lazarus drug.
Summary:
During ROTJ on the Death Star, Vader confronts the
conflicted feelings finally upon seeing Luke tortured by the Emperor.
Stepping in, he lays down his own life in order to save his son - and
the Galaxy.
Notes:
So, one night I was listening to Lazarus Drug by Meg Washington, and then was possessed by visions from Anakin. Hopefully, I captured it well enough. Also, pulled from the novelization a little, but did try to do my own, because I don't like some things from it!
Everything hurts!!!
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, locations, or anything within the Star Wars universe. All rights go to the correct owners and creators at Lucasfilm, Disney, and partners.
Vader stood close behind his Master, hesitant as he heard Luke’s pleas for help before his body grew rigid in the armor at spotting three familiar figures illuminated in blue. Yoda’s face contorted into sorrow as he watched Luke, wishing that they could do something to stop the torture. Slowly, his attention moved to the black mask that had become a symbol of hate and oppression, brows still furrowed in a soft plea to Anakin.
“Help him, you must. End this, you can.”
Obi-Wan stared at Anakin this time, lips pursed and still as Anakin held his gaze in momentary surprise at his appearance. He only gave a solemn nod towards his former apprentice, breaking the eye contact to look at the crumpled Jedi. The third figure made Anakin pause, ice running through his veins and mechanics. The ripple was noted by the three figures, all eyes on Anakin as his body felt frozen in place.
Qui-Gon’s voice was soft towards him. “You can still right this wrong.”
Slowly turning his head, peering past the familiar lenses of the heavy mask that weighted heavily on his skull he could spot the pure glee on Sidious’s features at Luke’s agony. Did he feel the same way about punishments for him? Gazing to his curled child, his jaw clenching tightly beneath the mask as his hands clenched at his sides. If Luke died, then it would irrefutably be his own doing. He may not have caused the death for Padmé, not since she had left Mustafar and was most likely awake during his first duel with Obi-Wan. He couldn’t kill his son nor his daughter, and he knew that since the moment Boba Fett had uttered Luke’s name.
He felt the weakest he had been in over two decades as his chest felt like it was about to collapse once again. Even as his respirator fought to keep up with the sharp breaths, his legs began to move, feeling as if they were dragging through the thickest mud and swamps.
He failed his mother.
He failed his promise.
He failed Padmé.
He failed the promise again.
He could save Luke from death, even if it was for another day, another week or year, but he refused to see his child die at the hands of Sidious.
Before he could even register his own doing, Anakin felt the jolts of lightning pierce through his armor into flesh and metal. Gloved hands grasped tightly at Sidious’s body, lifting him overhead while the HUD displayed a warning before he threw the Sith over the railing into the reactor shaft of the Death Star.
Aurebesh and more warnings flashed in the lenses as Luke came to his aid as he fell to his knee, respirator beginning to wane as only more system failures began to list on his lenses. An arm wrapped around his waist, scrunching in the cape as a hand grabbed his wrist softly to put his arm around narrow shoulders. Luke let out a soft grunt as he took the extra weight, beginning to move towards the elevator. Following his son, he let him squeeze the both of them inside before he crumpled into the wall. A gloved hand frantically hitting the button to the docking bay, the Force even rippling with the fear from Luke. “Stay with me. It’s over now.”
Lifting his head more, Anakin spotted the trio of ghosts on the catwalk once again, their expressions soft as Obi-Wan only bowed his head softly towards him.
“You can rest.”
The sleek, silver doors slid closed, reflection from the doors showing him Luke looking over the chest plate and mask in worry. “Father?”
A wheezing breath escaped him through the vocoder. “It is okay, Luke. I am here.”
“What’s happening? Your respirator doesn’t sound right,” the panic was creeping more in his voice as Anakin slowly lifted an arm to stop Luke’s hand from fiddling at the panel.
The whirring mechanics beneath the glove softly held onto Luke’s own hidden by fakeskin and his own gundark leather glove, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance as the doors opened to the docking bay. Luke was lucky that the damage was able to be nearly reversed entirely, but why the glove? Had Luke seen holovideos from the Clone Wars? Had Obi-Wan told him?
“Just a few more steps, and then we can go to a system with medical care.” Once again, he held the hulking figure against him, ignoring the weight pressing against his lungs as Luke stumbled through the bay towards an Imperial shuttle. Imperial staff frantically began to depart the collapsing star as Luke adjusted Anakin’s weight against his shoulder. “Father?”
The familiar face of the Empire slowly turned towards him, but even as they attempted to approach the shuttle, Anakin’s body grew heavier with each step as his eyes struggled to stay open. Far heavier than he had experienced before even within the Clone Wars. Nearly as heavy as it felt after an evening of relentless lashings from Watto, but he slowly stopped as Luke placed him down to regain his strength from hauling him from the elevator.
