Darth Vader and Son

Summary: One-shots based on the brilliant drawings in Jeffrey Brown's book "Darth Vader and Son." Darth Vader raising a 4-year-old Luke, and dealing with all the perils that come with fatherhood in true Sith fashion.

Disclaimer: Still do not own anything.

Thank you to all the readers and reviewers! May the Force be with you all!

This chapter will combine 3 pages of Darth Vader and Son, with plenty of Star Wars quotes. Can you see them all? Much, much longer than the first chapter.


Chapter 2: Visit to Planet Dagobah, Dagobah System

"Are we there yet?"

Darth Vader was forced to thank whatever higher beings out there that his son had, mercifully, been distracted by the interior of his TIE fighter for the majority of the trip. Still, after the soft oohing and aahing had ceased, he'd known it would be inevitable that the 4-year-old would become impatient and fidgety.

"Not yet," Darth Vader sighed, meeting his son's eyes by one of the reflective panels near the controls. "Why not look out the viewport? You might see a satellite fly past."

With a delighted gasp, Luke silenced and stared up into space. Vader's heavily-modified TIE fighter held adequate life-support for both the Sith Lord and his son, who was provided with padded seat for comfort and an all-regulations-checked-and-double-checked-under-pain-of-subordinate's-death seatbelt. The boy's feet did not touch the ground, swinging idly as he hunted for satellites, but Darth Vader knew that when he started to grow, the cockpit would become even more confined. As it were, due to his immense height he was forced to crane his neck slightly, which he already knew would result in a terrible cramp afterwards.

I should commission a larger TIE fighter, Darth Vader thought seriously. A more Advanced version, with hyperdrive.

Luke gasped again as he saw a piece of space debris twice the size of the fighter tumble past. His hand reached out as if to touch its pock-marked surface.

And a deflector shield, Vader decided with a definite nod. His neck twinged at the movement.

They were approaching the planet when Luke, apparently bored with the lack of satellites, whined, "Why are we going, anyway?"

"I am going because I have sensed a place on this planet strong in the dark side," Darth Vader replied firmly. "You are going because the last time I left you alone you fooled the 501st into teaching you sabacc, of all games." And because all the troopers were too scared to watch Luke after Vader found out.

That had been a conversation the troopers were not going to forget in a very long time.

Luke slumped into the back of his chair with a groan. His father decided to ignore the mumbled, "You only found out 'cause I won all their credits."

"We're almost there," Vader reassured him, "tighten your seatbelt for the landing."

The boy grumbled, but obeyed instantly. Vader assessed the planet with his scanners and concluded that he would need all his concentration and flying expertise to navigate through such thick vegetation.

Minutes later, he knew he should've installed a more secure seatbelt, Dark Lord image be damned.


Luke had a very, very, very bad feeling about this planet.

And it was not just because his father – greatest pilot in the galaxy! – wasn't answering his cries even when he used the Force and the TIE fighter was stuck in a tree and he was dizzy and hungry and panicking and the buttons he was not at all allowed to touch beeped and flashed at him and there was a siren that made his ears ring and some hoses had come loose and were spraying him with hot air.

…Alright, maybe that contributed to the sick feeling too.

Scrambling with the seatbelt, Luke was thankful that the fighter had landed somewhat upside-down and enabled him to drop right onto the ingress/egress hatch. His father was sprawled beside it as well, lying right on top of the lever of the exit in a very uncomfortable position. Worried, he checked his father over for injury. No funny-looking limbs, breathing still steady, panel on his chest not going haywire – all was good. His helmet did have a bit of a crack on it, though…

Luke shook his head sadly; he knew he should have insisted on his father getting a better seatbelt too. His father's flimsy harness-thing had cleanly snapped on impact.

Fortunately, the emergency release button was still available.

As soon as it opened, Luke realised he had not thought it through enough.

SPLAT-SQUELCH

Their fighter happened to be stuck right above a quagmire.

Son of a bantha.

Panicking, Luke struggled, wriggled, and squirmed for all his might, but to no avail. The mud was thick, like syrup but worse, and was climbing up his thighs. No, it was not climbing, he was sinking!

