss her.”

Luke grinned. “I never saw any images of Grandma Shmi.”

“No, I suppose not. Slaves don’t normally have their holoimage captured, and neither do moisture farmers.”

“But Jedi do. Did you two kids ever see what your father used to look like?” Vokara Che cleared the perimeter of the bed with a simple wave of her hand, but she had a wistful smile playing about her eyes.

“Please, don’t rub it in.” Anakin pretended to groan. Without all that painful hardware, he felt lighter, less encumbered, more like his old self.

“He used to be quite handsome, until he ruined his life,” Vokara continued, in a droid-like deadpan that made Luke smile, although he quickly wiped that smile off his face when the implications of the statement occurred to him.

Anakin sighed in exasperation. He had never really cared about his looks, at least, not after he had been assured of Padme’s affections. It didn’t matter. Of course, it would be nice to look more like the man he used to be, before his life veered off course, but it wouldn’t be right or respectful to his victims to try to erase entirely the last twenty years. Somewhere in between, perhaps.

“You might be surprised at how far we can go. Of course, you are a couple decades older now, but the regenerative crystal might still help somewhat.”

“If you want to experiment on me before you try these treatments on other wounded, be my guest.”

“Anyway, back to the business at present, which is getting you on your new feet. Artoo, are you going to help? Dr. Tsola is busy.”

The astromech droid rolled over to the bedside, expressing his enthusiasm for the project with a series of beeps, trills, and whistles.

“And I need someone tall and strong. Somebody go get Chewbacca.”

Leia nodded and rushed back out of the field hospital, the way she came. Luke was better at holding patient hands and giving comfort, anyway.

As soon as Chewie appeared, Vokara Che set to work on hooking Anakin up to his new arm and legs. They would not look like imitation flesh, like Luke’s cybernetic hand, but they would still be lighter and more durable than the old ones. More importantly, they were designed to actually fit Anakin, obviating the need for painful pins and semi-flesh bridging extra appendages that were forever turning necrotic.

The new arm more or less matched his good cybernetic arm, although that exact model was no longer in production. It fit properly and had been crafted for maximum dexterity. It had been years since Anakin had had nimble fingers on both hands capable of intricate tinkering work. He would be able to build spy droids.

If all went well, he would need clothes and boots. Anakin realized that he had never been able to wear whatever he wanted with no restrictions. Clothing was not a priority for slave children, and then he had spent years wearing the standard Jedi robes, with only a little bit of room for individualization.

When Anakin took his first tentative steps on his new legs—with feet that handled more or less like human feet and would fit properly in boots—he smiled. “Yes.”

There was no longer any need to sneak around now, since Snoke clearly knew that Ezra was there. Ezra was struggling for air as he felt the slimy fingers around his neck and the weight of the pale, twisted, shriveled body on his back, but both of these were merely Force-projections. He moved closer to the center of the arena and ignited his lightsaber.

Insidious laughter echoed in the arena, hitting Ezra’s eardrums like swamp scum. “You think you can kill me, Jedi? You have not even completed your training, but I see you have learned the arrogance of the Jedi of old. I am not your true enemy, for you are nothing.”

Ezra said nothing, merely slashing at the tank of amniotic fluid. Snoke emerged, dripping wet, looking like an oversized withered baby. He appeared to be unarmed, but Ezra knew better than to trust that.

“You are nothing. The Emperor was foolish. I have destroyed the last of his clones. He will not live forever, least not in the way that he intended. I was once captured and taken for conditioning to become an inquisitor, but only young, foolish Force-sensitives are good for that. Like you.”

Ezra continued to say nothing, doing his best to stay centered in the Light like Kanan had taught him. He thought of the temple on Lothal, the lothwolves, and even the Bendu on Apollon. Snoke was certainly loquacious and very proud of himself—just like Maul had been.

“Your enemy is yourself. The Emperor sowed the seeds of his own destruction, as did the Jedi. He experimented on me, trying to implant his own DNA, when his first few batches of clones failed. But he could not control the Ancient Mighty Wise One, not like he controlled that droid posing as a man, Darth Vader.”

Ezra had wondered what sort of being Darth Vader was under his mask and armor, but had certainly not obsessed over it. Rumor had it that he was human, or at least humanoid, given the human-centric chauvinism of Imperial leadership. That did not matter right now. Ezra emptied himself, keeping his face neutral, and struck with his lightsaber.

To his surprise, his lightsaber flipped over, twisting his arm in the process, and nearly bisected Ezra himself. It was only his youth and Jedi training that made his reflexes quick enough.

“You are your own true enemy, Jedi!” The creepy laughter resumed, chilling Ezra to the bone.

Neither noticed that Jocasta Nu was standing behind Snoke. He raised his hand to Force-push Ezra, calling the green lightsaber to himself, still smirking.

“This is not the lightsaber that will kill me, but the one that will kill you.” He was so busy gloating, twirling Ezra’s green lightsaber—still attached to Ezra’s hand—that he neither heard nor saw Jocasta Nu ignite her own lightsaber behind him. She held it horizontally at chest height and smiled at Ezra. He kept his face neutral as she gently let go of her lightsaber.

