Disclaimer: All Star Wars elements belong to George Lucas.

Author's Note: Just an idea I had bouncing around in my head for a while…it needs to be written, before I go insane. I hope you all enjoy it…this is only my second SW fanfic, so let's hope it's a good one!

Ameliora

Chapter 1: Regeneration

by ArchFaith

One month before the Battle of Endor.

It was a large, cylinder-shaped machine; built of various metals fused together for their combined power, the outside was smooth and shiny. Various plates were missing from the surface, exposing the multitude of wires and chargers within. A simple panel was the machine's only exterior decoration, save for a switch to open its hatch—the panel was simple, with only four buttons and a number gauge. One could enter the machine through a small hatch that slid aside to let one through; the inside was hollow, and big enough to fit a creature the size of a Hutt. The interior was lit with bright yellow bulbs attached to the machine's inner ceiling—it was deceptively plain within, and betrayed nothing of the machine's true power.

Such power, he thought, from deep within his ghost-like mask. It could very well be used to my advantage, without the Emperor's knowledge…

"Lord Vader?" A young scientist had appeared next to him, his voice slightly cracking as he addressed the dark lord of the Sith for the first time in his lowly life. "My lord…I was told that you had some questions about the regenerator…I am at your command."

Vader looked impatiently behind him, just in time to observe the young officer's terrified face. "Yes," he replied after a few seconds' pause. "I am sure that your team has properly examined the device. Has it been confirmed?" asked the low, booming voice.

The scientist nodded in resigned submission. "Yes, my lord," he answered. "It is an authentic age regeneration mechanism, built with molecular restructuring capabilities."

The dark lord looked back to the looming, circular device. "From what period?"

"We are unsure, my lord. It seems to have been built about three hundred to three hundred and twenty-five years ago. We believe that it may have been developed by a group of politicians on Coruscant; there were records that were found with the machine that indicate its funding. It was commissioned to be built in a secret laboratory on Coruscant by a scientist who specialized in regenerative surgery. We were lucky enough to find it during a scrap retrieval operation last month."

"The names of these politicians…the scientist?"

"We were not able to find these out, my lord…they were careful to erase all information about themselves after the machine was deemed unstable. They were probably fearful of being noticed by the Senate for their illegal experiments on prisoners."

No matter, Vader thought, looking back to the device. It is here, and within my grasp. "What are its supposed capabilities?" he asked, turning back to the young scientist.

"According to these scant notes," the officer began, looking down at his data screen, "it can regenerate lost cells and tissue from existing molecular information. The machine had previously been tested on lower life forms, such as Hutts and Wookies, but proved fatal when administered to humans. Apparently it can reverse the aging process, as well as regenerate lost limbs and other extremities."

"A restorer of youth, it would seem," Vader said reflectively. "This could prove useful to us, then. Officer, I want your team ready to service and test this device within a month's time. I am sure the Emperor will be most pleased if you were able to successfully administer this device to humans. I want this device brought aboard the second Death Star at once."

"Yes, my lord," the young officer replied meekly, bowing as he turned to leave the room.

Vader turned to exit, but cast a last glance at the machine before he left. I can yet be restored, he told himself in a calm, yet impatient tone. It would not be fitting to assume control of the galaxy behind this mask. No…if everything goes as planned, Luke and I will assume control of the galaxy in youthful age, together.

He smiled behind his mask.

-

The present—the Battle of Endor

"Father!"

Vader forced his eyes open at the sound of his son's voice. The boy's youthful face hovered only inches away from his own; between the mask that separated them, he could see tears welling up from the corners of his son's eyes.

Vader was still shaking; his body, wracked with the powerful electricity of the now-dead Emperor's convulsing attacks, was weakened almost to the point of death. He could hardly speak, and even moving a limb was out of the question, now. The cybernetics within his body had been damaged by the wild lightning; his life systems were slowly draining, and it was all he could do to take weak, respirator-damaged breaths.