Wheezing, he frantically reached for his father, who had landed thankfully within arm's length, and yanked at his cloak. The Sith Lord had landed and stuck on his side, and Luke quickly tugged him onto his back with a sudden burst of strength, finally remembering his quicksand lessons from Tatooine.

"Alright, alright," his voice was suddenly high-pitched; he cleared it, "um, arms spread to slow – um – oh! No struggling or it'll swallow you right up –"

Well. That explained why it was already up to his waist. He should've remembered that a bit sooner.

He instantly stilled, hardly daring to breathe. He could feel himself trembling, though, and gulped.

"Now what, now what? Look for something to grab on!" Luke remembered, twisting his head slowly.

There seemed to be solid land nearby, crawling with vegetation. But his arms were too short!

"Dad! Dad, wake up!" Luke yelled, prodding the continuingly unresponsive man.

The eerie stillness of the forest, inhabitants probably frightened out of their minds by the crash, added to his fear, and the smell made his eyes water. The fog that was everywhere shielded much from his view, but he could still make out the sprawling forest and looming trees, crisscrossing branches overladen with vines blocking out the sun. The air felt heavy and charged with something that felt cold and filled him with an unexplainable, instinctive dread. Something moved to his far-left.

He shivered. The steady hiss of his father's respirator comforted him like never before.

Tears welled in Luke's eyes in frustration and terror as he clenched his fingers tightly around his father's cape, caked by mud. A tiny sob escaped his chest before he could squish it down. It was hopeless to even – no! He rubbed angrily at his cheeks and straightened his back, because he was 4 years old now and he could take care of his father! Even in the stupid swamp!

There was no one around, and he could not grab hold of anything. He had to think. There was the idea of using his father's cape to hook around a protruding root two arms lengths in front of him, but he found he could not extract it from the mud and had no idea how to detach it. Tiny fingers scrabbled at the cape's edge where it met his father's neck, but could not find purchase against any latch or button.

He could use the lightsaber to cut it! But his father had threatened him with a million years grounding if he'd touched it without permission…but it was a life-threatening situation! Luke searched, but to his disappointment the laser sword was already buried in the mud.

Undaunted, he searched his belt pouches, which had always been filled with bits of string and scrap when he lived on Tatooine. He could create a lasso, and haul them out! Perfect!

The questing fingers met air. And a nutritional snack bar.

Right. His belt had been emptied before to be cleaned.

Horror set in. He renewed his struggles, sinking further into the mud with the effort of heaving. He wasn't strong enough to lift them both from the muck, he realised after futile minutes. Tears threatened to add to his already sweat-slick cheeks and his mouth quivered. They were both doomed.

Unless…

Didn't father say he was strong in the Force? He'd lifted pebbles and a cereal box before – and that unfortunate incident involving an inadvertent food fight – what would be so different?

Luke let out a puff of air from his cheeks, reddened from physical effort, and concentrated on that pleasant tingly feeling he'd had before. He sucked in a deep breath and unsteadily wiped his face with his sleeve, still somehow not muddied from the surrounding muck. C'mon, you can do it, he braced himself in his mind, and closed his eyes.

He reached deep inside of himself, into that well of power that shone bright and brilliant. For a moment, he felt calm and completely in control, his worries and fears swept aside like driftwood by a tranquil wave. C'mon, he repeated, opening his eyes and pulling.

At first, nothing happened. Luke did not despair, not yet, and spread his fingers wide over his father's control panel. They shook with effort; he could practically feel his father's deadweight dragging him further into the mud. Nonono – no thinking about dead of any kind! He blinked rapidly, refocussing, and tried again.

Slowly, painfully slowly, a slight rise in the black-clad body, maybe from an unseen disturbance in the mud, but then – movement!

A relieved, tired laugh rose past the lump in Luke's throat. Sluggishly, as if the swamp was unwilling a victim go, his father pulled out of the muck with a wet squelch. Still half-sobbing, half-laughing, Luke scowled in concentration, slowly moving his father's impossibly hovering body onto firm, solid land. He set him down as gently as possible, then immediately slumped in emotional exhaustion.

