Lost

Rating: PG

AN: This is… odd. I'm not really happy with it, but it was kinda an experiment—and that happens. I'm going to share it anyway. I'm trying to tell myself that I'm doing so because other people might enjoy it, but I think it's more likely that I just want to infuriate Deja.

This is a response to an LV Group Challenge. I really don't think I met the challenge requirement, but the challenge inspired it anyway. And for those of you unfamiliar, here is the Challenge:

Vader, MIA

Vader is missing in action. It's up to Luke to find him. Your story can be
set in any time period, and Luke's motives for going after Vader can be
anything from revenge to concern. The goal with this challenge is to come up
with a creative, yet believable, explanation for Vader's disappearance.

Now, On with the story!

oo

Luke was fidgeting.

He fidgeted when he was nervous. He also fidgeted when he was lying. Leia had no such problem. Schooling in the diplomatic corps on Alderaan and the Imperial Senate erased any "tells" she might have displayed (though Han claimed she had three). She leaned her chin against her hand and impassively watched her friend squirm, twitch, itch, bite his lip, and bite his nails. He was a wreck. No one else seemed to notice. They probably thought the Tatooine farmboy was just wound up because he got invited to a High Council meeting. Leia dug the toe of her combat boot into the floor and her cheek muscles tightened, as if the action would help her peer into the young commander's thoughts.

Now Luke was fiddling with the access panel on his right hand. She suppressed a sigh knowing that he was going to knock out the nerve sensors. Yep. She watched as he made a face and tried to readjust the settings to relieve the unsettling sensation of his hand being absent; which, it was. Luke gnawed at his bottom lip as he concentrated on the tiny components while hiding what he was doing under the table. Leia watched him for a few moments longer before turning her eyes back to the unshaven and exhausted looking Intelligence Field Agent who was currently relaying the peculiar information that he had recently come across in a small port disturbingly close to a certain location that Leia still shuddered to think of. Apparently, Luke held the same reservations, thus his numb hand. It was expected, however, that Luke be unsettled by any news from the Bespin region.

His face was still bruised and cut from his encounter there.

The Intel. Agent's account was confused and fragmented. He wasn't sure what he'd heard or what it meant, but by the look on Luke's face, he might. The agent recounted how he had gone to Vargnat to investigate the reports of Imperial activity there. It turned out that the "activity" was only one Imperial ship, however, it was the Imperial ship. It was Vader's flagship, and it wasn't going anywhere.

The agent had roamed the crowded streets of Vargant. He'd been able to gather that nearly the entire ship was on planet-leave. A skeleton crew remained on the Executor for upkeep maintenance and security measures. Why, exactly, the crew was on leave was less clear. Pretending to browse the same street vendors as two strolling officers, the agent had overheard bits of casual conversation ranging from the quality of the Executor's mess to the uncertainly of when they would be leaving Vargant. There seemed to be an air of anxiousness in their discussion, as if they weren't quite sure what needed to occur before they could leave. Well, that wasn't quite right: they were waiting for someone. Waiting for someone to return to the ship. When that person was going to return and what they were doing was what the officers did not know. The agent didn't know either. He didn't even know who the Executor was waiting for. But as Leia watched Luke fidget, a suspicion grew in her that her friend might know who was holding the Imperial flagship up.

And that made her fairly certain that she knew too.

Once the seed was planted it became fairly obvious. Who else would that behemoth of a ship wait for? And more importantly, if it wasn't him, then who would he ever wait for? No one. Thus, it had to be him.

So, the next question was: where is he?

oo

Luke was physically ill upon returning to his cramped quarters. And it was not pretty. Artoo twittered and attempted to help him clean up, but the well-meaning droid only managed to get it on his tracks and spread a trail behind him. It was nearly an adequate distraction, but the fumbling of the fingers on his numb right hand brought his concerns into clear focus. He had thought Vader bearing down on him with his Imperial Navy close behind to be intimidating enough, but he realized now that the public Vader was much preferred to the vanished-into-thin-air-Vader. At least before Hoth he'd always known where the enemy was: in the ships branded as Empire. Now, with the Executor berthed and Vader unaccounted for... he couldn't help but feel spiders crawling up his spine. Would he have felt this way if Bespin had never happened?

Luke drew a deep, shuttering breath and muttered, "I'm fine. I'm making a big deal out of nothing."

A knock at his door drew his eyes up. "Yeah?"

The door opened and Leia stuck her head into the room. She made a face. "Agh, Luke, what is that?"

Artoo squealed and rolled past her into the hallway. He left a wet trail in his wake.

Luke blushed. "Sorry, I need to air this place out."

"Were you sick?"

Luke just looked away.

Leia didn't approach him. She knew from experience that since Bespin he didn't like people close to him. He almost acted like an abused child. She couldn't fathom what Vader could have done to him to cause this type of reaction; but she wasn't surprised in the least.

He looked over his shoulder at her; his eyes were rimmed with red and he looked nothing less than pathetic. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well, being wracked with nightmares when he wasn't up pacing the corridors.

