30 May 1999



-----





He could feel those strong hands on his arms; his son's hands, pulling

him along the ground.  Footsteps echoed around him, men yelled, Luke

was trying to save him.



"Luke.  Help me take this mask off."  His voice was so weak--when did it

get that weak?



"But you'll die."



Inside the mask, he smiled.  Even in the smallest sentences, he can hear 

the cadence of Tatooine in Luke's speech, the subtle accents, the

shaping of vowels that tell him his son speaks Huttese as easily as he

speaks Standard.



"Nothing can stop that now.  Just for once, let me look on you with my

own eyes."



Luke's fingers hooked around the skullguard and pulled it free.  Then the

faceplate.  And then he could see his son, blond and desert-burnt

still--the boy must have gone to Tatooine to find his friend Captain

Solo--with Amidala's slim build.  His son, Jedi Knight.  The last Jedi

Knight.



"Now go, my son.  Leave me."



He could hear Luke protesting, something about saving him--



"You already have, Luke.  You were right about me.  Tell your sister you 

were right."



He felt consciousness slipping away.  And then Luke's voice in his

mind.  "Have you forgotten that the Force can heal, Father?  Let me

help you."



And he felt Luke quieting the disrupted circuits of his mechanical

parts, helping his lungs work, healing burns--and simultaneously

dragging him to the ship, installing him in an emergency medical cot,

and flying them out of there.



"Rebel Fleet, this is Commander Skywalker, do you copy?"



"Luke, what the hell are you doing there?"



"Hi, Wedge.  Had some personal business."



"With who, the Emperor?"



"Yes, actually.  Don't worry.  My father killed him."



"Thought you didn't have a father."



"You'll find I'm full of surprises, Wedge.  I'm going to the sanctuary

moon.  Meet you there?"



"Sure thing, old pal."



He stirred in the cot and realized he felt better than he had in years.

Stronger.  Healthier.  Alive with the Force.



"I am no longer Darth Vader," he said aloud.



He heard Luke laugh.  "Welcome back, Anakin Skywalker.  Welcome back."



His son joined him, smiled.  "Here.  I've modified your breath

mask so that you don't have to wear the whole faceplate if you don't

want to--just the breathing part."



"Aren't you supposed to be piloting the ship?"



"Autopilot.  We're going to--"



"The sanctuary moon.  I heard.  Who is Wedge?"



"Wedge Antilles.  He's a good friend of mine.  Great pilot.  A little

Force-sensitive, but not enough to ever make a Jedi."



"Any relation to Bail Antilles?"



"Bail was his grandfather."  Luke smiled again.  "You must be feeling

better." 



"Much."



"Here, let's get this on you--your breathing is still too weak."



He felt the mask hook over his nose, press on his cheekbones and over

the rim of his ears.  He took a deep breath and felt his body relax, no

longer tense from the struggle to breathe.  Luke patted his shoulder.

"Come on, Father, let's get you some proper clothes."



"Luke--I must stand trial for my crimes."



The boy's face hardened.  "We'll discuss it later, Father.  For now,

let's see what I can find by way of Jedi robes."



"I'm not a Jedi, Luke.  I am nothing."



"You are Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and you are my father and the

father of my sister.  Search your feelings, Father.  You will find

your true self there."



He found himself revising his opinion of the boy--the boy had a man's

voice and a man's wisdom.  And perhaps the boy was correct--perhaps

Anakin, Jedi Knight, still lived.  Perhaps Luke Skywalker was the

youngest of the Jedi, but not the last.



He closed his eyes and searched himself.  Who was he?  What did he want

to be?



//Obi-Wan?//



//Anakin?  Anakin, padawan, what--//



//Am I Anakin?  I have not been Anakin for so long.//



//You are Anakin.  I remember the first time I saw you and sensed you

within the Force.//



//Then I am Anakin again.//



//I didn't think Luke could do it.  I doubted him, and you.//



//Luke, I think, is even more stubborn than Master Qui-Gon.//



//And angrier than I, and more dangerous than you, Anakin.  But he has

learned patience and self-control--and they have served him well.//



"Father?"



Anakin opened his eyes.  "I was talking to Obi-Wan."



"Here, sit up.  Let's get this black off of you.  What did he say?"



"He helped me find myself.  I am Anakin Skywalker.  It is...strange."



Luke chuckled as he stripped the black robe away.  "You have to tell me

how much of this outfit you need, Father.  We need to get rid of as much 

as possible, or you're likely to be shot at as soon as you show your

face."



"The suit can go, but I'll need the monitor.  My left hand is my own,

some of my right arm, both my legs.  My lungs and heart don't work

right, but aside from the scars, the rest of me is...me."



"Obi-Wan said you were more machine than man."



"Obi-Wan was always fond of metaphors."



"That's one way of putting it.  Here, put on these."



"Where did you find Jedi robes on my shuttle?"



"I didn't.  But I did find a quartermaster's replicator and programmed

it to make you some."



"Ah."



Anakin dressed quickly, shrugging the robes into place.  "You'll do,"

Luke said, approvingly, and squeezed his father's shoulder.  "We'll have 

to get you another hand, but that won't be too hard.  The Alliance--"



"There's a spare hand or two in the medical storage section of this

shuttle, actually.  I like to be prepared."



They stayed in the shuttle until Luke, with a aid of an antique medical

droid he'd found in medical storage, had attached a new hand to his

father's arm.



"I'm not certain we should do this, my son."



"Father.  You will come with me.  It is part of your destiny."



Anakin looked at his son, slim and straight, lightsaber at his side.

The bright blue eyes were his own, but the challenging tilt to the chin

was Amidala's, as was the hint of a smile on the mouth.



With a sigh, Anakin remembered that he never could resist Amidala when

she looked at him like that.



He controlled his fear and followed his son into the night air, filled

with sounds of celebration.



----



The End