Anakin Skywalker stared up at the boy, no the man, that was peering down at his weakening father. The blonde boy was balancing precariously, leaning against the mass of black clothe and machinery. His breathing was fluctuating, though it was near impossible to tell, as the quick, but deep, breathes were almost completely lost in the panic of the people fleeing and the nearly enflamed ship that was slowly being consumed alive. The two men in the throat of the beast were the very few that remained still, ignoring the others' attempts to escape the blaze. The man on top of the pile of near-rubble crouched over it, as though his body would protect the dying one from the fumes that were sure to quickly devour them, should they not leave this death trap soon.
They were almost silent, murmuring various meaningful words to each other. It was obvious that, in time, they wouldn't actually recall the conversation that they had shared. No, they would remember their feelings. The love that bound them together would be remembered by both. They would remember the struggle to keep their morals quelled, while they still pursued the truth, and perhaps, the other. The boy wanted his father. The father wanted the son. It just had taken them far too long to realize it.
Now, when the father was just about to enter the world of the dead, they came together and exchange a final farewell. Both of their eyes, so similar in their blue, were beginning to threaten the spacecraft, ready to explode with liquid before they were blown apart. The boy's throat was evidently as dry as the home that they had once shared, just fifteen years apart. They had always been apart, never together, never in a time where a relationship was at all possible. Now, at the end, they were reunited for the final time, before the father moved onward and the son stayed put.
For one last time, the boy called to his father, but after getting no response, laid his father's head upon his escape route's ramp. He stared at the now-inanimate body, once, he imagined, so full of life. He unabashedly wanted to cry but was able to stop the tears, long enough to pull both himself and his father's corpse to safety. Once upon the ship, he didn't restrain himself.
He cried. He cried for the father he never knew. He cried for the soul of the man that had once been so good and so in love. He cried for the mother he never knew and now, would never know, even second-hand. He cried for the disfigured corpse and why his father had ever become like that. He cried for his sister, who would never accept her father.
Ultimately, he cried for himself. He cried for the boy who never knew his father, finally got him back and lost him once more.