Ezra pulled the lightsaber forward with the Force. Snoke’s smirk shifted into a look of surprise as he was cleanly bisected. The two halves of Snoke’s body fell with a thud onto the ground, the obsidian ring hitting the ground and cracking, which seemed to change the very Force pattern of the place.

“He was right that it wasn’t my lightsaber that would kill him—it was yours.” Ezra could not resist. Jocasta Nu gave him a stern look, but her eyes were laughing.

The Force shuddered as the two lightsabers returned to their respective owners. Jocasta Nu sighed. As Chief Archivist she had not often had occasion to use her lightsaber. She would add a note to her volumes that held information on the ancient being known as Snoke. In the meantime, there was more to do here before they could leave.

They found the pale, mangled body of the clone stashed under a seat. Judging by his blue face, it had been Force-choked. Jocasta shook her head and blinked back tears. If they had gotten here sooner, this child might have stood a chance. Here was another victim of the senseless violence that was the trademark of the Dark Side. At the very least they should give the little thing a proper burial, along with the Kaminoan technicians who were also innocent.

Resting in the creepy amphitheater, Jocasta frowned. There was still one more thing they needed to do.

“Remember Maul? Dark Side Force-users have an unfortunate habit of failing to stay dead. I found Snoke’s golden robes. We should wrap the body in them and burn it, along with his ugly ring, so that nobody can reanimate him.”

Ezra shuddered at the thought of how Maul survived a similar bisection. Granted that they had cut Snoke straight through the heart, one could never be too careful.

Chapter Text

There was quite a stir the day that the former Darth Vader strode into the war room with Luke, not least because he was borrowing some of Luke’s clothes, which were too small for him, so that his new cybernetic arms and legs were visible.

Amilyn Holdo looked him up and down, then frowned. Anakin was half-expecting to be told that he needed to get his own clothes, or that he was still a fright to see even without the suit, but Vice Admiral Holdo’s remarks surprised him.

“I thought we had a big enough budget that you could get synth skin coverings for those cybernetics. To look more human.”

Anakin fixed her with a glare that was less intimidating without the mask. “I’m not ashamed of my mechanical parts.”

“But don’t you think people will underestimate you if they see just how much of you is prosthetic? I had no idea until you were brought here, and frankly I’m not so afraid of you anymore.” Vice Admiral Holdo pushed her mauve curls out of her face and straightened to her full height, which was augmented by high-heeled shoes.

“If people think I’m less of a person or that people who have been injured in the past are to be laughed at or trifled with, that’s their mistake.” His eyes bored into her, steady and unblinking.

“Come on, Amilyn, we haven’t got all day. Let’s get to work.” Admiral Ackbar indicated a seat near the projection equipment for Anakin. Luke sprang into action, making sure his father was able to sit down with his new legs.

Once the meeting was underway, everyone forgot that they had the fearsome Darth Vader in their midst and focused on their plan to bring the rogue Moffs under their control. Anakin had already heard the gist of the plan from Leia, as well as the expectation that he would design and build the surveillance devices that looked like elegant gifts.

This reminded him of something. When he was very small, there was a pretty young girl who lived near him, freeborn, but poor. Her parents sold her to be a pleasure slave when she was only fourteen or fifteen, and at that time, her new master had sent her a golden bracelet, which he forced onto her wrist, so tight that she could not remove it again. This was in fact her auxiliary tracker, complete with a bomb.

Anakin raised his hand and told this story. “But we would leave out the bomb, of course. The bracelet should be smooth, sleek, elegant, and not catch on sleeves. It should be a mark of honor that is also impossible to remove on one’s own.”

Admiral Piett smiled. “Yes, that would appeal to these Moffs. Most of them are social climbers, vulgar like the Hutts.”

Anakin sighed. He could do without the class snobbery. For a rebel, Vice Admiral Holdo had been surprisingly close-minded as well about the personal agency and dignity of the disabled. The galaxy still had a long way to go.

In the end, it was decided that Anakin would design and craft the bracelets, in a workshop set aside for him. Luke would serve as his assistant, since Anakin was rooming with Luke anyway, now that Anakin had been released from the field hospital. The crystal treatments seemed to be working, with more and more regenerated skin peeking through each time more of the synth skin peeled off. The biggest scars would remain, but at least the regenerated skin was not necrotic.

The former Grand Admiral Thrawn was rather surprised to hear the news about the Moffs being officially recognized and brought into the new Republic. The rebels were either incredibly stupid or surprisingly shrewd.

It was when he saw the holonews footage of the investiture ceremony that he smiled in appreciation. The central figure on the dais was, of course, the rebel chancellor Mon Mothma, but the man fitting the ceremonial bracelets was interesting to behold. He had a dramatic black cape, paired with a blue tunic and trousers that looked somewhat like the old Jedi costume, with a bald, scarred head on display. His hands were both metal. The commanding presence reminded him of Lord Vader. Of course it would, he realized, because that figure was Lord Vader. The screen showed his name and affiliations, which was a bit eye-opening: Anakin Skywalker, former Jedi general, former Darth Vader. Thrawn had not known that they were the same person.

