A/N: Uh, hey. Not gonna lie, I don't think I'll ever finish writing this story. But I also have like ten-ish chapters lurking in my files, all of which I wrote before the Force Awakens came out, I think. Or definitely before Rogue One. Suffice to say, it's been awhile. I guess I will try and post what I have, with some small edits. Looking back, this whole venture was silly, but at this point I'll do anything to procrastinate on my thesis.

But hey, guess who I chatted with about Star Wars? JJ Abrams. That was fun. Then I shook hands with Malala. Then I met up with JJ in a bar and we talked about Blade Runner and Fringe. Does this sound like something I dreamed? Yes. Did it happen? Yes. I have photos and video, people.

Anyway, here you go. I dunno when I'll post the rest, but y'all have been real patient so far.

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Chapter 1: Attack of the Death Star

"They're dead, Father."

The look on Luke's face was one of pure anguish. He was nineteen now, a man- but in many ways he was still a naive young boy. His innocence shone through his blue eyes now, even as it was slowly stripped away by this tragedy.

"Your aunt and uncle?"

Luke nodded, tears streaming down his face.

"We...we got some new droids the other day. An astromech and a protocol droid, to help around the farm. I was cleaning one of them-the astromech-when I accidentally activated a fragment of a message, a holo of a pretty girl. She needed help...something about Old Man Ben being her only hope. I...I took the restraining bolt off-I wanted the droid to be able to play the rest of the message. Only the droid wouldn't play it and I got called to dinner and the next morning, it was gone! It had run away, and it was my fault…"

Luke paused and took a great, shuddering breath, and Anakin rested a gloved hand comfortingly on his shoulder. Gathering himself, Luke continued his story.

"I went after it on the 'speeder. It managed to get pretty far into the Wastes for a little thing, I found it in a canyon not too far from Old Ben's place. Then there were Tuskens, and Ben saved me, and took me to his hut. He talked about a lot of things- crazy things. He said my real father had been a jedi, not a navigator on a spice freighter, and that he had been betrayed and killed. And I saw the real message the girl-the princess-left, that she was captured by the Imperials. She's pretty and all, and needed help. But I knew I couldn't get tangled up in that. I'm just a farmboy from Tatooine, I've never even left atmosphere, or flown a real ship before! I...I told Ben I couldn't help. So we started back to the farm on the 'speeder, and we saw the Jawa sandcrawler...it was burning. They were the same Jawas we'd bought the droids from, and they'd been slaughtered by Imperials. I guess they had been looking for the droids. And I knew where they would be going next..."

Anakin understood, and felt deeply guilty. Inadvertently, he had caused the boy he saw as his son terrible pain-his hunt for the princess's droids had swept up an innocent farming family and tore them apart. Curse overzealous Stormtroopers. Never mind that they had left no one to question, never mind that they had hurt innocents; they had hurt his son…

...wait.

How was that possible?

Luke, as much as he loved the boy, was a part of his imagination...the son he dreamed of to take the place of the child he never ended up having. How was it that reality was now intruding upon a part of his mind that it had never dared touch before?

"But...that's real."

Anakin couldn't help the stumbling words. Luke looked at him in confusion, which slowly morphed into anger.

"Of course it's real! I lived it! I'm living it…"

The rage faded, leaving more tears in its wake.

"You're the one that's not real, Father. Or not-Father. I don't know. At least...at least you can't die, like my real father, like my aunt and uncle. You're a part of my imagination."

Luke looked at him, teary blue eyes filled with something like weary resignation. But Anakin could only look back in horror.

"Luke...you're a figment of my imagination. The son I dream of. I...you're the one who's not real, no matter how much I wish you were. I'm going to wake up from this dream, and I'll be on my ship…"

Luke was shaking his head in denial, and fear and shock and the barest thread of desperate yearning rose in Anakin. Above them, the stars shook and screamed and fell. As always, Anakin swept the boy-his dream son-into his arms as the darkness came to claim them.

"You can't be real," they whispered, neither of them quite daring to reach out and grasp that thread of new hope.

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Hours later, Darth Vader was still attempting to shake off the vestiges of his latest dream when an aide was tremulously knocked at his door, bearing orders summoning him to the the observation room.

He swept past the trembling aide, barely even noticing the boy, let alone considering scolding him (or strangling him) for disturbing him. He merely snatched the datapad from the aide's hands and read the message: Tarkin was summoning him to the Grand Observation Room in order to witness further interrogation of Princess Leia. Carelessly, he tossed the datapad away, leaving the hapless aide to scramble for it. Vader followed Tarkin's summons without a thought, making his way to the wide-windowed room where the Moff liked to hold court. He walked the hallways in a daze, barely registering the members of the Death Star's crew that repeatedly threw themselves out of his way as he passed.

Could it be true? Could Luke be real? he wondered. Sharing a dream was something he'd never heard of and never experienced before, but people who had mind links could communicate telepathically if need be, like what he and Kenobi once had. But why would his mind be linked with Luke's, a boy he'd only ever met in dreams? If he's real at all, not just my subconscious torturing me, he reminded himself.

