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Chapter Text

Anakin starts awake, breath coming in frantic little gasps. He, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan have finally gotten a few days respite at the Jedi temple. Even Anakin can admit that they need the time away from the front lines. Recovering from their ordeal on Mortis is more than a simple process. He can't remember much of what happened during the last few hours of their ordeal, but he's heard Ahsoka screaming at night, crying through nightmares even he can't chase away.

And he's been having visions.

He's certain that he didn't have these particular ones on Mortis, yet just as certain that they're caused by whatever happened on that planet.

The first of them had flashed through his dreams the night they had returned to Coruscant. Anakin flips back through it as he slides over to sit on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

There is a boy, crosslegged, eyes closed. Anakin thinks that he must be thirteen or fourteen, not much older. His hair is long, tied back with some sort of cord.

He's dressed as a Jedi. Anakin feels a momentary confusion as to why he doesn't have the braid of a padawan – he's the right age – yet in the vision confusion slips away from his quickly. He observes, nothing more.

The boy is clearly supposed to be meditating. Yet his focus is poor. Anakin can feel the frustration pouring off of him in waves and wonders where his master is, why no one has corrected his practice. It is so easy to sense what should be done. But when Anakin reaches out to try, he meets a wall. It seems that this is simply a vision, nothing more. He is a passenger.

The boy's eyes flash open, annoyance plain in them. He slams a palm down on the floor, then breaths deeply, centers himself.

“I wish everything was as easy for me as it was for you and Luke, grandfather” he says, apparently to the empty air. Suddenly the vision starts to dissolve.

Anakin had woken with the feeling that this boy was someone important to him, someone to whom he desperately wanted to talk. But the vision had faded a little as he'd given reports to the council, talked to Rex about future deployments, even gotten a chance to truly train with Ahsoka. It's only tonight that he's really remembered about it. And only because of tonight's new vision.

The same boy as last time is hunched over the controls of a ship, hands tight on the console. He's wearing black this time, something close to the robes Anakin favors. Anakin thinks he must be about fifteen. He's panting.

There's panic in the air.

As Anakin edges closer – he doesn't know if the boy can sense him, if he's there in any tangible way – he smells blood before he sees it. The boy is drenched, the black of his robes stained darker where they're wet in great splotches. There's a lightsaber on the boy's hip, and a thin burn visible through a rent in the sleeve of his robes.

He looks as though he's about to cry.

Anakin can't stop himself from reaching out, trying to put one comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. Something terrible has happened, and this boy was at the center of it. Yet his hand simply passes through the boy, immaterial. It seems he can do nothing to ease this child's pain.

He steps back a little, takes a look around. Some sort of shuttle, if he judges rightly. The controls look a little unfamiliar, yet not absurdly so. Perhaps he is seeing something removed in either time or space. Yoda has hinted this is possible, yet never described the experience.

The boy stands, wrenching his hands away from the console. He makes his way over to what has to be the communication's station and thumbs the controls.

“Master, I've completed my mission.” It's a kind voice, Anakin thinks, but marred by whatever terrible thing has happened. The voice that comes back is melodious enough, yet it sends a shiver down Anakin's back.

“Good, good, Kylo. Now come to me to train. I am sending you the coordinates. I am anxious for your swift arrival.” Well at least Anakin knows his name now. Kylo. An odd name, yet he supposes the same might be said of his own. As the last strains of Kylo's master's voice fade from the cabin, Kylo sinks onto his knees, curled into a ball.

He's sobbing now.

Through the sobs, Anakin can make out a few scattered sentences. Kylo calls out again for his grandfather, asking his advice. He curses the same Luke he'd spoken of the last time Anakin had seen him, then dissolves into more pleas for his grandfather.

Anakin's heart feels a little like breaking. Whoever this child is, he hopes Kylo has a kind master, one who will treat him well and take care of him after whatever tragedy has happened. And he hopes Kylo finds his grandfather, can talk to him.

***

Anakin is musing over the captain they've just rescued the next time he has a vision of the dark haired boy. It's shocking this time, overwhelms him while he's awake. He's just wondering what Tarkin meant by telling him he'd speak favorably to Chancellor. He'd liked the man quite a lot, whatever concerns Ahsoka and Obi-Wan might have. Tarkin was refreshing after all the officers who simply accepted Jedi authority without question.

Yet his pleasant musing are cut short by a flash in front of his eyes. At first it looks like nothing more than a blur of motion, but it slowly resolves into the boy.

He spins in front of Anakin. His robes are different again this time, tight leggings overlaid with black full length robes, parted in the center. Anakin doesn't recognize their design, they look as though they are part of the uniform of some order. He supposes there used to be orders among the Jedi. Perhaps this boy lived many years ago. And there is no doubt the boy is a Jedi

The boy is in the center of what must be a sparring platform. Three men are creeping around the edges of the platform, clearly trying to break through his defenses. The boy is standing loosely at the center, watching them. As Anakin looks on, one of the attackers leaps forward, a blur of motion. Yet just as suddenly, he's flying backward. Anakin's certain that the boy hasn't used the Force. He's simply slammed his foot into the center of the attacker's chest, sending him spinning away.

The other two men seem to think that this is their opening, and rush in. One is dispatched with the same ease as the first, but the other puts up more of a fight. Fists dance, legs kick, and each man below is a flurry of action. Anakin can hear the dark haired boy, Kylo, start to laugh, a clear enjoyment evident in his mirth. He sounds so young, and Anakin judges he's only about two years older than when Anakin had last seen him.

Yet he's nothing like the sobbing boy, curled around himself on the floor of a shuttle to his master. He's lithe and free, confident in himself. As well he should be. The man goes flying, and Kylo lets out a whoop of delight, scrubbing one hand across his forehead. Yet even as he turns to step off of the platform, one of the two he'd dispatched with such ease earlier whips out a fist, lands a blow on Kylo's back.

The look in his eyes as he turns back sets Anakin's teeth on edge. It's pure fury. It's a look he knowns Ahsoka sometimes sees in his own eyes, that he has learned to pull himself back from. Kylo clearly has not. He slams a fist into the man's stomach, kicking at his knee. Almost as soon as the man crumples, Kylo sends another punch at his face, snapping his head around and making his nose gush blood.

“If you want to attack me with my back turned, you'll have to do a better job, Mazrim.” With another kick to the man's belly where he's curled on the floor clutching his nose, Kylo stalks out of the room. Anakin stares after. Kylo's master has some serious work cut out for him.

When he comes back to himself, he finds that he's slumped over on the bed in room, fallen from where he was sitting. This is not good. He can't keep on having visions in the middle of his waking life, visions that make him unable to stay upright.

He goes to find Yoda.

Yoda's sitting in the courtyard, watching the trees sway back and forth in the slight breeze. At first Anakin hesitates, thinking Yoda might be meditating, but the master calls out to him, and he comes up only a little hesitantly.

“Troubled, you are, young Skywalker?” Yoda asks.