That changed things. General Skywalker himself was from the Outer Rim. Not only that, but his wartime record showed that he was generally sympathetic to the plight of local citizens, although this had not been true of Darth Vader. Perhaps he could be reasoned with, made to recognize Chiss sovereignty. Former Grand Admiral Thrawn had only allied himself to the Empire because of this. He had assumed that the rebels would be too soft to enforce local autonomy, but with the former Lord Vader as part of their leadership structure, there was hope that they would understand.

When Ezra and Jocasta Nu finally returned to Endor, Leia herself went out to meet them. The fierce old lady gave Leia a warm smile. She knew a dragoness when she saw one. “You must be Princess Organa.”

“Yes. Or Padawan Organa, if you prefer. I was Princess of Alderaan, but there’s no Alderaan anymore. Some people are starting to call me Leia Skywalker, but I’m not quite comfortable with that yet.”

“Who is your master?” Jocasta Nu knew better than to make unwary remarks about how Leia saw herself or her personal losses.

“Ahsoka Tano.”

Jocasta Nu smiled. “Oh yes, I remember her.”

“And I understand that you have kept extensive records of the Empire’s crimes.” Leia refrained from mentioning Lord Vader in particular, but she lowered her mental shields for a moment to allow the other woman to form a mental impression.

“Yes, but also of the Rebellion and the Republic, not to mention our own Jedi Order.”

Leia stared for a moment. It had not occurred to her that the Empire was not the only entity to have committed serious crimes. Luke had told her about the gross sentients-rights abuses on Tatooine, but she had chalked that up to the Empire. She had not allowed herself to think about her birth father having been a victim of those same abuses during the Republic.

Leia knew that both Ezra and Master Jocasta Nu would want to see the former Darth Vader. She led the two of them to her birth father’s workshop, where he was usually found tinkering with some droid or equipment. Even she had to admit that he made himself useful.

“Knight Anakin Skywalker?” Jocasta gazed on the bald middle-aged man who sat with another, young blond man who looked so much like the padawan she remembered.

Anakin looked up and smiled stiffly. “Yes. That’s a name I hadn’t used in a long time. A very long time.”

“We all know why.” Jocasta Nu sounded stern, but there was a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Anakin realized that Count Dooku had also had that gleam and a similar sense of humor. This was Dooku’s former girlfriend, after all.

“She has a complete record of all your crimes,” said Leia, neutral in her tone now. This was progress, as far as Anakin was concerned. At least she wasn’t vindictive in her tone. That way danger lay.

“Let me see it. I may be able to add to it if she’s missed anything,” said Anakin. Jocasta Nu was not expecting that response. Was this really Darth Vader?

Luke was looking at his sister with sad eyes. Whatever Darth Vader had done, he was still their father. Anakin Skywalker was trying to atone for those sins. Luke hoped that his sister could learn to forgive him before the anger and hatred consumed her, turning her into the very monster that she hated.

Jocasta Nu took a seat on the workbench across from Anakin. “May I see your lightsaber? I’ve never seen a Sith lightsaber up close under safe conditions.”

Anakin chuckled as he handed it over. “Ahsoka has been helping me to purify the crystal so it’s not quite its original color.”

Jocasta Nu ignited it and smirked. Pink. The former Darth Vader had a pink lightsaber. Leia stared at the decidedly non-intimidating color. Then she remembered that her master had a pair of white sabers. This pink color must be a step along the way to that, then.

Satisfied, Jocasta Nu returned the lightsaber and looked into Anakin’s blue eyes. He was bald, scarred, and clearly disabled, but he finally seemed calmer, more or less at peace—at least during the daytime. She handed him her datapad as promised, so that he could go over her records of his crimes. To her surprise, he smiled and nodded. “Yes, you really do have just about everything. I haven’t committed any new war crimes since the Battle of Endor, unless you count the surveillance bracelets on the rogue Moffs. But that wasn’t my idea.”

Leia fidgeted. If that was a crime—which it would have been, under the old Republic—then surely she was guilty of something, too. The Rebellion had sometimes had to fight dirty, and Leia had enjoyed that more than what was proper. She was surprised when her birth father handed her the datapad. As she scanned the entries, her blood ran cold. She had done some of these things herself, at least, the ones with the lowest body counts, for the Rebellion. Han had been debating with Chewie and her just last night about victor’s justice.

She still looked a bit stunned when she handed the datapad back to Jocasta Nu. Why was the former Darth Vader seemingly so happy about being tried for war crimes? Did he actually want to be executed, or did he see this as a chance to have his record wiped clean, to have a new life?

At this point her birth father noticed Ezra. He smiled at the boy. “Ah, we meet again, Ezra Bridger. I hear you were Caleb Dume’s padawan, but were never knighted. Luke or Ahsoka can take care of that. Luke is probably the best choice, since he doesn’t have a padawan right now. I’m sorry about Malachor and the Inquisitors and I’m glad you survived.”

Ezra stared. This couldn’t be Darth Vader. This man was shockingly nice. He certainly didn’t look like a threat. Even Hondo felt more dangerous than this, as did old Vizago. More importantly, this person felt different in the Force from the Darth Vader that Ezra had seen on Malachor.

