It's the last chapter!

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Luke was hurting, Luke was in pain, just like she had been. . .

But he couldn't wake up.

No—no, that couldn't be right. Because he'd been on the Devastator before, and now he was—

"Ani?"

His heart stopped at the sound of the voice.

He turned, mouth already fallen open. His surroundings were intimately familiar to him, the sand-blasted walls of the slave quarters, the bench that C-3PO, half-finished and in pieces, lay on.

And his mother, ducking through the door, smiling with the gentleness that the desert had never managed to steal.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and he felt—as he always had, with her—the sheer, unselfish love radiating from her heart. "You're back! I thought Watto might have kept you late."

"Watto's dead," he heard himself say, only that was wrong. He didn't know what had happened to the Toydarian since he'd last seen him—that last trip to Tatooine, when. . . except he wouldn't think about that. But he didn't know what had happened to Watto, and he liked to tell himself he didn't care.

No, his former Master wasn't dead. Another Master was.

"Ani?" his mother asked. He was worrying her now; he felt the familiar pang of guilt. "Are you alright?"

He shook his head. "This— this isn't right." The last time he'd been in these quarters—seen his mother uninjured—everything had been. . . larger. He'd looked up at her; the hovel had towered over his nine-year-old head. Now. . .

He looked down, hoping to see flesh and bone. He was greeted by black-gloved hands. His prosthetics.

He was Vader.

But his mother was still looking at him with love, still smiling gently at him, like he was still that tiny, naive, powerless, innocent little boy—

And then a memory flashed to mind: Luke, his boy, writhing in pain on the ground.

And he realised what was so odd. He couldn't hear his respirator.

He wasn't breathing.

He looked up sharply, meeting his mother's eyes. Her brows furrowed with concern. "Ani?"

Her voice. . . rippled. . . getting louder and quieter, overlapping with someone else's. "Ani? Anakin?"

"Anakin? Anakin!"

His eyes flew open. Air shot into his throat as he gasped, but it wasn't enough, he needed more—

Something was shoved into his face—his respirator. The pure, filtered oxygen barrelled in, almost bowling him over, but he could breathe again, and his vision cleared.

The ceiling he was staring at was familiar. It looked like. . .

He sat up sharply, ignoring the twinged protest of his body. Sure enough, it was his personal medbay.

And Obi-Wan was there.

"Anakin," his old Master said. He didn't say anything else.

But Vader did. "That is not my name," he hissed, reaching for the Dark Side, ready to snap this pathetic Jedi in half like a twig—

Only to fall back against the operating table again, his head in agony from the effort. He was too injured; he couldn't focus, even with the pain fuelling him.

"That's what I thought as well," Obi-Wan continued, ignoring him. "Except, when the monitors showed you were waking up, I shouted Vader several times. You only responded to Anakin."

"You didn't call me Anakin. My mother did."

Obi-Wan ignored that as well, which Vader appreciated later, when he was more lucid, because it did sound a little crazy. "And," he continued, "when you were immobilised, and the Emperor was torturing Luke, I felt. . ." He sighed. "You were distant, but you were afraid. For him. Not because he was an asset to you, or you hoped to turn him. Because you loved him."

"Why—" demanded Vader, straining forwards again only to flinch back. Again. "Why does that make any difference?"

"Because Sith aren't supposed to love!" Obi-Wan shouted. "Because you're a Sith, and you love Luke, and that doesn't make any sense, and everything I understand is coming to pieces!"

Vader didn't move. Barely breathed, even with the respirator pumping oxygen into his lungs.

"I loved you, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered. "I loved you, and you loved Padmé, so when you became a Sith you couldn't be the same person I knew, it couldn't be safe to leave Luke with you, because Sith Lords don't love." He shook his head. "But you're Vader, and you love Luke, and Luke loves you back, so I don't know what to think anymore."

He was still angry—still so, so angry—and he said as much. " I loved you too, Obi-Wan." His voice was biting. "But you cut off my limbs and left me to burn to death."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "I did." He stood up. "Luke is in his bed, in the other room. He's alive, but I don't know for how much longer."

Something clenched in Vader's chest. "What day is it?"

