Vader watched as Palpatine used Sith Lightning on his son. His son. "Now, young Skywalker, you will die," the Emperor said, the man who'd lied countless times to him, and he heard Luke's screams. It was almost like he was trying to say something again through the pain, but the Emperor's evil laughter cut through anything he might have interpreted from Luke's screams.

He waited, probably too long, for the Emperor to be totally engrossed in what he was doing, so that he could take advantage of the distraction and kill him. The Emperor paused in throwing Sith Lightning, and Anakin Skywalker seized the chance to pick up the Emperor, using his massive height to get him high enough to move him over the abyss. Dropping the Sith over the side of the railing, he was pleased that the insulation that he'd installed in the suit had deflected the majority of the bolts the Emperor had tried to throw at him.

He turned to his son, and Luke was curled into a ball. He reached out through the Force, and found that Luke's body was going into shock from the sustained electrocution. He quickly checked his son for injuries, the experience of the Clone Wars helping for once. He quickly determined that Luke hadn't broken any bones, or injured his neck or spine in the convulsions caused by the Force Lightning. However, as Anakin knew from personal experience, he would be in severe pain for at least several days, but he would live, provided that he got proper medical treatment. He picked his son up, cradling him in his arms, and headed for the shuttles through the blaring alarms of the ship going down. He had no thought other than getting out as quickly as possible to help Luke. He used the Force—not the dark side, or even the light side, just the Force, in it's rawest form, one that only someone with the immense power he had once carried could use—to stave off his own body's shut-down response to having abandoned the dark side as it exacted it's toll on him. He had precious little energy to siphon off that activity to stabilize Luke's life force, but it was enough.

He entered a shuttle that had been modified to his specifications, one that had the life support systems he would need soon. He took off through the shields designed for the purpose, and he began searching the comm channels for their medical frequency. It took precious minutes, though he was headed in the general direction of the Rebel Fleet. He flipped a switch, which sent an auto-distress signal out for a medical emergency, and, once he found the proper ship, Mercy, he headed toward it. He got an auto signal back from the ship as to where he should land, and once he was in range, he was hailed. He wasn't sure how to respond. He wasn't in much better shape than Luke, but he doubted the Rebels would take him at his word. He tapped out a text response, rather than an auditory one. 'Cmdr Skwkr, electrical shock.'

They tried for verbal conformation again, but he wasn't about to give them anything that might prevent them from helping his son. He guided the ship in perfectly, and there was a medical team waiting with a grav-stretcher. He sighed in relief, and as the shuttle landed, he picked his son up, concerned at the way Luke was shivering, his consciousness coming and going. "Everything will be fine, son," he told Luke gently.

"They don't know," he said through the chattering of his teeth. "Only Leia."

"Did you want me to keep it that way?"

"Leia…will know better what to do; ask her," Luke said, and then his consciousness faded completely. He pressed the button to lower the ramp, and then walked down it, carrying Luke's unconscious form. He heard several people gasp and sensed the weapons that had been quickly trained on him. The medical team looked grimly at the two of them as he laid his son gently on the grav-stretcher. He stepped back and they swarmed around his son, confirming his initial assessment, and he swayed on his feet, releasing the Force from the stranglehold he'd had on it, then he collapsed and faded from consciousness himself.

* * *

"He's down, too!" Helena Eserina said, cursing the fact that Vader, or whoever was doing a damn good impression of Vader, hadn't said anything about both of them being hurt. She got on her wrist com—something only used by emergency crews, usually. "Get me another grav-stretcher to Bay 8," she snapped, then turned back to her original patient. "Terry, Orik, you two get Skywalker down to Sick Bay 3, he's stable enough. The rest of you, come help me," she said, and they started dismantling Vader's mask.

He was so horrifically scarred that she couldn't estimate his age. She put a mask on him, hooked up to an oxygen tank, and took a pulse at his neck. It was thready and weak, and he was showing the early signs of shock. "Shavvit, he's in shock, too, get an IV started, saline and 5% tetraidine." she said, then depressed the recorder button on her com.

"Left arm is artificial, checking right, it's artificial too," the med-tech said, and checked Anakin's upper legs, "Finally, real flesh…IV started, standard saline and 5% tetraidine."