"Stang!" Luke gasped, confident his father wouldn't hear him say the not-allowed word.

Shaking his head, Luke smiled to himself. Like their puppet-strings were cut, his arms dropped down, tired from being held up for so long. Wait until his father heard about this! He was a hero! His chest puffed in pride and he began to raise his arms, ready to extract himself from the muck –

And they were stuck by the forearms. Of course.

"Stupid, slimy mud hole!" Luke shouted into the forest.

"Mud hole? Slimy?! My home this is!"

Starting as much as he was able, Luke twisted his head. On a rock, pointed ears twitching, was a small, green thing talking to him!

He gasped.

And screamed.


Darth Vader groaned, life support systems shuddering in sympathy as he regained consciousness. He was on his back, he realised. The bed was a bit harder than usual for the medical bay; he needed to talk to or choke someone later. Most likely the latter.

Gradually, his senses came back online.

"…and then dad used the Force and it felt tingly and then KABAM! The guy went flying over the table because he was mean and called him "Darth" and you're not 'posed to call adults by their first name!"

Hearing worked just fine. He smiled behind his mask; Luke must be chattering away at the medical droid or nurse, staying by his father's side as he healed. What had happened, though? His head throbbed…another bad report to the Emperor?

"…and everyone was really quiet afterwards, I think they thought he'd been rude too, don't you think, Master Yoda?"

What kind of nurse had a name like–

Wait.

Kriff.

Snap-hiss, his lightsaber was ignited before he even straightened to full height, dark side swirling around him in a malevolent tidal wave. He pushed aside the pain from standing too quickly, as well as almost slamming his head on the too-low ceiling, eyes zeroing in to the powerful Jedi sitting near his son.

Ignoring the boy's happily oblivious cry of, "Dad! You're awake!", Vader used the Force to pick him up and yank him until he was behind the Sith Lord's back, conveniently depositing the boy onto the vacated bed.

"Yoda," he rumbled, hate infusing his voice like vitriol, "you survived."

The former Grand Master had the nerve to nod pleasantly, pointed ears bobbing.

"Surprised, all Sith seem," Yoda agreed.

Vader's hands tightened around his lightsaber, readying for the duel that would be the epitome of testing his skills. The hovel was cramped; he had the disadvantage of height, but plenty objects to throw using the Force. Manoeuvrability was an issue that eliminated some lightsaber techniques, as was striking distance, but if he could get the seemingly unarmed Jedi into a corner – but no, the walls were round, of course. The dark side ran hot and quick in his veins, preparing itself by feasting on his endless store of pain and anger, festering deep inside his mind and nurtured through his suffering. It felt heady, the seductive darkness, power running through –

"Dad!" Luke chose the prime opportunity to interrupt. "Dad! Are you feeling better?"

"Not now, Luke," he hissed, removing a hand from the lightsaber's hilt to prevent Luke from impaling himself on the red blade in his haste to examine him.

The duel suddenly took on a much more urgent, anxious edge. His son needed to be out of range immediately. To his frustration, the dark side receded slightly, unable to be provoked into frenzy when faced with rapidly mounting concern.

Yoda had the gall to look amused. "Troubled for your health, Luke is. Told me of your many adventures together he has."

"Master Yoda is a Jedi, dad!" Luke exclaimed, looking worriedly between his father's lightsaber that cast an ominous red glow onto his faceplate and the passive-looking alien. "He saved me from the quick-mud-stuff by using the Force too!"

"Luke, go play outside," Darth Vader hissed, grabbing the back of his tunic and pushing him towards the opening to the outside. There wasn't even a door, just a skin of something to keep the draft out. He eyed Yoda warily, but despite his hatred he knew the Jedi had a weakness for children and would not attack Luke.

"It's raining!" Luke protested, scowling.

"Stay under a tree!"

"I'll get barbequed by lightning!"

"Outside, son!" Vader growled, placing enough Force-suggestion in his words to make Luke stumble.

"Not too far," Yoda cautioned, much to Vader's displeasure when Luke immediately paused to listen, "A place strong in the dark side there is."

Luke's brow furrowed and he began to protest, "But we were looking for –"

"Luke!" Vader snapped.