Luke’s eyes widened, glimmering with fear as he called his name, but Anakin didn’t hear him. He wouldn’t make it. He knew he wouldn’t. Even if Luke hauled him onto the shuttle and went to hyperspace after clearing the Death Star, he wouldn’t live another ten minutes.
The alarms ricocheted around the incomplete Death Star as Anakin felt Luke desperately try to heave his body up a ramp, voice soft as he managed to stop him. One the first request from himself that had no ulterior motive: remove the mask. For a moment, he knew Luke was debating at the request to remove it, but complied at the wish. The cool air of the hangar sucked beneath the mask as it was removed, his eyes shutting briefly at the sudden bright lights illuminating around them.
Pallor skin was exposed to the unforgiving lights of the bay, deep set tired, blue eyes softening at Luke crouched beside him. It was almost as he looked in mirror two decades ago, but he still saw the softness of his wife woven in with his own blue eyes and blond hair. The softness that was in Luke’s eyes, the shape of his nose, and slope of his cheek. Anakin’s heart ached deeply for it all, confronting what he had done that led to this as the Star rumbled around them.
Brow muscles slowly furrowed, thinking it to be thunder, and then there was droplets settling on his skin not even seconds later. Was the heavens weeping now? Was it for the face to be revealed after so long? Truly he had to be horrible looking. Though as he finally focused again out of the haze that threatened to lull him away, he realized that it wasn’t rain. It was Luke.
Tears constantly streamed from his features, the grief palpable in the Force as a hand softly lifted to stubbornly wipe the tears away.
Briefly, he could smell a familiar scent he had not known since he was 19. Wildflowers from the fields of a planet he wasn't welcome - Sabé made sure to make that clear after aiding him. Was she here? Even in his final moments, hands holding out to embrace him from the other side? A shuddered breath rattled at his chest before he focused on Luke. Anakin still gave a broken smile to his son, voice soft,” Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.” Looking past his son, he could see the familiar three ghosts, expressions soft as they watched as Anakin let out a slow, pained breath. The Star rocked again with more explosions, smoke billowing into the hangar. Looking back to Luke, Anakin’s voice was starting to grow weaker,” Go, my son. Leave me.”
“No. You’re coming with me. I will not leave you here. I’ve got to save you.”
“You already have, Luke.”
With the last of their goodbyes, he let his eyes close again if only to hope that Luke wouldn’t notice the pain. It had begun to spike every second without the mask, his bones and flesh feeling like they were about to split apart. For a moment, Anakin thought that he was splitting into a golden light, before the pain was suddenly gone. The lull came back, and it felt as if he was cradled into a warmth.
Then suddenly, he was there able to witness his body and his son. Luke braced the weight again as he brought the body aboard the ship after placing the mask back on. Anakin watched the ramp shut behind his body, looking down to himself. Jedi robes. He lifted his hands abruptly, seeing one organic and one still gloved like it had been decades ago. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to the trio near him, but to him they weren’t a transparent blue. They looked like flesh and blood as Obi-Wan’s blue gray eyes softened even after everything that had happened.
“We still have work to do, Anakin.”
“Fix mistakes, we must,” Yoda said with a nod, hands curling around his cane before they vanished from sight.
Anakin wanted to ask for help, to ask what to do, but his lips pursed instead. Taking a slow breath, he looked to the lifting ship, closing his eyes to focus on his body as it zipped from the hangar bay in time before the Star burned into a supernova, rippling through the Force of the lives still lost that couldn’t evacuate in time.
Luke heaved his body onto the makeshift mound, going with the whispers that the Force had spoken to him for the proper burial. He didn’t notice his father’s spirit lingering as the flames suddenly engulfed the black armor. Moments after, the skies erupted in fireworks in celebration, but Luke only watched the flames reach out to the skies in silence.
Anakin still winced at the high flames, watching as his son’s form was illuminated by the bright, crackling fire. Looking down, he couldn’t believe that he was graced with this body by the Force. Perhaps it was a mercy for the pain he had endured since Mustafar, but there was a deeper inkling in his chest that said otherwise.
Taking a slow breath, he no longer felt the air entering his lungs. He couldn’t feel them expand as he closed his eyes to just surrender. For a moment, a brief glimpse of life, he felt everywhere and nothing all at once. The breath of life within leaves, the joy in the Bright Tree Village, the deep, lingering ache within Luke, and the relief from Leia, but the breath of relief from the galaxy burned into him.
Stars twinkled bright above Endor as the festivities continued, and Luke watched outside in the treeline quietly. There was that tug. The familiarity of the Force before he perked at spotting Obi-Wan and Yoda before another figure appeared slowly. Father. There was relief, more relief than he could have ever felt that washed through his heart and soul at spotting Anakin beside the other Jedi. A hand on his shoulder pulled him from the sight, speaking to Leia before looking back to the empty space that held no sign of the phantoms.
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