"No pupil dilation, breathing shallow, pulse weak," Helena recorded.

By the time she was able to make the assessment, the second grav-stretcher arrived, and they lifted him to it. "Patient is Human, male, age between 35 and 60, due to extensive scaring unable to estimate better. Patient is wearing a class three life support module, has had all limbs replaced with cybernetics, currently unknown if voluntary or due to amputation," she finished her preliminary evaluation as they were heading down to Sick Bay 3.

It was several hours later that she was finally able to take a moment to think, and she did so leaned against a wall outside the main triage center. Commander Skywalker was in the capable hands of Dr. Cinglet, a blue-skinned Mon Calamari, and as such, she had turned her full attention to Vader. The first thing she did was start removing his armor; she was careful as she knew his life support module was intrinsically tied to his body. What she found in her examination appalled her. The life support system wasn't tied directly into his respiratory system like she'd though it was, but it was tied into his body in some pretty queer ways, like the needles that punctured just deep enough to cause pain throughout the whole suit.

There was some sort of drug that was being fed him constantly through some of those needles, but unless there was a damn good reason, and she couldn't think of one, even if it was a piss-poor one, she was going to tear someone from ass to crown for doing what they'd done to him. The mask that provided the seal for his breathing equipment—she'd luckily had him on straight oxygen by the time she realized his capacity to breathe on his own was pretty much non-existent—had needles that maintained its position on his face, as well as allowing for the tight seal needed. Some parts of his suit were pretty advanced. His temperature regulation system looked to be first class. His hyperbaric sealing system seemed barbaric in comparison, and it made her nauseous to think that he'd been in that thing—assuming that it was the same "Darth Vader" as had been at the Emperor's side at the beginning of the Empire—for nearly a quarter of a century.

There were secondary functions embedded within the suit. He had an external pacemaker, though she could not really see the need for it, and the monitoring of his vital systems was extensive. His helmet provided an impressive array of data, though how he sorted through all of it, she didn't know. Examining his ears showed that whatever had caused his scarring had gotten those as well. She couldn't have personally rebuilt them, but she knew someone she thought could, even after Force-knew-how-long it had gone without repair. His retinas showed some damage, and his corneas, but not to the extent of requiring the specially tinted goggling that was present in his suit. It was when they had flipped him over and started taking the suit off his back that she'd nearly lost control over her temper. He had had spinal surgery, that much was clear, but the leads running out of the back of his neck into the suit sickened her. Even if his spine had been severed, there were ways to repair it that didn't require something so…heinous. He must have been in constant pain from the electrical impulse stimulators that had been imbedded within the armor at every point at which he had skin touching the suit.

She'd taken one look at the really horrid synth-skin patch job that someone had done, and had it removed immediately. He had enough skin to graft over the two small patches where his real skin didn't meet. It had to have been horridly uncomfortable. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that the suit was designed for his discomfort, rather than to aid his quality of life and be as comfortable as possible.

Measurements taken after she eyeballed things when they had tried to bend his legs in what should have been a natural position told another story of malignant cruelty. She estimated his proper height from his bone structure to be not more than 1.9 meters, more likely closer to 1.8 meters, but she would have to run it past an anthropologist to be sure. As he had been…constructed—there really was no other word for it—he was a smidge over 2 meters. Someone had literally stuffed an additional six or more centimeters to his legs, at least, and his helmet made up an additional four or five. The only possible reason that she could think of, and it galled her to even consider it, was that the Emperor wanted him to be more intimidating, and the additional height was the first way to accomplish that. Every piece of the suit, whether it was designed for either armor or life support, was either horribly inferior, or supremely superior, and all of it was done with an eye toward intimidation. The contrast in technology levels drew on her most basic instincts to protect her patient, and she had been given this man in the most deplorable state of health imaginable, but, she hoped, if he cooperated, she could rehabilitate him to where he could do most things on his own, perhaps even breathe.

"Ma'am?" one of the lab techs came up to her.

"Yes?" she asked, focusing on him, standing up straight.

"I've finished the analysis on that chemical that you wanted."