“Yes, master. I've been having visions and I don't know what they mean.” Yoda's face doesn't change, but Anakin is sure he's caught the old Jedi's interest.

“Of people you know, they are?” Anakin gives a little shrug before replying. He's not sure.

“I don't think so, master. They're of a Jedi, a padawan, I think. Yet not from this time or place.” Yoda says nothing for a few moments.

“Altered, the fabric of time was when on Mortis you were. Seeing to the distant past or future you may be,” Yoda pauses, “worry, do not. If to another time, you see, nothing can you do.” He must see the frustration cross Anakin's face, for he continues. “concerned for this boy, you are?”

“Yes, master,” Anakin replies. He hasn't realized how worried up until now. “Something terrible has happened to him, and I'm not sure his master is helping him deal with it.”

“Trust, you must. If meant to be, it is, then be, it will.” And Yoda closes his eyes in meditation. “Think on this further, I will, but believe, I do, that shows you these vision, the Force does. Not to worry over, I am sure, yet learn from them, you should.”

“Thank you, master” Anakin gives a little bow, recognizing dismissal. If Yoda doesn't think he should be preoccupied with the visions, then he'll try not to be.

***

The next time Anakin sees the boy, Kylo, he's still reeling from what happened to the 501st on Umbara. He can't believe that a Jedi, a General, would have done something as evil as what Krell's done. Sacrificing clones simply to see them die, claiming Rex was trying to mutiny, it is against everything he's ever been taught.

He's in his room aboard the Resolute, his and Yularen's ship, trying to meditate, to calm himself and work through Krell's betrayal. He's almost sunk into that deep space where his mind expands, joining with the Force when, with a flash of light, he's seeing what seems like a briefing room on a different ship.

Kylo's there, older now, in his twenties. He's dressed head to toe in black robes, a lightsaber hanging on his belt. Through the slightly open door Anakin can see a man wearing what seems like modified clone armor, stark white without any subtle marks the differentiate him from his fellows. The future, then. Staring across the table at Kylo is a red haired man, young as well, if maybe not quite so young as Kylo. He's wearing a black uniform that reminds Anakin of those the Republic fleet wears.

As Anakin walks closer, he sees an unfamiliar symbol on the man's shoulder. It reminds him of the Republic's roundel, yet it's also dramatically different, as though it's somehow a distant cousin. The red haired man might be handsome, if he wasn't looking at Kylo as though Kylo was a bug he'd really like to squash under his heel.

“If you're quite done, Ren, then I think it's time I go run my ship.” Anakin can't miss the emphasis the man puts on “my,” nor the clear vitriol he feels. Yet he's also a little distracted by the last name. It sparks a hint of memory, maybe something he read about years ago in the archives.

“Let me remind you, Major, that this ship is under our joint control. If I say that planet is not the one, it is not. We will have to try again.” The anger is clear in Kylo's voice as well. Anakin sighs. It seems that Kylo's master has not really helped. Even he knows the slight irony of his worry for Kylo's temper. Yet he feels as though he cares about this boy he has never met and will never likely meet, lost somewhere in the future.

He's also a little uneasy. Clearly the Jedi are still part of the military, whenever this takes place. Yet so much must have changed to see these new symbols, new troopers. As Kylo speaks, a blank look crosses the red haired man's face.

“Of course, Ren. I'd hate to think we weren't able to cooperate on something as simple as finding a planet for a base.” The sarcasm is clear in the man's voice, yet his eyes are cold as he sweeps out of the room, picking up a heavy greatcoat on his way out and swinging it across his slim shoulders. Anakin feels a flash of gratitude for his and Yularen's working relationship. The Admiral may think him absurd at times, foolhardy, yet he's never heard this clear dislike in the man's voice, this frustration.

He looks back at Kylo, who's staring after the man with an odd look on his face. It's one part frustration, one part anger, and one part something else. Envy maybe, or perhaps a tinge of desire for something the other man isn't giving him.

Anakin doesn't know, but whatever it is, it can't be good. Not with that man's snide smile and biting tongue. The Major reminds him a little of Tarkin, yet clearly Kylo and he don't see eye to eye as Tarkin and Anakin do, and being on the wrong side of Tarkin is something even Anakin doesn't really want to try.

Anakin comes to himself with a start. Kylo Ren, then. The second name sounds in his ears like a title, though he can't for the life of him think of why. That poor boy. He's even more concerned now. Kylo's master clearly hasn't guided him carefully enough, and with the sharp pain of Krell's betrayal still fresh, it's all Anakin can do to stop himself from pacing, terrified for a boy he has never really known.

If even Krell, an accomplished Jedi, a respected master, can fall to the dark, than what are the stresses of command doing to Kylo. With only that hard man to work with, with that cold distain, what defenses does Kylo have? He's so vulnerable.

Anakin hates feeling helpless. It reminds him too much of Tatooine, of growing up a slave, never able to make a choice. Never able to stop the men who slapped his mother, who stroked hands down her pretty face, never able to protect his friends from the cuff of passing strangers. And he's more than helpless here.

He breaths deeply. Yoda said this was something to learn from. Learn he will. He forces himself to sink back into meditation. If this is a lesson in being helpless, he'll try to take it the best that he can.

***

Ahsoka is away, leading a group of younglings on “the Gathering.” Anakin feels a surge of pride every time he thinks of her, though he tries to push it away in humility. She's grown so much, will make a valuable knight sometime soon. She's sure to make this a mission to be proud of as well.

He and Obi-Wan are planning a new mission, one to capture a vital piece of Separatist intelligence, and he's finally gotten a chance to spend some time with Padme. She's busy, of course, desperately trying to push a bill through the Senate that would give allocate relief funds to neutral planets. He's skeptical until she points out that the only way that the neutral systems will favor the Republic over the Separatists is if the Republic gives them something they want.

Then he's impressed.

There's little for him to do, though, so he spends some time in meditation, trying to think through his feeling about the war. He also spends quite a bit of time discussing strategy with Tarkin, who he's rapidly coming to think of as something of a friend.

He tries not to think of the visions. He's had a few more since seeing Kylo and the Major, but they've been only short flashes, Kylo striding down the corridors of a ship, standing on a bridge that looks much like that of the Resolute, yet larger again by half. Anakin only sees his back, a hood pulled up over his face. Another vision has Kylo bent over on his knees in what looks like a bedroom, crying once again. He's calling out for the grandfather that Anakin wonders about. Who was this man, that Kylo wants his advice and approval so desperately? And what happened, that he is not there to help? Anakin supposes he may just have died, yet it seems more than that.

He's sitting on the bed, resolutely not worrying over Kylo, when a familiar flash presses against the back of his eyelids.

They're on a planet again. It's the first thing that Anakin notices. There's a wide balcony in front of him, and through the half open door he can see Kylo standing on it, hands clenched on the railing. He slips through the opening before he notices the red haired Major standing next to Kylo. They're in the middle of a conversation.

“I do not see why you insist on conducting this mission without the aid of my troops.” The man's voice is cold, but Anakin catches a hint of concern in it.