"Luke," he whispered, wishing he could see his son's face without his mask. The boy blinked down at him as a single tear traced its way down his pale cheek.

"Don't talk," Luke answered firmly. Vader did not respond, and Luke took the opportunity to wrap an arm around his waist. "We're getting out of here…together."

Vader shook his head in self-deprecation. "It is too late for me, Luke…go. It is over….leave me here to die."

"No," his son answered firmly, shifting himself into a sitting position. "Come," he whispered, slowly pulling Vader up with him. "I won't leave you here."

"Luke," Vader chided once again, motioning him to leave. "You—"

"I won't leave you." Luke's voice was gentle, yet unyielding. In the space of a moment Vader realized he had no choice—Luke would either force him up, or they would both end up dying as the second Death Star's core convulsed and folded on itself. Luke's life depended on how quickly he and Vader could make it to a shuttle; it was clear that his son was not going to abandon him. Vader had to save himself—for Luke's sake.

With a groan, Vader shifted into a squatting position, and together they managed to pull him up off the floor. "Put your arm around my shoulder," Luke said, guiding Vader's still-shaking hand. "I don't know how to get out of here…you'll need to tell me."

Vader nodded weakly. "Alright," he agreed, suddenly feeling an incredible deluge of protectiveness wash over him. He looked over to his son—the child he thought dead for so many years; no, one of his two children he thought dead. He had not known that there had been another child—a daughter. So they were both alive and prosperous…Obi-Wan had done well to hide them from him…

"Which way?" Luke asked frantically. They had advanced but a few paces, into the small elevator that connected to the late Emperor's throne room. A sickening crunch sounded beneath the room's metal walkways as they almost fell into the elevator, Luke supporting nearly all of Vader's weight as another wrenching crack shook the Death Star's core.

Vader raised his head slightly, looking at the small control panel attached to the wall. "Go to the forty-fifth level…the evacuation shuttles are located in the hangar there…" he whispered. Luke had already punched in the appropriate commands as the elevator began to move downwards.

Panting with exhaustion, Luke helped Vader to kneel against the cold metal floor, keeping a hand on his shoulder the entire time. "What if the guards try to stop us?" he asked, looking over to his father.

"They will not dare," Vader answered. "Besides, the evacuation signal has already been given—they will be too busy trying to save their own skins."

Luke nodded, with slight apprehension. "We'll take a shuttle then…I'll pilot it back to Endor, and then we'll…" his voice died as he realized to whom he would be bringing Vader back to. "We'll just take it from there," he finished quickly.

"Your Rebel friends will not exactly be warm to you once they realize that you are harboring the most heinous man in the galaxy, Luke," Vader replied coolly.

Luke shook his head. "It doesn't matter what they think." He had come too far, sacrificed too much, to give up this time with his father. It was a reunion that was twenty-three years overdue; he would be damned if even the Rebel Alliance, his closest allies, tried to take his moment away from him. Once he and Vader arrived on Endor, he would decide what would need to be done. Even if it meant hiding Vader from the alliance, he would find a way to keep his presence undetected. Emotion overcame his reason—even though, only mere minutes earlier, Vader had the very person he wanted to destroy, now he had become the life that Luke was intent on saving.

The elevator suddenly shook, and with a spasm, stopped dead. The lights flickered on and off within, and Luke could smell the odor of burning metal seeping through the pores of the metal grid below them. He looked over to the control panel; not the forty-fifth level, as Vader had instructed, but only the fifty-first.

He cursed under his breath as Vader looked up at the panel. Luke quickly rose to his feet and examined the small panel of buttons. The smell of electrical wires lent a pungent odor to the room; in vain, Luke ran his hands over the switches. They had all ceased to work; the lights flickered on and off in the cramped room, and Luke pounded his fists down on the panel in frustration. We're never going to get out of here, he told himself. I have to open the door…

There was no doubt that Vader could have wrenched the door open with his bare hands—if he had been in a fit condition, that was. Now a crumpled, dying figure hunched over on the floor of the elevator, he was unable even to stand on his own. Luke shook his head incredulously. No; he would have to open the doors himself.

