Just a fun one-shot to remind my fellow Star Wars fans out there that I haven't abandoned them. Fueled by all this Episode VII excitement, I couldn't resist this one-shot. Enjoy!

AU Notes: Darth Vader chooses to let Luke go when he is brought to him on Endor. Neither is aboard the Death Star during its destruction or Palpatine's expiration. Three days after Endor, the Rebel base receives the news that Vader is the next in line to the throne.

Wires, Barbed

Luke was putting the final tightening strokes on Artoo's dome when he received the news. He had expected it for days, and absorbed it in guilt-ridden silence.

The rest of the base did not.

The news was shocking, paralyzing for the first moment, and then, like a starfighter barreling through the atmosphere and catching heat before impact, the rebel base erupted. The reaction was like wildfire, feeding on the disbelief and outrage the news incited, sweeping over the base in a contagious rush of thundering fury. As the leaders of the Alliance gave the announcement, rebels jumped over each other and stomped their feet, volleying profanities and bellowing for an end to the Empire. Down with Darth Vader.

Beside Luke, Artoo's dome twisted, and his eye blinked red and blue as they watched their comrades yell. He let out a mournful sound that was both soft and weary, and at that moment, Luke shared the feeling.

Emperor Vader.

Another tyrant.

When Luke could stand the rage no longer, he rose. He silently passed a hand over Artoo's dome, and, ignoring the concerned twitter he received in return, retreated to his bunk.

He had known that the news would arrive sooner or later. He, like the rest of the galaxy, had received the announcement of Palpatine's passing. He knew that his father had not fallen in the chaos that ensued. Somehow, though much of Vader's fleet had fallen, the Death Star had been destroyed, and the Imperial outposts on the corners of the galaxy had been overthrown, he knew that the Sith had managed to survive—Luke had sensed him. Like an unwavering flame in the Force, his presence had remained steady throughout it all, even as the Navy crumbled about him, even as the Empire struggled to remain upright through the worst blow since its formation.

Vader had not fallen.

Luke closed his eyes and sunk onto his bed, pulling his lightsaber into his hands and turning it around, running his fingers along the grooves and bumps in the metal. He didn't know what to think. He could remember in striking detail the day Vader had made his decision. On that bunker bridge on Endor, in the depth of the pine and curl of the wet undergrowth, Vader had chosen to let him go. That might have been the moment that defined them.

He could picture the hulking figure in his mind's eye, could remember the gleaming leather and the slight turn of the onyx mask towards Luke's figure. A conviction had rooted itself in Luke's mind after their duel on Bespin: the conviction that there was still a part of Anakin inside Darth Vader. Luke had sensed conflict within the dark presence, in the swirls of light struggling against the billowing dark, and had known that it was Anakin. It was Anakin who would not allow Vader to destroy him. It was Anakin in Vader's hesitations, in the conflict.

And Luke had been right—his father had not been able to turn him over to the Emperor, just as he had not been able to finish him on Bespin. It seemed that this was the weakness in the Sith; this was his father's glimmer of humanity. If only turning from the dark was simple.

Vader's shadowy layers were thick and stubborn. The walls that guarded Anakin's humanity were tightly armored—they were walls of wires and barbs, hiding the immense grief and self-loathing of Anakin's horror at Vader's deeds. Tearing that wall down and bringing his father back to the light would mean that Vader—Anakin—would have to face the pain. Luke didn't know if his father was ready for that. It would require a whole different type of courage.

Luke didn't know if Vader could muster it… or if he even would try.

Luke had once believed that Vader's defiance of his Master's orders upon that bridge would be the catalyst for his father's return to the light. He had once believed it was solely Palpatine's hold—powerful, constricting, exploiting—that had kept Vader in the dark. But now, he knew there was more that kept Vader so deeply entrenched in the shadow. Whatever it was, it was still driving him. Though the Emperor was now gone, Vader made no deviations from his assent to the throne. He was still pursuing power, pursuing the Dark and his thirst for dominance. If he had truly only been rooted by the Palpatine's suppressive hold, he could have freed himself the moment of the Emperor's passing. But he hadn't. This transmission had proved that. Darth Vader still reeked of the Dark.

Luke turned his lightsaber once more in his hands. His hands were sticky and left moisture upon the hilt, but Luke barely noticed it as his mind continued to turn.

Perhaps if only he had gone with Vader to the Emperor. Then, perhaps both would have been lost in the climatic explosion that marked the end of Palpatine's reign. Then, perhaps the Empire would have truly fallen then, with no Sith to take their place.

When one tyrant falls, Leia told him once, another rises to take his place.

