Luke awoke to a soft scratching. The hospital hummed around him, and Leia's warmth was gone from his side, but he wasn't concerned. His bed had been lowered so he could lie flat, and he felt warm and sleepy still. The scratching seemed almost like another hospital sound, but he forced himself to move, in case it was a rodent, and his movement would startle it off.

The sound stopped, and Luke groaned inwardly, trying to gather the strength to get up, and scare it off properly. Then, something tucked the blankets more tightly around him, and he looked up without a moment's thought.

Vader's bed had been wheeled in next to his, and the older man was seated there, his fingers still raised from comforting his son. His legs were drawn up slightly, and something, a sketchpad, Luke suspected, rested against them.

"Hey," Luke greeted sleepily, trying to sit up.

An invisible pressure kept him still, and he quickly gave up the fight.

"You need to rest," Vader told him, and Luke felt him massaging his mind lightly, trying to brush him off to sleep.

"Stop that," Luke mumbled, swatting at his father's invisible presence, before managing to push himself up. "How're you feeling?"

A thousand questions were pushing at his mind, begging to be asked, but he fought them down for the quiet of the room, the sense of peace. He could be patient, for now, and ask questions at his father's speed.

"Your friends saved me," Vader said, and Luke could feel an ache in his voice. It had probably been a long time since someone had helped him in that way, Luke thought. Not because he held power over them, or had something they wanted, but simply to save a life, because lives were worth saving.

"Yeah," he said, trying to smile. It felt strange to sit across from a galactic ruler, and know that in some ways, his own life was better. Hells, he hadn't given it a second thought to waking up somewhere safe, knowing that he'd be cared for. "What happened?"

Vader fell silent, looking down at his drawing, and Luke struggled to be patient as he put down a few strokes.

"My master… built my life support to have a kill switch. Last night, he attempted to deactivate me."

"He tried to kill you?" Luke asked, horrified. He got to his feet, and stumbled over to his father's bed, unsteady with exhaustion still.

"Luke." Vader reprimanded, but he shifted aside enough for Luke to take a seat next to him, before continuing. "I'm a slave."

He smiled slightly, reaching up to stroke Luke's hair with a battered prosthetic. "You told me you knew that. It's my past, and my destiny."

"That's stupid!"

Luke grasped his father's hand tightly, trying to crush self-worth into him. It was inconceivable that Vader considered himself to be nothing more than a slave. He was a leader! He was Luke's father, and one of the last remaining people who had studied to be a Jedi! He had to care about himself. He just had to.

"It is simply my life," Vader answered. It was like a knife to the gut to realize how little that stung him. Luke wanted him to be happy, to see himself as Luke saw him, as someone worthy of love, and saving. As if in response, Vader frowned slightly, "Although, it seems your friends managed to get my systems running again."

"Probably replaced them," Luke said, looking at his father's chest, and struggling to interpret the mass of scar tissue and wiring. "In a pinch, it's usually easier than trying to find replacement parts."

"Have a lot of experience, do you?" Vader chuckled, his hand moving to his chest, fingers slipping between wires to lay against his skin.

Luke flinched. "Be careful."

Vader laughed again, closing his eyes, and resting his head back. "I am capable of not pulling my aids out, I assure you. I have plenty of practice, little one."

Luke withdrew uncertainly, looking at his father's closed eyes. It was strange how peaceful the warlike man could still look, he thought.

"You should be resting," Vader said, unmoving.

Luke shook his head. "I'm alright. You're the one recovering from major surgery, anyway."

"I am quite accustomed to that," Vader said, but he didn't press the issue.

Luke scooted himself up to sit by his father, leaning against the headboard. He assured himself that he was only humouring him, that he wasn't really that tired. "What were you drawing?" he asked.

Vader raised his head once more, looking down at the sketchbook in his lap. "One of the nurses found me a book," he said, flipping it over to look at it. "It's nice to have a distraction."

"Can I see?" Luke asked, leaning closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the pages as his father moved the book.

Vader laughed, and finally passed the book over. "They're not all of your mother, you know."

"I know," Luke said, blushing slightly as he opened the book. The first image was a drawing of a lake, an island rising from its centre, adorned with a single, beautiful house. Trying to take as much as he could from the image, Luke leaned back against his father, absently reaching out with the Force to monitor his reactions to the art.

"You could ask," Vader teased. He drew his arm around Luke, and pointed at the building. "It was a cottage your mother owned."

"A cottage?" Luke asked in disbelief. The building was more than large enough to count as a 'house' in his eyes. Hells, some of their bases hadn't been that large.

Vader chuckled, gripping his son close to himself. "You would have been raised there," he told Luke, "Had all gone according to plan."

Luke nodded slightly, turning the page to find what had to be a drawing of the same building. It was a large bedroom, bed tucked safely in one corner, a canopy shadowing it from large windows. There was a workbench, a dresser, and shelves of entertainments. A desk with work scattered across it, and an easel. Gauzy curtains blew in a light breeze, and beams of light fell across the scene. Luke half expected that if he looked closely enough, he would find that his father had detailed the floating dust.

"Padmé wanted to go ahead to prepare your room."

