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Worth Dying For
Vader dropped to one knee next to where his son knelt, doubled over, on the blood-covered prison cell floor. His son did not shake, did not cry, did not move – there was no emotion from him, not loneliness, not fear, and not even pain. He was so small, and so thin; he was almost dead. What had Palpatine done to this poor boy to make him so? How had he tortured him so much to destroy the heart that had put him there?
And how had I never sensed it to stop it? How could I not know that my own blood – my own son! – was being tormented and broken before my very eyes?
And how could Palpatine expect me not to do everything within my power to help him? Despite his new conviction, Vader’s heart fell. How could he help his son? He was so hurt, and there was no where to hide him from the Emperor – Palpatine’s eyes were everywhere.
I do not even know his name, Vader realized. But in his mind’s eye, he saw his past.
A seven-year-old boy lay sobbing at Palpatine’s feet. He was covered in blood, bound with barbed wire, but his clear blue eyes looked pleadingly at the Emperor. He did not understand, could not understand, why he was being hurt so badly…
The Emperor grabbed his chin, and the boy cried out in pain, his shattered jaw giving way. He was trembling uncontrollably from fear and pain, for even the greatest courage could only face so much, and he was but an innocent child who’d dared to say no to the Emperor’s demands.
"I will give you one last chance, boy," Palpatine hissed, yanking the child’s jaw hard and causing him to cry harder. Then Palpatine’s other hand grasped the back of the boy’s head, his nails digging in. The child wailed in agony, and Palpatine released his jaw to backhand him hard. "Shut up!"
But the boy kept sobbing helplessly, and Palpatine hit him again and again and again, until finally he was crying quietly. "That’s better, isn’t it?" the Emperor asked quietly, but the child merely cowered. He raised a hand as if to strike the boy again, and the child jerked back in panicked fear. "Are you listening to me?" Palpatine demanded.
"Yes – master," the boy sobbed.
"Good slave," the Emperor said softly, beginning to stroke the child’s face with his free hand. The boy began wailing once more, until the Emperor began beating him viciously with a crowbar and he began screaming in pain. The blood flew as he crowbar continued to crash down on the boy’s face.
"Please… master!" the boy whimpered amid his screams, but Palpatine had no pity; the blows continued. Finally, the boy grew silent from weakness and agony, and Palpatine stopped, only to stroke his face once more.
Low whimpers emerged from Palpatine’s young "slave" as he cowered, though Palpatine seemed not to care as he spoke. "As I was saying, you have one last chance, slave," he mocked the tormented child. "You will become dark."
The boy’s frightened eyes searched the Emperor’s face – he knew what was being asked. There was sudden, additional terror in him as he hesitated, tears welling up in his eyes.
"Well?" Palpatine demanded.
The tears spilled over. "I don’t want… to be dark…" the boy whispered fearfully.
"What!"
The crowbar crashed down once more, making the boy scream in agony. "Please…" he whispered.
"You dare defy me again?" Palpatine yelled, slamming the crowbar down hard enough to force the boy’s shattered skull into squishing and breaking further.
The child sobbed through the blood and tears streaming down his face. "Please…" he pleaded quietly once more.
"And you dare plead!" Palpatine whipped a knife out, and before the boy could react, it stabbed into his left eye, making him scream in pain as he struggled to jerk away. Infuriated by what he surely saw as the "slave’s" insolence, the Emperor brutally twisted the blade. Blood gushed out of the boy’s left eye, as his right pleaded with Palpatine, with anything, with anyone, to stop the pain.
"Please…stop!" he wailed, trying impossibly to pull away, but unable to match Palpatine’s greater strength. In response, the knife was removed from the boy’s eye, but instead of showing mercy, the Emperor stabbed it down once more, totally mutilating the boy’s left eye. After another twist, it was torn out once more.
The boy looked at Palpatine in terror – he knew what was coming next. "Please… no!" he gasped, tears streaming down his face. "Please don’t…" the child pleaded, fighting helplessly against the Emperor’s inflexible grip.
Palpatine smiled at him, but it held no warmth, only cruelty and hatred. "Don’t worry," he said mockingly. "I will."
Again, the knife flashed down, and the child’s scream, filled with terror and hopelessness, came before it hit. When it did, the screams and sobs continued, the tears came harder, and the boy’s body jerked with pain. He was shattering, breaking completely… Once more, the blade twisted, and the boy lost the strength to scream and lay helplessly sobbing before Palpatine.
"Pleasssssee stopp!" he begged.
The Emperor removed the knife, and laughing, he began to stroke the child’s face once more, making sure to fondle his ruined eyes. He ignored the boy’s helpless tears and weak resistance, and dug his nails into the blood-filled orbs. The boy’s cry meant nothing to him, and his body’s defenseless jerking meant even less.
"Don’t worry, slave," Palpatine whispered, caressing the child’s face almost gently. "I’ve not even started, and I will spare you no pain."
There came one final plead from an agonized child. "Please…"
The knife ripped across his face. "Be silent."
The only sound was the child’s helpless, pained crying.
Vader came out of his reverie with a start. To be blinded at such a young age, in such a terrorizing way…No wonder why he had broken, shattered completely. The poor boy…
But he was no longer a boy – or at least he shouldn’t have been. By now he should have been a man; he should have been capable of making his own decisions and living his own life – any life. But he had no life, and he had no choices. He didn’t even know how to make them.
Vader looked at him again, and saw what he really was. He was not the emotionless, unafraid or even controlled "slave" that Palpatine had forced him to become – he was a lost, frightened child who had no one to comfort him. How long had it been since he had known kindness? Could it have been since he was seven, with Owen and Beru Lars and a place to call home? How long had it been since he hadn’t known pain? Certainly, that had been so long.
Had anyone ever helped him?
No, Vader decided. No one probably ever had. And it was time that someone did. And I am the only one who can do it, so I must before it’s too late.
If it’s not already too late to heal him.
Vader stood. He knew who to turn to.