“I don't need your troops, Hux. I'm perfectly capable on my own.” Kylo sounds frustrated, as though he's repeating himself. The man, Hux, crosses his arms in front of his chest, annoyance writ large.

“I don't doubt that, Kylo. Yet even you can see this would be better done with some sort of backup.” And they must be on better terms now, for Hux to be using Kylo's first name. Anakin smiles a little. It seems that at least some of his fears were groundless.

“Forgive me if I don't trust your methods. I still think clones would make a better army.” And Anakin nods a little at Kylo's comment. He doesn't know what they're arguing over, but his clone troops are the best men he can imagine. Hux, on the other hand, seems to disagree. He splutters a little, then, when he speaks, there is true anger in his voice.

“My troops are trained from childhood. They are far more innovative, more capable than clones can ever be.” He sounds personally offended. Kylo, on the other hand, is calmer than Anakin usually sees him when he responds.

“If the clones were good enough for my grandfather, they're good enough for us.” At this, Hux looks even more furious.

“Don't make me remind you again, Ren. I don't care about what was good enough for Anakin Skywalker, and neither should you. We will succeed where he and his clones, his troopers failed. We will succeed where Tarkin failed. Don't talk to me about them.” And Hux is almost yelling now. His face is more animated than Anakin has seen it. For a moment, he's so preoccupied with the man that he doesn't process what he's just said. When he does, he feels a little like he's been hit over the head with a heavy board. He's so startled that he almost misses Kylo's reaction. It's a fairly dramatic one, though.

“Don't call him that.” Kylo has slammed Hux against the railing of the balcony, eyes furious. “And don't speak of what you don't understand, General.” He slams Hux hard one more time into the railing, probably bruising the other man's back, than storms off, straight past the spot where Anakin is standing, staring in shock. The vision dissolves in on itself.

Anakin comes back to himself, panting hard. Kylo Ren, his grandson? He's the man who Kylo so desperately wants to talk to. He's the man whose approval Kylo so desperately craves.

He's going to have children. It comes to him in a flash. If he has a grandson, he must have a daughter or son. If he has a grandson who is a Jedi, who commands a ship with a man who is now a General, then things must work out between him and Padme. They must find a way to reconcile their different lives.

As quickly as that flash of delight comes, though, it's interrupted by another thought. Hux had mentioned something about him failing, about Tarkin failing at something. Anakin shrugs it off after a moment. How many of his victories could be seen as failures in a different light. It doesn't have to mean anything. And if Hux knows their names, thinks he can do what Tarkin and Anakin could not, he and Kylo must be doing something good for the galaxy.

It makes Anakin smile again. His grandson, working to make the world a better place.

***

Anakin locks himself in his room for three days after Ahsoka leaves. He refuses to see anyone, including Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had been on the council, hadn't stopped them from expelling her from the Jedi order. He can't trust himself around any of them right now.

So he locks himself away, waits to try to work through the pain and anger he feels.

And to ponder what he can do about the council. Ahsoka had said she didn't trust them anymore, and Anakin needs to figure out how he feels about them.

He doesn't blame the Chancellor or Tarkin – they were simply doing their jobs. He doesn't blame Padme for failing to defend Ahsoka. Anakin knows that if he hadn't found Baris in time, Tarkin would have convinced the jury of Ahsoka's guilt. Yet that's what Tarkin had been assigned to to. And Padme had nothing to work with except her belief in Ahsoka's innocence.

But the council should have known better.

So Anakin meditates, hoping to resolve his feelings.

He's only had momentary visions since finding out about his and Kylo's connection. He thinks it's probably for the best. The future will happen as it happens, and as much as he is delighted to think of his grandson, he's still terribly worried for him. Yet Yoda says he can do nothing to change what will happen. So the fleeting glances he gets of Kylo tinkering with his lightsaber at a desk, of him talking to a trooper in chrome armor, of him piloting a shuttle, those are enough.

Yet now he hopes for something to take his mind off of Ahsoka, sinks into the place that he's most easily accessed visions of Kylo in the past, the moment before his consciousness expands into the Force.

Kylo is standing on the same balcony Anakin has seen him on before. One arm is wrapped tightly around the waist of the man standing beside him. Anakin gives a start when he recognizes the General. It seems as though the two men have worked out their differences. He supposes he isn't one to point fingers, and it may be that the Jedi change their feelings about romantic attachments. Yet he's a little shocked. The two men haven't seemed to like each other in the past.

Yet the general is leaning his head against Kylo's shoulder as they look out across the snowy planet. There's been some sort of construction done since last Anakin saw this place, a base as big as a city rises around them. He moves closer to catch what they're saying.

“Do you have to go visit him?” Kylo is saying, looking a little disgruntled.

“Yes, Kylo. It's the anniversary of the academy's foundation, and this is important to him. It's also important to show the cadets a general or two.”

“But you don't even like your father,” Kylo protests.

“True,” and Hux's voice isn't any warmer than Anakin has heard it before, even as he presses closer to Kylo. “But the Commandant is an old man, and is an important part of my success.”

“But he's never helped you with anything. He doesn't even seem to care you're his son” Kylo sounds petulant, as though he doesn't understand Hux at all.

“Yes. And that's the best thing he's ever done for me.” And Anakin's heart breaks a little for this man he's never met, whose only value to him is what he seems to mean for Anakin's grandson. Suddenly, with a flash, he realizes where he's heard that name before. An aid of Tarkin's, some lieutenant even younger than Anakin. This must be his son, or even grandson. Brendol Hux. Funny. They've only met once, yet now that he's remembered, Anakin can see the clear resemblance, even if the Hux he knows has never had a face this calm, a voice this icy.

Kylo reaches over to brush a strand of hair into place where it's fallen across Hux's forehead.

“Alright then. But be careful.” Hux laughs, and as he speaks, the vision starts to dissolve. The last thing Anakin catches is his gleeful sneer that Kylo cannot possibly run the base without him.

When he comes back to himself, Anakin feels oddly more at peace. For the vision he just saw to come true, something must change. The council must change. The Jedi must solve some of the problems he sees every day. Somehow it must work out.

He opens the door. He can do this. He can go on without Ahsoka. He must, for Kylo believes in him, calls out to him and Anakin can't let him down.

***

The first time he sees Padme die in a dream, he wakes sweating. It's so different than his visions of Kylo. This feels like a warning, a promise of terrible things to come. He's sitting, panting, in her apartments. Up until now, the visions of her death have not been as clear, have been merely flashes.

As if the thought conjures up another sort of flash, the bright light of a vision sparks in front of his eyes.

Kylo's lying in the snow, blood staining the ground around him white. There's a slash across his face that looks as though it was made with a lightsaber. Anakin runs to him, then curses. There's nothing he can do here – he doesn't even exist in this time. He can feel frustration welling in him. First Padme, now this.

Yet even as he panics, heart racing, he hears someone crashing through the woods. It's only then that he notices the ground heaving, the trees crashing down around them. When he looks around, it's Hux, hat missing, collar open, running frantically towards them.