Drawing back, Luke gave his father a wounded look before running out. Vader ignored the twinge of guilt that instantly needled him and turned back to the most dangerous, powerful enemy he'd ever encountered.


It was not fair.

Stupid planet. Stupid swamp. Stupid rain.

Luke splashed in a puddle, determinedly ignoring the crashes, smashes, tumbling, deep-voiced snarling and the hums of his father's lightsaber behind him. His father hadn't even looked at him after he, Luke, had saved his life for once!

Sigh.

And after Master Yoda had pulled Luke out of the swamp using the Force and helped (read: did everything) Luke to carry his father to his…house?

Hut?

Hollowed out tree root with mud furnishings?

Anyway, they were guests! And father drew his lightsaber on him! At least Luke had been polite, kinda, once he'd settled his father on the far too small bed, cleaned them both up as much as possible and recovered his shaking nerves.

He'd been planning to sit by his father's side, as was his habit whenever his father was sick, when a wooden bowl was shoved into his face.

"Eat! Eat!" exclaimed the green-alien-wrinkled thing, beckoning him towards the small fire. Luke tentatively thought it was male.

"Thank you, mister," Luke said, accepting it because he'd just saved his life and surely they weren't strangers anymore? He groaned as the warmth from the fire hit his cheeks and the heat from the grey…lumpy mush seeped into his hands, and realised they had to introduce themselves to not be strangers. "I'm Luke Skywalker. This is my father, Darth Vader."

"Known your father since he was just older than you I have," the strangely-speaking alien revealed. "Master Yoda of the Jedi I am."

The two revelations almost caused Luke to drop his bowl. He floundered for words, garbling the start of his sentences in an attempt to speak a million questions at once. Yoda waited with patience, and secret amusement, as the younger Skywalker took a calming breath.

"Is that why you're so wrinkly?" Luke blurted out with wide-eyed honesty.

Yoda chuckled, "When nine hundred years old you reach, look as good you will not, hmm?"

Luke's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. "NINE HUNDRED?"

It was a surprise that his shout did not wake his father.

The Jedi Master proceeded to tell the boy that he was in exile on this planet Dagobah ("Why would you go here?! It's slimy! And I saw a giant slug with a million teeth!") because he was hiding from a very bad man ("Just like a holovid drama!") and needed time to rest those 900-year-old bones. He was a Jedi, another Force user, ("But dad said Jedi were dangerous!") and meant neither Luke nor his father any harm, as long as they didn't attack him ("Of course not! You saved us!") first. He was also one of the very few left alive.

It saddened Luke, wondering what it must feel like being all alone, especially on Dagobah. Sombrely, he asked how long Yoda had been living in exile.

"I'm 4 years old too," Luke exclaimed. "You must've been real lonely here for so long!"

"Lonely? No," Yoda disagreed with a shake of his head. "Always the past to keep me company. The creatures on the planet, and the Force. And now you and your father…Annoying though you may both be."

It was only the gently teasing tone that prevented Luke from responding with righteous indignation. Instead, he protested half-heartedly, "My dad is not annoying! He hasn't even woken up yet."

He received a "hmmm, hmmm" as a reply and the command to eat. Yoda scooped up another bowl from the side and began his meal, though smaller in portion than Luke's. Luke's stomach agreed with a rumble. He took the knobbly spoon, for once fitting well in his hand, and took a ravenous bite.

It was only through sheer force of will – and the memory of the last time he'd spat out food in his father's presence – that kept Luke from spitting the mouthful right onto the floor. He couldn't stop his instinctive exclamation of disgust, though.

"Bantha p–um…It's really nice, Master Yoda," Luke hastily fixed with a weak smile.

Yoda didn't seem ruffled, laughing and saying he did not mind. Acquired taste, whatever that meant.

Luke suddenly had an idea. He pulled out the nutritious snack bar from his belt pouch and offered the whole thing to Yoda with a serious expression. He probably hadn't tasted real food in four whole years! Luke could go hungry for a little while; he couldn't even imagine eating the same porridge-thing for even two days.

Yoda thanked him with a twinkle in his eye and took a little nibble.