"Will it help to tell me?" she asked softly.

"I wouldn't know what to say."

Leia stayed in the doorway in hopes that her distance would make Luke more comfortable and thus talk to her. He wouldn't talk since Bespin; not about things that mattered anyway. She leaned against the threshold of the door and just watched Luke, who still had his back to her.

"I'm sorry."

Leia kept her voice impassive. "For what?"

"Han."

Leia felt ice run from her stomach to her heart and into her throat, but she still kept her voice trained. "What happened to Han was not your fault."

Luke looked at her again, his mouth was bent in a slight frown and his eyebrow was cocked; his expression clearly said that he thought the contrary. "Don't lie to me," he said. "And don't lie to yourself."

Leia opened her mouth to protest, but pulled her jaw shut again. She and Luke had already had fights about this: many fights. As stubborn as the princess was, and as much as she hated to see that defeated guilty look in her friend's eyes—she could not argue with him about Han again. He was right. Han was frozen in carbonite and in the hands of the vilest gangster in the galaxy—and it was because of him. But Leia still would not accept that "because of him" and "his fault" were one in the same. It wasn't Luke's fault that a psychotic Sith Lord was after him… was it?

"Luke…?"

His red-rimmed eyes rose to meet hers again.

"On…" Could she say it? Could she really ask him? "On… on Bespin…"

By the Force, could she really say this to him?

"Did he… do you know why he's been hunting you?"

Luke was watching her carefully now. She noticed the subtle shift as soon as she said "do you know," there was something new in those bloodshot eyes.

Something she'd never seen before.

And then it was gone.

"The Death Star, of course." His voice was flat, and a bit hard.

Her eyes narrowed and she took one step into the room. She planted her hands firmly on her hips. "Why are you lying to me, Luke?"

Leia swore the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. She watched as Luke's back muscles tensed and his fists clenched and he slowly turned to face her. Now there was no subtle shift, she could clearly see the fire in the azure eyes. Mentally she crossed her fingers and opened her mouth again.

"Why were you afraid during the debriefing?"

That did it.

"AFRAID? What makes you think I was afraid?"

Inside Leia was trembling, she'd never before seen her gentle and passive friend react like this; and though she showed nothing on her exterior she was starting to feel trepidation towards him. Something was very wrong.

"You were fidgeting. You knocked out the sensors in your hand."

"SO?"

"You came back and threw up all over your room."

Luke opened his mouth, but then shut it tightly. He was glowering at her now. She had to fight the urge to back up. This wasn't Luke.

"Please tell me. I want to help," she begged.

The fire died. Luke bit his bottom lip fiercely, drawing blood. "I can't. You'll… you'll hate me."

Leia watched him carefully for a moment. "Do you want to come with us when we go after Han?"

Luke looked up sharply. "You don't trust me."

The princess shook her head. "No. Never. But you have somewhere you'd rather go. Someone you'd rather be looking for."

Luke's eyes widened. "What are you saying?"

"Don't tell me you didn't think it during that meeting. Don't tell me that it didn't cross your mind."

Luke's eyes were wide, his jaw open. He shook his head. Denial.

"Luke, if he's not on that ship, he's not far from it. He's alone. He's probably distracted… I don't know what he did to you…"

"Nothing!"

"Luke, what he did to me haunts me every day… What he did to you haunts you every moment. I can see it in your eyes."

Luke shivered and turned away from her. He clenched his eyes shut against the reminder.

"Think of it, Luke, he's alone… he could be vulnerable—injured! You could kill him."

Kill him.

Luke felt something catch in his throat; he felt that he couldn't draw breath. He choked, then turned red-rimmed eyes to Leia. "Why are you saying this to me?"

"It's your right, Luke. Your right to make sure that he never hurts anyone again."

Luke let out a sob, and buried his face in his hands. He muttered something over and over into his fingers: "You think I'm like him."

Leia hesitated, and then moved forward to place a hand on his shoulder. He flinched and she drew her fingers back. "You're different," she whispered, almost to herself.

A pause.

"I know."

A breath.

"I want to help you, Luke."

Eyelids fluttered and settled shut.

"I can't kill him."

A light lingering touch again to his shoulder, and then Leia moved back towards the door. She looked back at him just before shutting the door behind her.

"Then he'll kill you," she said.

The door shut.

"I know," Luke whispered.

oo

Leia left without him when the sleep cycle ended. He couldn't blame her. He knew that he was a liability, even with his knowledge of Tatooine. He was dangerous. His friends didn't trust him. That manta played over in his head as he shoved his meager possessions into a small bag and trudged towards the landing bay to find a ship. The abandonment of his X-wing at Bespin hadn't exactly gone over well, and with his fairly obvious unstable state, the Alliance did not seem overly concerned with providing him with another battle-ready starship.

Luke shifted his bag on his shoulder as he surveyed the landing bay; perhaps he'd just commandeer one.