By the time the rebel government was ready for the tribunals, one of the former Imperials under Admiral Piett had figured out how to broadcast the proceedings live, galaxy-wide. Admiral Piett and some of the lower-ranking officers had their hearings first, although the sentencing was rather light. It had to be, since they had defected and worked for the rebels, not to mention that not all the rebels themselves were exactly squeaky-clean, either.

Another reason that the former Darth Vader was to be tried last was that he had to give detailed instructions for gathering evidence. Leia monitored this at Luke’s behest and found herself rather shaken by her birth father’s attitude. He hated what he had done and was unflinching in seeking evidence against himself.

“If they decide to execute me, I’ll understand. I tried many times to execute myself, especially toward the beginning of the Empire, but the Emperor and his med droids wouldn’t let me die.”

Leia stared. “You wanted to die?” She had certainly ascribed her share of motivations to Darth Vader, but suicidal ideation was not one of them.

“Yes. I lost your mother, and for years I believed I had lost you. I always wanted a daughter, and your mother and I decided we would name you Leia. I didn’t know about Luke, but I did want you. I wanted him too, of course, once I knew of him.”

She had never thought much about Darth Vader’s side of the equation. He had lost his wife, then his children. He had wanted those children. He had lost his family, too, just as she had—because of the Empire. She must not forget that.

“My terrible nightmares made me fear that I would lose your mother and you, like it happened when your Grandma Shmi was killed. I made the worst mistake of my life trying to save your mother and you. I figured out much later that the Emperor had deliberately planted the nightmares for that very purpose. Once I realized that, I hated myself even more.”

Leia hardly noticed the heat gathering in her eyes. This monster had been a scared boy, about to be a father, married to the love of his life, eager for a daughter. He had wanted her so badly that he had been successfully seduced to the Dark Side.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She did not relish it when Luke told her stories about slavery on Tatooine, because it was clear that her brother was hoping that she would see that as a mitigating circumstance and forgive Darth Vader, the very personification of the Empire’s tyranny, but he was right.

“Do you still want to die?”

“For the most part, yes. Well, I did, until recently. Now I don’t know anymore. I do enjoy getting to know you and Luke.”

Leia shuddered. Just a few months ago, being known by Darth Vader would have been a horrifying prospect. But the man sitting before her was not an evil killing machine, at least, not anymore. He was a broken-down old man, haunted by guilt, grieving his wife, grateful to find their children living, injured and tortured by the Emperor, a former slave. He was a person and his name was Anakin.

“Did my father—I mean, Senator Organa—know that you were our birth father?” Leia found herself asking.

“Yes, he did. So did Obi-Wan. They took you from me and split you up. I understand why they did it. The Emperor would have abused you, the way he abused Darth Maul growing up. The Emperor lied and courted Count Dooku—Darth Tyranus—and me, because he had to get us to defect from the Jedi Order. But Maul was brought up a Sith from the beginning, and so my Master never needed to woo him.”

Leia gulped to hear that. There had been some poor soul brought up a Sith from the very beginning, abused daily from the cradle up? That sounded awful.

“It would have been the same with you,” her birth father continued. “The Emperor was disappointed with me after my injuries, because of the limitations on my power that put. I can’t use Force-lightning with no flesh hands. He was always looking to replace me. You and your brother would make prime targets.”

Luke shuddered at that thought. He had seen the Emperor electrocute his father with Force-lightning, even been on the receiving end of it himself, nearly dying from it. If the Emperor mistreated his own right-hand man, their father, like that regularly, in addition to the shoddy medical care, then he would not play nice with the twins, either.

“I was devastated when I was told that I had killed your mother and the baby. Life wasn’t worth living without my family, without Obi-Wan and all my friends in the Jedi Order that I had betrayed and killed. All of that was in exchange for keeping my wife and baby alive, and I failed.”

By now there were two glinting trails of moisture traveling down Leia’s cheeks. Life was always more complicated than it seemed. “Father.” Leia whispered for the first time, just this once, caught up in the moment in spite of herself.

The day before Anakin’s tribunal was to begin, Jedi Master Plo Koon arrived. As soon as he saw Jocasta Nu, Vokara Che, and Ahsoka, he smiled. Ahsoka in particular did not hesitate to wrap her arms around him, which was something she had always wanted to do. Now that the Empire and the Jedi Order were all gone, it should no longer be forbidden to express joy and relief.

He did a double take when he noticed Luke and Leia. “You two must be the Skywalker twins. You look so much like your parents.”

Luke smiled. “People tell us that all the time. I love it. I have a family.”

Plo Koon did not launch into a lecture about attachments. All of that was moot now, anyway.

“Anakin?” He stared in disbelief. “I see that Sith life took quite a toll.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Anakin sighed. He had come a long way from the depressed invalid he had been when Luke first dragged him home with him, but there was still synth skin flaking off all the time, so that he appeared to be molting, and his cybernetic limbs were on proud display.

“You always liked droids, treated them kindly and with respect. I always admired that about you. And your men loved you.”

“Not my troops aboard the Executor. Now I’m more than half-droid myself.”

“Father, did you know there’s a betting pool regarding your true age? Most of the pilots didn’t think you were human until recently, and some still don’t. It seems like it should be possible to figure it out, now that it’s no longer classified who you were originally.”

