"Were you...serving the Emperor when I was born?"
Again his voice was quiet, betraying none of the emotion which Vader could so clearly read in the Force. The desperate desire to know, tempered by unsettled reluctance...and fear. Fear that this knowledge would pull him in and drag him down, take him where he did not wish to go, all twisted through with strictly-contained devastation, the wound still raw and bleeding.
"Yes." What more could he say.
The wave of remorse which burned through his son took Vader's breath away, though all Luke did in the moment was to nod very slowly, his back still to his father.
"I had..." Luke didn't say it, but then he didn't have to; hoped. He had hoped...for what?
That Anakin had been alive, however briefly, when he was born, Vader realized. Hoped that the man whose memory he had cherished all these years had still been alive. His real father.
The realization came over Vader quite slowly, but still held the strength to twist his stomach--
That Vader was not his father...Anakin Skywalker was.
And Vader had crushed that man--betrayed him, destroyed him. Had willingly sacrificed Anakin to gain the power Darth Vader now wielded without compunction.
"I did what I believed to be right," he said, voice a bass rumble.
His son turned just slightly, though he would not meet Vader's eyes. "And do you still?"
It was an offer of truce, he knew. Not understanding or acceptance--certainly not reconciliation. But an offer to try to find some middle ground from which to begin. Until now--until his son had actually said this--he had been unaware of how desperately he had wanted it. Now, spoken freely, it was like rain in the deep desert.
He wanted so very much to say yes, to offer anything to maintain this. To say everything his son wanted to hear.
Instead, unwilling to lie, he skirted the question. "Why are you so sure that I am wrong?"
His son finally turned, blue eyes dull with dispirited defeat. "How can you even ask."
It was not a question, and he heard in Luke's voice the bitter, heartfelt recognition of the depth of the void between them.
"You will change," Vader said. "Come to a greater comprehension--of your place in the galaxy, your entitlement."
"As you did?" Luke asked bitterly.
"As I did," he acknowledged, unrepentant. "Understanding will come with time."
Luke shook his head. "I already understand you--that's what scares me most of all."
Vader took a half-step forward, angry that his son should feel this way--have been made to feel this way by the Jedi who had stolen him away, seeking only to control him. "You should not be afraid of what you are--you should be proud."
"Of what?" Luke spurned, genuinely dismissive.
Vader scowled, unable to begin to understand this rejection. "Your power--your abilities. Acknowledge what you are. "
"I don't know anymore..." his son whispered, backstepping to maintain the distance between them, desolate, hopelessly confused.
This was a good thing, Vader told himself--that the boy was beginning to question what the Jedi had told him he should be--this was his chance; their chance. Everything Vader wanted could be accomplished. And yet...something in him couldn't help but react to his son's plea.
"You are my son. You will always be that," he said at last, strong and steadfast.
"I'm lost." Luke lifted his eyes to his father in reluctant realization. "And you only wish to drag me further from the light."
"I drive you to true understanding."
"I understand," Luke said again. "I just can't agree."
"Then you do not understand. The Emperor will show you the truth--he will make you comprehend."
Luke lowered his head, for the first time conceding the concept of defeat, if only in part. "He will make me obey, perhaps."
Was it a monumental admission on his son's part, or a momentary slip? Perhaps he didn't know anymore. So much that he had once been sure of, so many of the truths he had built his life around, were turning to smoke and shadows here, under the emperor's carefully-constructed management.
Quite suddenly the boy lifted his head, the momentary glimpse of fragile doubt completely subdued. "But I'll never believe that Palpatine's right--I'll never believe he does anything more noble than advance his own conceited, self-serving ends. Nothing can make me do that--not him, not you. Nothing."
"You only--"
"No. I'll not do this again." His voice firmed. "I'll not cover the same ground over and over whilst you nurse your conscience or validate your reasons for my being here."
Vader was left to an uneasy silence, uncertain what to say against the piercing observation, not wishing to reduce this to another argument. The boy stared for long seconds, trying to hold his anger, though when he turned away his voice was disheartened and dismissive. "You should go--please leave."
Fired with frustration, Vader held his ground--he would not be spurned out of hand. "No. I will not walk away--I will not leave."
Luke didn't turn back. "You already did--twenty-two years ago."
"You were taken from me. I did not leave," Vader insisted forcibly.
"I wasn't talking physically," Luke parried, the wound cutting deep and he knew it, his sense and temperament changing rapidly now.
"I made my choices. I swore I wouldn't regret them."
"Then why are you here?" Luke murmured, another sharp observation cast out so casually, face completely composed.
"Losing you was never my choice."
"But bringing me here was."
One more blow landed with cold, cutting precision. Effortlessly, leaving Vader to contemplate whether the boy was learning too much at Palpatine's hand. "I have told you--I do not regret my choices."
.
Luke turned abruptly to search the inhuman mask which hid his father's eyes...but saw only his own reflection, dark and distorted. "I regret them," he whispered at last, wistful and heartfelt in that moment, knowing that he was utterly confusing Vader with these mercurial changes yet unable to stop himself, too tired and drawn to care.
"I had hoped..." He laughed briefly, no hint of amusement in it, leaving his expression unguarded, laced with defeated regret, aware of having shifted in a heartbeat from curt and dismissive to unconditionally open, all barriers dropped. "...foolish things--naïve, blind, reckless things. And every time you come back, some tiny part of me hopes all over again. Stupidly--because everything I've ever hoped, I've lost."
He looked away, unable to believe he had made this admission to his father--but he was exhausted, weary of playing the same games, each circling the other, intent always hidden. Something spurred him on to truth in this moment, aware that this had to be the final opportunity offered.
"Every time you come back, you remind me of that." He shook his head, haunted and defeated, resigned at last. "And I can't do it anymore."
He searched for some reaction from his father, some acknowledgement--anything at all. Something to let Luke see that he was viewed by his father as anything more than simply an opportunity to be used, as he had been to so many others.
"Do you really give a damn about me?" he asked at last, doubt reducing his words to an uncertain whisper.
"You are my son," Vader said, unsure what else to say.
Luke laughed again, that mirthless laugh, at his father's inability to say anything more. He looked to that death's-head mask, tried to see past it, to see the man within...perhaps he saw nothing because there was nothing left to see?
"Then don't come back," he said, the simple, sincere tone giving his request a solemn gravity.
.
Vader foundered at his son's words, aware that some far-reaching decision had been made, the weight of them dragging all hope from him in that moment, though he made no move to betray his unease, too proud to show weakness even now. His son held his eyes for long seconds before turning away and, unable to conceive of anything more to say which could bridge that gap, Vader turned in silence and stalked from the room.