She was right. Because now it was Darth Vader rising amidst the rubble of the Empire. And Luke was left with a lingering feeling of remorse as he watched him. It was for the peace he knew would never settle between them. It was for the light that Luke now knew Vader would never seek on his own.

Their relationship would only worsen now. Now, there was no Emperor now to stand between them, no man for Vader to shield Luke from, no tyrant to temporarily bind their causes and help them forget their positions in life.

Now it was just Sith and Jedi.

And Luke knew they could not continue to ignore the disparities in their values. They could never truly live side by side in peace. They were natural enemies, and, eventually, one would have to confront the other. It would only be so long before their careful treading around each other would crumble to their differences.

He would have to confront him, eventually. Master Yoda was right.

And yet his heart seemed dull and lifeless within his chest.

Luke set aside his lightsaber with a long breath, taking care to place it so it didn't roll from the bedstand. Then, he rubbed at his eyes and stared at the wall across from his bunk.

His father. The Emperor of the Galaxy.

He didn't know how Vader would even manage it with the planets in upheaval. Many of the starsystems had revolted after the death of Emperor Palpatine. Many more were calling for a more Democratic state; they didn't want to be ruled by another tyrant. The Alliance was gaining support, and Luke was not certain the Empire would be able to control all of the systems without seeking a compromise. The war would continue as long as there were no new amendments, as long as there was another Emperor upon the throne.

It was strange for Luke to think that if only he had accepted his father's proposal on Bespin, he would be with him now, ruling the galaxy. He could be the heir to the throne, have power beyond anything he had imagined. He would be the one beside his father in all the holograms. They would be together, as Luke had always dreamed as a child. When he was young, he used to lie awake in the small hours of the night, staring at the stars and fantasizing about the day his father would come for him, and they would see the galaxy together.

None of that now.

The door to his bunk slid open, and Luke looked up to see Leia standing there, a deep look in her brow.

"You okay?" she asked him, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

Luke nodded, feeling slightly self-conscious that she had known exactly where to find him. He was a bit ashamed that he was feeling this way in the first place, and that his sister—who shared none of his sympathies towards their father—had found him like this. She wanted nothing to do with Vader—she had made that perfectly clear over the last few days—and Luke was reluctant to admit to her that he did not feel the same.

Maybe it was the dip of his head, or the way that he could not hold her gaze, but Leia seemed to see through the lie fairly quickly. She was soon lowering herself onto the edge of his bunk, and Luke felt a rush of affection towards her. Though she had different views of their father, she was still determined to be present if he needed an ear.

"I don't understand," he articulated eventually. "I thought it was the Emperor keeping him in the Dark Side."

Leia was silent for a long time, and Luke knew she was trying express her thoughts as gently as she could. "I don't think you should wait for him, Luke," she said slowly. "I don't think we can trust him."

"I was so certain…"

Leia lowered her gaze, and she was silent for a while as Luke struggled to pull himself out of his gloom. "He's a Sith," she told him eventually, bluntly. "He's power-hungry. I don't think they can pull out of it. It's like a drug."

Her eyes scanned Luke's expression, and when Luke broke her gaze to lower his head, he could hear her resigned breath. "Some good might come out of it yet," she told him softly. "I've been speaking with Mon. She says that Vader doesn't have much of a choice. The systems are in revolt, calling for an end to the Empire. If Vader wishes for the galaxy to remain whole he'll have to take steps towards democracy. It might mean the end of the war, peace with the Alliance."

It didn't change the fact that Vader was their enemy. Luke knew what his father was, had seen what he had done, had seen how the others feared and despised him. It made him sick to sense the waves of anxiety rolling from Leia and the rest of them… and to know that they were wholly justified in that fear. None of them knew what to expect—none of them knew what Vader would do to them now that he had control. The worst part for Luke was seeing that glimmer of his father—of Anakin—inside the tyrant, and being powerless to free it. He himself was swimming with conflict, with love for the idol his father had always been. They were feelings Luke was certain would become his downfall.

Luke could feel Leia's hand on his shoulder. "Luke," she murmured, "please don't get your hopes up. …I- I don't think he's the same man General Kenobi said he was."

Luke let out a long breath. They sat there for a long while, wondering how things how gotten like this.

Leia was right. It was hardly a day later when the Alliance received Vader's order for a ceasefire. Then, a week later, following much deliberation over the peace offerings, a few select leaders of the Alliance set course for the Imperial City, where the peace conferences were set to commence. They arrived around midday, when the Coruscanti sun was high above the glittering buildings, and mounted a transport from the docking platform. They were then taken through the through the traffic-lined airways towards the Senate Building, flanked by at least twenty security vehicles.