Anakin lifted a hairless eyebrow. “I did not know that. For the record, I’m forty-five standard.”

Leia stifled a gasp. Her birth father was considerably younger than Bail Organa had been. That meant that he had been twenty-two when she was born. He had no business opposing her relationship with Han, then, at least on those grounds.

“How old were you when you got married?” Luke asked. He had never thought to ask this before. His father had been ageless, mythic, like the Tatooine desert.

“Nineteen. Your mother was five years older than me.” Anakin admitted the truth to his children with a sigh. “In hindsight I was too young. Take your time, Leia. We’re not really at war anymore. At least, we won’t be.”

Plo Koon gave his rich, warm baritone laugh. “Anakin Skywalker, concerned father of two. It suits you. I remember watching you on creche duty when you were a junior padawan. You were always good with the younglings.”

Anakin winced. “And I killed them all, cut them down like summer grass on Naboo. And the Tusken children.”

“You’re going to have to talk about it at your tribunal. I’m sorry. I know it won’t be fun. I’ll probably be one of the witnesses—no, how about if I serve as your defense? Your children won’t be seen as objective parties, but I’m a Jedi who’s known you for thirty-five years. And I won’t go easy on you.”

“Would you? I’d appreciate that.” Luke smiled at the old Kel Dor master.

Chapter Text

The day that the last of the tribunals was set to begin, the former Grand Admiral Thrawn tuned in again to the holonews coverage. So far the rebels had been surprisingly orderly. Even the Moffs who were clearly untrustworthy seemed to be behaving themselves; if one didn’t, the rebel leadership seemed to hear about it quickly. He had to admire their unexpected efficiency, the internal logic of their approach. It was almost artistic, after a fashion.

Piett and the other former Imperials, even the turncoat Kallus, had been questioned, which was rather impressive, in terms of the respect shown for the principle of the thing. Nothing truly draconian happened to them, but it was the symbolism of the gesture that mattered. The rebel leader Mothma must surely have an eye for fine art.

Ah, today it was the former Lord Vader himself. He was still as commanding a personage as ever, although the way he held his face nowadays was softer than one might expect.

The judge, surprisingly, was not Mothma herself, but a little old lady with a white bun at the back of her head and a no-nonsense air about her. One underestimated women of this type at one’s own peril. Aha, the metal cylinder clipped to her belt indicated that she was, in fact, a Jedi, Jocasta Nu, former Chief Archivist of the Jedi Temple. A librarian. How interesting. An almost Chiss sensibility.

The Kel Dor man of indeterminate age, the counsel for the defense, was also a Jedi, while the prosecutor was someone Thrawn did not recognize.

The first item on the docket was the massacre of Sand People on Tatooine. The former Lord Vader’s son had presented an old journal entry from Obi-Wan Kenobi about the nightmares as mitigating evidence. The logical connection was tenuous at best. Ah, perhaps they were going with a temporary insanity defense.

That was the trouble with most sentients, even the Emperor himself. They did not stay cool and rational under all circumstances like Thrawn himself could. Passion was generally a distraction at best, a nuisance.

Apparently he was not the only one who thought so, for the Kel Dor Jedi called a new witness, a former junior Imperial clerk from the Accounting section of the old Republic. Many of the bureaucrats, of course, had stayed in their jobs, doing the same dull tasks whether under the Republic or the Empire. This clerk had found an invoice from a Tatooine bounty hunter, who charged for “Stirring up the Sand People into attacking the Lars homestead.”

The former Lord Vader himself gasped at this. He had not known that the late Emperor had deliberately goaded the Tusken tribe into attacking his mother. This was all part of the plan from the start. Although it was not the Emperor on trial, this revelation certainly created a stir.

The prosecution then called a little white and blue astromech droid to the witness stand. The droid produced footage of a young, dark-haired woman talking to the droid, perhaps as a sort of video diary, about the massacre. There was no denying that it had occurred.

“How do you plead?” asked the judge.

“I plead guilty, Your Honor.” The former Lord Vader said. A hush fell over the courtroom, followed by the sound of many voices chattering.

On the second day, the young rebel Luke Skywalker did not appear in the courtroom, at least, he was not shown in the holonews coverage. Perhaps he was out on a raid or a mission somewhere. The spectacle of the tribunal trying the former Lord Vader would certainly provide the perfect cover.

The beheading of the former Separatist leader Count Dooku at the goading of the Emperor, the then-Chancellor, was rather more complicated to try. This was a case of abuse of authority, malfeasance as a peacekeeper. It was striking just how many of the former Lord Vader’s crimes had been directly instigated by the Emperor.

The footage of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker brutally assaulting then-Senator Rush Clovis drew collective gasps. After years of censorship, only older individuals remembered either Senator Clovis or Senator Amidala, but seeing the former Lord Vader slump in his seat and let his head sink down between his hands certainly intrigued many in attendance.

“Can you identify the people in the footage for us?” Jocasta Nu asked gently in a tone that suggested that she knew exactly who they were.

“Senator Rush Clovis of the Banking Federation, Senator Padme Amidala of Naboo, and myself. I—I didn’t like the way he was flirting with my wife.”