"You were asleep for twenty four standard hours. Empire Day was yesterday."

And Luke's still alive? Still dying?

He didn't say them out loud, but it didn't matter. Obi-Wan seemed to know what he was thinking anyway.

He pursed his lips. "You'd better come through," he said. "Luke might feel better with you there."

Even with Luke's desert tan still stubbornly clinging to his face, Vader had never seen anyone look so pale.

Almost on its own volition, his hand stretched out to brush the fringe out of his face. Luke didn't react to it at all; he just kept sleeping.

"Obviously I don't know what he was like before Palpatine electrocuted him," Obi-Wan said behind him, "but he seems to be deteriorating a lot faster now that the lightning's done its damage. He won't survive tomorrow, if that, we think."

"We?" Vader asked quietly. Not that he particularly cared. All of his passion, his fire, seemed to be dying with Luke.

"We," Obi-Wan confirmed, and then another voice spoke.

"Hey, Skyguy."

That sent his temper boiling again. He whirled round, reaching for his lightsaber and pointing the lit blade at Ahsoka's throat.

Not that it would do much. She didn't even flinch.

"You," he seethed. "You told Obi-Wan that Luke is going to die?"

"She did," Obi-Wan confirmed, looking like he had a bad taste in his mouth. He spoke with the same dry tone he always had, but the terrified glance he shot Luke's dying form betrayed his panic. "I wish I could say it was my first time speaking to such a ghost, but my life's not that mundane, I'm afraid."

Vader decided he wasn't going to ask. "And," he kept ranting, jabbing a finger at his ex-Padawan, "did she tell you why he's going to die?"

"Because you didn't return to the Light."

"I have nothing to do with this!" Vader clenched his fists. "You're the one who says he's going to die, without telling me how to save him!"

Ahsoka shook her head. "Stop reassigning blame, Anakin—"

"That is not my name."

"—I have told you everything I know," she continued regardless. "The Force wants you to turn back to the Light, so it's holding Luke as a hostage to do it. I don't agree with it—"

"I'm sure you don't."

"—but this is what's happening, and I've told you how to stop it. You're the one in denial."

"Because I know that it won't work," he hissed. "The Force doesn't want me to turn back; the Dark Side is my destiny. And the one person who knew the secret to immortality, who could've saved Luke, was just shot through the chest. By him." He jabbed a finger at Obi-Wan.

His old Master frowned, but didn't refute the accusations. "Have you tried healing Luke through the Force?"

"Of course I have." The Dark Side was unyielding; it gave so much, but there were some things it couldn't give. It could sustain someone, keep them alive. . . but it couldn't heal them. He couldn't save Luke with it—not through the techniques he knew, at least. And the technique he needed had died with his Master.

Ahsoka said quietly, "Have you tried using the Light?"

"Of course not!"

She looked. . . saddened. . . by that. "If you don't then Luke will die on his eighteenth birthday."

He jerked his head up to glare at her. "Then why isn't he dead already?"

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan exchanged a look. They were silent for one tense minute.

Then—

"Because Luke wasn't born on Empire Day."

He blinked. "What." Shook his head. "Luke said—"

"When I delivered Luke to the Lars homestead, I didn't tell them the precise date of his birth," Obi-Wan said baldly. "I didn't know the precise date of his birth; everything happened so quickly, I didn't check the medical records on Polis Massa, and I didn't know how long we'd been in hyperspace. So I just told the Larses that he was a few days old, and they tied his birthday to Empire Day so they had a reliable date to celebrate that corresponded with the calendar on Tatooine. But Luke wasn't born on Empire Day."

"He had to have been," Vader said. "Padmé—"

"—was at the senate session where Palpatine made himself Emperor," Obi-Wan said. "That is the event that Empire Day celebrates. But Padmé didn't give birth then and there. She gave birth around two days later."

Vader shook his head again. "Impossible. Luke must have been born on Mustafar."

"Why?"

"Because I killed her!" He didn't realise he was shouting until he stopped. "I killed her," he repeated. "She couldn't have survived until two days later, let alone give birth. It's impossible."

"It's not impossible," Obi-Wan insisted, "because you didn't kill her."