Luke had never seen Coruscant, and he took a seat at one of the transport windows so he could gaze out at the galactic capital. He knew its tragedy well—having learned from both Obi-Wan, his meager Tatooine education, and his time with the Alliance—and watched the buildings pass with a hint of melancholy. The Imperial Palace, the University of Coruscant, Galaxies Opera House… He could see the ruins of the Jedi Temple in the distance. It was all here. The center of the galaxy. And his father was Emperor of all of this.

"Vader's Palace," Leia murmured in his ear, motioning towards a tall, austere building in the distance. It was supposed to be as tall as Palpatine's Palace, but supposedly nowhere near as luxurious. Luke watched it as they went by. It was indeed impressive, towering over the other buildings like a black shadow. Lights glimmered on its sides, and a large docking bay stretched out on its top.

"They say he's never there," Leia murmured. "He doesn't have the patience to deal with politics. He's always on his ship."

A looming statue of Vader was standing proudly in the distance, a gloved fist outstretched and ready to crush his enemies.

"He won't be able to spend time on the Executor anymore if he's Emperor," Luke replied softly, eyes fixed the statue until it had vanished behind a large building. Once more it struck him that he could be up there with his father, as his heir, and Luke felt a twisting in his stomach. Heir to the galaxy. Luke had only say the word and it would all come true. It had been Vader's wish—he had made that clear.

Luke relaxed into his headrest, taking a moment to clear his turbulent thoughts. They would be seeing Vader in just a few hours, and Luke was not sure what to expect, what to feel. His last conversation with his father, though encouraging, had been anything but conclusive.

Leia leaned back in her seat with a long breath, and as Luke watched her fiddling hands, he was once more reminded that she was just as nervous as he was, perhaps more so. She had the pressure of co-representing the Alliance, with Mothma, and this was the first time she was to see Vader since learning the truth.

"He doesn't know," she said suddenly, and Luke's eyes darted over to look at her. Her face turned toward him, and suddenly she looked vulnerable. Her brown eyes were soft. "He doesn't know, right?"

"I don't think so," Luke said faintly, knowing instantly that she was speaking of her paternity. Truth be told, Luke still wasn't sure how Vader would react to Leia's presence. He would surely notice—since learning her heritage, Leia had grown bright in the Force. In the worst case, he would view her as a Jedi threat. In the best, he would leave her be, as he seemed to be doing with Luke.

Luke didn't think Leia would reply to that, and she didn't. As Han and Chewie returned to their seats a moment later, their masks slid back in place.

They were settled into an appropriate embassy near the Senate, and, following a day's recovery period, they were escorted into the State Reception Hall, where they spent a few minutes exchanging stiff pleasantries with the Imperial officers in the wait for Vader's arrival. Luke found it a bit strange to engage with the Imperial officers—though the war had hopefully ended for good, there was still the unsettling feeling of interacting with those who had taken the lives of those Luke had worked with, commanded, seen in the mess halls… Luke supposed the officers likely felt similarly about him.

Conversation was detached and awkward. Luke could equate it partly with the reasons aforementioned, but mostly with his own distraction. His mind was far away from the lifeless conversations around him, instead distracted by the growing presence of his father in the Force. The Sith was nearing—both could sense it—and he could feel Vader's mind eagerly reaching towards him. For the first time since their conversation on the Endor bunker, their minds merged, and once more Luke could feel every movement, every stirring of his father's consciousness. He could even pick up small trails of emotions that leaked through his father's shields: anticipation, determination…

Vader approached quickly, and soon, about fifteen minutes into their wait, the heavy doors were opening. The dark, armored man swept in, his cape and aides behind him, and the room instantly quieted.

Luke half-expected an officer to announce his arrival, but there was no address. The Imperials simply jumped into salutes, heels clicking, uniforms stiffening as if one body. Vader then gave a brief flick of his hand, as if he was used to officers snapping to attention, and the men relaxed. The suck-hiss of the mask filled the room.

Luke could feel his father's gaze sweeping over the Alliance, feel the dark lens of his mask rest for a fraction longer on him. Luke kept his expression closed, his mental barriers firm, but could not help the way his stomach twisted when he realized Vader's eyes had come to rest on him. He couldn't judge how Vader felt about seeing him; his father's shields were raised tightly, and soon the moment had passed and Vader had turned his attention elsewhere.

"Commander Mothma." Vader greeted Mon Mothma with a nod when the latter came forward to meet him. Mothma's expression was flat, but she inclined her head similarly.

"Lord Vader," she returned calmly. She was using his former title, but Vader didn't correct her. Either he still considered it appropriate or he was not willing to create tension so early in the conference.

