A/N: I realize this is probably one hell of an overused trope in this fandom but I'm new here and this plot bunny would not leave me alone.

All he knew was pain, blinding, white hot pain.

It cut it's it's way through the darkness that enveloped him.

He heard voices, a blur of sound with no distinct words.

His eyes felt like they were glued shut, the pressure in his head a vice grip.

When he could he forced his eyes open, just a slit and for a moment there was a piercing, blinding light and he shut them again, wincing against the pain.

It consumed him for a while longer and when it slowly started to fade, he heard the voice again. It sounded closer, louder but he couldn't make it out.

Slowly, almost agonizingly slow, he became more aware of everything. The pressure in his head, the burning of his chest with every breath, the sharp pain shooting from every nerve, even down to the limbs he knew no longer existed, and the voices, a constant sound that drew him back to consciousness.

He tried once more to open his eyes, determined to find the source of the voices.

A strange, shrill sound reached his ears and he winced against the light.

Every blink was agony against dry eyes.

Slowly the pain of the light began to fade but all he could see was blurry shadows in dimming light.

A more defined shadowed figure came into his view, a figure of a person leaning over him. The source of at least one of the voices.

It was still garbled but almost familiar.

He watched the figure move, at first just a shadow moving back and forth.

Then it started to take shape, a head and shoulders more defined. The head was constantly moving, the person moving in closer to him, occasionally there was an arm that rose in and out of view.

The first thing he noticed about the mysterious figure, once the dark shadows started fading to color, was that it appeared to be a man.

His eyes narrowed, forcing his sight. For a brief second the image came into sharp view. A young man with blonde hair and blue eyes - a young Jedi.

No. He shut his eyes, forcing the image away and a garbled, strange sound reached his ears.

He damned that image, the foolish Jedi he had left behind many years ago.

"Father?"

He recognized the voice, it's tone familiar but the clarity of the words surprised him.

Father?

He let the word process. An impossible word he had never once said, never once known.

"Can you hear me?"

He forced his eyes open again and felt his already sore, dry throat tighten at the blonde young man that stood before him.

As his vision cleared, he realized that while the figure bared a resemblance to Anakin Skywalker, he most certainly was not.

His face was rounder, his eyes kinder. He stared at him, trying to make sense of him.

"I think he's awake." Said the boy, turning his head, talking to someone out of his view. Then he looked back to him, a frown set firmly on his lips.

"He's screaming." Another unfamiliar voice came from his right side.

He then realized the constant shrill ringing in his ears was coming from his own throat. The only sound he could make in response to what he felt.

The boy's brow furrowed. "He must be in agony."

"It's a miracle he's even alive."

The boy sighed. "Increase his pain medication." He instructed and then he was touching the armor on his chest.

He could barely feel it past the pain but the gentle, caring touch broke through.

"He needs to sleep."

Before he knew it, and though he fought it, the boy was fading back to the shadows, his voice slipping away. Then there was nothing but black.

When he awoke next, he first became aware of sound, the constant high pitched beep of machinery, and the deep, shallow hiss of his breathing.

There was pain, as there always was, but it didn't blind him as it had before.

His eyes opened and the room slowly came into view.

He could not see much, just a blank gray wall ahead of him, the edge of the bed he was in and a strangely familiar golden droid off in the corner of the room.

He attempted movement, first trying to lift his head. At once the room spun, his vision blurring and he snapped his eyes closed as a wave of nausea rolled over him.

Once it passed, he tried again, a little slower. He was barely able to lift his head, the muscles in his neck and shoulders straining. Finally he lowered his head back down, a wave of frustration and anger pulsing through him.

He opened his eyes again and as the room came into view, one of the first things he noticed was the droid was now at full attention and staring directly at him. Though droids could not portray emotion, this droid certainly did it's best at looking frightened.

Forgetting about trying to move his head again, he focused on other parts of his body and realized with a surge of panic that there was a strong weight on his chest.

He felt trapped, paralyzed and rebelled against his restraints. His torso pushed up, his shoulders and back straining with every move.

"Oh my. Oh dear."

The droid finally spoke and it's robotic voice was almost painfully familiar.

He continued to struggle, something was pinning his down and he refused to let it. He growled in rage, howled in pain at every movement.

