Summary: After fixing Han Solo's, a fashion model, car, Luke ends up in New York City backstage at a Vader fashion show. Luke never expected to catch the eye of the world famous designer. Vader never expected to find out his son is alive.
AN: I do not own Star Wars.
AN 2: This first chapter is the very same that I wrote as a one-shot in my Between the Light and Shadow: Luke & Vader One-Shots. The story has been continued into a multi-chapter. It is seven chapters long, all of which is already written. I've been working on this story on and off for months now. This fic is a bit different from my other fics. It's a soft, domestic fic that focuses on the relationship of Luke and Vader. It isn't action packed or filled with suspense. Just a fluffy story about father and son.
Part One: Vader, Lord of Fashion
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Chapter One
The backstage was a hive activity. Assistants and stagehands buzzed around Darth Vader, but he was still. He stood tall, unmoving, his arms crossed. Like always he wore all black. His long dark blonde hair hung in loose waves and curls. He wore a frown, because annoyance, anger, and frustration always appeared to be Vader's permanent expression.
In mere moments his fall haute couture fashion line would be debuting down the runway. He should be happy or excited, perhaps nervous. But no, the world famous designer was internally fuming. The models were starting to line up as the start time to the show crept nearer. Vader looked along the line and noticed the still empty spot. Spot number 17.
Han Solo, Vader cursed to himself.
Vader had made and broken many model's careers. Solo had oddly come out as the most successful. Vader had met him on a New York City street corner trying sell cheap knock-off Vader purses. But there was something about the dirty swindler that Vader liked. A rogue-ish look that drew him in, and clearly that charm drew the world in as well. After appearing in several of Vader's runways and ad campaigns, the model started to book commercials and TV spots. Current rumors were he was being signed to a big movie deal.
However, the man was supposed to be here. Now. At Vader's show in spot number 17. The two still had a contract together. And Vader was a man not to be crossed with. For he was the best of the best. For the past nineteen years the Vader name was equivalent to high fashion.
No one knew where Vader came from, but from his first runway show he'd been a force to be reckoned with. He knew how to design. He could see a body regardless of size or shape and make a stunning outfit with all the right lines and curves. He was, however, a merciless designer. If one wanted a custom one-of-a-kind outfit, all he wanted from the client was their measurements and what type of event the outfit would be worn to. Everything else was Vader's decision.
From fabric choice, color, length, or patterns it was all Vader's choice. He was rarely a compromising man. You asked him for an outfit, you got an outfit. There was no changing it. You either accepted it or didn't. Those who had were his long-time repeat customers, had just come to accept his way of designing. You just had to put faith in him even if the outfit wasn't what you were expecting. It was almost like Vader had this sixth sense that extended beyond fashion. He could read the upcoming trends in fashion, and made it so his creations were always on the forefront in new ideas and trends.
Vader prided himself that he had only hit the worst-dressed list once. However, that wasn't his fault. He had designed a dress for a new up-and-coming young actress. She took his dress and let some other designer hack away at it. She showed up to the Oscars wearing some bastardized version of the dress and claimed it was a Vader.
Vader had his revenge. He got Artoo to hack into the actress's phone. It took a bit of digging before Artoo was able to get a video of the actress going off on some racist and homophobic rant. A simple leak to the media was all it took to drag her career down the drain. As for the designer, well once again Vader used Artoo's hacking skills. The designer would be coming out with a new high-end fashion line that heavily used a wonderful brocade fabric from Italy.
Vader secured a swatch of the fabric, sold the design to cheap knock-off factories in China, and then made sure the fabric made its way into the the low-end cheap ready-to-wear lines. By the time the designer's fashion-line debuted on the runway, the same high-end Italian fabric was seen all across Targets and Sears. Yes, Darth Vader was not a man to cross.
Vader glanced over at his personal assistant, Piett. The man had no sense for fashion, but he was an excellent assistant. Piett caught Vader's eye and shook his head. Still no word from Solo. Already the wheels were starting to turn in Vader's head if Solo didn't show up. First he would find out if that Hollywood deal was true, then he would do whatever was necessary to make sure Solo was kicked off the project.
"Sir!" Piett said snapping Vader out of his thoughts of revenge.