"I trust your journey was uneventful," he replied eventually.

"It was," said Mothma, her voice emotionless. "Thank you, Lord Vader. We were pleased to receive your message."

Vader nodded his approval, and that was the end of formalities.

Luke could not help but pass a sideways glance towards his sister as they all moved to seat themselves at the table. Leia had been right; Vader didn't seem to have the patience to deal with such things. Luke watched her seat herself, saw that her expression remained carefully guarded. She had curled and wound her hair for the occasion, and now she wore it proudly in the nape of her neck. Her expression didn't slip from its prideful professionalism, though Luke caught her watching Vader out of the corner of her eye. He knew she was curious about the man as Luke was, though she claimed to want nothing to do with him.

Luke watched his father motion to Admiral Piett of the Executor, who stepped forward and joined Vader at his right hand. They both lowered themselves into the high-backed chairs, the rest of the assembly followed, and the peace conferences commenced.

"In a few years, once the traditional governments have power, they should be allowed to elect Senators," Mothma compromised a few hours later, successfully sidestepping what might have become the third debate about the power shift to the individualized system governments. They had been sitting there for three hours, and it was only now that they were reaching accord about the introduction of democracy to the Empire. "A Senate can only be formed after the galaxy has adjusted to the shift in regional government. It may yet take five standard years."

Mothma shifted her gaze towards Vader, who hadn't moved from his calculating position for much of the conference. He hadn't spoken for much of the three hours, instead allowing the governors and admirals to carry most of the discussion.

"Lord Vader?" Mothma prompted him, her gaze cool. "The Empire will likely cease to exist in a few years' time in its return to democracy. Will you step down when the time comes?"

The Sith was silent for a long while, and Luke watched him closely, trying to read him when his shields were so closely guarding his mind. "The galaxy will not see a Republic in my lifetime," Vader rumbled.

"The galaxy wishes for a Republic," Mothma reminded him.

"These are not terms of surrender," Vader corrected her, his words biting. He seemed angered by her suggestion. "These are terms of peace. We may take your steps to democracy, but I will finish my rule. When the Empire has died with me, you may elect your chancellor and finish your Republic."

Mothma studied him for a long time, and it was not clear to Luke what she was thinking. "You will not declare an heir, then?" Mothma finally asked him, and Luke froze. Down the table, Mothma didn't seem to realize the weight of what she had asked. Neither did she seem intimidated by Vader's acerbic tone, only determined to move her point across. "You will not take an apprentice and continue your Sith legacy?"

Vader's chin rose, and Luke was still, sensing his father's thoughts turning.

Luke watched him closely, and when the mask moved slightly in his direction, Luke knew he was looking at him. Vader's shields were still there, but loosened, somewhat, and as Vader returned his gaze to Mothma, Luke caught a glimpse of emotion that slipped from them: a hint of… wistfulness? The others at the table frowned, unsettled by the sudden and abrupt silence from the Sith Lord. Beside Lord Vader, Admiral Piett was watching his commander closely, eyes wary.

"No," Vader rumbled after a long while. "I have no heir."

And Luke felt something inside of him unwind. He felt a large relief at his father's surrender of possession, feeling it sweep over him in an easing wave. He would not have to be subjected to the pressures of the Sith or the galaxy, or face the horror of his friends. He would not be forced to reject the temptation of the path presented to him; he himself would not have to turn away the world his father wished for him. Vader had offered Luke everything he had once dreamed—a home, a family, respect and admiration—but Luke knew it was not his path. If it were Vader's, then the two would have to part ways. Perhaps for good.

He could feel Vader's eyes on him once more, studying him closely. There was a sudden distance in Vader that Luke had never sensed before, and Luke was suddenly reminded that the two were practically strangers. Just now, perhaps even more so. Vader had denied his existence, just as Luke had denied their connection to those who knew him well.

Luke averted his gaze, feeling, against his will, a sudden hint of childlike hurt at the thought. And Vader's mask returned to Mothma's waiting words.

Their meeting was concluded an hour later, when the leaders decided to postpone their bickering for the following day. Then, at once, the Imperials stood, and with barely a second glance towards Luke or the Alliance, Vader swept from the conference room, the officers matching his long strides. The Alliance leaders were then escorted back to their chambers, and Luke was left in a gloom, wondering if it was perhaps the time to part for good.

"You are insistent to gain access to the Temple records."

Luke had sensed his approach, and hadn't started when his father spoke behind him. He looked around to see Vader standing there, his thumbs hooked in his belt. It was the third day of the peace conferences, and the first time that Vader had spoken to him alone.