Turning to the metal doors of the elevator, he calmed his mind and let his brain focus on the task at hand. They had to get out of the elevator; he somehow had to pry the doors open before the cables supporting the elevator snapped altogether. It would only be a matter of minutes now…

He closed his eyes; the vaporous odors of the burning wires, the continual explosions shaking the now-swinging elevator, the labored noises of Vader's dying breaths—he pushed the disturbing atmosphere away from his mind. He recalled the swamp in Dagobah, recalled Yoda's small yet powerful frame, and the advice the aged Jedi Master had given him those many months before.

Do, or do not. There is no try.

Though his eyes were closed, he could see the elevator's metal doors clearly now; raising his arm, he held his hand out, palm side up, towards the door. A Jedi cannot falter.

I will not try. I will do.

With a surge of mental strength, he crunched his hand into a fist—the actions of his body paralleled those of his target. When he opened his eyes, the metal door looked as though it had been crumpled like a piece of paper. The mental exercise had taken much energy out of him.; sighing, he gathered his strength for a moment before turning back to his father.

Vader had been watching with a quiet hopefulness; so, the boy had indeed learned the ways of the Jedi. But for one with such scant training as he—to have crushed open the metal door with simply a gesture of his hand…! It had taken years for Vader himself to perfect the motions of this crushing attack, and Luke…

"Yoda has indeed taught you well, young one," he said, as Luke helped him to his feet. "You are indeed very powerful."

"He was a good teacher," Luke answered absently, kicking aside the remaining pieces of the door that blocked their way. They quickly stepped through, with no time to waste—as soon as Vader's cape had billowed out of the doorway, a snapping noise was heard from below. Luke scarcely had time to look behind him as the elevator dropped, leaving only a smoking shaft of wires behind.

Turning his attention to the task at hand, he quickly looked around. They stood in a darkened hallway, a wide corridor with only a few doors on either side. Tall, arched metal beams framed the length of the hall, lending an imposing look to the cold, sterile environment. "Father…how do we get down from here?" Luke asked, turning to the dark lord.

"There is a stairway at the end of the hall," Vader answered, with difficulty. He felt the respirator's emergency air supply suddenly cut off; in a frantic gesture, he tightened his grasp around Luke's neck. Luke turned to him in alarm; just as quickly, Vader felt the air pump back into his lungs, and relaxed his grip. "Are you alright?!" Luke demanded.

"For now," Vader answered in relief. "Come, let's hurry."

The two struggled down the corridor, Luke supporting most of Vader's weight against his own as they walked down the dark corridor, the explosions now and then jarring the floor and ceiling. Luke's mind was entirely focused on getting down to the end of the hallway—he almost pulled Vader along with him as he hurried them down the corridor. Once they got to the stairs, they would need to descend six flights down, and from there…

Vader's mind, however, was focused on something completely different. In his clouded, weak state, he had barely noticed that this was the laboratory wing. It was, of course, deserted by now—not even the enormous salary the Emperor's scientists were paid could keep them from staying at their posts after even the slightest disturbance. Did this mean…?

They passed a door which had been left open, no doubt by one of the escaping scientists; Vader motioned Luke to stop, and turned his head towards the open doorway. "Luke…bring me to that room."

Luke looked back, puzzled. "Why? We need to get out of here."

The dark lord's voice was weak as he tried to struggle out of Luke's grasp. "Just take me there, son," he commanded gently. "What lies in that room could help us more than you could ever imagine."

Shaking his head in doubt, Luke turned and ambled back towards the doorway. He and Vader stepped inside the large, darkened room, completely bare save for a large, cylindrical structure in the corner. It looked to be some sort of machine—completely smooth on the outside, save for a switch to open a doorway, and a panel with some buttons and a gauge on it.

