On the outside, his mask gave him the air of impassivity. The casual observer might assume he cared nothing for the scene unfolding around him. But that was the furthest thing from the truth.

His eyes watched the shock and loathing that played across Luke's face as the boy's eyes traveled from the sputtering, hissing stump that served as Vader's wrist, to his own hand, which he flexed self-consciously, his eyes wide and fearful.

Cackling laugher bounced off the vaulted ceiling and catwalks of the throne room as the Emperor descended the stairs towards them. "Good, your hate has made you powerful. Now, fulfill your destiny and take your father's place at my side!"

Vader reached wildly back in his mind to a time and place when he'd been offered a similar choice. But he was fearful and confused, because he realized now that he did not want Luke to make the same choice his father had.

Memories flashed through his mind at lightning pace, some old, some nearly forgotten, some very new indeed...

"I feel the conflict within you. Let go of your hate."

"There is no conflict."

A bold-faced lie, a line he'd supplied almost without thinking. By force of habit perhaps, because for more than twenty years there had been no conflict. He'd never second-guessed his choice. He'd never had doubts. He'd embraced the Dark side and never looked back.

Until the day he met his son. Something inside him had awakened that day, something that had seemed almost alien, so long it had been since he'd felt it. He was nearly afraid to identify it, but it could not be denied. Somewhere inside his heart still burned a small seed of compassion, evidenced by his overwhelming desire that his child should live.

At first he had fooled himself into believing he only wanted Luke to live so that Luke could serve as a new apprentice to the Sith. His son would be turned, and together they would rule the galaxy. Every father felt pride in his son, and Darth Vader would be no different. But Luke did not succumb as easily as Vader had assumed, and he was forced to acknowledge that his feelings concerning Luke served something different than himself, the Empire, or the Dark Side.

That was when the memories had begun. He remembered places, moments, and... faces he had not thought on for decades. The whole experience above Bespin had affected Vader as if he were a mirror and someone had smashed him. He felt himself to be made of a thousand indiscernible pieces, and he no longer recognized his own reflection. Instead, he began holding Luke up as his mirror. He watched breathlessly now, wondering what the boy would do.

Luke looked into Vader's eyes, then up at Palpatine, breathing heavily. A peace seemed to have fallen over him. He was radiant in the Force, and Vader had not felt such strength in the Light side since the last time he'd been in the presence of Master Yoda.

"Never." Luke declared with bold surety. He threw his lightsaber over the rail. "I'll never turn to the Dark side. You've failed, Your Highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me."

Who was this boy who somehow had the strength that his father never found? How was it he'd been able to resist the beckon of the Dark Side? At this thought, another long-buried emotion had risen to the surface of his tortured mind... regret.

Regret for what? That he had not been able to do the same? That moment, so many long years ago, when he had believed it was impossible to resist the Dark side's inviting seduction?

Like my father before me...

Vader stood amazed that Luke had found the strength to come back. The ways in which he had matured were remarkable.

"So, you have accepted the truth."

"I have accepted the truth that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father."

Luke had said it. Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.

"That name no longer has any meaning for me."

"It is the name of your true self, you've only forgotten."

It was true. He had forgotten. For long years he had carefully skirted any remembrance of his former life. But this Luke Skywalker was forcing him to remember in the most terrible and painful ways.

Luke chose now to identify himself with Anakin Skywalker, and Vader couldn't help wondering if Luke would feel the same had he actually known Anakin Skywalker. That Anakin had been disrespectful and conceited, rebellious and high-strung, impatient... but then, he realized, it had not always been so.

"I'm a person, and my name is Anakin."

Once upon a time, the man now known as Darth Vader had been a small tow-headed boy who seemed like a stranger. If anybody today could see that boy, would they believe it possible? Surely the Sith were born Sith at heart. Evil, selfish, cold, cruel, manipulative.

No! That's not true! That little boy had been ambitious certainly, but not in a bad way. He'd been starry-eyed, vigour, full of life, and...compassionate.

"Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi's life. So you might say we are encouraged to love."

Had he really said those words? Had he ever really believed them? Vader knew that he had. He was beginning to remember, and the more he remembered, the easier it became.

If the tangled emotions broiling under his deceptively calm exterior had not been confusing enough, Luke had inadvertently raised the stakes again. The boy did not yet know everything about the Force yet, after all, and he had not been able to hide some of his thoughts from his father.

And so Vader had learned of the existence of his daughter. The moment had brought him to a fevered pitch of emotion. Anger at Kenobi, anger at himself, mingled with another dose of the wonderment he'd felt when he'd learned of the existence of Luke. As he'd learned to do so easily from experience, he surrendered to these powerful emotions, venting by taunting his son and provoking a reaction. It occurred to him how very childish that had been. And what had it gained him? He'd pushed Luke too far and he had been defeated.