"It's the only connection I have to the Jedi Order," Luke replied, setting down the hydrospanner he had been using to repair Artoo's system diagnostic ports. He kept his voice even, knowing that Vader wasn't fond of the institution or his past. And though they were far enough away from the rest of the Alliance leaders, who were standing a few meters away, Luke didn't want their voices to carry all the same. "I'd like to try to rebuild it."

"Jedi are weak, child," Vader reminded him sharply. "You'd do best to remember that."

"So you've been told," Luke replied, refusing to let Vader's hostility bar him. "But from my point of view, the Sith are the impaired."

Luke sensed Vader withdraw slightly, sensed a hint of surprise and anger emanating from his mind. Vader did not say anything, however, simply studied him for a long while. Luke took the opportunity to finish the thought.

"From my point of view, the Sith are controlled by their ambition and arrogance," Luke continued. "You may have purpose, but your pursuits would not yield anything of value to me."

"Your idealism clouds your judgment, my son," Vader growled at him. "Whatever you may believe, Sith and Jedi cannot coexist. I will not allow it."

"Perhaps not," Luke replied. "And yet we are. It's become this way ever since you let me go on the bridge, ever since you couldn't kill me on Bespin."

Luke could feel a shift in Vader, a reluctant softening in him, if that were possible in a Sith lord. "Just because I did not wish for your destruction does not mean that I approve of your choices," Vader rumbled. "I will not tolerate the return of the Jedi, Luke."

"You yourself have agreed not to take an apprentice," Luke reminded him. "Which means that the study of the Force will die with you and I."

"Perhaps it is best," Vader returned, and Luke was silent. He didn't agree, but he also knew that Vader had a low tolerance for bickering, and an even lower tolerance for Jedi.

Artoo twittered at him, and Luke, having nothing to say in return to Vader's comment, picked up the hydrospanner and continued his work. Vader remained by Luke's side, an awkward bulk of armor towering above Luke and Artoo. He was silent for a long moment, appearing to study Luke's handiwork.

"Will you stay on Coruscant?" Vader eventually rumbled at him. He was almost… hesitant?

Luke looked up suddenly, wondering if this was his father's way of expressing concern. "No," he told him, "if the Jedi are not welcome here, I'll rebuild the Order somewhere else." He paused to wipe his hands on a nearby rag. "The Alliance doesn't need me anymore, anyway."

Luke could sense his father's disapproval. "You would choose that path?"

"I have already chosen it."

Vader was silent once more, and Luke suddenly realized that the Alliance leaders, who had previously been in deep discussion, had by now observed Vader's presence in the area and become uneasy. Luke could see Leia and Han standing not far away, in a hushed, angry discussion, and knew he and Vader were the subjects; Leia and Han's heads would turn in tandem every so often. Leia looked severe, and her presence was bright in the Force, pure and forceful. Luke knew his father could sense it.

Vader followed Luke's gaze towards them and watched them for a long while. He didn't speak, but Luke could sense his thoughts turning as he watched Leia. Odd emotions were emanating from the Sith—hints of regret, and wistfulness. His eyes still on Leia, Vader eventually rumbled, "You are stubborn, Luke."

Luke cracked a smile, picking up the hydrospanner and resuming his work. He had heard it many times. And if he had learnt anything in the past three days, it was exactly where he had gotten it from.

"You are so much like…"

Darth Vader abruptly stopped, and Luke's head snapped up in surprise. A sudden anticipation made his stomach churn. Was he referring to whom Luke thought he was referring to? Vader had begun and stopped the thought so quickly that it seemed almost a slip in thought. Was he talking about Luke's mother? Luke knew so little about her. He could feel himself almost leaning towards his father's ellipsis, yearning for a conclusion to the thought.

Darth Vader remained quiet, and with every passing moment Luke grew increasingly convinced that he was right.

"My mother," he finished in a murmur, and the mask snapped over to look at him. Luke studied his father closely, the deep shadows of the lens, the sharp edges of the cheek and mouthpiece. For the first time, he seemed to find grief beyond them, deep and carefully hidden. A flash of purity. It lasted only a moment, a flicker of vulnerability, before impatience and irritation surged.

"The Alliance needs you here," Vader insisted suddenly, sharply, and Luke frowned. The volatile Sith lord had dismissed the moment so quickly that Luke was finding his emotions hard to follow. It seemed his father was still sensitive about the topic, after all these years. "Not on some ridiculous hunt for Jedi," Vader growled. "Best use that wreck of a Temple, anyway."

He turned and stalked away, and as Luke watched the cape bite at Vader's boots, he allowed himself a smile. Perhaps he should stay, after all.

Thanks a ton to my readers! Check out my profile for fics coming your way!