Vader swept into the observation room, and it was only when the doors hissed shut belatedly that he noticed that at some point he had been joined by two stormtroopers escorting the princess. Who Luke nearly was convinced to rescue...He shook the thought from his mind. Dreams had no place in the real world.

He refocused on the stoic Alderaanian girl. He did feel bad for Princess Leia- prior to her capture she had been a force of nature in the Senate, with ideals that Vader, though not publicly allowed to admit anything of the sort, truly admired. Tarkin was looking forward to reducing her, he knew. The animosity between the Moff and the princess ran deep, perhaps even deeper than the hatred currently directed at him. Which was a lot, for such a small thing.

Absently, he noted that Alderaan was positioned squarely in front of the grand observation window, which meant that the Death Star's sights were fixed upon the princess' verdant home. Vader had suspected that Tarkin would play this game of bluffs, but it was a dirty game to play, one far more mentally damaging than the psychotropic drugs that he had inflicted on Leia before. Here, the only way to save her people would be to betray them. It struck a bitter chord in Vader- the dilemma was not something he had faced before, exactly, but it felt familiar enough that he sympathized with the girl. Somewhat.

Tarkin and Leia exchanged insults instead of greetings, and the skull-faced man gave a thin grin. Vader felt malicious glee saturate the room, which in turn filled Vader with unease. Tarkin was slime, and anything that brought him this much joy could not be good. For anyone. Vader watched passively as Tarkin threatened her, as her defiance turned to horror. It left a bad taste in his mouth- he had admired her will and loyalty when she had resisted his torture the day before, and half hoped that she would remain unbroken.

Everyone has a breaking point, he thought morosely. And I reached mine long ago.

Certainly not a thought he should have had- he should be celebrating shedding the inferior Light for the all-powerful Dark, and for a long time he had indeed thought that way. But in recent years, the Dark seemed worthless and empty. Powerful of course, but lacking the devastating warmth and grace of the Light. A lack he had only noticed when he began to compare the warm light of his dreams to the empty cold of waking life. It was a misery he had subjected himself to, he realized, when Palpatine had found his breaking point and exploited it.

Behind his mask, Vader's lips curled in distaste as Tarkin got his answer.

"Dantooine," she said softly. Her eyes met the floor. "They're on Dantooine."

...Was that a hint of defiance?

Tarkin's face was a rictus of sinister joy. "There. You see Lord Vader? She can be reasonable." He turned to the Admiral lurking at the control station. "Continue with the operation, Admiral Motti. You may fire when ready."

Vader mentally reeled back in horror, entirely missing Leia's response. Killing an entire planet, for the sake of vindictiveness? The machine was to be a bluff, a threat-fired at empty space to demonstrate its power a few times of course, maybe destroy a rebel capital ship here or there-but to willfully slaughter millions of innocents?

It stank of the Dark Side. More, it stank of Palpatine. This mass murder was pure evil. Vader knew he wasn't wholly evil-though he had once killed an entire tribe of Tusken Raiders, and the Emperor had urged him to revel in it, he still felt faint threads of guilt, and all of the horrors he had committed in the years since haunted his every waking moment. And all of that was nothing, nothing compared to this. Murdering on such a grand scale...it shook the balance of the Force itself. Something that Anakin could not abide.

The battle station barely hummed under his feet, but Vader could sense the mounting power build within the great turbolaser. A power that he found himself powerless to stop. For all he had preached that the Death Star paled in comparison with the Force, he could not wield the Dark well enough to stop the massive laser from powering up.

He grit his teeth, but did not close his eyes. He owed his once-friend Bail Organa that, and he owed the princess that, and he owed all of the inhabitants of the peaceful planet that.

In a flash of brilliant green, the little planet was gone. The Force rang with its death cry.

Vader bowed his head as the princess was escorted away. She held her head high, and her spine was straight, but silent tears flowed down her cheeks.

Force be with you, he sent silently.

The doors swished shut behind her, but not before she turned her head to give him a proud, defiant look.

Tarkin was practically vibrating with glee, noted Vader a he turned back to the moff. The man's face was still and his posture stiff as always, but a thin smile was present on his lips, and the Force trembled with both aftershocks of the destroyed planet and the man's malice.

"Come," ordered Tarkin simply, heading towards the conference room that abutted the observation chamber. Vader grit his teeth and followed, unable to resist. If he did, Tarkin would go tattling to the Emperor, and there would be...consequences.

