To Die For

The door flew open – literally flying out of its socket and skidding to a stop several meters from its owner’s feet. Obi-Wan Kenobi leapt up and spun to meet the intruder.

And he nearly had a heart attack from the sight before him. At his age, one could not take surprises like that – and seeing his former student, his former best friend, before him, black armor and all, was almost too much to take. Instinctively, his guard snapped up, and every defense he had ever been taught presented themselves to him. It was not fair! He was not ready for this; it was not yet his time! There was so much left to do… But there was no longer the time to do it in. That was over, now, because he knew that Darth Vader – formerly Anakin Skywalker – could and would easily best him today. He was no longer young, and Anakin – Vader! – had twenty years on him. Twenty years more of youth to have as an advantage would seal Vader's victory.

He laid his left hand on his lightsaber’s hilt. Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of the last four Jedi Masters, would not go down without a fight.

"What do you want, Vader?" he asked levelly.

Dark rage fell in waves around Vader. The Sith Lord stepped forward, angrily gesturing behind himself. The door sailed back into its socket and locked shut, pinning them both into the room. Neither would leave until this was resolved – and only one of their deaths would do so. Obi-Wan met Vader’s silent glower with an effort. Vader was beyond seething. Finally, his old friend spoke, his voice rough with emotion. "Why didn’t you tell me?" he demanded.

His guard higher than ever before, Obi-Wan responded warily. "Tell you what?"

"That I had a son!" Vader rasped.

Obi-Wan barely contained his relief. At least he didn’t know about the other… "He was Anakin Skywalker’s son, not yours," he replied shortly. That betrayal had been enough to break Amidala, he knew, and he would carry out her dying wish to protect her children, even if he could only do so in part. He pushed those thoughts away, then looked at Vader closely, wondering if this might finally be what could bring him back. Grief could kill, but could it revive a lost Jedi?

"He is my son." There was much anger in his voice, but yet there was also longing and regret… could he be changing?

"He was nothing like you, Anakin," Obi-Wan said tersely. He knew that if he were to resurrect the friend he’d once had, he’d have to hurt him first. As cruel as it sounded, Anakin would have to be jolted into feeling again.

"Don’t call me that." Vader turned away from him.

"Why not?" Obi-Wan retorted. "You said he was your son. He was Anakin Skywalker’s son – and that’s the same thing!"

"That name no longer has any meaning to me!" Vader snapped. Obi-Wan started – Vader was distraught. Could the death of his son have affected him that much?

Kenobi tried to soften his tone, mindful of his old friend’s pain, but still couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. "Why do you ask me this?" he demanded. "It doesn’t matter now that he’s dead."

Vader spun back to face him. "He’s not dead!"

Obi-Wan frowned. "He’s been dead for sixteen years, Anakin."

Vader shook his head, but not in response to the name Kenobi had used. "He is not dead."

Despite himself, Obi-Wan’s heart thudded in his chest. He had thought that boy, so strong and so pure, to be their last hope. When he had seen seven-year old Luke taken away by the Empire’s Stormtroopers, he had thought everything was lost. Could their hope still be alive? Could they yet have a chance?

"The Emperor did not kill him," Vader said flatly, all emotion gone from his voice.

Obi-Wan felt horror rising in his chest as the finality of fate descended upon him and all that he fought for. "You turned him," he gasped, his breath suddenly growing short. Again, they had lost their only hope… With that boy dark, they were doomed.

Vader snorted. "Me?" he laughed ironically. "I did not know he existed until three days ago."

"What do you mean?" Kenobi asked, thinking: so Palpatine turned him; what’s the difference in who does the evil deed, in who kills our last hopes?

Vader seemed to read his thoughts. "He is not dark," the Sith stated simply.

Obi-Wan blinked. If he was not dead, and he was not dark…then what? For a moment, his mind reeled with the possibilities – a vision of the future assaulted him. For an instant he saw a young man, so strong yet terribly scarred, with such a connection to the light as he had never seen before – then it was over, and he was left wondering if the extraordinary young man he’d seen could be the one he sought…

"What did you do with Luke?" he demanded.

"Is that his name?" Vader asked quietly – almost sadly, Obi-Wan realized.

"You do not know?" he asked incredulously. How could Vader not know the name of his own son?

"He does not remember his own name," Vader said softly. "And I have never spoken with him."

"But he’s been there for sixteen years…" Obi-Wan trailed off, then demanded "What’s happening to him?"

"Palpatine is torturing him." The answer was flat, emotionless. Still, Obi-Wan felt he saw something from Vader – Skies, could he pity Luke? Could he be even capable of pity? Then what Vader had said sank in.

"Torturing?" he gasped.

All emotion left Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith. "Yes."