A murmur went through the assembled rebels. Some of them had heard stories of Senator Amidala as a martyr to the cause of democracy, one of the founders of the Rebel Alliance. Wife of Darth Vader?

“You are charged with assault and battery. Rush Clovis himself is no longer living, but he does have living relatives. How do you plead?”

“Guilty.” Anakin would have to make reparations to the surviving next of kin.

The fourth item on the docket was the slaughter of the Jedi, particularly the younglings. Public opinion throughout the galaxy was still very much anti-Jedi, after years of propaganda, but the security footage from the Jedi Temple—again provided by the blue and white astromech droid—was shocking enough, especially combined with scenes of Lord Vader’s investiture as such and subsequent receiving of commands. A general murmur rippled through the assembly when footage of the Emperor gloating over Lord Vader’s actions was shown.

For item after item on the docket, the evidence against not just Lord Vader—or even Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker—but the Emperor seemed to come from droids. It was incredible that the droids were not mind-wiped more thoroughly, but then, former Grand Admiral Thrawn supposed, this was merely part of the Emperor’s human-centric chauvinism. Droids were not even on his radar. A most disappointing mistake, not even interesting.

When they came to the various atrocities committed against civilians on various planets, the former Lord Vader was often not the chief instigator at all. The defense typically presented evidence that the directives had come from the Emperor. Nobody could claim that Lord Vader had not done those deeds; the best Master Plo Koon, defense counsel, could hope for in almost every case was a charge of accessory to war crimes, more often accomplice.

The case of Alderaan, however, was different. Princess Leia Organa herself had been expected to testify, but did not. The court found the former Lord Vader not guilty, because it had been Grand Moff Tarkin who gave the order and now-deceased Imperial rank and file who carried out the order while the former Lord Vader merely watched. The Grand Moff had outranked him. Admiral Piett testified that the former Lord Vader had been against the construction of the Death Star from the beginning, trying and failing to halt its construction.

At the end of that day’s proceedings, Princess Leia Organa was forced to release a statement to the media: she could not testify because of a conflict of interest. She did not go into any more detail than to say that she was too close to the case, setting off a media frenzy of speculation about what she meant.

Thrawn followed the case with great interest, especially since the former Lord Vader himself seemed to believe himself guilty of just about everything. If it was not obvious before, it was certainly obvious now that he was not a droid and was a human, given this kind of sentimentality. The sense of responsibility, of taking on all of the Empire’s injustices as his own crimes, reeked of the old Jedi sense of chivalry. Interestingly, the former Lord Vader appeared largely uninterested in preserving his life, which was at odds with everything Thrawn knew about Sith and their philosophy.

The tribunal sometimes seemed muddled as to who exactly was on trial, as crimes committed by the Emperor himself frequently came up. These were also explored in detail, even though they represented detours. The story of the destruction of Jedha in particular struck a nerve with many. As a court case the handling of these extraneous issues was amateurish, but there was no denying the overwhelmingly positive popular response to it as the public seemed to find catharsis.

Also curious was the way the former Lord Vader seemed to look healthier and younger each day. His skin seemed to be peeling off at an alarming rate, but afterwards always looked better than before. On the tenth day, Thrawn noticed that there were brownish splotches on the bald, white head. Taken as a whole, he was looking increasingly like an ordinary middle-aged human male with scars and some wrinkles on his face and patches of sparse greying hair. Perhaps this was deliberate. Now that he looked nothing like the Darth Vader everyone knew, the jury would be more likely to see him with fresh eyes, would struggle to reconcile his public image with what they saw in front of them. If so, the rebels had a good propagandist in their ranks.

“I’m guilty on all counts.” Just let me die in peace. My children are alive, grown up. My work is done. I can’t possibly atone for the things I did, unless I am allowed to die, to fade into the terrible realm of suffering where dead Sith go to pay for their abuse of the Force. The piper must be paid. It’s worse than there being nothing at the end. How do they expect me to live with myself? No, I couldn’t burden my children that way. My reputation, my past would fetter them.

“Not according to this security footage.” Master Plo Koon presented the evidence that would clear Anakin of a particular set of charges. He had certainly been guilty of a stunning variety of things, but not everything that had been wrong with the galaxy over the last forty years.

General Crix Madine presented other witnesses and evidence to prove Anakin’s guilt in other crimes, doing a fine job as the prosecution. It was easy to get witnesses and there were plenty of people throughout the galaxy who had a personal motivation to present evidence against the dreaded Darth Vader. To his dismay, however, the more the citizens of the new Republic saw footage of the former Sith lord looking increasingly like a normal person, the more they seemed to hesitate to come forward. It was not because they were afraid. Seeing the former Lord Vader himself as a person, the steady lifting of the galaxy-wide air of fear, all of this seemed to play a role. Commander Luke Skywalker said that the Dark Side was receding day by day, like ebb tide.

The turning point, as far as Ahsoka was concerned, came on the day that Master Plo released footage of the Boonta Eve Classic, Skyguy’s record of admission to the Jedi Order, details of his de-chipping surgery, and other details of the abuses and horrors of daily life on Tatooine as a slave. Luke himself testified for that part. The point was that the Republic itself had failed, long before the Empire had. There were legitimate grievances that the Empire had promised to address and then ignored or made worse, often with Darth Vader stuck enforcing the bad policies.