It seemed it had been too long without real food, for Yoda immediately handed it back.

Poor Yoda, Luke thought mournfully, offering it back twice only to be rejected each time, must be too much flavour.

"How you get so big eating food of this kind?" Master Yoda demanded, shaking that strange cane he had accusingly while Luke took a bite of the bar.

Luke laughed and proceeded to describe his life on the Exactor, with his ample but strictly regulated food. Yoda then told him funny stories about when he used to teach younglings, who were Luke's age, at the Jedi temple. Luke, relaxing and less hungry, began telling him stories of living his father.

Who then proceeded to wake up halfway through a story and draw his lightsaber on their host.

Luke huffed, jumping into another puddle. Yelping when instead of being deceptively shallow the water swallowed him up to his knees, he scrambled away, fearing another repeat of the earlier quick-mud-swamp event. With a shiver, he swept his rain-soaked hair back in relief. He was soaked to the bone in water, still a strange feeling after being used to the sonic showers of Tatooine. At least most of the mud was off.

There was shouting – his father – and the sound of something heavy toppling to the ground – his father?! – from the hut. Luke told himself he didn't care and concentrated on playing in the rain. He splashed down the shallow depression near Yoda's hut, beginning to actually enjoy himself enough that he didn't notice when the commotion died down and there was more tightly-controlled shouting instead of lightsaber whooshing.

Luke had been wondering if the planet had womp rats as well when he sensed movement from behind him.

"Luke, you will become sick if you stay out in the rain like this," his father intoned with grave seriousness.

Suddenly miffed again, Luke shrugged and splashed his feet, not looking behind him.

There was a sigh.

Luke continued to splash even when he heard the rustling of cloth and the twin footfalls of his father as he stepped forward to join him in the water. Suddenly, he was weighted down by a heavy blackness across his vision. Blinking in confusion, Luke realised that his father had, bat-like, swept his cape around him with one arm to shield him from the rain. One gloved hand lay on his shoulder, solid and steady.

After a moment, Luke leaned into his father's leg with a contented breath.

No words were said for a long moment.

"Yoda has agreed to watch you," Vader suddenly broke the silence, "while I investigate the source of the dark side we came for."

Luke tilted his head curiously and asked, "Didn't you have a fight?"

Now that he looked closely, the crack on his helmet seemed bigger…and was that porridge on his father's chest plate?

Darth Vader tensed his hand that was not holding onto his son and replied, "We have reached a diplomatic accord."

Luke scowled; his father was using official words again. He smiled, though, when the cape and arm did not leave him when they returned to the hut.

Master Yoda was calmly sitting on the remains of his chair, eating.

Luke took one look around at the scorch marks and gasped, "Father!"

"I will be back shortly," Vader overrode his son's exasperation and departed with an unnecessary billowing of his cape.

As soon as his father left, Luke began to apologise to Yoda and nervously clean up the upended and scattered furniture. Parts of the wall, floor, and even ceiling were scored by lightsaber strikes. The Jedi did not even appear phased, waving him off the task, which caused Luke to wonder exactly what had happened and his already great respect for him grow.

Luke whirled around and asked in a rush, "CanyouteachmetheForce?!"

"Tell me, what is the Force?" Yoda countered without pause.

Stumped, Luke froze.

Yoda laughed pleasantly. "Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter." He gestured with his cane. "You must feel the Force around you. Here, between you, me, the tree, the mud, everywhere! Yes, even between the land and the ship in the tree."

Luke tried to take it in. "That doesn't make any sense…'

He yelped when Yoda's cane suddenly rapped his skull.

"Stubborn and hard is your head. Soften it we will!"

Looking horrified, Luke cried out, "I don't wanna soft head! It won't hold my brain an' my head's too small to stand on anyway!"

Yoda shook his head, "Size matters not. A small head means not small thoughts. Use the Force to calm your thoughts, you must. Show your father your skills, hmmm?"

Shoulders straightening, Luke's eyes sharpened with determination.


