Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, nor any of its characters.

Chapter One: Life-Giving Force

"Luke," the voice rasped weakly. "Help me take… this mask off." His breathing was growing weaker, but the man retained his pride, refusing to speak in phrases or lower his dignity.

Luke shook his head slightly, not understanding. He looked into the eyes of his father. "But you'll die." Surely his father was knew he coming with him. Didn't he know that they were going to go back to Endor together? They finally had a chance that they could be a family. Luke needed his father's help to rebuild the Jedi and form the New Republic.

It took his father a second to reply as he caught his breath and formed his words. "…Nothing can stop that now. Just for once… let me... look on you with my own eyes."

Wordlessly, stirred with emotion, Luke nodded. He reached for his father's mask, grasping the black ebony sides, and he lifted the helmet. Once removed, he reached for the face piece. It came back slowly. Luke was not sure what to expect underneath his father's mask, but the face that greeted him was not it.

The face was very pale, unnaturally pale, with large gaping scars running across the back of the scull and on the cheekbones. The man underneath the mask was weak, but his eyes were filled with expression and emotion. Closing his eyes briefly, as if accepting his son's judgment or disgust, he spoke again. "…Now go, my son. Leave me."

Realizing what his father was telling him, Luke spoke quickly. "No, you're coming with me. I'll not leave you here, I've got to save you." He felt his throat clench up. Why was his father giving up? Didn't he understand?

"Luke…" He was straining; Luke could sense it. A tear glistened on the cheek. His emotions swirled around Luke, overwhelming, overpowering.

Luke looked deeply into his father's eyes. They could still get out. They could escape. "Father," Luke said, filled with hope. "You're coming with me." He grasped his father's shoulder tightly, as if pouring in his strength and determination.

His father smiled weakly at his son's strong resolve. The corners of his mouth trembled. Another tear fell down the pale cheek.

Without another word, deciding to seize the moment, Luke grasped his father's shoulders and hoisted him upwards. Luke struggled to support his father, who leaned heavily on him, but adrenaline pulsed through his veins, driving him onwards and giving him strength.

They struggled up the loading ramp of the Imperial Shuttle. His father stumbled once, nearly bringing them both down, and Luke grasped his waist, pulling him onward. They could make it. They had to make it, to go on.

When they entered the shuttle, Luke quickly raised the ramp and lowered his father to the ground. Without hesitation, Luke sprung towards the cockpit, where the shuttle controls spread out in front of him. He switched the power on and began the flight cycle, flicking two or three switches. Underneath him he felt the soft vibration of the ship's hum. Luke's forehead wrinkled with worry. They needed to get out immediately.

Around the shuttle, the support beams were already beginning to shake. One had already fallen, and debris spread out in clouds around the shuttle.

It took a minute, but the shuttle lifted from the ground. Passing through the clouds of debris and the falling structure of the landing hole, Luke steered the ship out of the docking area. They barely made it out; seconds after the ship's nose touched the expanses of space, the Death Star shook violently and imploded in a burst of brilliant colors. Flying shrapnel whizzed past the shuttle, but the shuttle was unharmed. Luke breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in the captain's chair. They were safe. He stared out into space at the cold glimmering stars and planets, never feeling so grateful.

His father. Luke straightened abruptly in the captain's chair. They would need to set course for the nearest medical center. Using the Imperial computer, Luke checked the nearest locations for a medical base and entered the coordinates. He set the shuttle on autopilot and sprang up from his chair, heading back to where he had left his father.

His father was lying on the cold floor, extremely still and pale. Luke ran towards him, his heart dropping. His father couldn't be dead. No, not after they had gotten so far. He reached for his father's shoulders and pulled him upward, searching for some sign that he was still holding on.

It took a moment, but his father's dark eyelashes fluttered. His eyes opened briefly, revealing a flash of the blue eyes before he faded back into unconsciousness. He was getting weaker.

Luke grasped his father's hand and reached into the Force, pulling strength from his own body and passing it to his father's. His father just had to have enough strength until they reached the medical center, where the droids would be able to take care for him. They would know what to do. For now all Luke could volunteer was support and comfort.

It seemed like much longer, but the shuttle eventually pulled up to the medical center. It was not a large center, approximately the size of the one Luke had visited after Bespin, but it would provide the immediate services they needed. Luke docked Imperial Shuttle on the center's west wing and immediately contacted the center for admission.

Two minutes later, the hatch of the ship opened to allow the entry of three medical droids, who loaded Luke's father onto a stretcher and moved him quickly into the medical center. The droids ushered Luke out of the way as they moved his father into a separate, private room, where they began to remove his armor and assess the extent of his injuries. Luke hung back as the droids did their duty, wishing to give his father some privacy.

The waiting room outside was covered in white paneling, like the rest of the medical center, but it had cushioned white benches built into the walls, where Luke finally sat.