Again, fate’s cruel hand closed around Kenobi’s heart. Luke would be twenty-three now, now longer a boy, yet punished as the man he could not yet be – punished for what? What was the Emperor’s sick motivation behind it? Obi-Wan forced himself to catch his breath. It was suddenly hard to breathe… "Why?" he managed to ask. With that boy, all hope was gone…

"He refused to turn," Vader replied simply – but for a moment, Obi-Wan sensed devastated pride from him. Pride in what – his son’s resistance? Then of what? Or could it be that Vader was proud of his stubborn son who had the courage to refuse the Emperor – the Emperor! – and live. Could he live yet? Could he survive, heal? Could we have a hope left? It was almost unthinkable, that a seven-year old boy would refuse the most powerful Sith Lord to ever have lived. Then something clicked. Seven years old.

Stars of Alderaan…

"For how long?" he demanded of Vader. Again, fate was winning – it had its innocent sacrifice.

Vader looked away. "Since he brought him there," he replied quietly. "And longer."

No! Obi-Wan’s heart objected. That was below what even he thought of Sidious Palpatine. To torture a child – an innocent, stubbornly strong-willed child – was sick. He might have been extraordinarily strong with the Force but childhood was childhood; sixteen years of a Sith’s torture would break even the strongest of Jedi – and kill them. That Palpatine would force a child to live was terrible – no matter how powerful that child could become.

"…and longer," Vader had said. The rumors were true, then. Palpatine had discovered a place where time passed faster. And he had tortured a child – their last hope! – there.

And he had surely destroyed that child there.

"Why didn’t you stop him?!" Obi-Wan demanded, half-wild with grief for his murdered dreams. With grief for a child who would never live.

Vader, too, had lost control. "I didn’t know he existed!" he roared "You didn’t tell me! I could not stop what I did not know of!"

"Why didn’t you ask?" Kenobi retorted angrily. "Why didn’t you discover him sooner?"

"Do you think Palpatine answers questions I ask?" Vader demanded. "He did not want me to know! Do you think him a fool?"

"You’re saying you can’t help him," Obi-Wan snapped coldly. "You’re saying you won’t."

Vader seemed to deflate, and for a moment Obi-Wan had to wonder if he’d hurt him after all. "I can not help him," the Sith said softly – and he was hurt! That was regret in his voice – "I wish I could."

Kenobi couldn’t quite believe that one. Not yet, anyway. "What do you mean ‘you wish’?"

He could feel Vader’s glare through the opaque eyes of the black mask. "Do you think I don’t care?" he asked bitterly. "Do you think so little of me?"

Obi-Wan looked at his old friend levelly. "Until a few minutes ago, I did," he replied. "Now, I’m not so sure."

The bitterness reduced, but did not quite vanish. "You have not seen him," Vader said flatly, turning away as if to regain control of himself.

"No, I haven’t," Obi-Wan agreed. "But I don’t see how that has anything to do with what I think of you."

"If you had seen him, you would understand."

"Understand what?" Kenobi found himself demanding.

Vader wheeled back on him with such vehemence that Obi-Wan stepped back. "Why I care!" he snapped. "Why I want to help him!"

"Why do you?" Obi-Wan questioned, wondering what could hurt Vader so much – it had to be more that Luke’s torture… Or did it?

"You do not understand what has been done to him, Obi-Wan," Vader said quietly. His pain had returned, and his anger had vanished.

"What do you mean?" Skies, let it not be worse than I thought…Please, don’t let all our hopes die again…

"He is shattered," Vader replied heavily. "He does not know who he is, or why he is there – he believes he deserves it." He paused to glare at Obi-Wan, but there was no anger in his gaze, only hopelessness and sadness. He continued "He is Palpatine’s slave. He’s not human anymore."

Obi-Wan felt sick. "That’s not possible," he whispered.

Vader’s reply was as pained as his own. "Isn’t it?" he asked sadly, then shook his head. "He’s nothing more than a toy, a thing, to Palpatine, and Palpatine has beaten him into believing it."

"No…" Kenobi repeated.

"He was seven when it started, Obi-Wan," Vader whispered. "He had no chance. It is only his strength that lets him survive, but he is no longer alive."

"Why do you tell me this?" Kenobi asked hoarsely. Poor Luke…poor child. To go through what he is must be worse than any hell.

"Because someone has to help him," Vader replied.

Obi-Wan almost laughed; the idea was so ludicrous. But still an unbidden surge of hope rose within him. "How am I supposed to save him from Imperial Palace?" he asked, bitter at Vader for giving him an impossible hope. "I would not even make it on to Coruscant."

"Not without help," Vader agreed.

"’Without help’?" Obi-Wan repeated, unable to believe his ears, his senses. "Are you saying you will help me?"

Vader grabbed his shoulders roughly. "I have to help him, Obi-Wan," he said urgently. "I can’t let him die there."

Kenobi blinked. "You’ll betray Palpatine for your son," he whispered.

"Someone has to help him."