It had been a routine check; dark side, lingering Bpfasshi's energy, no need to delve deeper into the cave when he clearly sensed no living presence. Darth Vader was uneasy with leaving his son in the company of a Jedi, Yoda nevertheless, but without the TIE fighter to safely hide in, there was no other option except to leave him in the open and practically toss him into a giant slug's mouth. Had he brought the boy with him…who knew what the cloying dark side energies would've made him see?

But Darth Vader had had a reason to be hesitant.

"You told my son to stand on his head," Darth Vader deadpanned, "in order for it to soften?"

This was the wisest Jedi to ever live? The talk they had prior was suddenly cast into doubt.

"Mysterious are the ways of the Force," Yoda replied agreeably, smiling at Luke as he waved at them from where he was red-faced sprawled on the mud ground.

A growl, strangled by the voice synthesiser. "Did you just make him stand on his head for an hour because he was annoying you?!"

Not even a pause before, "Very mysterious."

There were reasons that Darth Vader did not leave his son with others.

The sabacc-playing troopers were beginning to look more appealing.

There was mostly silence between the Force users as they travelled back to the TIE fighter, filled in more than enough by Luke's chatter and constant exclamations of delight and horror over the wildlife.

"There's that giant slug I saw before! Dad, look at its billion teeth!"

"Luke, get away from that plant. That looks poisonous."

"Master Yoda! Master Yoda, is that a dragon?!"

"Young Skywalker, keep your hands away from its mouth you should."

"DAD! Can we –"

"No more pets. Remember how the last one turned out?"

Yoda seemed interested in that question, but with a glare from his father that was evident even with the mask, Luke did not elaborate and they continued without further strife.

Luke wouldn't admit it, but he clutched tightly at his father's leg when they passed the place where they almost suffocated in mud. A quiet brush of his father's mind against his reassured him, though, and he loosened his death-grip slightly. He watched in wide-eyed awe as between them, Sith and Jedi extracted the TIE fighter from the tree, tilted it the right way around, and settled it on solid ground.

All without Darth Vader making eye-contact with the other, a grand achivement. With a whoop, the small boy ran over to the TIE fighter, fear forgotten.

An awkward pause descended on the two remaining Force users.

"Strong is he in the Force," Yoda remarked. "Great destiny awaits him…Like his father Anakin before him."

Do not kill the Jedi in front of Luke, Vader barely remembered.

"We will no longer require your assistance from hencewith, Jedi," he snarled.

"Still much anger in you," Yoda sighed, sorrowful and berating all in one.

That small voice deep inside him, the one ruthlessly repressed under layers of agony and wrath, reacted to the familiar berating voice.

Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate…leads to…

"I am a Sith. Anger and hate are my weapons, ones you Jedi were too weak and afraid to wield."

Suffering.

"Hmm. Teach your son also to wield you will?"

Vader breathed.

Luke let out a peal of delighted laughter, discovering a dazed bat of some sort inside the cockpit. He turned and waved at the two who, unbeknownst to him, had been staring at him for an unknown period of time.

"Dad!" he shouted. "Dad, are we going yet?"

Darth Vader nodded and, satisfied, Luke turned back to occupy his remaining time with attempting to lure the bat-creature from the cockpit.

After debating with himself, and deciding that Luke would only ask later – damn and praise Beru for teaching him manners – Darth Vader turned to the knowingly smiling Yoda. With a twitch of his hand, an easily replaceable, unessential component of the TIE fighter flew towards him and landed by his feet.

"Take this for the repairs to your home, and appreciation for your efforts in saving my son's life," Vader's jaw muscles tightened before he forced out, "and my own as well…Master Yoda."

"Heh heh heh!" Yoda's eyes seemed to sparkle in sudden excitement. "Pulled you out of the swamp I did not!"

Before Darth Vader could overcome his bewilderment and demand answers, the Jedi Grand Master flipped into the trees and leapt away with age-defying agility. The piece of TIE fighter shot away, following.

"WOW!" Luke cried from the TIE fighter, starting forward as if to trace the Jedi's path with his eyes, but he was already gone. "Bye Master Yoda!'

Vader, rooted to the spot, blinked as the Jedi's Force signature was instantly swallowed by the forest. What did that mean? Surely Luke…?