There was once a time that he'd feel shame for even thinking such a thing, but that was before this. Before him. When he was the innocent farmboy hero he had cared what people thought of him. He still remembered how his chest had burned with humiliation when rumors had flown after the destruction of the Death Star concerning the Princess' "reward" for such a feat.

By the Force, how he wished he'd been caught in the backlash of that explosion in the weeks that had followed Yavin IV. His throat still constricted just at the thought of it.

But now. Now it was unendurable. He didn't hear the whispers, but he knew they were there. He knew. The chuckles, the sneers. What could the big bad Sith Lord have possibly done to the farmboy to make him stop eating? And sleeping.

What could he have done to make him stop living?

Luke knew they were all waiting to find him hanging from some rafter, or on his bathroom floor bathed in his own life fluid.

He hated the whispers, and he hated them.

And the more he hated, the more he knew that he was becoming him.

oo

Luke hadn't thought. He hadn't thought when he knocked out the technician working on the ship he planned to "borrow." He hadn't thought when he blasted his way from the Rebel base despite warnings from his commanders and comrades. He hadn't thought when he set course for Vargant.

But he was thinking now. And all we has thinking was: what was I thinking?

The Super Star Destroyer Executor hung before him and dragged him mercilessly into her immense belly. He didn't even try to escape. He simply shut down the engines and waited for the tractor beam to set the ship down in the Imperial landing bay. Luke looked out upon hundreds of Stormtroopers assembled on the pristine deck. He couldn't help but wonder if the troopers sneered and snickered at him under their masks, as the rebels had done when his back was turned.

A single figure in an officer's uniform made his way across the landing bay towards the X-Wing. Luke watched his approach wearily, but opened the canopy of his ship. The young man sat and waited in his cockpit for the Imperials to set a boarding ladder against his ship. Soon he heard the Imperial officer climbing up.

"Commander Skaywalker," the man said as if Luke's appearance were of no consequence.

Luke glanced up at him curiously. The bars on his chest indicated that he was an admiral. "Just Skywalker."

The admiral arched an eyebrow at him but didn't comment further. "Lord Vader would like to know what you think you're doing."

Luke frowned. "You mean, he's here?"

The Imperial looked at the young man as if he were crazy. "Where else would he be?"

Luke's mind went completely numb then. He didn't register undoing his harness, climbing down after the admiral, or following the man to the lift. He stared unseeing throughout the long trip to the door of Lord Vader's quarters. Which he stood outside of with no comment as the admiral hit a call button. The door slid open and Luke stepped in with no complaint and sat in the chair that the admiral directed him to. He sat and stared at the wall.

"Is he well, Admiral Piett?"

Luke did blink then, and looked up into the impassive mask of his father.

"He did not expect you to be onboard, Milord."

Lord Vader tilted his head at his son. "Would you care to explain, Skywalker?"

Luke's blue eyes blinked and seemed to gain focus. His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and forced the words from his lips. "The Alliance scouts… they said you were missing."

"And you thought you'd save me?"

"I don't know," Luke whispered.

"Thank you, admiral," Vader said abruptly, and the man immediately took his leave.

The two sat in silence for some time before Luke spoke. "They lied to me. They told me you were gone so that I would leave. They… Leia told me I should find you. She wanted me to leave."

The Dark Lord then took the opportunity to study his wayward son. He saw the circles under his eyes, the gauntness of his features, and the emptiness in his eyes. "What have they done to you, child?"

Luke jerked his head up. His eyes were glossy, from fatigue or tears, Vader couldn't be sure. His lower lip trembled like that of a child.

"They made me like you."

Vader laid his hands out on his desk and sat stoically before his son. "When we last met I offered you a choice."

"You offered me an ultimatum," Luke murmured.

Vader paused. "Perhaps. If I offer again, what will your decision be?"

Luke sat staring at his artificial hand for several moments. "Is the offer the same as it was on Cloud City?"

"How do you remember it?"

"Join you or die."

"That was the Emperor's edict."

"And yours was?"

"Join me and we will rule as father and son. We will bring peace to the galaxy."

Weary blue eyes peered up through blonde lashes. "I bring peace to no one and I have a feeling the same is true for you."

Vader dropped the hand that he had unconsciously stretched towards his son. "What would you have me do, Luke?"

Luke smiled bitterly, all light and life gone from his eyes. "I will not join you. I'd like you to keep up your end of the offer."

Vader sat in silence, just looking at his son. He then asked, "If I had been missing… what did you plan to do?"

A small remote appeared in Luke's hand, as if he were a magician on a street in Mos Eisley. He toyed with it between his index finger and thumb for a moment before he rested his thumb on the engage switch.

Vader watched, unmoving. "So, it comes to this."

Luke looked at his father sadly. "Yes. I am sorry."

Vader nodded. "So am I."

A barely discernable beep sounded as Luke's thumb pressed down. In the landing bay a lonely X-Wing disintegrated in a ball of fire, igniting the fuel cell of the ships around it, and finally the massive cells of the Star Destroyer herself.

The Executor lit the skies of Vargant. A mighty funeral pyre for the last sons of Skywalker.