https://archiveofourown.org/works/48214471/chapters/122366380
“Lady,” he said. “Please adjust the biometric controls in here so I can breathe.”
She complied immediately and he sat on the single chair in this room, removing the helmet and then unclipping the mask, to peel it off and set it aside.
“This is what I am now, Artoo,” he said, his voice sounding weak and feeble to his ears. Well. What was left of his ears. “What Obi-Wan did. No doubt you think I deserve it.”
The blue droid swivelled his camera slowly over him.
[By my assessment,] Artoo told him flatly [you should have died. Why didn’t you?]
Ever gentle and considerate, this droid.
“That…is a good question,” he answered, willing to think about it more in depth for the first time in years. “The Emperor got to me in time. Got me medical aid.”
Artoo gave a blat.
[That bag of poodu can’t raise anyone from the dead . Even if he got you medical care right away, you should not have survived.]
For the first time, Vader could detect a little doubt in the droid’s tone.
“What are you saying, Artoo?” he asked.
[I do not have a conclusion,] his old friend said. [I am merely pointing out facts based on what I can see. Your ship can verify.]