He turned to his unassuming son, who was scrambling with delight over the hatch. He was suddenly aware that he had underestimated him; the Force sung with Luke's budding powers.

Perhaps it was time to begin his formal training? Yes, Vader thought of the Emperor, and his all-knowing, sickly yellow eyes, especially shielding. At least the basics, with no emphasis on the dark side…just yet. Determined, Vader decided to approach his son on the issue after they returned on-board the Exactor.

He paused again.

…How in the Force were they to enter the star destroyer when covered in swamp goo?

Later, back on the Exactor:

Entering his quarters, clean and reenergised, Darth Vader suddenly felt a shudder of trepidation run through him. He glanced around, examining the corners of the room and the transparisteel windows, which Luke had immediately on arrival set to display a forest landscape, the closest he could get to the flora of Dagobah. Irritated, Vader straightened, stretching out his awareness through the Force in malicious tendrils to search for the source of his unease –

"Yoda's pretty great, right Dad?" Luke happily chattered, tugging at his cape gently.

Distracted, Vader stared down at his son, who grinned unknowingly back at him. He gave him a slightly harder than normal pat on the shoulder.

"Uh, sure," he grudgingly admitted, sacrificing eloquence in order to concentrate on checking behind his desk.

Spies? Another amateur assassination attempt? No, no other Force signature around. Perhaps an electronic bug had somehow been snuck in during his absence. He turned around, facing away from Luke in an attempt to convey I am busy right now, go play.

"He's really powerful with the Force," Luke persisted, awe evident in his voice.

Leather gloves creaked as his hands tightened into fists. "I guess."

That feeling was getting stronger, perhaps he should investigate the refresher and –

"Even stronger in the Force than you, right?"

Ah. There it was.

Rage roiled in the centre of his chest, seething at the pint-sized green Jedi. How dare he plant doubts in his unfortunately suggestible son's mind! The old meddler was trying to turn Luke against him, using cheap parlour tricks to hide his manipulations, making the boy doubt his own father. Him and his infuriating questions. He could sense his son's worry at his rapidly darkening aura through the Force as well as his continuing silence.

Before the boy could voice his concern, Vader hissed out with forced nonchalance, "I don't know."

Luke hummed thoughtfully, scurrying to the rug that was still covered in his toys. His father remained staring out at the image of the forest, seething.

"But he's not the bestest pilot in the galaxy," Luke declared with certainty, rummaging around one of his toy chests.

Just the thought of the vertically challenged Jedi piloting was enough to soothe some of Vader's anger. Luke discarded some toys from the chest onto the ground without looking at them, intent on his search.

"No he is not," Vader agreed, pride recovering from the title his son had given him being defended.

"And he doesn't look like he could scare all the admirals and teni-uh-technicians and stuff into working extra hard."

You'd be surprised, Vader thought privately, but outwardly agreed. Luke let out a huff of frustration, shoving aside a Tauntaun plushie that had had its stuffing accidentally cut out a week before.

"And he's really small."

Vader smirked.

Luke's face twisted momentarily in what seemed like disgust as he continued, "And he doesn't cook as good as you."

Cook? Making him cereal didn't really count, but he agreed anyway.

Strange…a moment ago he was sure he was ready to choke some incompetent officer.

"I got it!" Luke shouted, holding aloft a fistful of – is that string? – from his toy box.

Confused, Darth Vader watched as his son shoved the knotted threads into his newly cleaned belt pockets, face determined. Before Vader could ask, Luke whirled around with a fierce expression in his eyes.

"Next time," Luke announced with a face almost too serious for Vader not to worry, "I'll be better prepared to save you!"

Darth Vader felt several breathing cycles hiss past. Luke continued to stare up at him, sharp gaze not wavering in the slightest. Finally, the Dark Lord gently placed one of his mechanical hands on top of the blond head.

"I'm sure you will, my son."


AN: Always carry string in your pocket, and remember: seatbelts save lives, everyone.

And dry cleaning bills.

Thank you for reading! Tell me what you think.

Next Time: Darth Sidious.

Some Time: That tour from last time, the pet Darth Vader mentioned, and officers tip-toeing.