“Kylo, Kylo!” he calls, and Anakin's grandson's eyes flicker open, his mouth quirking into a little smile.

“Come to die with me?” He gasps out, as Hux falls to his knees in the snow next to him, apparently unconcerned about the blood he's getting on himself.

“Never, you stupid man. I'm going to save you.” And with that, Hux heaves Kylo up in his arms, staggers through the trees. Anakin sees where he's headed, a shuttle parked a little way away, a trooper beckoning to them from the open ramp. The ground trembles beneath them.

Anakin screams at Hux to run faster, knows the man cannot hear him. Yet Hux speeds up, terror stark across his usually impassive face. He's holding Kylo tight to him, surprising in his ability to lift the other man. Finally, finally, he makes it to the shuttle, and the door closes. The vision dissolves as the shuttle lifts off, flying away from this planet that's tearing itself apart.

Anakin is panting as he comes to himself. Kylo! Something horrible has (or will) happened again. He remembers Kylo's face in that shuttle as a child, painted in blood. Well at least this time he has someone to care for him.

The vision he's had of Padme comes back in a rush. If Padme dies, so do their children. And so does Kylo, wiped out of existence before he's ever had a chance to exist. His grandson, who loves Anakin, who has so much more of life to see, has someone who loves him. He looses them both, his wife and this boy who he's come to care about, even though they've never met.

He can't let them die.

Chapter Text

Vader doesn't think of what happened to Anakin Skywalker. That man is dead, washed away with the blood that had been scrubbed out of the Jedi temple on Coruscant when the Emperor had decided to take it for the palace. That man had trusted traitors, liars, and the very men who had ruined his life, had destroyed his body. That man had killed the woman he loved most in the world.

And killed a child who had never lived along with her, a son or daughter and a grandson whose face Vader never thinks of.

Until, that is, his past comes rushing up to meet him in the form of Ahsoka Tano. The moment he senses her on the rebel ship, feeling out through the void of space to probe at his mind, it comes flashing back to him. It's all Vader can do to continue to fire at the ship, anger and sadness pouring through him like a flood.

He takes as deep a breath as the suit will allow. He can use this, fuel his concentration with it. Somewhere, out there deep in space, he feels Ahsoka swoon.

He doesn't want to think about why she's on that rebel ship, why she hadn't found her way to his side the moment the treachery of the council was revealed all those years ago. She knew better than most how true the Emperor's version of events was, had seen the council for what it was even before the man that Vader does not like to remember he ever was had seen it.

Yet with her alive, he can not deny it. That man existed, with all his hopes, his dreams, his fears. He did not die that day when a man he though was his brother cut him down. No, he's alive, somewhere inside Vader, and it's all Vader can do to keep Anakin's rage and fear closely held enough that he does not tear apart the Devastator, shake it to pieces in the vault of space.

He retreats for days, meditating. Hoping. Vader reminds himself that hope is a vain thing, that it leads to nowhere but pain and the Light. There is only here, now, and the order that he can bring to the world.

He is a peacekeeper, after all.

And the war is over. He is a general no longer, has not been one for years. So he has fallen back on the age-old task of one who can wield the Force. He follows the will of the Emperor, cleanses the galaxy of the slavers, and the drug lords, and the smugglers. And it is usually enough.

Yet somehow, even after a week, he cannot seem to push out the questions that nag at him. And so, with no orders beyond rooting out dissent at his own discretion, weeding out the rebels from Lothal who have somehow found themselves time to create a little battle group, Vader decides to make a trip to Arkanis.

***

It's damper than he expected. That's the first thought Vader has when his shuttle lands at the Imperial Academy, and he almost chuckles to himself at the absurdity of it all. Coming to a planet he little cares about, to the flagship academy of the Empire, known to be exceeding all performance standards, on an inspection mission drummed up simply to satisfy Vader's own curiosity.

It's not as if Arkanis matters any more, he reminds himself. He'd seen to that personally at the end of the Clone Wars.

He feels his face twist the little that it still can behind the mask. Whatever value Arkanis holds for him is dead and gone, that future cut off when Kenobi stepped down from the ship on Mustafar. But Tarkin had little need of him right now, the rebels were lying low, and he had not been able to stop thinking about this one little piece of the future he can grab onto and see.

He sweeps down the long ramp of his shuttle, nodding to the officers who have lined up to greet him. At the end of the line of instructors, a man stands waiting, sharply dressed cadets arrayed behind him in straight, unwavering lines. His eyes are cool.

The first thing that Vader thinks is that Brendol Hux is not as handsome as his son will be. Then he reminds himself that that son may never exist. Then he wonders if, in another world, he and this man would have become friends. He thinks not. The chill in Commandant Hux's eyes is nothing compared to the ice Vader remembers seeing so long ago, but it's truer, deeper. Yet as he sweeps forward, the man gives him a little half nod.

“Lord Vader, welcome to Arkanis. I must say, your inspection was a little unexpected.” Hux's voice is cool as well, yet precisely courteous. Vader is beginning to think this has been a bad idea. Why pick at a wound he has left behind for a decade and a half?

“I was nearby. I have heard promising reports about your academy.” He's also heard reports from the inquisitors about another program on Arkanis, but he doesn't want to inspect that. He still finds the inquisitors as a group rather distasteful. All that fury and so little proper use of it. He'll leave their little program here alone unless he has to.

“I hope we can live up to your expectations. I can have someone give you a tour now, or would you rather see the quarters we've arranged?” And Vader almost sighs. It's as though they never read the reports.

“I shall be staying on my shuttle. I would relish a chance to talk to you, though, Commandant.” And Hux's eyes widen just the slightest bit, perhaps with worry, perhaps with something else. He's only a little easier to read than Vader remembers another red-haired Hux being.

“Very well. Let me show you to my study.” And they march off, cadets scattering in every direction.

***

Arkanis is entirely unsatisfying. Thinking back, Vader can't remember why he thought visiting there would be a good idea. He remembers a comment by a younger man named Hux, that his father had never cared for him.

He's not surprised. Hux senior is cold and unyielding, yet nakedly ambitious in a way his son never seemed to be. Vader can't wipe away the though of the younger man running through the snow, screaming for Kylo to wake up. This older man is nothing like that. He is almost relieved to go back to his station near Lothal, to meet up with Tarkin's ship for a conference. Wilhuff Tarkin is a man he understands, a man who has never betrayed him, a man who has nothing to do with a world that can never be.

***

Vader manages not to think about Anakin's hopes for years. In fact, it's only in the pain that threatens to wash him away after Tarkin dies that he thinks back to Anakin Skywalker.

It feels as though the rebels have ripped yet another part of him away. First his faith in the Jedi, then the padawan, then finally, they've killed the one friend remaining to Anakin, torn the last link between Vader and the man who had not died on Mustafar.

And he hadn't expected it to hurt this much. But it does. He's shared too many dreams, spent too much time with Tarkin for it not to matter. It's left him without the only person he trusts beyond the Emperor, the only one he knows has known everything and never betrayed him.