Vader looked pass the assistants, models, and stagehands. There swaggering in with an air of relaxed confidence was one Han Solo. In his wake was the large Russian man, Chewbacca, who was Solo's agent. Solo slowly made his way over, only causing Vader to grind his teeth. The insufferable man clearly either didn't care how late he was or he was just trying to anger Vader. Or both.
"Yo!" Solo said as he approached. "Sorry I'm late. My car broke down."
Why was Vader not surprised that Solo's piece-of-junk YT-1300 Corellian had broken down. It was the same car the man was living in and selling purses out of when Vader first met him. Why he still had the thing, Vader did not know.
"Get him in hair and makeup, now!" Vader snapped not in the mood to verbally spar with Solo.
Solo had the sense to let himself be led away. Chewbacca nodded at Vader as he moved to go follow his charge. As the Russian turned away that was when Vader saw him. A boy. Young. Fresh. He was glancing around at everything in wide-eyed wonder. He was covered in engine grease and Vader almost wondered if this was the mechanic that Solo had found to fix his car. Clearly the boy wasn't in the modeling business. He wore worn out old jeans and a faded red t-shirt. His blonde hair was long and shaggy . . . and yet . . .
Vader scowled at himself as he marched away. It was time to get the show started. A large TV screen was set up behind stage so Vader could watch as the models walked down the runway. Yet his attention kept being drawn back to that dirty kid. He spotted him milling around with Solo and Chewbacca.
The kid reminded Vader of himself. Young and starry eyed once. He also reminded him of someone else who was small with the same facial build. She had the same wonderful smile and eyes. Such thoughts caused Vader's heart to clench in pain. He snapped his attention back to the screen and the fashion show.
After the show ended, Vader dragged Solo into a corner.
"I know. I know!" Solo growled. "You can save the lecture, old man."
Vader pointed a finger at the modle. "Do not think for one second Solo your actions are excusable," he hissed.
"And I told ya, my car broke down."
"Get. A. New. Car," Vader said. "You can afford it. I think you can afford paying your mechanic as well. What did you do, bribe him?"
"What Luke?" Solo said with a smile. "He's a good kid! Look at how much fun he's having."
The two both glanced over at the wide-eyed youth as he talked shyly to a group of models. His cheeks were flushed with pink. There was such a fresh innocence to him.
"This is not a place for entertaining guests, Solo," Vader snapped a moment later. Then he turned and left.
"I thought this was exactly that! How many guests are you entertaining here today, Vader?" Han called out after the designer.
After the interviews with the press and small-talk with celebrities, Vader finally found himself home in his penthouse apartment. The skyline of New York city glowed through the windows. A whistle caught Vader's attention. Sitting on the couch was Artoo. He was a short African man only a few years older than Vader.
Artoo didn't speak. Couldn't. Instead he communicated in sign language as well as a combination of clicks and whistles. Sometimes he just took to texting.
"The show went fine," Vader mumbled as he made his way into the apartment. Another whistle from Artoo. "I'm angry because of that insufferable Han Solo, who showed up five minutes before the start."
"Oh, Master Vader you're home!" Vader's butler, Threepio, said. He was a tall pale man with blonde hair. He had a thing for wearing bright yellow. Said it was a happy color, which was odd considering how filled with anxiety and nerves the butler was. "I shall have dinner readied at once," Threepio stated as he tottered off towards the kitchen.
The three of them made up Vader's odd little family. They both knew Vader from before he was Vader. When he went by a different name. When he had a different life. One filled with friends and love . . . a wife . . . there was even going to be a child. Then he lost it all. The friends. The wife. The child. Now he just had Artoo and Threepio. And fashion to keep him busy.
As Vader walked sluggishly into his bedroom, he eyed the portrait of his late wife. She had been dazzling. A true fashion icon. And she wasn't even a model. She had been a politician. The old pain in Vader's heart flared up whenever he thought of her. Force, he missed her. How would his life had turned out of if she had lived? Had their child lived?
The image of the boy from the show popped into Vader's head. His goofy smile and bright blue eyes. Vader scowled. Why was he thinking of that kid? But . . . he looked at the picture of his wife. What would their child look like? Would it have looked like that kid? Like Vader had when he was young?