Everything stopped.

Distantly, Vader could hear the blood pounding in his head, but that was all he could hear. Ahsoka's mouth was moving, Obi-Wan was sighing, Luke shifting in his sleep, but all Vader could hear was his pulse.

His pulse, and the Force.

Truth, it sang. Truth.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "I—" He took a breath. "I didn't?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "You choked her into unconsciousness. Wounded her badly. But you didn't kill her."

"Then—" He swallowed. "How did she die?"

"We don't know," Obi-Wan admitted. There was a chair next to Luke's bed; he collapsed into it, sighing. "The medical droid said she was perfectly healthy, that there was no reason for her to die. I suspect Palpatine was involved somehow." He was quiet for a moment, then— "Her last words were that there was still good in you."

Vader closed his eyes. Padmé, his angel. . . She'd always had faith in him.

"So Luke will die tomorrow," he said stiffly, trying to push away the image of her beautiful face slack in death, hair woven with white flowers. "That's still only two more days to live."

Obi-Wan wasn't tricked by his attempt to divert the conversation—and nor was Ahsoka. She just gazed at him. The light radiating off her hurt his eyes. "You betrayed Padmé," she said. "You hurt her, badly. But you didn't kill her." She shook her head. "Don't let Luke die as well."

"I can't save him," he said, wanting to ignore the way his voice broke on the words. Fear—fear had always ruled his life, for as long as he could remember, and this was the first time he'd acknowledged that dangerous dragon out loud in what felt like forever. I can't turn back to the Light.

"Padmé believed you can," Obi-Wan said. "Luke believed you can." He shut his mouth, swallowed, then— "I believe you can." He met Vader's eye. "All you have to do is try. All you have to do," his lips quirked in a wry, almost self-deprecating smile, "is let go."

Silence fell, but Vader had moved his gaze away from Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, to Luke.

The only thing left of Padmé, and an incredibly precious thing in and of himself.

He rested his hand on his shoulder, eyes roving over his face. He couldn't lose Luke. After everything else, he couldn't lose Luke as well. The galaxy could go to hell for all he cared, so long as he didn't lose Luke.

So he took a deep breath, and reached for those feelings, of love and self-sacrifice, of wanting to give up something for the betterment of someone else. When it came to him, as easily as breathing, the Force felt. . . purer. . . than it had in a long time.

He looked over at Obi-Wan. "Help me," he asked, then through gritted teeth, "please."

Obi-Wan watched him for a moment, then nodded. Something eased in his chest. All the hatred, the anger, the blame. . .

He let go of it, and allowed himself to hope instead.

It was going well, so far. It was going unbelievably well, especially since twenty four hours ago, Obi-Wan could never have believed that Vader could turn back to the Light.

And now he had. For Luke.

They'd been working on him for hours. Ahsoka had left at some point, unable to help; as they neared the three hour mark Obi-Wan started to think that maybe Vader—Anakin?—needed a break.

In the end, it was Obi-Wan who needed to take a break. Using the Light Side of the Force seemed the opposite of tiring for Vader—it seemed to be reinvigorating him, even, healing him just as much as it healed Luke.

It was a marvel.

But as long as Obi-Wan was taking a break, he figured he could do something useful. After all, none of this was happening in a bubble, and the fact remained that he had technically just killed the Emperor of the known galaxy. He knew full well just how. . . catastrophic. . . the fallout of that would be. If there wasn't a leader or system of government ready to replace the previous one, then countless beings would fight to fill the power vacuum. A second civil war might be on their hands.

Fortunately enough, he knew exactly who may or may not be willing (if not quite ready) to install a new system of government.

Which was why immediately after he'd checked the holonet for news—there was some speculation as to why Palpatine hadn't turned up to the main parade on Empire Day, but other than a few doomsayers it seemed like Ahsoka's plan to throw the Emperor's body in a trash compactor had worked—he commed Bail.

The man picked up surprisingly quickly considering Obi-Wan was contacting him on a secure comlink that he had no other reason to use. Then again, he'd known about the situation with Luke and Vader, he would've undoubtably heard about the rumours that something had happened to the Emperor. He'd probably been waiting for this call.