Even Kenobi's death does not make up for it.

And the pain is getting worse with every scrap of knowledge he can glean from the reports that are slowly trickling in on the rebel forces. Just minutes ago, a man walked in with yet another intelligence briefing, this one collected by ISB. And it's all Vader can do to stop himself from hurling the man from the room with the Force, slamming the life out of him. It's wasteful, and, he reminds himself, it isn't the young officer's fault that Yularen is dead as well, that this report will be the first one in years from ISB that Vader knows cannot have had Yularen's careful eyes run over it.

He scans it quickly, then turns back to the first page more carefully. There's a name on it, a name he hasn't seen in print for almost twenty years.

“The pilot who made the fatal attack run is believed to be Luke Skywalker, new addition to the rebel alliance and native of Tatooine. Intelligence suggests this is the same rebel implicated in the illegal actions that led to the release of Princess Leia Organa from Imperial custody.”

Vader's eyes blur and he feels his hand clenching. The door in front of him makes an ominous creak, then crumples. He cannot think, cannot feel. There is only a wave, expanding out from him, bulkheads screaming as they try to hold in place. An alarm somewhere far away starts to sound. He cannot breathe. The desk crumples to the floor, metal legs pooling on the ground, molten. A man runs through the door, and without a though Vader tosses him out, sees him slamming into the wall through the twisted empty door frame.

Yet the man is enough to break Vader's concentration, and he pulls back to himself, breathing steadily, the mask and suit quickly lowering his heart rate, his pulse. This is not the way.

He breaths deeply, releases the Force. He may have a son. The future may not be lost. Yet is a future without the only man he had left to him, a future with a son who has killed his only friend.

Hope is a strange thing.

***

Hope is indeed an odd thing. Vader hopes, those first few months after seeing Skywalker's name, that he will get another glimpse at the future which may still exist. Yet it does not come, and he slowly resigns himself to the fact that, even if it does somehow still exist, he is not to see it. It seems that part of Anakin did indeed die on Mustafar.

He's shocked, then, when a familiar flash dances in the back of his mind as he meditates after just loosing the rebels on Hoth. It's been almost three years since he learned of his son, and in all that time, he's not had a single vision. Yet now, his mind sparks and flashes as it did all those years ago.

Kylo Ren is immediately recognizable, standing on the bridge of that ship. Yet now that Vader has years more experience, he can see the subtle markings that show this is not a ship of the Republic. There are stormtroopers at the doors, white helmets more like those the Empire has designed than any a clone ever wore. The stark black uniforms are closer to the clean lines of the Empire than those worn during the Clone Wars. Even more tellingly, as Vader scans the personnel around them, he notices a name on a nearby major's armband, some part of the insignia. Tarkin.

So Kylo is part of the Empire. Vader feels a flash of pride, a little confusion. Yet Kylo is turning around, and he snaps his eyes back to his grandson, eager to catch a glimpse of his face after all these years. Vader's breath catches in his throat (a fleeting thought of how odd it is to be able to feel that, after all these years) as he sees into that dark hood. Kylo, and he is sure it is Kylo Ren, is entirely hidden by a dark mask, scarred and pitted as though it has seen years of use.

A man jumps quickly out of Kylo's way as he stalks out of the bridge, cloak flaring behind him. Vader turns quickly to follow, watching the bridge crew from the corner of his eye as Kylo and he pass by. They seem terrified of something, and with a start Vader realizes it's his grandson. He feels an odd rush of something, and it takes him a moment to identify pride. These men clearly think Kylo is a force to be reckoned with.

Kylo sends the stormtroopers he passes scurrying away, and Vader almost smirks. It's all too familiar, too much like when he walks through the corridors of the Executor. No wonder Kylo thinks so highly of him.

Vader has a fleeting thought that maybe Kylo cares too much because his own father disappoints him, but he pushes it away. He will turn Luke, will bring him to the Emperor. Kylo's presence on this ship, this very Imperial ship, has to be a sign.

The door slides open faster than any mechanical door should, a squeal of wrenching metal. Inside, a red-haired man is sitting at a desk covered in papers, one hand typing something on a datapad, the other clenched around a thin knife, spinning it absently through his fingers.

It's Hux.

Kylo's already at the edge of the desk, hands planted on it firmly, leaning over the general. So, Vader thinks to himself, this must be before...

“Hux!” Kylo's voice is tight. “You can't release my prisoners without my authorization!” Vader can hear the anger simmering below the surface. He's glad of Kylo's control. He seems to be channeling his emotions rather well.

“Can't I?” Hux's voice is a sneer. “He was doing us no good. By letting him escape, he may lead us to the resistance on Onderon.” Vader doesn't know what prisoner they're talking about, but it's a ploy he and Tarkin used many times, and it's a good one. A twinge runs through him at the thought of Tarkin. He finds himself missing the man at the oddest of times – talking to Piett, looking through reports on the second Death Star, interrupted while meditating in his chamber, and now here. Kylo is speaking again though, and Vader focuses back on the pair in front of him. He doesn't know how long he'll have here, and he wants to catch every moment.

“Fine. But he was my captive. We are in joint command on Finalizer. Thus, we make joint decisions.” Kylo's voice is almost petulant, but Vader is glad that he's recognized the sense in Hux's actions. This must be sometime after their argument about the troopers. Hux looks as though Kylo's words are actually physically painful, and the hand holding the knife stops spinning it, clenches tight.

“As much as I hate to admit it, you are correct. Empire only knows why the Supreme Leader has seen fit to inflict you upon me. Yet in the future, I will inform you of my decisions.” It's said grudgingly, yet honestly. Kylo seems to recognize that, and huffs out a breath of air, taking a step back from the desk. As he opens his mouth to speak again, the scene dissolves.

Vader comes back to himself with a feeling that's brighter and stronger than any he's had in years. He has not lost Kylo, has not destroyed that future. And he's proud, so proud that he feels as though he'll burst out of the suit, that the smile trying to stretch across his face will shine through the mast to terrify those around him. Kylo, real again, and part of the Empire. Kylo, real, and devoted to order, to justice, to passion. It is more than he hoped for.

***

The lieutenant looks a little uncomfortable as he stand in front of Vader. He's never reported personally to Vader before, and his face is drawn, concern evident in the flutter of his eyes around the room. Vader gestures for him to speak.

“You were correct, my lord. Commandant Hux did indeed have a child some years ago. A boy, I believe. Would you like me to send him a message?” The lieutenant's eyes are perplexed, as though he can't imagine the relevance of Vader's recent query. Vader himself only nods.

“No. That will be unnecessary. Leave me.” And so, that at least is still true. There's an odd pulse below Vader's ribcage.

Hope is an odd thing.

***

When Luke refuses to join him on Cloud City, Vader reminds himself that he knows more than Luke does, that he has seen his grandson. As he meditates that night, he sinks to the place he remembers, feels for the flashes that used to come so frequently to Anakin. They've only come once to him, but he thinks that this night, having been so close to Luke, they may come again.