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Luke Skywalker was surprised when he was told that Darth Vader wanted to meet with him. He was just some kid from the country. He was supposed to be helping on his uncle's farm, but instead he had been helping in Fixer's Garage in Anchorhead when Han Solo had rolled up with his busted YT-1300 Corellian. Well one thing had led to another which had led to a being backstage at a high-end fancy fashion show.
And now that designer wanted to meet him.
He was nervous as he walked off the elevator into Vader Studios. A secretary met him.
"I'm Luke Skywalker," he said. "I was asked-"
But the secretary cut him off, "Yes, yes. Mr. Vader has been waiting for you. His assistant will be with you shortly."
Luke nodded and moved to sit on a nearby padded bench. The assistant didn't take long. He was an older man who led Luke through the design rooms. Designers sat hunched over at drafting tables or desks with laptops. There were racks of clothes everywhere. Bolts of rolled up fabric leaned against tables next to sewing machines. Large boards were everywhere with fashion sketches and photos of models or inspirational photos with swatches of fabric tacked up.
Luke felt really out of place. He knew nothing about fashion or clothes. He got a lot of his clothes at the thrift store or were gifts from his aunt. No one really cared much about clothes out in Anchorhead. He looked at what some of the designers were constructing on mannequins. They were amazing creations. Clothes that looked far too luxe and expensive for Luke. He had been amazed to hear from Han that the outfits worn at the fashion show started at $30,000. Luke simply could not imagine buying a single outfit for that much money.
He was led to the back of the studio and up a spiral staircase to a second level. This area was much more open. Not as much clutter, and there weren't any people. In fact there was only one person who stood near a table by a large window. Luke recognized him from the fashion show. Darth Vader. It was a name even Luke knew. Granted he only knew that Vader had to do with rich fashion like Gucci, Prada, Armani, Chanel, and Louis Vuitton. Names Luke had only heard of in movies or songs. He honestly would never be able to pick out anything from those designers. And yet here he was meeting the famous Darth Vader. He wondered how many girls or guys from his old high school would kill just to be standing here.
Vader stopped his work and looked over at Luke. It was Luke's first time being so close to the man. Luke could tell he was older than he looked. There was a certain age to his face that was still relatively wrinkle free. Luke was sure the millionaire, or maybe he was a billionaire, could afford some amazing skin care products as well as plastic surgery. Yet the man didn't look like he had ever had any work done to him. There was something natural about him. He also looked very serious and stern. He held himself rigidly. Made Luke think of old military veterans.
"Mr. Luke," the assistant said. Vader nodded and the assistant walked away.
"Tell me, Luke," Vader said. "How is it you came to know Han Solo?"
"Oh uh . . . his car broke down. I fixed it up for him," Luke answered shyly.
"And then what?" Vader said. "He just offered a ride into the city? To go backstage at my fashion show?"
Luke blushed. "Yeah something like that."
"You do not seem like the fashion type."
"Uh . . . no I'm not."
"Why agree to go to a fashion show?"
Luke shrugged. "Why not?"
One of Vader's eyebrows titled up. There was a very slight curve to his mouth, but nowhere near enough to call it a smile or even a smirk.
"Can I ask why you called me here?" Luke asked.
"You remind me of myself a bit," Vader replied. "When I was young I worked in a mechanic's shop. Even did some street racing."
Luke smiled largely at that. "Oh? I've done some racing myself. Not much. I've fixed up a Skyhopper. My friends and I like to go racing down Beggar's Canyon."
Vader paused. "Beggar's Canyon? As in . . . the road? Out of Mos Espa?"
Luke tilted his head. "You've heard of it?" He couldn't hide the surprise in his voice.
"I . . . I am familiar with the area," Vader said.
"Oh wow," Luke replied excitedly. "Really? That's where I'm from. I live a few miles out of Anchorhead."
Vader's sharp blue eyes narrowed at Luke. He was reexamining Luke. It was clear the wheels were turning inside the designer's brain, but Luke didn't know about what.
"Come here," Vader said as he waved over to a table that had some clothes laying on it. Luke walked over to it. "Take your shirt off," Vader ordered. Luke paused, but then did as instructed. Vader handed him a shirt. It was silky soft and dark green. Luke pulled it over his head. Vader walked around Luke like he was a prize cow up for auction. The designer pulled at the sides and started to pin the shirt tighter with bobby pins.