She took the sheet of flimsiplast that he handed her, and by the time that she was done reading it, it was shaking so hard she could barely do so. "Thank you," she said curtly to the young man, and he nodded and left. She couldn't tell exactly what the chemicals were supposed to do by their make-up, but they weren't there to assist him in his pain management, or to enable his body to better function. They were vile poisons of the worst kind, and, as she noted some of the chemicals, she wondered if it wasn't addictive, as well.

Her duty nurse walked by, and she snagged her arm. "Watch Lord Vader for signs of withdrawal, will you?"

"Ma'am?"

"I just got a report back from a chemical he was being injected with on a constant drip in his suit," she said, showing her the flimsi.

"Hmmm," Estelle said as she studied the flimsi.

"Deathsticks don't really look too different from this," she said, and pointed, "This makes me wonder if it's got addictive properties."

"I'll watch him, Ma'am. It's not like I wouldn't be watching him like a hawk anyway."

She smiled, tiredly, but for the first time in hours, and double-checked on her patient. She checked the other bed, and found that Luke Skywalker, Hero of Yavin, was already snugly installed.

She'd put them in the same room with the thought that if Vader had brought Skywalker to them, then even if he woke with no one there, it wasn't likely that he would kill their biggest hero. She couldn't afford the space to put Vader in a separate room, no matter how much she wanted to.

She pushed off the wall she was leaning against as she considered her toughest case, and, medical emergencies having slacked off for the moment, she decided she'd better run this up the line. "Get me Command," she said to the com tech at what amounted to the nurse's station in their more permanent wards.

"Ma'am," he said, and proceeded to key up the Command ship.

"Command," said General Tyr Taskeen.

"General," she said, and he looked a bit startled to see her. She supposed it was only natural.

"What can I do for you, Doctor Eserina?"

"I wanted to report the status of two of my patients to you."

"Only two?"

"They, I think, will be of particular interest to you. An imperial shuttle landed a few hours ago after squawking a med-distress. We got no audio conformation from them, but we let them land after a textual response stating that Commander Skywalker was aboard and injured."

"Was he?"

"Yes. He's stable, but he hasn't regained consciousness. It will probably be several days before he does; he looks like hell," she sighed, half her message delivered. "I assume from the nature of Commander Skywalker's injuries, that he was not piloting the shuttle, the other person with him was."

"And who was that?"

"Lord Vader."

"And where is Lord Vader now?"

"In a bed right beside Commander Skywalker. He collapsed almost as soon as the two of them got off the shuttle, and he's in better shape than Commander Skywalker, but not by much. I wanted to know what you wanted me to do with him, sir."

He rolled his eyes, and muttered under his breath. "Is he conscious?"

"No, sir, and I don't expect him to be for at least 24 hours, though some of the reports I've had about Vader say he's some sort of Sorcerer, able to do things that no mere mortal could conceive of. He does seem to be stabilizing faster than I would have thought possible, considering how delicate his health in general is."

"Really?"

She shook her head. "I'm surprised he's alive, considering. I'll send over a medical evaluation when I have time to write one."

"Let me know if his condition changes, and write me that report when you have a minute. The ground teams are due back any time, and there's a conference scheduled of the Leadership, at 0900 tomorrow morning. You don't think you could get me that report by then?"

"Maybe," she said, then one of the hospital ship's many alarms went off. "We've got incoming. I'll let you know when I know more."

"Thank you, Command out," he said, and she shut the comm off, heading for the docking bay.

* * *

Leia was in the middle of one round of dance too many as the Ewoks celebrated their victory well into the evening. She saw a non-participant, and knew somehow that he was here to talk to her. She swung out of the dance and faced him. He was one of their youngest recruits. "Ma'am, a comm message for you from Command."

She nodded. They might be explaining the odd nagging feeling that everything wasn't quite right with her brother.

She followed him to the small ship where the com had come in. Crix Madine was waiting for her. "What can I do for you?"

"There's no easy way to say this," he said nervously, "Luke's pretty bad off, the Doc on the Mercy doesn't think he's going to wake up for a few days. I thought you would want to know."

"Thank you, General," she said. "I want to go see him."

"We will have a briefing at 0900 tomorrow."

"General Solo and I will be there."

"Well, then if you are going to check on Commander Skywalker at all before then, you'd better get a move on," he said. "Command out."

She sighed as he shut his comm, and went back to collect her…Han.