Vader set to pacing as Tarkin settled himself down at the table, pulling out a datapad. Vader wanted to leave. Needed to leave. He needed to return to his quarters and meditate. Alderaanian screams were still ringing in his mind, driving him to distraction. It was simply too much for him to process, with his near-hypersensitivity to the Force. And...and beyond that, it bothered him. Palpatine, yes, he hated. He despised Tarkin, too. But the Death Star itself was a creation of the Empire. It had been Tarkin's idea, but other people had still engineered it to kill planets. Tarkin had ordered the destruction of Alderaan, but he hadn't pulled the trigger, the firing team had. A whole team of people. Vader had reluctantly accepted the Death Star as one of his master's cruel whims. He even saw the strategic value of such a titanic threat. People needed to fear the Empire in order for the galaxy not to descend into chaos, like it had during the Clone Wars. Sometimes, people even needed to die. And Vader was perfectly fine being the one to wield the sword. But as rebellious as Alderaan and its leaders tended to be, there were also plenty of loyal Imperial citizens. Hells, Vader knew for a fact that there were at least two not-insignificant Imperial garrisons on the planet, just as all Core worlds were required to have. He also knew that he had seen no order to evacuate them, nor had his ship or the Death Star received any evacuees. He still wasn't particularly concerned with sacrificing the lives of Imperial troops, but this wasn't sacrifice. It was just slaughter. Senseless slaughter, that did nothing to advance the cause of the Empire. All that had been gained was a hole that hung like a gaping maw in the weave of existence, emptier and darker than space itself.

Vader was pulled from his tumultuous thoughts by the sound of the door sliding open. A white-faced officer entered the room, holding a datapad.

"Yes," said Tarkin languidly.

"Our scout ships have reached the Dantooine system. They...found the remains of a Rebel base, but the estimate that it has been deserted for sometime. They are now conducting a thorough search of the surrounding systems…" the officer trailed off, eyes widening as he observed the rage in his commanding officer's face.

"She lied! She lied to us!" Tarkin raved.

Vader eyed the man distastefully, but smiled behind his mask. So the girl hadn't broken after all...the princess was a strong one. "I told you she would never consciously betray the Rebellion."

"Terminate her...immediately!" snarled Tarkin. The officer saluted as the moff stormed out of the room.

"Belay that order, officer," said Vader, immediately rounding on the man, who immediately set to quivering.

"S-sir?"

"Slate her for termination, but don't send an executioner. I'll deal with her...in my own time."

"Sir, yes sir!" saluted the officer.

"Good," growled Vader, though he didn't know why. What had possessed him to do that? He knew he couldn't execute the princess...she reminded him to much of, well, her. And he couldn't very well go back on what he said and order an executioner to her cell. If he did so, undoubtedly everyone on the battle station would hear that Lord Vader had turned coward by the end of the cycle. The only other option would be to quietly smuggle her off of the battle station, effectively releasing her. And that was treason. He might simply have to gamble on the act never being discovered...

Kriff kriff kriff, he swore repeatedly as he left the conference room, and strode all the way to his post on the battle station's bridge, ignoring, once again, how the all of the Death Star's personnel dove out of his way. Tarkin lurked in the bridge's ready room, skull-face sullen. Vader had barely entered the room before the intercom buzzed.

"Yes," snapped Tarkin, pressing the button.

"We've captured a Corellian freighter entering the remains of the Alderaan system. The markings match those of a ship that blasted its way out of Mos Eisley."

"They must be trying to return the plans to the princess," said Vader, a small spark of relief leaping in him. "She may yet be of some use to us." Perhaps he wouldn't have to execute her, or arrange a quiet escape.

"Fine," growled Tarkin. "Order a delay of her execution, then inspect this captured vessel."

"With pleasure," said Vader, skipping out of the room. If the imperceptible bounce in the massively tall semi-robotic sith lord's step could be called a skip.

The good mood brought on by Leia's stay of execution swiftly faded into displeasure. The freighter was a bust, empty as the desert, though Vader had a lurking suspicion that the battered vehicle had extensive smuggler's depths that he couldn't find after such a cursory inspection. Especially since he sensed a familiar presence, one that he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

What had Kenobi been doing on Tatooine?

He returned to the ready room and set to pacing like a caged nexu, Tarkin's stare needling him as he reached out with his senses.

The Force responded

"He is here…" Vader breathed.

"Who is here?" growled Tarkin.

"Kenobi," replied Vader shortly.

"What makes you think that?"

"A tremor in the Force, something I last felt in the presence of my old master," said Vader dismissively.

"Surely he must be dead by now," said Tarkin, just as dismissive.

"Don't underestimate the power of the Force." How many times did he have to repeat himself?

"The jedi are gone, extinct! Their existence was burned from the universe long ago. You're all that's left of that ancient religion, my friend," sneered Tarkin.

Vader sneered back, annoyed for the thousandth time that the mask permitted no displays of emotion.

The intercom buzzed again, and Vader felt a thrill.

"Sir, the detention blocks-" began an officer.

"Obi-wan is here," insisted Vader, cutting the man off. "The Force is with him!"

"If you're right, he must not be allowed to escape," opined Tarkin.

Vader paused at the doorway, frowning behind the mask as he tested the ebb and flow of the Force as it swirled around his old master. "Escape is not his plan." He hesitated, for a brief instant. "I must face him alone."

His black cape swirled behind him as he exited the room, the doors sliding to close on Tarkin's presence behind him.

What are you up to now, my old Master?

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…. End chapter 1

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