They would only have one opportunity, Vader thought to himself as he and Luke neared the device. If the machine failed, Vader would die—not that he was not about to live, anyway. What had he to lose? Either he would die passively, in the arms of his son in one of the corridors of the collapsing Death Star—or he could die actively, trying to renew himself within the mysterious regeneration mechanism. He would not let himself expire so easily.

"Put me in this machine, Luke," he commanded.

"What are you trying to do?" Luke asked impatiently. "We're wasting time!"

"If this is successful, young one, you and I will have much to be thankful for," Vader said cryptically, reaching towards the switch on the machine's surface. The hatch slid open, and Vader anxiously tried to advance within. "Hurry," he whispered. "We do not have much time…"

Confused and angry, Luke almost shoved Vader into the machine, his breathing quickening as he knelt upon the floor of the mechanism. His torn black cape scraped against the side of the door, ripped and fell like a sheet of darkness against the floor outside the machine. Luke propped him against the inner walls before stepping out himself; looking at the panel set against the machine's smooth surface, he cast a puzzled eye towards his father. "What should I do?"

Vader had spent too long in the laboratory observing the scientists at their work; breathing heavily, he raised his head. "Push all the buttons," he instructed. This is going to be a difficult job.

Luke did as he was told, and quickly noticed that the number gage read zero. "Should I put a number in?" he almost screamed as another explosion ripped through the bowels of the Death Star. Stumbling slightly, he gripped the doorway of the mechanism as Vader felt himself shake once again in a slight convulsion.

"Put in the number twenty-two," he said. "Then close the hatch."

Luke quickly adjusted the numbers, and then turned to the switch. "Father…just tell me what this thing is going to do to you!" he called.

Vader shook his head. "Time will tell you in the end. Hurry…close it."

Luke flipped the switch; the hatch clamped shut, leaving Vader in a claustrophobic blackness.

-

It was pitch black within; for one second, Vader felt as though entombed. A creeping fear had begun to well up inside him when the lights inside the machine suddenly flickered on. He heard a slight whirring of the machine's mechanisms, and felt a low hum sound within the small chamber.

This would be the final test; only a few days earlier, the scientists had successfully been able to regenerate the arms and legs of a Twi'lek prisoner, who had been injured during a prior battle. Still, the machine remained untested upon humans; Twi'leks were humanoid, true, but still not the same species. The scientists had made some adjustments to the mechanism since then, intending to test it upon a human prisoner.

I will be the subject, Vader thought grimly as the machine's systems woke from their dormant state. We will see whether I can survive this procedure.

A cold electronic voice sounded within the walls of the machine. "Clothing and armor have been detected. Commencing disintegration."

Vader shut his eyes and braced himself. The walls of the machine glowed bright red for just an instant; Vader felt the cloth and leather of his bodysuit melt off his body, along with the reinforced shoulder blades and padding against his chest. The cold mask seemed to turn into ask upon his face—the mask that, for so long, had been his refuge as well as his life support.

It was an odd feeling; it did not hurt, but he felt a strange tingling within him as he struggled to sit up, the cybernetic arms and legs now visible against his pale, naked body. The respirator which connected his lungs to an oxygen monitor built into his side looked damaged and raw. It had been so long since he had seen himself like this…

"Cybernetic additions to the body have been detected. Commencing disintegration of metals and electronics."

Now this is going to hurt.

In the next second, he felt as though his arms and legs had been ripped off his body a second time—the machine did its duty well, cleanly ripping the cyborg limbs from his burnt flesh, leaving chunks of dead skin strewn about the floor and cutting open veins and arteries that had been artificially sealed. The respirator's tubes were roughly pulled out of his mouth, as was the monitor built into his side—as he threw his head back to scream, no sound emerged. His tongue rolled out of his mouth, gasping for air as he tried to scream in vain.