"It's beautiful," Luke murmured, still gazing at it. It was strange how much the image told him without his father needing to speak. Luke wondered if it was because of his father's legendary dislike of speech, or if the clues were unintentional. The light he'd given the room, allowing his son freedom, the paints and tools, hoping for common ground.

"I never know what to do with all the space."

"You've done sketches like this before?" Luke asked, looking up at his father, and suddenly realizing how comfortably he fit under his arm, tucked in his protection.

"Many times," Vader agreed softly. His arm around Luke was still moving slowly, gently rubbing his son's side. Luke wasn't sure if it was protective, or possessive, but he wasn't sure he cared, either. It felt good. It felt good to be held, and know he was wanted.

He turned the next page, and his mother smiled at him again. He automatically smiled back, carefully touching the edge of her lip, as if he could really feel the lines of her smile. For a moment, he felt a flash of another presence, and closed his eyes.

His mom was with him. He didn't know how; if it was Vader, or the drawing, or the Force, or only wishful thinking, but he didn't care. He leaned into his father, and the cool medbay felt like a warm summer's day. He could nearly smell flowers, and feel the brush of his mother's hair as she held him close as well.

"I love you," he whispered aloud. He hoped she could hear him, in the warmth and happiness of the moment, that she was with him in the sunshine and the sound of distant birds.

"I love you, too, Luke."

The voice sent a tremble through him. He immediately scrambled to analyze it, so he could remember every inflection and keep those words with him, but it slipped out like water through his fingers, and he exhaled, trying to enjoy it in the moment. For a few more shining seconds, he half-heard the burble of a creek, and a soft thrum of insects, before the sounds faded back into a leaky faucet and the sounds of medical equipment.

Luke exhaled, relaxing into his father's arm, and appreciating those sounds too. The sounds of his father, not his mother. Outdated medical equipment whirring helplessly as it attempted to calibrate to the newer hardware, and through it all, an unsteady heartbeat. He must have been listening with the Force, as well, he thought, as he heard a whirr of machinery, and his father slowly lifted a hand to caress his hair.

It was a safe setting, too. His father's fingers twirled his hair, cool fingertips brushing his scalp as he lay still. It wasn't just his father who was closely linked to the hospital; he spent his fair share of time there, but it felt nice to be with his father now. Sure, Leia and Han visited him when he had to stay overnight, but his father wouldn't leave him here for a moment…

"There are more pictures," Vader said, gently nudging Luke, as if testing that he was still awake.

For another moment, he lay still, and Vader sighed softly, lowering his arm back around Luke's waist, accepting that he'd drifted off. In the daze of the hospital, and the warmth of his father, Luke considered staying there, and letting his father believe he'd fallen asleep to just enjoy his father's protection, but he finally cracked an eye open, looking back down at the sketchbook, and slowly turning the page.

He felt his father's gaze fall to it as well, and slowly focused enough to see it.

He certainly hadn't finished sleeping off the effort he'd gone to in order to keep his father's heart beating. Soon, he really would fall asleep here, and his father could enjoy hugging a deadweight, or possibly restless Jedi.

"It's me," he mumbled, his voice slurred with sleep. The image was of himself, sitting on a railing in robes that reminded him of Obi-Wan's, and smiling.

"In the Jedi Temple," Vader added, before Luke slumped further into his arms, and he huffed, "Force, child."

There was a clatter, and then a loud crash, and Luke moaned, burying his face in his father, disinterested in dealing with whatever was happening. Then, there was a soft clunk, and he turned away from Vader to find that his father had clipped Luke's bed against his own. Then, his father's arm loosened around him, and Luke found himself sliding partially onto his own bed.

"Be more careful," Vader scolded, "I might have dropped you."

Luke huffed back, entangling himself in his father's arm before speaking. "I thought you didn't want me to be a Jedi."

"If I could trade your current situation for being a Jedi in the old Order, I would do so."

Luke smiled slightly, rolling his eyes half-heartedly, before turning the page again. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep for his father to have drawn this much, and wasn't sure he'd get through it all before he went back to sleep.

"'S…" he squinted, desperately trying to see the page, "Leia?"

"No, child," Vader chuckled, pulling Luke's blankets safely around him again. "Her name was Ahsoka, she's not even human."

"Sorta looks like Leia," Luke defended half-heartedly. He wasn't sure what it looked like, he'd been pretty pleased with himself for managing to take away from it that it was a woman, but not his mother.

"She's Togrutan," his father said exasperatedly, and Luke didn't bother to struggle as Vader adjusted his grip on him.

"There's no colour," Luke mumbled. He let his hand slide from the book, closing his eyes. His father didn't seem to be in a hurry to put him down, which was comforting. He wasn't sure he'd be as tired outside of his father's aura and warmth.

"I'd have thought the montrals to be a bit of a giveaway," Vader said fondly, pulling Luke's pillow in against him, before simply wrapping his arms supportively around him, and resting back as well.

"Can never… tell with Leia," Luke said, and he yawned, shifting comfortably. "You can put me down… if you wanna draw some more."

He felt Vader's smile, and for a moment there was a smell of crushed grass and motor oil. His father's scent, in the context of the drawings, he knew without thought.

"For the moment, I am quite happy to hold you."

"Good."