They do.

Kylo is standing in a forest, pressed against a tree, alert and motionless. Vader gasps a little at the crackling saber he holds. It's odd, wrong somehow, the blade unfocused. When he sees the crossguard, he realizes what's wrong. The crystal must be cracked. Vader wonders why Kylo has chosen this crystal, or more likely, why it chose him. Then, without warning, a blaster bold whizzes through the air a food away from Kylo's face. He's out and running towards the source in an instant, saber held before him to block any other bolts, red light a glow on that dull black mask. Yet even as Kylo runs, a bolt sails out from behind them, and an assailant crumples out of a concealed hiding place, his chest a smoking ruin.

Kylo grinds to a halt, shoulders shrugging up in annoyance. He scans the woods around him, but sees nothing. Vader feels nothing there either, but he isn't even sure if he would in the vision. He can feel the Force, but only dimly, and he's certain he could do little more than raise a light breeze here.

Kylo cocks his head, as though listening, then snorts to himself.

“Last one, was that? Damn Hux and his stupid sniper rifle. That one was supposed to be mine.” There's no real annoyance in his voice though, and he stoops to pull a pair of tags from around the dead man's neck. Vader notes with interest the symbol on the man's jacket. The rebels. So he doesn't manage to make an end to them. He sighs a little. Well, at least Kylo and Hux seem to be making a good job of it.

He is satisfied.

Kylo turns to stomp off though the woods and Vader gathers himself to follow. His son may be a rebel, but this powerful, passionate man is true to the Empire, and he has always been the one Vader cared about.

A shuttle comes into view through the trees, Hux standing at the entrance flanked by three stormtroopers. As Kylo walks up the ramp the general's lips quirk in a little smile.

“You're not supposed to be part of ground operations,” Kylo snaps at the man.

“Who says I was?” Hux responds, careless tone in his cold voice.

“You shot that man. We don't have another sniper that good.”

“Did you see me do it?” Hux questions, and there's a tinge of amusement in his otherwise frigid voice.

“You were there, Hux, don't deny it.” And Kylo sounds almost angry, though more for Hux's evasions than about the kill itself. Vader draws a little closer to them. A look passes between them, or at least, across Hux's face and the set of Kylo's shoulders. Then they're making their way into the shuttle, tension almost forgotten. Vader can see the troopers all breathing a sigh of relief. It seems they are at least somewhat aware of the... charged... relationship of their co-commanders.

Hux leads the way to a middle cabin and the shuttle lifts off. As soon as the door closes, Kylo strips off his helmet, and Vader gets the first glimpse of his grandson that he's gotten in years. There is sweat streaking Kylo's face, a healing bruise high on one cheekbone. Otherwise, he looks just as Vader remembers him, odd and dark, yet expressive. Hux comes a little closer and smiles.

“I couldn't let you have all the fun, now could I?” And his voice is still ice, yet there's dark laughter underneath. The annoyance is still bright in Kylo's eyes though.

“Did we get anything out of this except for some dead resistance members and personal amusement for you?” The frustration leaking from Kylo's every pore is almost tangible. Hux seems unperturbed.

“An aid. We think he may have worked with Organa personally.”And Vader winces. Organa then. He wonders if it is the Princess herself or some child. He hopes a child. He intends to recapture the princess himself, to make her pay for Cloud City, for Tarkin's death. Yet his slight flinch is nothing compared to the flash of hatred through Kylo's eyes.

“Good. Give him to me and...” Kylo's voice trails off as the vision looses coherency.

Vader comes back to himself with a start. A broken red lightsaber? An odd choice, but what does he know of Kylo's path? What even does he know about Kylo's master? He thinks back to those earlier visions. Kylo had seemed a Jedi, then a frightened child dressed in black as deep as the night. It's an odd puzzle. Who has taught his grandson about the dark side? Clearly not solely Vader himself, or Kylo would not need to call out his name as desperately as he did in Vader's memory.

Something else tickles the back of his mind. Ren. Now why does he think that name sounds familiar? It has something to do with the dark side, with a half remembered bit of lore Anakin Skywalker learned years ago.

Just as he's about to set to worry the problem until he teases the strands apart, an alert comes through. The Emperor has summoned him.

***

As Anakin stares up into Luke's eyes, he smiles a little. His son, real, and kneeling before him, tears clouding those eyes that are so much like Padme's. He can see it now, see it without the veil that Palpatine cast over him for so many years. Luke and Leia, his son and his daughter. In all the hurt that he has left after him, in all he has done to destroy the very thing he desperately wanted to protect, at least he has left these two beautiful pieces of himself behind.

And Kylo. Anakin's heart clenches. Kylo, who he's always loved more than any image of his children, who is still closer to his heart than Luke, than a daughter he has only seen a few times. Kylo, who was as important to save as Padme, and just as impossible. Kylo, who he has held onto tighter than any other piece of himself.

Kylo, who will make the same choices Anakin has made, and suffer the same. Kylo, lying in the snow with his blood pooling around him, Hux bowing panicked over him.

Anakin can't breath, his lungs unable to work. Luke is almost sobbing, holding tight to him. Anakin smiles a little, but he can't let go of the thought of Kylo, clinging to life in that icy forest. As he feels his life slip away from him, he find himself desperately wishing that Kylo can see the path back to the light, can make the choice he has just given his life to make.

Hope is an odd thing.

Chapter Text

It takes Luke a long time before he asks Anakin, asks his father, what happened. How a man Luke knows is so good, so totally devoted to Republic and the society it represented, could have fallen so far. The more he learns about Anakin – from Ben, from stories Leia remembers her father, Bael Organa that is, telling her, and from the few people he can find who remember the man, the more he wonders. Yet even though he can ask Anakin now, can simply call out to him and learn the truth, Luke has always been hesitant to do so.

As he learns more about the Force, he understands even less. The call of the Dark is sometimes stronger than he expects, yet never enough to tempt him. There is nothing, even his father's life, that could compel him to that. And so he's afraid that even if he asks Anakin, he still won't understand. He'll be left with a mystery that he can never unravel, a puzzle beyond his understanding.

And so it's five years after that perfect moment on above Endor, when Luke finally brings himself to ask. He doesn't think this is a conversation that he wants to have anywhere near the world he and Leia are trying to build for themselves. It's not a conversation for Han, for little Ben, even really for Leia. She's happy to hear about Anakin and Luke's infrequent conversations, but she had parents, and Luke knows they died in a flash of fiery light on Alderron. This is not her burden to bare.

So he takes an x-wing and heads out on the long journey to Tatooine. He's glad for R2's company on the way, but feels a little nervous, not only for the conversation he's going to have, but also for Tatooine itself. It seems like the right place to do this, the place he grew up, his father grew up, the place that formed both of them and ties them together. Yet it isn't a place Luke wants to revisit. He hasn't stepped on the planet since Owen and Beru died, since Ben joined with the Force.