They boarded the Falcon in record time, and she couldn't help but smile as Han tried not to show how worried he had really been about Luke. He didn't see it though. She made sure of that.

* * *

Helena watched the Princess of Alderaan and General Solo make their way toward her. "Can I help you?"

"I am here to see Commander Skywalker."

"I'm afraid that I can't allow that."

"Why not?"

"He will not be authorized to have visitors until he wakes, unless it's family."

"If you check his file, he's orphaned. We're then closest he's got to family," Solo said.

"We are keeping a prisoner in his room as well, and I don't want you disturbing him. He'll be a couple of days before he's fit for questioning, and it will be months before I can, in good conscience, release him from a medical facility."

Princess Organa shuddered. She'd seen what it took to keep someone cooped up in a medical facility for months. "We just want to see Luke," she agreed.

"He came in with severe electrical shock; don't know much more than that, I didn't actually triage him. I took on a bit harder case."

"Can we see him or not?"

"He's resting, and unconscious from his injuries. I think it might be better for you if you waited until he was a little better."

"It doesn't matter. He was going up against Vader and the Emperor the last time I saw him. I need to see that he's alive," she said, "With my own eyes."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "Fighting against Vader? It was Vader who brought him here."

Princess Organa closed her eyes for a moment. "I see. May we see Luke now?"

Helena shook her head. The Princess was a stubborn one. "Alright," she capitulated. "Fifteen minutes."

"Thank you."

* * *

Leia walked into the tomb-like room the hum of the machines blurring with the quiet, incessant beeping and the sound of air moving rhythmically through tubes. Han was behind her, silent as he waited for her to find her courage. The partitions were all closed in the small room, and there were no windows—they were in an interior room of the ship. She took a breath, not liking the antiseptic smell that permeated the room. It was going to do no good to her to wait here, trying to build her courage up, so she stepped up to the far partition, opening it. Her brother was the one in the bed, and she sighed in relief.

She walked over to him, and sat on the small stool by his bed. He stirred, aware of her presence through the Force, even in his unconscious state, probably. "Shhh," she told him, running her fingers through his messy hair. "You did good, Luke. You saved him. Don't worry about what's going on out here, just concentrate on getting better."

He shuddered, and his heart rated dropped slightly, as he, apparently, took her advice and fell into a deeper sleep. She sat with him for a while longer, assuring herself that he was, indeed going to be fine. A fine prickling awareness started along her spine that Vader was just beyond the curtain behind her. She didn't know how she knew that, but she did. The Force, probably, she mused as she stroked her brother's hair. "Stay with him," she said to Han, and he looked confused.

She patted Luke's hand one last time, and turned to face the curtain that separated her from her father, and her biggest enemy, now that the Emperor was dead. Han put a hand on her shoulder, and she patted it. She was absolutely certain that the Emperor's dark presence had been blotted from the face of the galaxy, even though neither of the two who would really be in a place to know could tell her. "You aren't supposed to disturb whoever that is."

"I won't disturb him," she said. Deciding that it would be beneath her dignity to hide from Vader, she moved the curtain aside, and was shocked by his appearance. Scars covered the parts of his body that she could see, except his face—not that she could see much of that, with the oxygen mask covering it—but he was deathly white and she wished now she hadn't come see him.

He turned his head toward her, lazily, and she squared her shoulders, and went and sat beside him. She didn't even know why she was there, now that she was, and she was uncomfortable. His body was covered to his chin, unlike her brother, who had both of his arms out. Perhaps Vader got colder more easily. She didn't know how she felt about him, and she wasn't even sure now if , that what Luke had set out to do had been accomplished. Had Luke saved Vader, or had Vader just come here out of desperation with nowhere else to go, and he was still evil, intending to take Luke and turn him to the darkness?

"No," she heard, it was a raspy whisper, and she looked at Vader's now-open eyes. She was surprised to find that they were the same color as Luke's.

"No, what?" she asked him with some trepidation.

"No, you weren't wrong to tell Luke that he saved me. He did."

She swallowed hard. "I'm afraid," she said finally.

He closed his eyes, turning his face from her, "I'm sorry. Nothing can ever make up for the things I did to you," he said, sorrow weighting down each of his words. "It is enough that you came to see me."

