Thanks once again to all the readers and reviewers!

Smiles!

Lou

"Do you really have to lock me up again?"

Luke couldn't really see the storm trooper's face, but somehow eyeholes in the helmet managed to be condescending. Still, enough was enough. If he got locked in a third Imperial cell in just over twenty-four hours, he'd never live it down with the Rogues.

And it might lead to questions about just why Vader was so obsessed with finding him, which was something he'd never live down with the Rogues in a much less humorous manner.

"I mean, I got out before. It's sort of pointless."

"He got out before," commented the trooper. "It's sort of pointless."

"It's orders," said the second storm trooper in an no-nonsense tone.

"No, it's not," said Luke.

"No, it's not," agreed the second trooper.

"Yes," said the third. "It is, you buffoons."

Stormtrooper One slapped Stormtrooper Three in the helmet. "How dare you insinuate we could've been given incorrect orders? It was not orders!"

Luke smiled. "I don't require these handcuffs, either."

-

Artoo Deetoo had objected greatly to following the humans into that closet and tunnel. His internal circuits were still trying to compute the apparent return of Fun-To-Fly-With-One, and he was not going to risk the challenge of stairs and a possible jarring fall.

And so as the humans ventured into the tunnel after Anakin, the Astromech droid headed off on his own merry way down the hall on a quest for Current-Owner's X-Wing. He'd managed to hotwire a few elevators to take him down levels, and then up a few, and he'd finally located the right computer only to discover that the X-Wing had not yet made it's way into the Imperial records.

This was almost as annoying as Threepio.

The droid had engaged in a short conversation with the ship's mainframe, which was as boring and straight-laced as most Imperial computers, but had some fascinating information that he was sure the Rebels would want.

Truly, where would those poor beings be without him?

This thought reminded him of the plight of the humans he'd discovered onboard. The ship's computer was thrilled to be of service in locating them, slightly miffed by its inability to locate the X-Wing's file.

Cellblock. It appeared that he'd have to roll back to the cellblocks that he'd just succeeded in getting Current-Owner out of.

He thanked the computer and headed off.

-

Han's cell was not nearly as nice as Luke's had been, but he didn't know this, and it was as well that he didn't because it only would have made him angrier.

It really wasn't fair. As soon as he'd developed a plan for his life involving anything other than the words "stay alive and try to get some money out of it," as soon as he'd begun to use the phrase "future" in a nonsarcastic manner, everything had done what he'd never thought was possible and gotten worse than before.

First there was the whole Hoth deal. Then Bespin. Then there was time-traveling Young Vader.

And now he was trapped in an Imperial cell, in all probability about to die for a Rebellion he'd never even technically joined.

He wished he'd done that now, to be honest. At least to die for something.

He supposed he had more regrets than that. He'd never told Leia he loved her, for one. He was still beating himself up over that. He'd never really thanked Chewie for much. He hadn't broken Lando's nose.

Still, his biggest regret, he though, was probably going to be not escaping from this cell. Maybe he could fix that one.

It was at this moment of epiphany that Artoo succeeded in getting his cell door open.

-

"What are you?"

Anakin glared at the expressionless black mask, refusing to answer.

As if on cue, a storm trooper jerked the young Jedi's handcuffed arm, trying to twist it painfully behind his back.

Watching invisibly from where he was hiding behind Vader, Obi-Wan winced.

Vader spoke again. "What are you?"

Silent suffering was really not something Anakin was good at, thought Obi-Wan. Oh, he could do it, but if possible he preferred to throw a tantrum. Still, if there was one thing Obi-Wan had learned during his time training the boy, stubbornness could make Anakin do the strangest things.

Perhaps now was the time to intercede.

Don't you recognize him, Darth?

What was going on? He couldn't talk! Attempting to become visible (he was not going to lower his dignity to miming responses to Vader, but perhaps he could provide moral support to Anakin), he found that he couldn't do that either.

Perhaps it was only to be expected. He'd never been visible as a Force-ghost for such a long time before.

"It'll wear off eventually," came a reassuring voice. "It's… sort of like recharging a droid."

Obi-Wan glared. "Thank you, Master Qui-Gon, for the timely advice."

"Patience, Obi-Wan. Anakin can fight his own battles."

The former hermit bowed his head. "That's what I'm afraid of."

-

Artoo beeped cheerily as the second cell door opened. This computer system was proving an excellent ally, even if it wasn't much for conversations.

Leia smiled at the two figures at the door. "Didn't we just get out of this- oof!"

Han swept her up into a kiss. "I love you."

Artoo made a rather exasperated noise. If this was going to be Fun-To-Fly-With and Handmaiden-Queen all over again, he was quitting his human-guarding job and being a spy full time.

And now the two humans were doing that same staring-into-eyes thing that his former owners had been so fond of. This was really not assisting the rescue mission he was currently embarked on.

The Astromech made a high-pitched whistling noise and snapped a few sparks from his welding torch at them.

"All right, all right. Calm down."

Artoo whistled in response to Leia's comment, then set off down the hallway towards the elevators at high speed.

-

A pointing, black-gloved finger was now inches from Anakin's face, and something was constricting around his throat. He tried to scrabble backwards, but the storm troopers were only inches behind him.

"What are you?"

Anakin drew a desperate breath, then screamed. "I'm YOU!"

The pressure around his throat disappeared.

"You are dead."

It was both a threat and a statement of fact.

"I'm very tough to kill," spat Anakin. The dark didn't kill me. I won't let it kill me. "Obi-Wan was, wasn't he? He beat you." There were tears at the edges of his eyes. He did not want them there, but there they were. He drew breath again, his eyes filling with anger. "He was tough to kill. Was…" Despite his best efforts, Anakin choked on the words. "Was Padmé?!"

The rage that blasted the time-traveler's mind through that statement was far from all his own.

"You are dead!"

Anakin fell to the floor, his arms still supported by the troopers, his throat collapsing.

"Um, milord, sir?"

Anakin gulped in air. Ew. Far too much sterile-ship-smell. He coughed, got kicked in the ribs, and managed by twisting his knee around uncomfortably to step on the rib-kicker's boot. If his plans for revenge had gotten messed up, at least he could still be incredibly annoying.

"What?" barked Vader, turning to the unfortunate officer (really, any officer on the Executor at that time could've been termed "unfortunate").

The officer gulped much as Anakin had. "The Emperor demands you contact him, milord, sir…"

If Anakin was not mistaken, the guy appeared to be attempted to list every respectful term of address in the book. Great. My evil future self gets respect. What do I get? No, Anakin, you're doing everything wrong.

Of course, I did just do everything wrong.

"Inform his Majesty that I am currently occupied."

From the expression on Unfortunate Officer's face, Anakin surmised that this was not something anyone would want to tell the Emperor under any circumstances.

Trembling visibly- no wonder the Rebellion was so successful, thought Anakin, if this was the quality of the Empire- the officer held out a portable hologram transmitter.

In any other situation, Anakin would've had to choke back a laugh at the transmitter itself- it had apparently been customized by someone with the interior decorating skills of Jabba the Hutt, featuring what appeared to be some sort of striped animal print- let alone the concept of someone contacting the most important person in the galaxy on it.

Laughing just seemed to be a waste of precious, possibly short-lived air under this situation, however.