Luke! Luke! he thought, closing his eyes as a copious pool of blood began to form beneath him, oozing out of the torn stump of his body. Through the Force, he felt the boy respond; from outside, he was trying desperately to stop the mechanism's forces, to no avail. He felt his father's pain; Vader could feel his anguish cry out in pain with him. There was no turning back, not any longer…

"Rebuilding of tissues is set. Limb reconstruction is set. Bodily restructuring is set. Age regeneration is set to twenty-two. Commencing procedure."

As he gagged on the blood that was now pouring out of his mouth, the walls of the chamber again began to change—Vader dimly saw the colors change from red to blue to orange, and back again as he lay slumped on the floor of the machine.

He gasped for air once again, and was utterly astonished to realize that he could now breathe—yet no respirator was attached to his body. His lungs filled with the life-giving air, and he breathed in deeply, crying out in relief with a deep, low groan.

He felt a spinning sensation on all sides of his body, as if he were being woven into a long, epic tapestry by the hands of skilled mechanical loom; opening his azure blue eyes, his blurry vision noted the robotic needles and scissors that had emerged from the walls of the mechanism. They seemed to be lightly scraping against his skin; first against his chest, then down to the stumps of his arms, and over down to his leg sockets. It was an almost calming feeling; though he felt a whirring inside his brain, he let himself drift off into a lazy stupor as the robotic appendages spun over his body, suddenly feeling new pieces of flesh molding into his existing veins and exposed bones.

He was still shaking; it seemed like an eternity before the appendages seemed to wind up their operations, and slowly retreated back into the walls of the machine. Sighing with his new lungs, Vader forced his eyes open as the machine's lights dimmed. "Procedure is complete," the voice said as the hatch slid open. Vader jumped to his feet in preparation—there was no time to lose.

-

The outside of the machine was a complete mess; smoke had erupted out of the panel, and several exposed wires had blown their fuses as Luke had heard the various stages of the "procedure" being performed inside. His father's incredible pain and torture had caused him to try to break the machine open; nothing Vader could have possibly hoped for was worth this pain!

"Father!" he yelled in alarm as the hatch opened. He readied himself for what he would find there; a dead stump of flesh, bleeding from all its pores with its mouth frozen open in a silent cry of pain. His father had died for nothing…he had…

Smoke billowed out of the hatch in waves; coughing, Luke surged through the smoke, clearing it with his hands as he tried to peer into the dark chamber. "Father!" he screamed, tears streaming down his face. It was all over now—

A hand suddenly emerged out of the grey, steaming smoke; a human arm, with tanned muscular skin reached out to grope against Luke's shoulder. Luke almost jumped back in surprise—by this time, the smoke had begun to clear, and Luke saw the kneeling figure materialize out of the darkness as he himself fell to the floor outside the chamber.

"Father?!"

Vader smiled weakly; he felt the muscles of his cheeks stretch as he peered up at his astonished son. "Good work, Luke," he whispered mildly, bemused by Luke's stunned expression. Their two pairs of blue eyes met for the first time in their lives.

"It's me, Luke…it's Anakin."

-

To be continued.

Next chapter: Vader is no more…he is Anakin Skywalker once again, and he and Luke must find a way out of the Death Star before it collapses upon itself. Will they make it in time? Stay tuned!

End notes: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of my "God knows how many chapters" Star Wars fanfic. Yeah, I realize that the concept of a "regeneration mechanism" may be a little corny, but honestly…with all the cheesy cloning technology in the SW universe, I wanted a break. I really wanted to write a fanfic in which Luke and Anakin interact, not Luke and Vader (even though they're the same person). This was the only way I saw possible to do it, besides one of those Force-ghost haunting kind of scenarios. Please review, and let me know if you're liking my story so far!

The title "Ameliora" was taken from the English word "ameliorate", which means "to make better". I shortened the word because I wanted something exotic; just out of coincidence, I looked up the word "ameliora", and it is an actual Romanian word which means "to improve". It really makes sense in the context of this story.