A/N: Inspired by Mark Schultz's heartbreaking song "He's my son," particularly its chorus.
Tissue alert! :)
It couldn't be happening, not again. He had fought so hard, given everything he had to prevent her fate all those years ago. He had failed her then and was about to fail her yet again. Beneath the mask, his vision blurred as he looked down on her last gift to him, his only legacy and the one who had believed in him when he couldn't believe in himself. His son had saved him, but at a terrible price.
Luke was dying. The Emperor's attack had drained him beyond the point where even the advanced med-droid aboard the shuttle could save him. And he knew that no power he possessed could stop death, having learned that the hardest way possible. Hesitantly, he knelt beside the bed, placed one shaking hand on his son's head, gently brushing the hair from his eyes. Pain tore through him, frightening in its intensity. He knew he could not bear to go on if he were forced to suffer yet another devastating loss. In sudden desperation, he cried out to Force, begging for it to hear him, pleading for a gift he knew he did not deserve. It responded in a way he had not felt since he was a small child. Without warning, he no longer knelt in a medbay, but stood in a place he remembered far too well.
The entrance to the chambers of the Jedi Council.
Without hesitation, he opened the doors and stepped carefully into the room, all too conscious of the accusing eyes upon him, unable to meet any of them. Tradition dictated that he should merely bow respectfully, but he knelt before the Grand Master instead, his posture that of the deeply penitent. He said nothing, merely held the painful position, head bowed. Whispers rippled through the Force, those assembled expressing mistrust or simple confusion.
"Rise," Yoda said gravely. He made no move, stayed still as a statue. "Why come here, you did?"
"Luke," he whispered.
"Explain, you will."
"He is dying for my sins, my failures."
"Knew the risks, he did."
"It is still my fault."
"Why are you here?"
"To beg for his life."
"Listen, why should we? Many evil things you have done, much harm."
"I would give anything to reverse what I've done. Please..." He could not continue.
Yoda looked on him sadly. "A sacrifice, you must give."
"Anything."
"So sure, are you, that give anything, you can?"
"Yes." All could hear the desperation in his voice. Yoda looked at the others in the room. As if on a silent cue council members began to test his claim.
"Your life."
"Gratefully."
"Your powers."
"Yes."
"Your memories of your wife."
At this he flinched, but whispered "yes" all the same.
"Your daughter's life."
"That is not mine to give."
"Correct, you are." At Yoda's words, the council fell silent once more. "Accept whatever price the Force asks, do you?"
"Yes."
"Then accomplish what you desire, you will. Now go."
He rose painfully and left the chamber. Once more, he found himself in the shuttle's medbay. A terrible calm had come over him, a sense of resignation and determination. Quickly, he lost himself in meditation, going far further than he had ever dared, surrendering to the will of the Force. It poured through him in answer and with it came the realization of what he would lose. Through the tears that misted his eyes, he looked at Luke, memorizing his features, so like his own at that age. He placed his hands on Luke's chest and closed his eyes, letting the Force pour through him. He dimly felt the shuttle reach the hanger bay of one of the Rebel ships, but diverted no attention to assure their landing, trusting the Force to get them there safely.
It quickly became more and more of an effort to heal Luke, but he ignored the pain that came from pulling too much power through too weak of a vessel, concentrating solely on repairing the damage wrought by lightning. Burned tissue and scorched organs slowly repaired themselves under his ministrations, but it was not enough. He felt his own body begin to fail under the strain, but pulled all the harder on the Force, refusing to give in. Footsteps from behind him and a desperate cry of "Luke!" did nothing to break his focus.
He poured everything he had into the still body, felt his cells overload with the energy, but still he continued. Having repaired all of the physical damage the lightning had caused, he reached gently into his son's mind, healing the psychic damage that the Emperor caused him. Once he had finished smoothing away the last of the pain, Luke stirred, eyes opening. Relief flooded him, breaking his focus at last, and the intense energies drained from him, the whitehot torrent of power subsided to the barest trickle of energy. A fatal numbness overcame him as he tried to stand, only to collapse on the cold tiles of the floor, unable to move.
Father! Luke's mental voice cried, but he could not find the strength to reply, the world blurring around him as he surrendered to the Force. He felt a vague joy before it overtook him completely, a peace surrounding him, secure in the knowledge that his son would live even as he died, ready to face whatever torment the Force held in store for one as damned as he.
He was quite surprised to find himself in a place he had dreamed of many times, but had not seen in a lifetime. He looked dazedly around at the green meadows and blue waters of Naboo, catching his breath as he saw a familiar figure emerge from the trees.
"Padme?" he whispered. She looked at him with a carefully neutral face: her politician's face, he had always called it.
"Why?" she asked quietly, firmly. He did not have to ask what she meant.
"I couldn't let him die," he breathed, throat constricting. "If there was any way...I had to take his place. He's...he's my son."
A radiant smile broke over over her face and she ran to him, pulling him to her tightly. "Thank you," she whispered to no one in particular. "Thank you." He held her then, peace surrounding them. Their children were safe, at least for now. Though the Force had demanded his life in exchange for his son, it was not too great a price to pay.
He had done only what any father would do for his child.