Yet Ben, or as he's trying to remind himself, Obi-Wan, has been teaching him that the only way he can truly follow the path of the Light is to investigate these feelings and let them drop away. He cannot forget that he is afraid, that he does not want to return to this place, to a place where he was helpless and a child. But it is that very fear that he must accept and make it part of himself, yet realize that it is part of his attachment to Tatooine, to Owen and Beru, and he cannot let it rule him. And so he sets the course and lets R2 take them into hyperspace.

***

The desert is cold when Luke lands, dark and empty. It's winter. He sets them down near Ben's, Obi-Wan's, house, the only place that he still feels is his. Going inside, it doesn't seem to have changed, even after almost seven years. It's as though he and Ben have just left, stepped out to take the speeder to his uncle's farm.

R2 chirps happily as Luke powers up the generator, trundling his way over to a charging port. Luke himself pulls out the carefully packed travel rations and water in the fighter's cargo compartment, makes sure to turn on the condenser so he doesn't have to leave to find water in the morning. He'll be here tonight, at least, can't bring himself to ask Anakin about this in the cold darkness. Tonight he'll rest, curling up with one of the books that still sits on Ben's walls.

He reads until his eyes start to blur, skipping over passages about people and politics three hundred years dead. He wonders if Leia has read books like these, searching for the secret of a strong new republic, for the magic formula that will prevent a new empire. He thinks she has. Leia knows so much more politics, nations, the play of the elite between the starts, that he feels as though he may never catch up. Obi-Wan has told him he doesn't have to, that his place is in founding the new Jedi order, yet Luke cannot shake the feeling that he needs to learn about this as well, that he cannot lead these new Jedi with only the knowledge of the Force.

And so he reads.

***

It's still bitingly cold when Luke gets up the next morning, the sun not yet risen. He manages to make himself a palatable breakfast out of the food he's brought, but thinks he will have to go in to town if he's to stay here any length of time. The survival rations taste like mud, and don't have a terribly different consistency.

After almost an hour of straightening and looking about the house, Luke finally realizes he's putting off the inevitable. He has no more excuses, no more reason to delay. He simply needs to do what he's here for, and accept it. He crosses to the living room, shakes out Obi-Wan's dusty meditation cushion. It's only a little worse for wear after seven years, and it's surely better than the hard floor. With a sigh, he closes his eyes, sinks deep within himself. The waves of the Force wash over him, swirling motes of energy dancing around the universe. Into that sandstorm of color and movement, Luke lets his thoughts drift weightlessly. He reaches outward.

“Father? Anakin?” He opens his eyes. There, in front of him, slightly translucent and shining, is a young man, dark hair flopping across his forehead. Luke has yet to figure out what determines how Anakin appears to him. Sometimes it is as the man he should have been, an older fatherly figure, lined face and strong eyes. Sometimes it is this young man, armor across his chest, back straight as a soldier's.

“Luke? You're troubled. I can feel it.” It is strange, these conversations with a dead man. But Anakin always seems to appreciate the talks.

“Yes. I have...” Luke hesitates, unsure how to ask. “I am confused, father. I have heard a lot from Obi-Wan and others about the man you were during the Clone Wars. I... don't understand,” he finishes lamely. Anakin gives a wry laugh.

“You don't understand how that man could have fallen to the dark side? You don't understand how he could have betrayed his closest friend, a man who was a brother to him?” Luke nods. He aches for the bitter sound in Anakin's voice, but he has to understand. Anakin smiles at him, crosses his legs to sit in front of Luke on the dusty floor.

“It's a long story, Luke, and I cannot tell you all of it. You know that Palpatine,” and Anakin winces at the name, “manipulated me my entire life. And that explains some of it. But not everything. I drove myself to the dark side, or perhaps the Force did so itself.”

Luke starts, not liking the sound of that. Anakin smiles at him, kinder now.

“I don't mean that the Force wanted the evil of the Empire. It is not a sentient being. Yet I was fated to restore balance, and while I destroyed so much to do that, I did do it in the end. So maybe the things that drove me to the Dark were also fated. They did all come to me through the Force.” Luke can feel the confusion showing on his face.

“Let me start at the beginning...” Luke listens intently as Anakin tells of visions, visions that predicted Anakin's own mother's death. The pain in his father's voice is clear, as he tells of the horror of being too late, of finding that he had ignored the warnings of the Force, and his mother was dying.

“We are taught as Jedi that we must avoid attachments. No one ever explained to me what to do about the attachments one already had. Frankly, Luke, I think the entire policy problematic. We are human creatures, and we form bonds with others, whether we want them or not. The Jedi of my day were no exception to that. Yet teaching that all attachment leads to the Dark side simply left people like myself without any way to deal with those attachments. I was not the only Jedi to fall in the hundred years leading to the Clone Wars, simply one of the highest placed.”

“Then your attachments themselves weren't what led you to the Dark side?” Anakin grimaces, shakes his head.

“No. I've long ago realized that Palpatine sent me the visions of my mother and later ones of Padme, in order to tempt me to his cause. He needn't have tried. I did fall because of visions through the Force, but not ones he gave. During the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan, my padawan Ahsoka, and I found a place that was a conduit of the living force. Inside, something happened. I don't know exactly what, but Obi-Wan believes that something was knocked loose, some gateway opened in time that should have remained closed. In any case, after we returned to the temple, I began to have visions. Unlike those of my mother, these were of someone I had never met, a young boy.” Luke shifts on his cushion. Anakin's voice has become drawn, tight. Yet he continues.

“I saw him numerous times over the next few years. It was only after I had grown to care about him deeply that I found out who he was... is.” The correction comes after a pause, and Luke starts. Anakin looks troubled.

“Go on,” he urges. He needs to know this.

“I am... not sure I should tell you this. History has been altered enough by these visions already. Yet what will be, must be.” He sighs. “Go get a cup of tea, Luke. You will want it.” Luke rises, busies himself over the small stove. Anakin paces back and forth. Each time he appears as this young man, he seems to be bursting with energy, darting eyes and restless motions. Luke sometimes wonders how Obi-Wan was at that age. Was he the same, as full of life? He'd only known Ben as an old man, a hermit weathered by years of desert sun. He wishes he could have known them both, before things had gone so wrong. When he returns, though, Anakin sits down next to him, leaning forward, elbows on knees. His face is intent.

“Your sister has a child, does she not?” Luke nods. Ben is young, a dark haired child who promises to have his father's looks, if perhaps not Han's rakish charm. Luke is certain already that he will be strong in the force, perhaps as strong as Luke is himself. Yet he has not yet told Leia that, does not want her to worry about her son's future. If possible, Anakin's face grows graver, and there is a hint of something in his eyes, an old remembered hurt.

“I saw her son. It was only a ways after I had first started having the visions that I realized that I was seeing my grandson. Yet from the moment I first saw him, I cared about him, cared almost desperately. I've never felt that way about anyone except for Padme and Ahsoka. It was as though I needed to protect him, no matter the consequences. He was... everything I could hope for in a grandson, in a child. And while his life seemed hard at times, there were moments of absolute joy. And I started to want those moment to happen no matter what.”