She swallowed, trying to reconcile the man in front of her with the awful suit that had encased him. The moment of awareness passed, and he slid back into slumber, for which she was grateful. She looked down, not knowing where her feelings were, but she decided it didn't matter just now, and she went back to see Luke.

"I'll be back in a while, Luke. I love you," she told him with a kiss on his forehead, and Han followed her out to the corridor, and then to the Falcon.

* * *

"We have who?" Mon Mothma said to Crix Madine, disbelief clear in her voice.

"We have Darth Vader aboard the Mercy. Apparently Commander Skywalker had been injured on the Death Star and Vader got him off the station before we destroyed it," Madine said.

"Is he in a cell?" she asked, then mentally kicked herself. There weren't cells aboard the Mercy.

"No, he too, apparently, suffered some injuries, or his suit suffered a mechanical failure. Doctor Eserina isn't sure what took him down, but she's convinced that he's very lucky to be alive. I'll spare you her reports details, it made ME sick and I didn't understand half of it, but suffice it that he was being pumped up on some kind of drug that in addition to its addictive properties, had to inflame his entire nervous system, among other things. She says what I read was just a preliminary report. If I know Helena, though, she's ready to find whoever did this to him and rip them several new orifices."

"That bad? To think we lived in fear of that man for so long."

"With reason, Madam President, with reason. However unless he states differently I'm prepared to assume he is defecting."

"Very well, General. I will list his provisional status as that until we can question him," she said, sighing as she typed that into her datapad. "When will that be?"

"Helena's report said that he'd be awake—barely before Commander Skywalker—in a couple of days, provided that the withdrawal symptoms she thinks are going to hit him don't knock him back down before that."

They had had a few people with addictions who had been required to kick their habits before they were accepted to the Alliance, and she knew how long it took when they knew the properties of the substance to which someone was addicted. Force only knew how long it would take for this, when Vader had been on it for possibly twenty-some-odd years. "So it may be weeks before we can properly question him."

Crix made a gesture of acquiescence, and shrugged. "I doubt it is going to matter all that much. He is here, so he can't wreck havoc on our people any more. Is that not enough?"

"I suppose it's going to have to be," she said, then sighed. "Let me know when you get another report on Doctor Eserina's more interesting patients."

"Will do," he said, and he left to attend other duties.

* * *

The discussion aboard the Falcon as they headed from the Mercy to the Home One was tense. "What was that about?" Han asked Leia after they had gotten underway, and he didn't have any controls to fiddle with.

She sighed. "What was what about?" she asked, trying to delay the inevitable.

"You know very well what. Why did you go see that other person in Luke's room? It's not like you to lie like that."

"Because I needed to."

"Ok, let's try a different tactic. Who was it?"

"Vader," she said very quietly.

"Vader!" Han said, reaching out to the controls.

"What are you doing?" Leia asked.

"Going back to give that doctor a piece of my mind, how could she put that monster in the same room with Luke!"

Leia was touched by Han's obvious concern over Luke, "Han, its alright, Luke will want him there," she said and had to stifle a chuckle when he looked at her like she'd just grew a full Wookiee pelt before him.

"Why would Luke want the Prince of Pain with him?"

"Because he's Luke's father," she said quietly, and waited for the full implication of the words to hit her beloved. She didn't have to wait long.

"Vader is Luke's father, and you are Luke's sister…any chance you were adopted?" he said, causing her to thump his shoulder.

"Hey, what was that…oh…sorry, that was in bad taste I guess."

"That would be one way to describe it, but I forgive you, its not every day someone finds out they are in love with Vader's little girl," she said, "Hell, it's not everyday someone finds out that they are the little girl in question."

"He told you the night before he left, didn't he?" Han asked.

"Yes, he did."

"You took it well."

"What are you talking about? I was bawling like a baby."

"Exactly, if it had been me, I'd have tied Luke back onto the spit the furballs brought us in on." She chuckled.

"What are you wanting to do about it?" he asked, getting serious.

"I don't know…that depends on what they both say happened over there."

"Fair enough, do you think he deserves a second chance?"

"You got one, didn't you?"

"True, but there's a bit of difference between spice smuggling and mass murder."