"Oh he's awake! Oh dear! Oh...Master Luke? Master Luke, I require your assistance in the medbay. Yes right now if you please, Master Luke."

The familiarity of the droid's frantic cries caused him to falter and then a burning pain ripped through his entire body.

He shuddered against it and closed his eyes tightly.

Slowly the sharpness of the pain faded to the dull ache of constant pain he was used to but his body was now exhausted.

Despite the rage still swarming his mind, he no longer fought his restraints.

He lay in darkness, keeping his eyes closed, listening to the grating, annoying sound of beeping machines and the droid muttering to itself.

Not too much later, there was a small sudden hissing sound.

"Master Luke!" Cried the droid in relief.

"What's going on?" A familiar voice asked, a voice that sent a peculiar warmth and peace through him. The rage that had been dwelling, pulsing through him began to fade.

He opened his eyes and looked toward the direction of the voice that could cause such a reaction.

His vision was a little cloudy but he could make out the figures of the droid and a blonde young man.

"He is awake, Master Luke," said the droid. "I believe he was trying to escape."

As the boy approached him, memories suddenly flooded his mind, and he knew who they were.

The X-Wing pilot who took down the death star, the boy who stood in front of Palpatine and pledged himself to be a great Jedi, the boy whose life he saved, the boy who saved his life in return.

Luke Skywalker, his son.

And the droid, C-3PO, the droid Anakin Skywalker had built as a youngling.

"Father?" Luke stood over him, peering down at him in concern.

He remembered lying on the floor of the Death Star II, in the worst pain since Mustafar, yet somehow feeling the most at peace as the boy removed his helmet.

The first time since Mustafar that he saw without the haze of his helmet visor, and it was the face of his son, of Padmé's son, calling him Father and begging him to live.

The first time since Mustafar he heard without a fog, and it was his son's voice.

He had expected to die on that ship and had wanted to. Anakin had died a long time ago and Vader was defeated with his decision to save Luke.

Yet there he was, still alive. He didn't remember anything past saying goodbye to Luke but his son must have somehow saved his life. Somehow rebuilt the suit he had destroyed in their lightsaber battle.

His mind was in conflict with itself as it hadn't been since just before Anakin's fall to the Dark Side.

The light side of the force, the part of him that was still Anakin, came to the surface in the presence of Luke.

"I don't know, Threepio," Luke said skeptically, "he looks the same to me."

"I swear to you, Master Luke, he was awake and he was very, very angry. He was going to attack at any second!"

The droids antics almost made him laugh if he could. He despised thinking of his time as Anakin but somehow Threepio and his near constant anxiety stirred bittersweet memories of a time long lost.

Luke rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the droid. "His vitals are stabilized, he's not moving, Threepio. Besides, in his state, I doubt he could get up even if he tried."

Luke's words were true and he knew in that moment that he was not restrained by force but by his own disabilities.

Another flood of boiling rage swept through him at the thought. Why was he forever cursed to live this way? As if living in the suit wasn't bad enough now he could not even move.

Luke had done quite a good amount of damage to him. The boy was still clearly under trained but talented. He received some training, that much was obvious, and the boy carried Anakin's own lightsaber.

The lightsaber he had no doubt received from his old master. Had Obi-Wan trained him as well? No, he remembered with a strangely odd pang, Obi-Wan had perished on the Death Star.

Luke called himself a Jedi and had received training, no doubt from someone in the old order. Someone who had survived.

However much he disapproved of the Jedi Order, he was proud of the man his son had become. Luke was gentle hearted but strong willed and talented in the Force. The best of Padmé. The parts of Anakin he thought were weak but made Luke strong.

"Father?" Luke prodded again, pulling him out of his memories.

He wished to speak but any attempt was thwarted by his burning throat.

"You see? He's out cold. You have nothing to worry about, Threepio." Luke assured the droid and the droid let out a small sigh of worry.

"Besides, he wouldn't hurt you anyway."

Luke said it with such conviction and looked down at him with such love that he almost believed it himself.

Truth was, when he had awoken, he was so full of rage, if he were able to stand or walk he wasn't sure what he would have done to anyone in his way. Especially a droid that meant nothing to Vader. The droid meant something to Anakin...but he was no longer Anakin.

