Chapter Text
Padme could barely believe her eyes. The Seperatist were sending a transmission… requesting that they sue for peace.
She watched it again.
The council described how Darth Sidious had come to them, seemingly with all the answers to their problems. With a way for them to get what they wanted free from the Republic.
They described becoming suspicious with how Sidious had seemed to know so much of Republic strategy. The rest of it Padme was fairly certain hadn’t happened.
They told about how they’d run facial and voice recognition of the one recording they had of Sidious against Sheev Palpatine, and how it had come in too high a percentage to be a coincidence.
They said they thought the Senate would not come to peace so long as Sidious was at its head, so they had sent Darth Vader to kill Sheev Palpatine.
Vader had failed, though he had wounded Palpatine enough that the Seperatists believed peace talks might be possible.
They requested that the Senate come up with things they needed for peace talks to go through, as the Seperatists had their own list. They also requested suggestions for a meeting place.
They said it was imperative that Darth Vader and his apprentice, Luke, come with them for protection, and in exchange the Republic could bring two Jedi.
Padme felt hopeful for the first time in a long time. Peace could finally be possible.
She wouldn’t be going, she knew that. Anakin wouldn’t let her go without him and he wouldn’t leave the children either and neither of them would bring the children into a war zone.
She figured though, with older Anakin and Luke there the delegates on both sides would be safe. And there were senators she could trust to work through this. It was her fight, still, and she would help all she could… but she didn’t have to do it all.
…---…
Vader liked his new prosthetics. He liked them a lot. In fact, the whole new suit was wonderful. It left most of his face uncovered and allowed for a much greater range of motion than the other one had. And it had a cape.
That’d been the one part of the other suit he had liked… a good cape or cloak, as the case may be, was important.
Vader liked being on the same side as Luke, fighting with him rather than against him. Vader hated diplomacy.
He hated having to stand imposingly in a corner for hours on end while people bickered and he couldn’t just take out his lightsaber and force them into doing what was obviously best.
Vader thought about it for a moment more anyways. But Luke wouldn’t like it. So he didn’t.
Vader had hoped that Obi-Wan would be there, but Anakin probably needed him, what with being a new father and all. Vader wished that he’d had a chance to be a new father, to hold his children when they were little. To see them. To be with them. To have been the one who loved them.
But he was not and because of the choices he made that will never be an option for him. He would never be a new father. He would never hold a baby and know that that baby is his. He would never hold his wife again.
Of all the punishments he’d received for joining the dark side, that was the worst. Worse than the lungs, than the missing limbs, than the burns, than the nightmares. Vader could see what he’d had, and he could see what he’d lost. What he’d never have.
What he’d done.
What he’d never do.
And for that, he bowed his head and let the discussions continue without his interference.
…---…
Yoda and Windu were the Jedi guards, and Luke wasn’t sure if they were the best possible choice or the worst possible choice. Sure, between the two of them they’d be able to defeat Luke and Vader, especially since Luke didn’t actually want to fight them. Luke thought Vader’s upgrades might make that harder, still though.
They’d agreed with his father’s plans, listened to him, talked to him. He’d saved them. He’d ripped out pieces of his own mind, pieces of his memories, to help them defeat Sidious. They’d saved his life, and then they’d put him in prison and placed a collar around his neck.
In his minds eye, Luke still saw the marks, so red against his father’s ghostly pale skin. Luke imagined that it didn’t take much to rub skin that fair, that thin, raw. Vader was one massive burn scar, the collar hadn’t been made to be gentle.
Luke knew, objectively, that Vader had done far worse to other people in the time he’d served the Empire. Still, it didn’t make him happy.
He did like Yoda though. Even if the troll was a bit to free with his stick.
…---…
Luke barely kept himself from laughing when one of the conditions the Seperatists insisted on was the removal of the chips from the clones. That story, if it was only a story, had been a stroke of genius on his father’s part.
Piece by piece, a deal was hammered out. A way riddled with holes and strange compromises, but also overflowing with hope. The war could end. There could be peace.
…---…
Vader accepted that the Jedi were stupid sometimes. All people were stupid sometimes. They’d put him in jail and saved his life.
Still- they owed him. It didn’t take long for him to convince them that it was really in their best interests to allow Anakin to remain a Jedi if he so desired.
He left the room feeling smug.
He wouldn’t kill the Jedi this time, for Luke, but he could certainly make them wish they were dead.
He smiled.
…---…
Ahsoka came almost the same day that the peace meetings had finally hammered out a treaty. She held the babies, Leia and then Luke, and smiled.
…---…
Obi-Wan gave Anakin the council’s sentencing. Because he’d broken the code so much, he would never be a Jedi Master.
That made something crumple inside of him, a dream falling apart. He calmed himself. Obi-Wan and Padme and Luke and Leia and Ahsoka were all safe. It hurt, still, but he was still… happy.
He was still a Jedi, the council couldn’t really get rid of him because he was one of the only two popular Jedi in the galaxy right now.
He was still a Jedi, and he wasn’t lying to anyone anymore. And everything was going to be alright.
…---…
This was a very odd sort of family dinner. Rex was there, as was Cody. Ahsoka was there, Anakin, Older Anakin, Luke, little Luke, Leia, and Padme.
A strange family to be sure, but still, a family.
“So,” Padme asked Luke, “The war is over. The clones are free. The chips are out. They’re being granted citizenship and pay for their years of service to the Republic. What’re you planning on doing now?”
Padme had a plan, Obi-Wan could tell, but she wouldn’t interfere too much if Luke had a plan too.
Luke hesitated for a moment, twirling his fork. “I want to see if there’s a way to get back to our reality.” He finally said, “I miss Leia. And Han, and Chewie and… I have a lot of friends there that I’d like to get back too.”
Older Anakin reached up a hand and gently squeezed Luke’s shoulder. “I daresay I could even join you,” he said, “I highly doubt that any of your friends would recognize me.”
They’d been working on getting his lungs, and the rest of him, in better shape, and though it was a long process he said he was feeling better. Obi-Wan wasn’t quite sure if he was lying or not. He certainly did look different than the armor clad giant that had stumbled into the council room all those months ago.
Padme seemed to be saddened by that, but she nodded. “While you’re figuring that out,” she said. “Is there anything else you’re planning in the meantime?”
Older Anakin and Luke glanced at each other. It was a slightly guilty you-get-to-tell-her sort of glance.
Older Anakin cleared his throat, which made a super weird sound through the vocoder, then spoke hesitantly. “Well,” he said, an excited smile replacing the guilty look on his face, “I’ve always wanted to free the slaves.”