IT IS TOO LATE

"I can feel your conflict, father."

Darth Vader looked at his son, calming down the violent turmoil inside him.

He closed his eyes in an attempt to remind himself of his purpose here: Bring his son to the emperor. If better, turn Luke to the Dark Side and overthrow him.

He couldn't.

He couldn't focus; the more he tried, the more the part of him which was unwilling to turn Luke grew.

He opened his eyes and saw his son—desperate to change his father's mind. However, to be specific, he wasn't really seeing his son. He was relying on the artificial lenses the helmet provided. For decades, red was the only color he could see.

He wondered, what does his son really look like?

Vader had never been interested in that before. He was too obsessed with finding Luke to care about those things.

Does Luke have blue eyes, like he himself?

Or brown eyes, like Padme…

Vader stopped. Even the name of her was hurt to think.

Luke said again, drawing his attention to him.

"Let go of your hatred."

It sounded absurd to Vader. He has lived with hatred for twenty years. No, maybe even earlier than that.

As a child on Tatooine, he hated Watoo, his slave master.

As a Jedi Padawan, he hated the Tusken Raiders that murdered his mother.

As a Sith Lord, he hated Sidious, for lying and manipulating him.

He hated so many things, but for the past several years, since he found out about Luke, he hated himself the most.

He should have identified him a lot sooner.

He shouldn't have cut his hand in anger.

He shouldn't have left his son, from the very beginning.

Vader stared at his son. Luke wasn't only bright in the Force, but on the outside also. That reminded him of two people, the two he had loved the most.

Vader thought of his mother—beautiful, loving, and strong woman. One who only cared for her son, even in her death. She must have been heartbroken to see her son leave to far, far away in the galaxy. And when he finally returned after about a decade, she was tortured, hurt, and dying.

When he was still Anakin Skywalker, Vader used to imagine, how the things would have been different if he arrived earlier. Though he was aware of the fact that it was useless, he couldn't help himself then, and it didn't change much now even if numerous years have passed.

Vader also thought of Padme—his heart ached every single time he thought of her, his angel he loved, whom he killed…

He couldn't save her. He couldn't save them, both his mother and his beloved.

And so, he could never forgive himself.

He couldn't let go of his hatred.

He knew he would clung to the Dark Side of the Force forever. Yet his son strongly believed there was still some good in him.

Was Luke right? Vader never knew.

Still, he knew the one and only thing. Even if there was a light in him left from all those years, it was helplessly short to cover up his darkness, to make him the person Luke wishes him to be.

His was to be stuck on fear, anger, and hatred for the rest of his life.

That small amount of light was not enough to change his already ruined fate.

Vader almost spoke in sadness, bitterness in every word despite his efforts to hide it.

"It is too late for me, my son."