"Master Luke…."

"Don't say it, Threepio. I've heard it enough from Leia and Han."

Leia.

His chest constricted as he suddenly remembered his other child.

The princess of Alderaan who had bravely stood up to him and denied any involvement with the rebel plan to destroy the Death Star. The young woman who he tried to torture.

Padmé's daughter.

His hand twitched at his side, his rage building again, this time at his own shame and guilt.

How could he not have known? How could he not have sensed her?

"He is not a Sith Lord anymore."

"Oh...uh...Master Luke…"

He didn't realize he had grabbed Luke's hand until the boy froze, gasped and turned back to him with widened eyes.

"I told you!" Threepio cried. "He is awake and he's going to.."

"Hush Threepio!" Luke snapped at him and Threepio let out another worried beep but didn't speak further.

All he knew was that Luke had started to turn away from him and he didn't want him to leave.

He saw movement out of the bottom of his visor, Luke moving to cover his gloved hand with his own, clasping it between his hands.

He couldn't feel it. He hadn't felt anything in that hand since Dooku and nothing in any other since Mustafar.

He hadn't felt any human touch since…

Since Luke, he suddenly realized. He remembered darkness and pain but also Luke cradling his head in his lap. Luke's body heat, the soft cushion of flesh against his skull.

"Father?" Luke was leaning in toward him again. "Can you hear me?"

He still couldn't get his damn voice processor to work with what remained of his vocal cords but he sent a squeeze to his prosthetic and hoped Luke felt it.

Luke glanced down and then smiled and if he had any control over his own breathing it would have been stolen.

Padmé's smile. He had Padmé's golden smile. The one that spoke to and brightened his broken soul.

Anakin Skywalker's blue eyes looked back up at him, filled with hope.

The boy was odd. He remembered their first encounter, when he had told Luke the truth, when he had cut off his hand. He remembered the fear, disgust and the anger that filled those same eyes.

Then those eyes defied Palpatine. Those eyes fought him and then fought for him.

Why did Luke save him? Why did Luke care?

"So, you're probably wondering where you are."

He didn't care so much about the location but rather why the reason he was saved at all.

Luke smiled sheepishly. "We're on Endor, I brought you here after the fall of the Empire."

Luke eyed him warily. What sort of reaction did he expect?

He suspected as soon as both he and Palpatine died there would be no leg for the Empire to stand on. He had always planned on somehow killing Palpatine but planned on taking his place, to rule the galaxy with Luke at his side.

Now he was too exhausted to care either way. He felt nothing when the Jedi fell and he felt nothing now with the fall of the Empire.

Luke was right about one thing- he was not a Sith Lord anymore. Darth Vader was dead, defeated by the light of his son and the light that remained inside of him.

"They thought you wouldn't make it. Some people thought we shouldn't even try to save you."

Luke bowed his head and at his dejection, he surmised one of those people must have been Leia.

"But I had to." Luke's brow furrowed, his lips setting in a firm line as he lifted his head. "No one else saw what I saw. I looked into your eyes and saw Anakin Skywalker come back to life."

He would have groaned if he could. He wasn't sure of who or what he was but he knew he was no longer that Jedi.

"I just want you to know…." Luke continued. "That I forgive you. For this." He lifted his right gloved hand and his prosthetic fingers curled slowly before his arm fell back to his side. "And for what Vader did." He paused for a moment, mulling over his words. "What you did as Vader." He corrected himself quietly. "I've felt the dark side of the force, for more minutes only." He shuddered. "I cannot imagine what surrendering to it for over twenty years must have done to your mind."

He hardly remembered himself, no moments, just emotions. The greed for power, anger, pain, driving his life forward. He hardly remembered anything from his life before Vader, except the tiny flashes of light that was Padmé. He remembered the moment he decided to become Vader but the darkness that overcame him had been a constant feeling and he had known nothing else for over twenty years.

His tie to the dark side had snapped like a twig with his decision to save Luke. The light side of the force overwhelmed him as he lay dying in his son's arms.

His life now remained an odd balance between the two. He still could feel the pull of the darkness but there was also the light, coming to him in the form of the love for his son and the love, acceptance and forgiveness Luke gave him.

"It's a powerful force you couldn't resist but I know there is still good in you."