Luke nods. He knows the pull of this sort of need to protect, the fear and worry that accompanies it, but only from the moments after he has already lost the one he cares about. He never knew how much Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen meant to him until after they were gone, nor had come close to understanding how important Obi-Wan was when he was taken away. Yet he can imagine how he would have felt if he had truly known his own feelings before they died. Anakin seems to gather himself.

“You have no idea how overjoyed I was when Padme told me she was pregnant. It was as though everything I hoped for was going to come about. The grandchild who I had already started to love seemed just out of reach, and I knew, or at least I though I knew, that everything I ever wanted was there for me, there right before my eyes. Palpatine,” and he winces at the name, “never knew about those visions. But he knew that I was terrified of losing Padme. And so he sent me visions in which she died giving birth. In them her child died as well.”

Luke feels himself tense. He's never heard this part of the story. Either Obi-Wan doesn't know, or he simply never told Luke, has not mentioned it in all their long hours of conversation since his death. Luke suspects the later. If Obi-Wan feels as though this is Anakin's story to tell, there is no power in the world that would make him reveal it to Luke. It is only recently, as he gets to know both Anakin and Obi-Wan better, that he has started to understand just how important his father was to Obi-Wan. Anakin sighs.

“I was frantic. I had had visions of my mother's death, and they had come about just as I had seen. I was certain that Padme would die, that the child I had come to love so much would never be born. It seemed to me that there would never be a chance for him to live the life I had dreamed of. And so, I became obsessed with finding the secret to healing death, to cheating it. Palpatine told me of a Sith who had learned the secret, slowly fed me more information that suggested that I could come to master it myself. By the time that he revealed himself to me and to the rest of the Jedi as the Sith Lord we had been searching for, I was at the breaking point. I could not let myself let my wife and the grandchild I loved so much die, not when I knew there was a way to save them, and so I accepted Palpatine as my new master.” Luke can feel his face twist, the sharp prickle of tears at his eyes.

“I suppose that what truly led me to fall is that I never understood what it means to love. I never saw that love must accept what happens no matter what. Padme died, not because of the visions I had, but because I was arrogant enough to think that if she didn't want to be with me, she should not be allowed to live. I was stupid enough that I believed she and Obi-Wan had conspired against me. Maybe I was blinded by fear, fear for her and for K...” Anakin stutters, “for Ben. But that doesn't excuse me. I didn't really understand until later, until I was on that ship with you and the Emperor. Love means you must sacrifice for those you care about.” He smiles at Luke. Luke, though, isn't really looking, his eyes unfocused.

“Thank you, father,” he finally manages. He's having a little trouble thinking about what to say. It's hard, this notion that Anakin had turned to the dark side, had become Vader, all in a desperate rush to save his own family. Luke can see how he himself might have fallen, had things gone just a little differently. And there's an odd feeling in him now when he thinks of Ben, little Ben at home with Leia. He pushes it away.

***

When Luke leaves Tatooine three days later, he knows his father better than ever. Anakin is different than he expected, quicker and sharper tempered, yet almost as knowledgeable about the Force as Obi-Wan. He's also funny than Luke thought, telling story after story of his and Obi-Wan's hijinks during the Clone Wars.

He hasn't talked about the Empire though, and Luke wonders if he ever will. There's an odd twist that comes over his face when they only touch on the topic, as though there's a bad taste in his mouth, one that he can't get rid of. He doesn't talk about Ben either, not after that first day. When Luke asks him about Leia's son, he simply says that to reveal anything will influence the future, and he doesn't think that is his place.

Luke is glad to be going home though. It is time to think of the future, of the Jedi temple Obi-Wan and Anakin have urged him to found, and not of the past. Anakin's mistakes are his own, and they are not Luke's.

***

As Ben grows, Luke tries to forget what Anakin told him on Tatooine. He tries not to look at his nephew and see the reason his father fell to the Dark side, the reason that Palpatine was able to rule the galaxy with an iron fist throughout his and Leia's childhoods. He tries not to remember that the galaxy burned in large part so that Ben could be born.

He reminds himself that it isn't Ben's fault, that it was Anakin's and Palpatine's. He reminds himself that Ben did not send Anakin the visions, that he did not want the Republic to fall in order that he live. But it is hard.

And it gets harder as Ben grows. He's a moody child. Luke sometimes thinks that it's because of the constant movement, never staying in one place as Leia follows the diplomatic winds of the nascent republic. But more often than not, he thinks it's simply Ben's nature. He's argumentative, volatile, loving one moment and explosive the next. Even with the meditation Luke starts to teach him at age five, he remains mercurial.

At nine, Leia sends him to live with Luke full time, to train at the temple. It becomes harder then, harder to look at his face and not think of the light in Anakin's eyes as he talked about Ben. Harder to forget that Luke's father destroyed thousands so that this child could live.

Sometimes, at the worst moments, Luke thinks of the fact that Anakin wanted to save Ben more than he ever cared about his own children. He remembers that Anakin had hardly mentioned saving him and Leia, only Ben and Padme. This, though, Luke can deal with. Envy is an emotion easily disposed of.

Dislike is not.

And it doesn't help that while Ben advances faster than Luke could have dreamed possible in his use of the Force, he never seems to care about the code that Luke tries to instill in his students, the Jedi order that Luke hopes to rebuild. His best student, his own nephew, and Ben couldn't be bothered about the most fundamental aspects of their work.

It's frustrating, to say the least.

Luke desperately hopes that Ben has never sensed that dislike, that frustration. He doesn't like to think that he treats Ben any differently than he would treat another similarly talented, yet undisciplined student.

He's not sure he can believe that, though.

***

The bodies are still warm as he runs through the temple, desperate to find if any younglings are still alive. Luke can feel his breath coming in choked gasps, yet he can't seem to find a way to calm himself. Three days ago, when Ben disappeared, he had been frantic, terrified that his nephew has been abducted, or worse.

Seeing him today, flanked by dark cloaked shapes, eyes blazing, fiery lightsaber flaring red in his hand, had been thousands of times worse. It was as though every fear that Luke had released, learned to live with, had come rushing back in a crashing tide. The shouted name, “Kylo” had only made it worse. The anger, the passion, the joy that passed over Ben's blood spattered face at that name was enough to make Luke want to retch.

When he finally makes it back to Leia, after all the bodies are buried, after all the temple is washed clean of the blood Ben has poured out, he doesn't know what to say. How can he explain that her son has followed Vader, has destroyed the new Jedi order just as Vader did almost forty years ago?

It is only the next day that he wonders at something he has not wanted to examine before. Did he cause this? Did his treatment of Ben, his fear, his inability to put aside Ben's role in Anakin's fall contribute to this? It is terrifying to consider.

He doesn't want to believe it.

The more he comes to think about it, though, the more he realizes that while Ben's choices are his own, Luke cannot absolve himself of blame, cannot forget that he himself could not let go of what Anakin told him all those years ago.

He leaves the day he accepts it.