"Better," Vader mumbled.
"Uhhh?" Luke asked unable to form words.
"Better," Vader repeated louder. "Much better than those dirty mechanic clothes you walked in with."
Luke didn't doubt that. "Uh . . . sir? Why are you dressing me in clothes? Why am I here?"
"Ever considered modeling, Luke?" Vader asked.
"Me? No. No. I just work at my uncle's farm and do some part time at Fixer's Garage."
"Really? That is all you have ever thought about being? A farmer or a mechanic?"
"Not much else to be in Tatooine County," Luke said with a shrug. "Plus I thought models were tall and dashing. Like Han Solo."
Vader scoffed at the name. "Let me show you something boy," Vader said as he walked away. Luke followed. Vader led him over to a wall. On it was a large full-body photo of a woman. Luke recognized her from his New York state history class.
"That's Senator Amidala!" Luke said.
Vader nodded.
She was dressed in a stunning gown. The outer layer was a blue velvet while the inner dress looked like rippling flowing gold. The gold dress was high collared an elaborate black beaded necklace wrapped around her throat and draped down all the way to her chest.
"Did you . . . Did you design that outfit?" Luke asked.
A small laugh escaped Vader. Luke looked over to see him smiling.
"No," he said softly. "No, she was before my time as a designer."
Luke nodded. The senator had died tragically quite young at the end of the war twenty years ago. It was rumored she had been assassinated.
"But she was a leader in fashion. She was also small and petite. Size does not matter."
"Pfft," Luke said softly. "I mean no offense, sir, but . . . She is . . . amazing. Beautiful. I get the point you're trying to make. But to compare me to her . . . no offense but I'm just a simple farm boy. She's a goddess."
"A goddess? Yes she was," Vader said more to himself than to Luke. Luke wondered if perhaps Vader had known the senator. "But you do not recognize your own importance, Luke. You do not realize the power within yourself. You can be a force in fashion just as she was. I know this to be true."
"You know this?" Luke asked. "How?"
Vader smiled at him. "That is my power, young one. I know fashion."
Luke looked back over at the senator. Vader saw the same thing that was inside her inside of him? A simple boy? He tried to imagine himself as one of the models on the runway from the fashion show. He tried to imagined himself in Han's spot. It just seemed funny.
"I don't know," Luke said. "My uncle needs me on the farm . . ."
"Why is your uncle of importance?" Vader asked.
"Oh well he's my guardian. My parents died when I was born. My aunt and uncle raised me," Luke explained.
"I would think your guardians would want you to rise above your station," Vader said a bit coldly.
"I would just need some time to think about it," Luke said. "If you don't mind that is."
"I suppose that is fair," Vader said. He walked back over to his table and Luke followed behind. "What is your contact information?" Vader asked as he picked up his phone from the table. It felt so weird giving some famous guy his cell number. Luke listed his number to him. "Last name?" Vader asked.
"Oh, Skywalker." Vader eye's snapped up from his phone and zeroed in on Luke. Luke shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Skywalker," Luke repeated in case Vader hadn't heard him. "Luke Skywalker."
"What were your the names of your aunt and uncle?" Vader asked. The tone had suddenly shifted. Vader was very serious. He almost seemed dangerous. Luke was unsure if he should answer.
"Umm Owen and Beru Lars," Luke said.
" . . . Lars?"
"Do- do you know them?" Luke asked recalling Vader had said he did know the Tatooine County area. Though it would be kind of odd to know of the Lars family.
"As in Cliegg Lars?" Vader asked.
"Oh that was my grandfather," Luke said a bit relieved as clearly Vader did know the family. How, was a mystery.
"Grand- grandfather?" Vader choked the word out.
"Yeah, he married my grandmother, Shmi."
Vader's face had gone pale. "Your . . . your grandmother Shmi. Was your . . . was your father . . . Anakin? Anakin Skywalker?"
"Oh? Did you know him?" Luke asked.
Vader was quiet for a long time. Luke didn't know what to do. Should he leave? By the time Luke got the nerve to say something, Vader spoke up. His words were dark and angry.
"I would like to speak with your uncle, young Skywalker. Owen Lars and I need to have some words."