"True enough, putting things back together would be hard enough without this. There's going to be many who are going to want to see him hang."

"That could be a problem." Han said.

"It could, but hopefully it won't." Then they were approaching Home One.

"Home One, this is the Falcon, requesting clearance to land in Hanger one."

The com crackled with static as the ship answered their request. "Falcon, this is Home One, Hanger One is standing by to receive you."

"Thank you, Home One, estimate docking complete in two minutes."

"Thank you, Falcon, over and out."

She watched quietly as he took the ship in and settled it into the dock, and they headed for the meeting room with only just enough time to make it to the 0900 meeting.

* * *

Han walked behind Leia as they headed to the meeting room. He was concerned for her, because of all the hits her world had taken in the last day. She was strong, stronger than most people, and as strong as she strived to appear to the rest of the Alliance, but Vader's appearance in their midst had shaken her. Luke's injuries hadn't helped anything, and she was still healing from a blaster bolt to her stomach. Yeah, bacta patches made it look healed pretty quick, but he knew it took a few day's for the body's alarm system to stop going off from personal experience.

Crix Madine was coming at them from the opposite direction, and he looked haggard. He usually ran the ship's night watch, so he's been coordinating the after-battle cleanup for the last eight or so hours. Han felt sorry for the man. "Thank you for telling me about Luke."

"It was nothing. I know how much you care for him. He's pretty important to the Alliance, too."

She looked down, probably hiding a grin, if he knew her as well as he thought he did. "He will be fine, sir. He knows that we're pulling for him, and he needs that."

"Come on, we're probably holding everyone up," he said, and they entered into the briefing room. There were a couple of people absent, who would normally have been there, like Luke, but other than that, everyone had assembled. He found his seat, and picked up the agenda that was laying in front of him. Mon Mothma got up and stood behind the podium. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen for coming today. I know that you all have been busy trying to put the Fleet back together, but it's important to keep coordinated. First, I'm going to hand the floor over to General Solo, to talk about ground operations."

He was finally getting accustomed to the idea that he had to give speeches. He didn't like it, nor did he feel he had to. He stood up and began, "We arrived in system approximately seven hours after leaving the fleet…" He continued talking about the various events of the strike team's actions on the Endor moon. He left nothing out and the command staff had few questions. He really felt the whole thing was unnecessary; they had his written report, what more did they want? Yet, he endured, as torture went it wasn't too bad. He sat back down, relieved that it was over. He'd answered far more questions than he had thought he was going to have to, but now it was Leia's turn. She was supposed to talk about the coordination efforts of the Mercy and getting the wounded patched up. She had received a brief from Helena Eserina as they had left, since the doctor didn't think she could, in good conscience, leave her patients for that long. Leia had probably only barely had enough time to read over the reports and put together her thoughts, but she'd been making speeches practically since she could walk, and doing a good job of it as well.

"Thank you, Madam President," she said to Mon Mothma as the later sat down in one of the chairs behind the podium.

"As you all know, probably, we've lost a number of ships in the battle yesterday, including the Redemption, our primary medical frigate, which leaves only the Mercy to deal with the wounded. The ship seems to be doing an admirable job of taking care of those wounded, but if there is space available for walking wounded on your ships, Doctor Eserina wanted me to ask that you take whoever you could aboard to relieve her ship's crowding. If you have wounded that need extra attention, she will still take them, but if you can, please limit that to the most seriously injured. Among the wounded on the ship is Commander Skywalker, but he is expected to make a full recovery, though he was very seriously injured."

"I heard that Darth Vader is there as well," one of the junior officers said.

She looked down, ostensibly at her notes, but he knew she was composing herself to respond. "Yes, that is true."

"Are we keeping him prisoner?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "That is not going to be necessary. He will cooperate with our efforts to dismantle the Empire."

General Madine spoke up then, "So he's awake?"

She shook her head again, "He woke briefly, and I spoke to him, but I believe it was only because of the urgent desire to express his intentions."

"He told you that he's defecting?" Madine pressed.

"Not in so many words, General, but I believe that is his intention at this point, if he can be said to have one, being as grievously injured as Luke was," she said, and then went back to talking about the situation with the wounded as they moved away from the topic of Vader, her father.