He was suddenly vividly reminded of Padmé. She had always believed the best of him, always loved him. Luke was very much like his mother. He wished he could be the person they both deserved. Yet, as he lay there, broken in body and mind, he knew he never could be and wondered again why Luke had bothered to save him.

It was days before he even attempted to speak. Luke visited him every day and there were the daily visits from a nurse, who stopped in just to check his vitals. Then there was Threepio, who had been apparently forced to guard his room against his will. He was a protocol droid and Anakin had designed him to obey any orders from his masters but this was one duty he was reluctant to perform.

He always stood near motionless in the corner, keeping bright eyes on him.

He knew Obi-Wan must have wiped the droids memory, both his and ArToo's, to erase any memory of Anakin Skywalker.

He would have done the same had he gotten hold of the droids as Vader.

Part of him wished Threepio remembered him. Anakin had been very attached to his droids. He wondered what Threepio would think of his creator now.

Apart from Luke, Threepio and one or two nurses, he received no other company. He did not expect it, not from anyone, least of all from Leia.

Luke talked about everything, from what was happening in rebuilding the Republic to Leia and her relationship with that smuggler.

It was no wonder Leia hated him. He was her greatest enemy and he distinctly remembered freezing that Han Solo in carbonite and delivering him to Jabba. Leia had clearly cared deeply for him, sharing a passionate kiss with him as the Storm Troopers pulled him away.

He hadn't cared about it then. He still didn't care about Solo but Leia….

He didn't blame her for not visiting but he longed to see her. His memories of her were cloudy at best, ruined by associating her as the enemy Princess and not his daughter.

Leia Organa of Alderaan.

Bail Organa had taken his daughter and claimed her as his own.

Conflicting thoughts raged in his head. Anger and hatred that a Republic Senator had taken his daughter. Yet, the softer part of him that thanked the Force she didn't end up as an orphan.

He wondered who raised Luke, if his son bore the name of Skywalker.

Certainly Obi-Wan was not foolish enough to raise him himself and keep the name that connected him to his son.

All of these questions about the lives of his children led back to one big question that gnawed at his mind every day...what truly happened to Padmé? Palpatine said he had killed her in his anger and he assumed his child had died with her. He hadn't asked, he refused to ask.

Clearly, Palpatine had lied yet he knew Padmé no longer lived. He would sense it, sense her and his children would have been with her.

How long she lived for he couldn't say but just long enough to name both of them.

Leia, the little girl he had imagined growing safely inside her mother.

Luke, the boy that Padmé so desired.

"Imagine, Ani, a little boy...just like you."

"A little boy just like me is not a good thing to be." He joked and Padmé nudged him.

"Stop it." She laughed and then ran her hand lovingly over her growing belly. "He'll be perfect."

He was perfect, he marvelled as he watched Luke speak. He was strong, kind, intelligent…. everything Anakin Skywalker failed to be.

Padmé never knew the man her son grew up to be and it was his fault.

It was all his fault.

He lost everything, his wife, his children - yes, they still lived but he lost any chance of a good relationship with them - his entire life. He once blamed Obi-Wan and the Jedi but he knew, now that the darkness that clouded his mind for over twenty years started to fade, that it was only his choices, his fear and hate and anger that led him down the path he led.

Luke had stopped talking. He realized only when he no longer heard the comforting sound of his voice.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts to find Luke watching him in concern.

"Are you alright, Father? Are you in pain?"

He realized then that there were strange sounds erupting from him. Groans of anguish, though not of physical pain.

He was in near constant agony but he learned how to ignore it most of the time. No, it was the dreadful guilt, the sting of the loss of his family, that tortured him now.

A family he always wanted, a family he could have had, a family the Jedi forbid…

Yet, Obi-Wan knew Luke. Obi-Wan had given Luke Anakin's 'saber. How involved was Obi-Wan in Luke's life? Questions he wished he could ask his son but his damaged body disallowed.

Luke must have mistaken his anger and mental anguish for physical pain, for he frowned and leaned over to one of the machines beside him.

"Don't worry, this will help."

He didn't want help, not the kind that medicine would offer but as the physical pain slowly faded, so did his mind and the last thing he saw was Luke's face hanging over him as he once again fell to his dreams.