He waited for an indeterminable amount of time, lengthy enough that Luke lost track of how long he had been sitting there. His mind wandered all the while, thinking about his sister and Han back on Endor, his friends in the Alliance air force… they would be worrying about him by now, wondering when he would come back. It pained him to think of distressing them.

Luke was shaken from his thoughts when one of the droids exited his father's room. Luke stood, stopping the droid.

"Excuse me, is there anywhere I can send a transmission?"

The droid turned towards Luke. "You wish to contact others outside of this medical facility?" it asked him, tilting its head so its blue eye blinked at Luke.

"Yes. Is there any location where I can do that?"

"Of course, sir," the droid replied in a pleasant voice. "Right down the hallway. There should be an offset location on the left where you can place a transmission."

Luke nodded in response and thanked the droid, who continued doing its job. He headed down the hallway and quickly noted an offset on the left, just as the droid had said. In the niche there was a transmission machine and computer locator. Luke, knowing the Falcon was on Endor with Lando, Han, and Leia, was able to quickly locate the ship's main receptor.

"Leia, Han, it's Luke," Luke spoke into the transmission. "I don't want for you to worry- I'm okay. I hope this message finds you well. I hope to reunite with you soon."

Luke broke off his message there, not wanting to give too much information about the situation at the current time. He was still unsure of how his sister and Han would react to learning about his father's presence and he wanted to avoid the possibility of a misunderstanding or miscommunication over long distance. He would have to wait until his father was healed and somewhere safe before he could contact them again. For now, they would have to be content knowing that he was alive and well. His father's safety was what mattered right now.

Luke stood there for a few moments, mulling over his thoughts. Once again he was interrupted by the approach of another medical droid. This time, the droid addressed him directly.

"Sir, the patient is stabilized and resting." The droid's blue eye blinked at him, and he tilted his head at Luke while relating the report.

Luke felt immediate relief at the reassuring description. "What is the nature of his injuries?"

"Sir, we have found that his injuries were extensive, but we have treated them to the best of our abilities. The patient has several abnormalities that made treatment complicated."

Luke frowned. "…What do you mean?"

"Firstly, the patient has four mechanical limbs, as well as several partially inorganic organs. The patient has also experienced severe burning in his past that extends over the patient's entire body. The patient's lungs were among one of the most damaged organs, making oxygen administration complex. Lastly, the patient has an abnormally high midi-chlorian count, which can often make the healing process unpredictable."

"Midi-chlorian count?" Luke echoed. He was slightly startled by the extent of his father's injuries; even though he had already realized that his father's wounds were extensive, the heaviness of his father's medical state had not truly hit him until now.

"Yes, sir," the droid replied. "The number of midi-chlorians in the blood indicates the strength of an individual's connection to the Force. The patient holds an unnaturally high count that is higher than any other documented individual in recent history. Only one other individual shares that count, but according to our records that individual is deceased."

"What was his name?" Luke asked the droid, curious by the findings of the analysis.

"The individual was called Anakin Skywalker. According to records, he was a Jedi living in the time of the Old Republic. Records say he went missing during the Purges and was assumed dead."

Luke had always assumed his father's turn had been around the beginning of the Empire; he had heard numerous stories of Vader's crucial role in the formation of the Imperial Rule. "You said treatment was complicated," Luke continued, remembering what had been previously mentioned. "Will it affect the patient's chances of survival?"

"We do not know what the next few hours will bring," the droid replied directly. "According to our calculations, the patient has about a forty-eight percent chance of surviving the next few hours. If the patient makes it through the night, he will survive and recover fully."

Luke nodded, finding he was unable to reply. His heart dampened and sunk at the droid's words.

"The patient's room is currently open for visitors," the droid informed Luke, before moving away.

Luke managed to thank the droid. He headed back down the hallway, quiet and meditative. When he reached his father's door, he paused. He was not sure what he would see, or how his father would react to his presence, but wanted to be reassured of his father's strength.

Luke reached out and turned the doorknob. The room spread out before him, whitewashed like the rest of the medical center. Machines were all around the room, built into the walls and stacked on the floor. Luke's attention was immediately drawn to where his father was resting, apparently asleep or unconscious, upon a white bed.

His father's features still looked extremely pale, perhaps even more so than before. The armor that had been removed to survey his injuries had been replaced, and although his mask had been left off, it had been replaced with an oxygen mask that wrapped around his father's nose and mouth and was tied behind his still head.

Luke approached his father slowly, eventually drawing to beside him and cautiously taking a seat by the bedside. His father did not stir at Luke's approach. His dark eyelashes were still. They did not flicker or send any other signals of awareness, however hard Luke studied them.

Hesitant, Luke reached for his father's hand, turning it in his. The touch was comforting for him, and, he hoped, also for his father. Luke's attention was drawn to the machines attached to his father, monitoring his breathing, heart rate, and other functions. He found the repetitive hum of the machines soothing.

