Chapter Text
The once distant sound of blaster fire crept ever closer to her cell.
So this is how it ends.
Padme breathed, in and out, over and over again to calm her frayed nerves.
He promised.
And that was the word of a Sith Lord, wasn’t it? False promises, never intended to be kept. Yet, here she was, begging beyond hope for a rescue. He instead led her to her death, leaving her behind for the greater good of the galaxy.
A few stray tears tumbled down her cheeks. Padme wiped them away with the back of her hand. She resigned herself to this fate. It’s what happened to someone devoted to the rebel cause but fell in love with an Imperial. And not just any imperial. She chose to give her feelings, her very being to the worst of them. To a man she once knew as someone else. A man who loved her in return.
The sound of blasters only increased tenfold. Padme assumed they were right outside her cell now. Bolts flew all around, even hitting the walls on the other side of the room. Her only protection remained the line of durasteel between her and the hallway.
Until…Silence.
The door to her cell slid open.
Padme closed her eyes.
But the searing pain of a blaster bolt never came. The cell echoed a familiar hum instead. The tell-tale sign of a…lightsaber! Her eyes snapped open to a bright beam of light bathing her cell in red.
“Vader?” She breathed the man’s Sith title. Only, it wasn’t the tall, imposing figure she’d grown used to, but a man significantly shorter and wearing black robes so unlike Vader’s own. “W-who are you?” Padme asked warily, refusing to move from the spot in the corner.
He slowly approached, tapping the control of the saber. The red light disappeared into the hilt. “I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Luke and I’m here to rescue you.” The man—Luke—stopped a few meters from Padme’s crouched form.
She squinted up at the newcomer. While not as tall as Vader, he did have a few inches on her, with dark blond hair and a pair of inquisitive blue eyes. He looked so familiar, but Padme knew she’d never met him before. “Rescue me?”
“Yes. A friend asked me to help.”
“Friend?” Padme questioned. She had no friends here, especially none willing to rescue her. Unless… “What friend?”
Luke shifted uncomfortably and glanced back at the doorway. “I don’t have enough time to explain here. We need to go now.”
The rebel remained in her corner. “I don’t know who you are. Why should I trust you?”
Her query actually earned a quick smirk from her “rescuer.” The quirk of his lips faded almost immediately. “Because of the lightsaber.” He extended his hand toward Padme, the metal cylinder held tightly between his fingers.
The woman leaned forward to examine the device. It was more than familiar. Black, silver, and quite heavy. Vader’s. Why did this Luke have his lightsaber? Did he kill the Sith lord? Padme didn’t wish to consider that particular possibility.
“Vader?” She asked, finally meeting his clear blue eyes. Luke nodded. “How did you—”
“As much as I’d like to go over the plan now, we really don’t have much time, ma’am.”
Padme relaxed the tight grip her hands held on her knees. “Plan? You have a plan?”
“Yes. A plan growing infinitely more difficult to execute the longer we stay here.” He glanced back to the open door. The hallway outside remained mercifully empty, but she doubted it would remain so for much longer.
If he had Vader’s lightsaber, then it meant one of two things: he killed Vader and stole it, meaning Padme was in much greater danger with her “rescuer” than stormtroopers. Or, Vader handed the weapon over to him—an idea highly unlikely given the Sith lord’s nature. He’d never in a million years willingly give up his weapon without a fight. She gazed down at the cylinder once more. Luke followed her eyes, fingers subconsciously gripping it tighter.
“We need to go, Padme,” he finally used her first name, startling the woman from her thoughts. She stepped away. The backs of her knees hit the low bench against the wall.
“Who sent you here?”
“A friend. That’s all I can say until we get out of here.”
— —
“Who are you?” She asked once more as they reached a bank of elevators next to the prison block.
At least his mother followed him out of the cell. Her curiosity piqued at his concealed identity and the need for safety overruled the sensible side of staying put.
Luke shifted uncomfortably. “I-I can’t tell you that.”
But he wanted to, oh how he wanted to admit the truth. Tell his mother how much he loved her and hug her so tightly, he’d never let her go. He knew better, no matter how much it hurt.
“Why can’t you?”
Luke looked at the panel on the wall of the lift.
“It’s a long story. We don’t have time.”
“I think we do,” his mother glanced at the elevator. She wasn’t wrong and Luke knew it. The ride to the hangar would take a few minutes, more than enough time to explain at least the bare bones of his odd story. But it wasn’t his story to tell. Someone else deserved to see her first.
“Not now, ma’am,” Luke struggled to maintain a professional facade. Kriff, did he want to soak in every possible minute with his mother, only the pressing nature of the mission meant it all needed to wait.
“And you expect me to trust you?” She questioned, tone accusatorial. His mother stepped away from Luke. She eyed the discarded blaster on the ground next to a dead stormtrooper. Before either of them made a move, the elevator chimed and the doors opened. On the other side the car wasn’t empty. In fact it held a man dressed head to toe in black, murderous rage written across his face.
Shavit.
His father, the alternate version at least, stood before them. Golden eyes alight like a ring of fire around his pupils. “Get away from her,” Vader ordered. He pushed Luke away with a flick of his hand. Luke hit the wall hard.
“Vader?” His mother’s voice called his father quietly, timidly, almost as though…
Wonderful, Luke thought petulantly.
The alternate, younger version of his father reached for his mother. He pulled her to his side in a tight, quasi sort of hug. But his golden eyes were back on Luke in a second, until they slid down the lightsaber in his hands. “Where did you get that?” He growled. Vader’s own hands dropped to the same hilt hung on his own belt.
“A long story,” Luke repeated. He slowly righted himself against the durasteel wall, until he felt the tell-tale pain of something pushing on his windpipe. The slow crush of the Force hurt. Luke gasped for air.
“You will tell me,” Vader demanded.
The pressure on his neck only increased. “I–I,” he sputtered.
“Vader,” his mother warned, voice gentle but tone hard. “Let him go.”
Darkness crept on the fringes of Luke’s vision. His mechanical hand reached for his throat, red-bladed lightsaber forgotten at his feet.
“Vader,” she commanded, “Let him go.” She placed her hand on his forearm. His father relented immediately.
Without the intense pressure, Luke sucked in a deep breath. He coughed until his lungs recovered from the momentary loss of oxygen.
“Why do you have my lightsaber?” Vader questioned immediately, ignoring Luke’s need for air. His father called to the borrowed blade with the Force. The hilt flew through the air and into his outstretched hand.
“It’s not yours. Obviously,” Luke pointed to the hilt on the Sith’s belt.
“How did you get it?” Vader ignored his son’s comment.
Luke ran his flesh hand quickly through his hair. “I can—”
Before he even has a chance to explain, the elevator bank chimed again. Another set of doors opened to reveal an unexpected and unwelcome visitor to the odd family reunion.
His father. His real father that somehow crossed into a different universe with him. The hulking monster whose breath came as a loud kish-kosh from the artificial respirator within his suit. His helmeted head immediately turned to the alternate version of himself as soon as he left the relative safety of the lift.
“It belongs to me.”