"Don't," he growled at the boy, free hand lifting before him in warning. "I will not hold back as I did on Bespin."
"You held back?" the boy asked dryly.
"I did not kill you."
His son smiled--actually smiled at that, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You should have. It was the only chance you were ever going to get."
Threat and counter-threat; the boy wouldn't be intimidated, he should have known that. He was too much like his father. More so now than ever.
Luke took his saber from his belt in a smooth motion, turning side-on to Vader. "Or didn't you realize...that you couldn't simply walk away. You'd have to finish what you started."
The boy edged forward, unlit saber low behind him, pushing for a response.
He will fight.
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Realization hammered into Vader--how much his son wanted this. That the boy would push until he achieved it. That he would take no less. That he was far, far beyond Vader's reach. Beyond his control.
That this was a genuine threat.
Because this was not the same boy he had faced on Bespin. Palpatine had invested long months destroying and reshaping as only he could, using every weapon in his arsenal, every duress, physical and mental, every betrayal without conscience or remorse...creating a Sith.
In his son's eyes Vader saw so much of himself, a shattered mirror of his own lost ideals, memories burning with fresh fire; the spiraling realization of failure, the loathing of one's own actions, the slow erosion of perspective and principles, confidence and composure crumbling. The realization of all this, every step led and fed by Palpatine, as only a Sith Master could.
This was someone possessed by Darkness. Tortured and twisted and honed in the heat of the flame, like a fine blade. Absolute power; no restraints.
For a second, the outrage at recognition of everything which Palpatine would have done to achieve this transformation burned through Vader, boiling his blood in a flare of protective fury to provoke alien emotions long-since buried. But it was tempered by something else. Something smothered this convoluted burst of paternal compassion almost as quickly as it had surfaced, the humanity of which was deeply unsettling. Something which he hadn't felt in a long time.
Fear.
Real fear, as Luke fingered the saber to a better grip, head tilted down though his eyes never left his father, blade-sharp focus summoned about glacial calm. It was a long time since Vader had faced a Jedi in his prime--longer still since he had dueled a Sith.
Palpatine chuckled, aware of the play of Vader's emotions. "You hesitate, my friend. Perhaps the prospect of a fair fight is a little daunting?"
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Vader said to his son. "I will not hold back."
He was aware that the Emperor was backing up slightly, stepping clear of the field of combat.
"Neither will I," his son promised coolly, almost close enough to strike now.
The moment hung, tense anticipation stretching out to infinity...
"FIGHT!" Skywalker yelled, lunging forward in the same instant. Within a single step he'd brought his front foot down heavily to halt the feint--
But Vader had already reacted.
Driven to the edge of tense anticipation he called his lightsaber from his belt on instinct, activating it as he brought it about in a wide slash which would have cut his opponent open from stomach to spine had he come forward.
Remaining just beyond range Luke grinned, head tilting. "There is the father I know."
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To be continued...
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Chapter 24
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
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Luke's lightsaber ignited low behind him in a flare of crimson, the familiar power making the hilt jump in his hand as the low thrum of the blade reverberated through his arm into his chest. After long hours and hard days and grueling months of relentless training to the Emperor's uncompromising, exacting standards he felt incomplete without it, its obsessive study to the exclusion of all else his only lifeline here, his only escape.
He lunged forward, completely unafraid--either he would win or he would lose, kill or die, but one way or another, he would be freed of his father's shadow tonight...
No matter what the Emperor had ordered.
Lit by the unearthly sulphurous light of the sparking blades, Palpatine cackled his gratified contentment.
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Vader sidestepped Luke's obvious blow, designed to do nothing more than bring him within tested striking distance. Long experience cut in unbidden as he looked automatically for any weakness in his opponent; studied closely his movements as they circled warily, neither ready to give any advantage yet.
Then he stepped in for four fast blows, one to each side, one high and one low, all designed to be easily intercepted, each with a purpose. He noted from his movements that his son controlled a limp, that his back, shoulders and neck did not move as freely as they should, that he took the brunt of the saber blows with his right arm, the fingers of his other hand already strapped together. All Palpatine's handiwork, no doubt. He could see the fading scars lit by the scarlet glow of the blades, the healing wounds, old and fresh.
So many.
All this pain contained within finely focused Darkness. Still there, but contained. It didn't slow the boy; he simply didn't let it. Didn't listen--wouldn't listen. Stubborn, like his father.
They moved warily, Vader's uneasy reluctance holding him back, his son responding to this, no matter how unwillingly.
Some tiny doubt remained, deeply hidden, Vader realized, and it colored Luke's actions now no matter how well concealed--kept him at arm's length despite that first flush of aggression.
Recognition of Vader's insight drove Luke forward, angry at his own weakness, his own hesitancy. He lashed out a lightning-fast string of blows, a curtain of hard light the speed and precision of which left Vader staggering back, requiring all of his concentration to parry. He gave ground, but Luke didn't come forward, leaving Vader to realize that his own defenses had been tested, nothing in the boy's stance indicating his opinion or intention. The action had brought him subtly around though, so that he stood with the windows at his back, his face and eyes unreadable now, shadowed by the diffuse halo of subdued light from the city beyond.
Each had tested, had measured their opponent. The next blow would be genuine.
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Luke stepped forward, blade high, but when Vader brought his own blade up to parry, Luke's downward sweep was instantly halted as he rotated his hilt in the palm of his hand to swing in from the side instead, forcing another backstep from Vader in order to meet the unanticipated blow with any force. Already that feint was abandoned, the massive momentum from Vader's powerful defense giving Luke the impetus to push off and swing completely about, his blade whipping down low from the opposite direction, forcing a hasty retreat.
He pressed forward, twisting his blade over Vader's without releasing it, attempting to push it clear. With no effective force to counter, Vader stepped back again, pulling his saber free and to the side. Luke held back, too skilled now to step into the waiting blow as he would have on Bespin. Instead he stepped nimbly to the side, attempting to move around Vader's blade to gain the advantage by taking his own saber with rather than against the momentum, stealing power from any possible attack and forcing Vader back another step, Luke's blade effectively inside his defense.
He attacked with cold precision, incredibly fast, each blow providing momentum for the next, forcing Vader to retreat defensively, knowing the wall was almost at his back with no chance to break the flow, only withstand it--
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His son's eyes flicked behind Vader for a fraction of a second, but it was an instant, a moment lost, a split-second too far on the backswing--and Vader stepped in, hooking the boy's blade, using strength against speed. The massive, heavy blow took Luke's balance, breaking his attack and slowing his blade just slightly, so that Vader could lock it with his own.