There had been a roar of many voices expressing shock and horror at the reminders that the former Darth Vader had been Clone Wars hero and Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, and the revelation that he had been born a slave under the old Republic. There were collective gasps when Jedi healer Vokara Che presented details of the deliberately-torturous life-support suit during the hearing into Lord Vader’s brutal torture and killing of the person who had designed it.

“Order in court!” Jocasta Nu hit the hilt of her lightsaber against her judge’s bench. She had taken surprisingly easily to her role.

During a break in the proceedings, Master Koon caught Master Che. “I worry about Anakin. He seems to have a death wish.”

“That’s nothing new. You know what all he’s accused of. I don’t think he’ll off himself just yet, at least not until Luke gets back or he serves his sentence, whichever comes first. He better not, after all the time and effort I put into his treatment.”

“Speaking of which, I wish we could use his more recent medical records to garner some sympathy. I understand that this is against medical ethics, but it would help his case. I know we can present the parts about his electrocution with Force-lightning at the hands of the Emperor, with Luke testifying about that, but all the work you did on him should count for something.”

“The way he’s looking better every day should be a clue as to just how unwell he was before. His unapologetic display of his cybernetic hands, too. And I never thought I’d see any hair grow back at all. It’s patchy and wispy and would look terrible if he tries to grow it long again, but it is present.”

The two masters noticed Anakin himself coming near. Master Koon smiled at him. “I saw a report that the galactic public’s trust in the new rebel government is growing day by day, much of it attributable to your tribunal. Your unflinching approach to the reckoning of your and the Empire’s sins is cathartic for a lot of people.”

Anakin sighed. “I am the Chosen One. I have the burden and honor of bringing balance to the Force. I suppose this is part of that.”

Padme was still dead, would always be so. Alderaan would always be gone. Nothing Anakin did now would change any of that. Anakin suppressed a yawn.

“Still having trouble sleeping, I see. You do need sleep, Skywalker, whatever you believe about this subject. If you are not going to fuel yourself with the Dark Side, you will have to take better care of yourself. Luke will be very cross with me if he comes back to find you worse for the wear.” Vokara crossed her arms.

“The nightmares never really left. My whole life.”

The dreams about Obi-Wan Kenobi might be classed as nightmares in a broader sense, in that most of them were happy memories that only served to remind Anakin of what he had lost, destroyed. As for the rest of the nightmares—the nightmares that haunted young Padawan Skywalker were about events that might happen, but Anakin’s current ones were generally about things that he himself had done.

Just last night, Anakin had sat up in bed, seeing three dark-haired women looming over him, arms crossed, angry. His mother. His wife. His daughter. His mother had pulled him into a sitting position with the Force, with his wife moving closer to him to kiss—no, bite him, before binding him, before his daughter aimed her blaster at him. When the blaster went off, Anakin woke with a start. It turned out to be the sound of Artoo running his diagnostics in the middle of the night, but it had felt so real.

The former Grand Admiral Thrawn was so engrossed in the tribunal that he hardly noticed a small item in the local news that Luke Skywalker himself was on Csilla, come to negotiate a peace agreement. The boy smiled in that sunny way of his, then said something truly astounding.

“We won’t interfere in Chiss affairs. We’re offering you an arrangement not unlike the one you had with the Empire, except with the military impressment part of the arrangement dropped. No offensive capability.”

The boy was surprisingly hard-driving. “I’m sure you’ll agree that the Moffs have been leaving the Chiss Ascendency alone. That is what we promise. No interference from us, no harassment from Republic planets or star systems. In return, we want your friendship in an alliance.”

Thrawn was not quite surprised at how quickly and easily Luke Skywalker got his way. The new Republic government seemed to be much better-managed than anyone in the Chiss Ascendency could have imagined. Perhaps that was due to Mothma’s past as a politician, but it seemed more likely that the influx of high-ranking Imperials into the rebellion following the defection of the former Lord Vader himself had something to do with it.

Perhaps another factor was news reports that Leia Organa, princess of the former Alderaan, was making the rounds of the galaxy, recruiting systems whose populations expressed their horror at the Empire’s atrocities, to her cause. Being the poster child for the most populous planet destroyed by the Death Star certainly helped. As soon as the footage of the Emperor’s demise went public, galactic popular opinion began to shift even more. The former Lord Vader had done something good.

One day, toward the end of the tribunal, a holonet reporter managed to corner Luke Skywalker as he was leaving the makeshift courtroom. “You share a last name with Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker—although, as you yourself testified, this name is not unusual on Tatooine—and have given testimony only for items that were not specifically crimes by Lord Vader himself, as well as regarding the events on the Second Death Star leading up to his extraction. What is your connection to the accused, and why do you recuse yourself from most aspects of the case?”

Luke braced himself. He had no real desire to hide the truth for his own sake or even for his father’s sake, but rebel leadership had insisted that he keep the truth under wraps for as long as possible. Now, perhaps, he could tell the truth.

“He is my father.”

The reporter, a Bothan, froze, stunned. “The rumors are true?”