"Ben," Bail said, sticking to their codenames, but he didn't miss how Bail's lips went to mouth Obi-Wan before he cut himself off. He was desperate. "What's the situation? What's happening?"

"Grandfather's dead," he said carefully, and despite how it galled him to call Palpatine anything as affectionate as Grandfather, he had to get the message across without anyone else being able to work out what he was talking about. "My brother returned to us to say goodbye to his body."

Anakin came back to the Light just after he died.

"I see," Bail said. His face was pained, but something akin to hope was beginning to dawn. "And your nephew?"

Luke. "Ill," Obi-Wan said, a smile creeping onto his face, "but recovering very well. He'll be right as day soon."

Bail had no obvious reaction, but Obi-Wan was skilled at reading people. He saw the man's shoulders relax, the tiny smile that crept onto his face. "I'm glad."

"And now I need to talk to you about who's going to inherit Grandfather's prospects." Bail's eyes widened marginally but Obi-Wan barrelled on. "You're the only relative I can trust to think clearly, to talk about what will best prevent family conflict. We need you."

We need your Rebellion, and your New Republic, was what he was saying. Bail raised his eyebrows.

"Where would you propose we meet? You know the cousins—if they find out where we're holding the talk, or even think we're holding the talk, they'll come crashing in and ruin everything. We need somewhere they won't expect us to be."

We need somewhere the Empire won't expect us to be.

Obi-Wan bit his lip, then offered, "How about my brother's marriage venue? I'll be there, and so will he and my nephew. They'll have some insights to share, I'm sure." He paused. "We're even on the right planet now."

"My sister's old leisure house?" Bail asked. Padmé's lake house? Varykino?

"That's the one," Obi-Wan confirmed. "I'll meet you there in two of your days?" Alderaanian days lasted eighteen hours, rather than Coruscant's standard twenty-four; it might be enough to throw off any eavesdropping Imperials on the timing.

"I'll make time for it," Bail promised. It doesn't sound feasible, but I'll be there anyway.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Thank you," he said. "For everything."

There was a moment of shock, then Bail allowed a large smile to spread over his face. "Thank you, Ben," he said. "I'll see you soon."

"It had to be here that we came to, didn't it?" Vader—Anakin—his father grumbled.

Luke frowned. "What's so special about here?" He coughed slightly as he said it, feeling his father's panic spike, but he waved it off. He'd woken up, he'd recovered; he just needed a little more rest, now.

He smiled at Anakin, letting all his pride and happiness shine out with it. I knew you could turn back to the Light. I knew it.

And he had. He had, and now the Emperor was dead, they were going about negotiating how to set up a Republic in its place, and he had his father back.

The future looked bright.

"It's where your parents got married," Ahsoka told him, flickering into existence behind him. He tilted his head up to face her, unflinching—he'd almost become used to her doing that.

"Really?" he asked, excitement rising in his chest. He turned his head to his father for clarification, but Anakin was facing out across the lake. He didn't seem to have heard him. "Father?"

He jerked himself out of his stupor then, and tilted his head so his mask was facing Luke. "Yes?"

"Is it true this is where you married my mother?"

Another silence, more gazing at the lake, something that felt like. . . nostalgia. . . emanating off the man, then. . .

"Yes," he said. His voice was wistful. "I'll tell you about it—about her—later." He inclined his helmet to the other shore. "Organa is here. And he seems to have someone else with him."

He was right. Luke squinted, and there was another, smaller figure next to him. As the speeder they were taking grew nearer, he could make out more details—a young woman, about his age, with brown hair lashed into two buns.

He didn't recognise her, but there was a feeling of. . . familiarity. . . to her. He knew her from somewhere, somehow.

He was so preoccupied with the feeling that he missed the look exchanged between Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, but he didn't miss his father's slightly heated, "Why has Organa brought his daughter to such a delicate discussion?"

It was rhetorical, but Luke turned to ask Ben the answer anyway, so he didn't miss the second look he and Ahsoka exchanged, loaded with caution. Luke frowned. They almost seemed. . . hopeful.

When they seemed to come to a decision, Ahsoka just said with a coy smile: "Indeed. Why would he?"