Glancing once more at his father's still form, Luke exhaled and reached into the Force, probing towards his father's presence. Even though his father was so near, Luke could sense that his presence was faded, subconscious and unresponsive even in the Force. Although Luke sent soothing emotions towards his father, there was no response. Quietly and with resignation, Luke withdrew from the Force.

"There is nothing you can do," a voice said from behind him, startling him. Luke spun around. He had not sensed any other presences in the room.

Obi-Wan was standing there, translucent in form, but with a gentle blue glow emanating from his body.

"Ben?" Luke said in amazement. He released his father's hand and stood from the seat to face his former Jedi Master.

Obi-Wan smiled at him. "You have done well, Luke. I'm so proud of you."

Luke's eyes flickered down to the ground, partly out of humility in reaction to Obi-Wan's praise, but when he raised them again his bashfulness had vanished, replaced with somberness and determination. He fixed his eyes firmly on Obi-Wan and set his jaw in an intense stare. "Can you help him?"

Obi-Wan met Luke's gaze, an expression of interest on his features. He studied Luke for a moment or two, and then replied, "Yes."

Luke's relief was almost tangible. His whole body relaxed, his forehead smoothed, and shoulders sank. He nodded gratefully.

Obi-Wan moved towards Anakin, each of his steps betraying his cautious nature. He reached Anakin's head and looked down upon his former student, his somber gaze a strange mixture of affection and brooding. "…I'm truly sorry, my old friend," he said to Anakin, soft enough that Luke was unsure if he was supposed to overhear. With a pale hand, Obi-Wan reached out and touched the brow.

If there were any changes, they were not visible; Anakin did not stir, and, however hard Luke studied Obi-Wan, his expression retained neutrality. Obi-Wan's hand withdrew a second later, and his eyes moved back to Luke's face.

"What did you do?" Luke asked Obi-Wan.

"Patience, my young friend," Obi-Wan replied, a small smile playing along the corners of his mouth. "The Force works at its own pace." Obi-Wan folded his arms, his tone growing more serious. "…He will live. The Force is not finished with him yet."

"…What happened to him?" asked Luke softly, looking at his father.

"His initial injuries, you mean?" Obi-Wan asked Luke, who nodded. Obi-Wan's face seemed to age now, appearing older than Luke had ever seen. "…It happened on the day he turned. We fought on Mustafar. …It was a long fight; we were very evenly matched. Anakin attempted to leap to the high ground I was standing on. I sliced off his left arm and his legs. He tumbled down on the lava bank." Obi-Wan paused here. He seemed oblivious his surroundings, his eyes staring into space as if he was reliving that day. "I watched him catch flames, Luke... it's a memory that will haunt me forever… his screams were… inhuman."

Luke could see that it was difficult for Obi-Wan to relive the memory. Driven by curiosity, however, he prompted Obi-Wan: "How did he get out?"

"…I left him there… I assume Palpatine rescued him. That was the last time I ever saw my former apprentice… he was replaced by the black mask: a monster twisted and warped with evil."

"…How old was he?"

"He was twenty-three," was Obi-Wan's reply. "Still just a boy… I wish I could have been there more for him, Luke."

"Why did he turn, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan's eyes returned to Luke. "Your father was never truly loyal to ideas, Luke."

"What do you mean?"

"He was loyal to people. He placed his trust in one man who was a mentor figure to him, perhaps the father I never was. He trusted the Palpatine, and, not knowing his true nature, believed what he told him– we all did. Palpatine twisted and lied to those around him. …When Palpatine seized control of the Senate, your father considered it treason to go against him."

"He didn't listen to you?" Luke asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head silently. "There were other motives for his turn as well, ones I do not know of. I suspect your mother had something to do with it, but I was never able to confirm that suspicion."

The curiosity got the better of Luke. "Who was my mother, Ben?"

Obi-Wan looked at Luke closely. Sadness and sympathy glimmered deep in his blue eyes. "I believe your father would be the best one to answer that, Luke," he said gently.

Luke faded into silence. Ben had given him much to think about. Thoughts swirled about in his head; the knowledge had opened new doors in his mind and had given him much to absorb and reflect on.

"Look," Obi-Wan said quietly, his gaze fixed on Anakin.

It was if Luke was watching magic. Slowly, as if watching the sun slowly rise from the horizon, color spread across the still, pale face. Luke watched in fascination as the scars slowly absorbed into the skin and the winkles smoothed. With a start Luke also realized that on the stump of his father's wrist there was now a flesh hand. When his eyes returned to his father's face, he was met with a young-looking man.

"This is…"

"-How he looked before he turned," finished Obi-Wan.

Luke was amazed "Ben, why…"

"The Force is not finished with him."

"The Force can do that?"

Obi-Wan's eyes softened. "Luke, tend to your father," he said. "He will help you with your task of rebuilding the Order." With these words, Ben began to fade. "My time is over. May the Force be with you." Suddenly, he was gone.