“Yes.”

Seeing the media frenzy caused by this admission, Chancellor Mothma sighed, rubbing her temples in a vain attempt to do away with her throbbing headache. As long as the popular narrative was one of Jedi families saving the galaxy together, the rebels rising above the vindictiveness that had plagued Imperial policymaking, and building bridges toward a hopeful future, she would have to accept this. At the very least, the true identity of Leia Organa should not be made public right away.

Leia returned to the courtroom proceedings in time to be present for Anakin’s final sentencing. Public anger at his continued existence had subsided a good deal by this time, and Leia herself noticed that she no longer had a voice telling her in her head that she should throttle him or Force-choke him. Come to think of it, the voices stopped as soon as Snoke was dead.

“You are sentenced, Anakin Skywalker, formerly known as Darth Vader, to life under surveillance, as a sort of parole due to your cooperation in this investigation, as well as your part in liberating the galaxy from the Emperor. We understand that you hoped for death; under those circumstances, continued life was deemed the more severe punishment. In addition to that, you are to assist Luke Skywalker in rebuilding the Jedi Order as a form of public service.”

Anakin drew in a sharp breath. He had been sentenced to something much worse than death: staying alive to be useful. On the other hand, he would be working with his children. Luke was smiling at the verdict, while Leia surprised even herself by putting an arm around Anakin.

“We’re going to be all right, Father. We’re going to rebuild the galaxy better and fairer this time, with we Jedi as peacekeepers, not soldiers, the way it was intended all along.” Luke was clearly delighted.

“This time, we won’t take children from their homes so early or ban all contact with their birth families, except for children from planets where Force-sensitives are killed as freaks. I’ll need your input, Father.”

Anakin thought he heard laughter. He looked up and saw three blue Force-ghosts smiling down on him from the corner of the ceiling of the courtroom—no, wait, Master Qui-Gon was holding a fourth ghost who looked to be a young child. Anakin rubbed his eyes. Against all odds he had been given a second chance. By kriff he was not going to blow it this time.

A holonet reporter fought her way to the front of the spectator seats. Luke recognized her as the same Bothan reporter whom he had told about his connection to his father. The Skywalker twins exchanged glances, then looked to Chancellor Mothma, who looked resigned to the inevitable. At least this time they were prepared with official statements about the case and its results.

“Princess—General Leia Organa. As the last princess of Alderaan, what is your statement regarding this outcome?”

Leia sighed. “Alderaanian values include fair-mindedness, a belief in the due course of law, justice, not vengeance. Getting revenge on someone not even actually responsible is not justice. We have our justice today. As for me, personally, I am satisfied with this outcome. All four of my parents would be proud of us today.”

The reporter blinked. “Four parents?”

“Yes. Queen Breha Organa and her consort, former Senator Bail Organa. The late Padme Naberrie, better known as Senator Amidala of Naboo. And Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker. My birth father, right here.”

Anakin stared. It had been a surprise, albeit a welcome one, when Luke publicly acknowledged him, but he had never expected this out of Leia, whether in public or in private. Tears of gratitude glinted in his eyes. The daughter he had always wanted, he had finally gained, their bond one of choice, not merely blood.

“But—he was your enemy.”

“No. What Darth Vader represented, that was my enemy. I will never forget what he did, but there is a difference between remembering victims and holding a grudge. He and my Jedi master, Master Ahsoka Tano, have taught me that. Forgiving him is not just an unearned boon for him, although I felt that way about it for a long time. Forgiving him is good for me, good for us as we build a new way of being a civil society. We cannot have a society of hope and respect and freedom for all if the foundations of our new order are built on hatred and anger and fear.”

At this point, Luke cut in. “We Jedi have a saying. Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”

Anakin suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Master Yoda got in the last word after all. He had a feeling that he would be spending the rest of his life telling this to younglings like the ones he had killed, pointing to himself as Exhibit Aurek of this. In a strange way this felt right, karmic. True punishment, indeed.

Leia and Luke each wrapped an arm around him and whispered, “We’ve only just begun, Father.” Anakin basked in the Light, proud of his children. Now they could be a family, even if all three of them were to be Jedi. They would learn from the mistakes of the past.

“And that, Ben, is how your mother, your Uncle Luke, Aunt Ahsoka, Uncle Plo, Uncle Ezra, Grandma Jocasta, and Grandma Vokara, along with three ghosts and me, came to rebuild the Jedi Order. Now, focus on the training droid and try again.”

“Yes, Grandpa.”

“Remember, your focus determines your reality. Focus on the present. Reach out with the Force. Where is the training droid? No peeking.”

Anakin Skywalker could have sworn that he heard the light tinkling laugh of his former Jedi master, his best friend, father, and brother all rolled into one, enjoying this way too much. As much as he had spent years denying it, Obi-Wan had loved him, differently from the way his mother or Luke did, but it was love just the same. Despite having been trained not to form attachments, Obi-Wan had always loved Anakin. No wonder he was still watching over him now.

The mischievous laughing intensified. A Jedi Order made up mostly of Skywalkers was the perfect karma for the whole galaxy, but for one Anakin Skywalker most of all. And for once, it was not Obi-Wan Kenobi’s problem.