Suddenly he was so tired. So weary. As he grasped the railing and struggled to his feet, he reflected that all the power he had attained in Palpatine's service had gained him nothing. What did he have to show for all these long, hard years? Nothing but a galaxy who feared him with no respect. The Emperor certainly did not care for him in any way beyond how Vader served his own twisted purposes.

The Emperor's face was leering now. The sadistic twist to his features filled Vader with dismay, for he knew what was coming.

"So be it, Jedi," spat Palpatine. Luke stood tall and straight, his eyes burning in challenge, resolute in his decision. "If you will not be turned," continued the old man, "then you will be destroyed."

The lightning lept from his fingers with nearly casual ease. And Vader was left falling deeper and deeper into despair. He would destroy Luke, and then he would go after Leia, if she hadn't already been killed in the battle below.

Leia. Darth Vader thought back to his many encounters with Leia Organa, and was amazed how he could never have suspected. All those years, she was under his very nose; he had practically watched her grow, though at the time he had certainly given Bail Organa's daughter little acknowledgement. What was one little girl to a powerful Dark Lord of the Sith? He realized that behind the man's cool exterior, Bail Organa must have been laughing in triumph at their very encounter.

She looks so much like her mother.

Thoughts of Leia led him straight to thoughts of...her. The very person for whom his lofty speech about compassion had been intended. He had built a wall around himself, trying to block her out, though she had never truly been eradicated. But her memory lurked in his mind, quietly whispering, until the day her children– their children– had come into his life. Now Padmé Naberrie's legacy was fighting Darth Vader with all the strength and courage that great lady had ever had. She wanted her Anakin back.

The battle outside was reaching a fevered pitch of desperation, and the battle within the man who wore the black armor was no less intense. He knew now that a decision was laid before him.

Luke writhed in agony on the floor. Every scream cut deeply into the father's very soul, filling him with anguish. The boy would die. He would lose him. The only person in the galaxy who cared for the man behind the mask.

It had been so long since someone had loved him. He'd forgotten the goodness and peace of the feeling. He had missed the feeling. Was power really more important than this? Palpatine had said Luke's faith was his weakness, but it was in reality his greatest strength. Faith, love, trust... dependence on others. They offered a life free from loneliness.

Why had he ever wanted this kind of power?

He remembered that too.

"Why'd she have to die? Why couldn't I save her? I know I could have."

His mother had loved him. How much he had missed her. He missed her still. He forced himself to imagine what Shmi Skywalker would have thought of who he had become, and shame filled the deepest and darkest secret corners of his heart.

The man in the mask did not know who he was anymore. Except that he was Luke's father. That truth shone above all others in his thoughts.

"Father! Please!" Luke cried out, his tortured body barely able to make the cry.

"I wasn't strong enough to save you, Mom."

He had done his best to become stronger, and he had succeeded. But he'd gone the wrong way. He'd lost himself so completely, that the origins of his desire for power had been lost altogether.

"I wasn't strong enough."

What was the true meaning of stronger anyway? Was it cold, selfish, domineering power? No, surely not. It was Luke's brand of stronger. Facing certain peril for a principle. Standing up for something larger than oneself. Believing that the impossible was possible.

"It is...too late for me, my son."

He really had betrayed his mind with those words, back on Endor. He'd seen himself as irredeemable, so what was the point? But Luke did not believe that. Padmé would not have believed it. His mother would not have believed it.

Palpatine suddenly paused his barrage upon Luke, his features reveling in twisted delight and triumph. "And now, young Skywalker," he spoke, "you will die." The lightning lashed a final time.

"I wasn't strong enough to save you, Mom. I was not strong enough. But I promise, I will not fail again."

He had failed her. He had failed her at nearly every turn since that moment. But now he finally had the chance to set things right. He couldn't save Shmi Skywalker. Maybe he never really could have saved her.

But Luke he could save.

Anakin mustered together his strength, looked at the Emperor with nothing but detached contempt, and walked straight into the fire.

The pain of the Force-lightning was acute on his already frail body. But he absorbed it, ignored it, did everything he could to work against it, for he only needed to see this through. Then his physical state would matter no longer.

The short journey of three steps to the railing, with the screaming Emperor raised above his head seemed like a lifetime's walk. It was the hardest he'd ever made, but Anakin had never felt so sure of anything in his life. His children were the only truly good and lasting thing he would contribute to this galaxy. His memory would be remembered with loathing and contempt, but he did not care. He deserved it, but Luke and Leia would survive.

A father's pride and love were strength enough. Anakin Skywalker was complete. And a long-neglected promise was now fulfilled.

Author's Note:

This vig bunny attacked me the last time I saw AotC in the theaters. However, it took a surprisingly long time to get it on paper the way I wanted. There were a lot of ideas that needed to flow in a somewhat logical order.