Oddly enough, Luke remained silent as the lone Stormtrooper led him along the familiar spartan corridors of his father's castle, through a multitude of security checkpoints and several turbolifts. Even without consciously opening himself to the Force, the boy easily perceived the subtle waves of nervousness radiating from the armored man to his right.

Yes, there was definitely something odd about him, Luke reaffirmed his initial suspicions, but at the same time found it exceedingly difficult to put his finger on exactly what it was that disturbed him so. Since they easily passed each and every single security check, there could hardly be any problems concerning authentication, could there?

Then what might be that troubling for a trained Imperial officer? Certainly it couldn't be Luke himself, he mused with the hint of a grin. For even though Vader's immediate staff had been briefed on the nature of their relationship - under the order and vow of secrecy, no doubt - Luke was hardly an imposing or even intimidating figure by himself.

Intrigued - and perhaps even somewhat thankful for the distraction to his otherwise monotonous daily routine - Luke opened his mind and stretched out the Force. Effortlessly it expanded his perception, allowed him to gain even further insight. The signature of the man next to him appeared dull, as if observed through a milky screen - a common experience made when observing those blind and ignorant to the Force. Involuntarily, his father's own signature flared up in the back of his mind, so much more active and intense than this man's could ever hope to become. It was a pity, really, having to live in such a small universe, having no idea of the wonders it held just beyond the visible. It seemed almost like a disability, he thought, like flying through Beggar's Canyon without feeling the hot wind grazing against your skin, revving up the engines of his T-65 without being almost deafened by the droning sound. It had to be a lackluster life, he assumed; but then again, a non-sensitive would never be able to even know what was missing, he conceded.

Forcing himself out of his reverie, Luke concentrated on the trooper's mind and, without so much as a mental 'knock', gained access almost instantly. The man's emotions were uncoordinated, in the disarray typical for the untrained mind, and Luke stood slightly overwhelmed for a moment. Quickly, however, his newly-gained control over the Force returned and he expertly untangled the mess before him.

The nervousness he had already picked up on before was the first emotion he came upon, soon to be joined by an amalgam dominated by trepidation, fear, insecurity and doubt.

Luke frowned. Although he had become familiar with the general air of fear and wariness penetrating the Imperial Palace and its surroundings - if not all of the planet-wide megalopolis - this mixture of negativity and its degree were, he had to admit, somewhat unusual, especially for just one single person.

Then, just as he was about to dismiss his initial suspicions as mere paranoia, something else reached him through the Force; and it instantly enflamed the latent anger so easily nourished these past weeks.

Secrecy.

The 'trooper was definitely hiding something from him. Whatever that may be, he could not tell - the Force would not allow him insights of such extents… yet. But for a moment, that thought itself was insignificant, for his anger overshadowed all rationale.

Secrecy. Lies. Deception.

What did they all take him for? He may have been born a simple farmboy on a backwater planet in the Outer Rim, but that alone gave them no right to treat him like this! He was not a child anymore, no longer needed to be protected from a cruel universe! Within months, weeks even, he had become involved in and experienced struggles which shook the core of the galaxy, consumed countless lives and left in their wake destruction and misery. All this he had managed to survive, and made a name for himself. And still everyone seemed to regard him as nothing but a child, an immature youth good enough to follow their rules and be formed after their ideals - yet hardly fit to be made aware of all the facts, to make his choices for himself.

He would make them see who he was, Luke was determined, balling his artificial right hand into a tight fist, would prove that he deserved to be treated with respect.

Now, however, his first priority was to stay alert, cautious.

Luke took a quick sideways glance at the officer. What could this man be hiding? Was it possibly related to his orders, the imminent meeting with Palpatine?

What did he know that Luke did not?

The boy slowed down, waiting for his escort to follow suit. The latter seemed to grow impatient immediately, and motioned for Luke to walk on.

"Please, Sir…,"

"Why does the Emperor want to see me?" Luke interrupted bluntly, looking intently at the older man.

"I am not privy to that particular piece of information," came the curt reply, soon followed by yet another attempt to usher Luke onward. "Please, Sir, we must hurry."

Eyeing the man suspiciously, he decided that stalling would be of no use to anyone and slowly set into motion. He would have to keep his mind open, ready to react should the situation turn for the worse.

Something was decidedly wrong here.

Absent-mindedly, Leia drummed her fingers on the armrests of the cruiser's battered chair in a hectic rhythm. Patience, it seemed, was no longer one of her virtues. Then again, there were times for patience and deliberation, and those for immediate action - this moment certainly belonged to the latter category.

About one standard hour ago, Leia, Han, Chewbacca and their frighteningly - but necessarily so - small rescue team had reached space around Imperial Center in a ship so shabby and almost antique it even put the Millennium Falcon to shame. Shortly thereafter, Han and two seasoned, trustworthy officers had boarded a cruiser and descended to the surface. Much to his dismay, it had been decided that Chewbacca would not accompany them - non-humanoids were quite the rarity on Imperial Center in those days and likely to catch much attention. And that, the Wookiee had agreed grudgingly, was something they had absolutely no need of. What they did need, however, Solo had claimed, was for someone to watch over the Princess while he was away - a responsibility the smuggler's companion eventually accepted.

Down on the planet, in the Palace District, however, - the very heart of the Empire, Leia thought, her chest tightening dangerously - was where the most difficult phase of the entire mission would occur, and where the stakes were the highest. Her contact, Ambassador Oren, although covertly supporting the Rebel Alliance, had so far managed to appear utterly loyal to the Empire and its leader, thus retaining much of his influence and access. It had certainly been said fortuitous disposition which had lead to the Ambassador's forming of relationships to some of the officers and staff in the Palace District. And through an obscure combination of luck, ingenuity and boldness - and quite likely bribery, although Leia preferred not to be made aware of all the details -, Oren had managed to get one of these men - Rebel at heart, valiant defender of the Galactic Empire on the outside - onto the security rosters for Vader's palace. She still had to shake her head in disbelief at the thought of such an infiltration; under normal circumstances, she would have been utterly tempted by its possibility but held back by its risks and dangers. At this point in time, however, she saw no alternative.

The officer, they had agreed, would deliver Luke to their rendezvous point. How he intended to do so Leia could only speculate, but decided to spare herself the additional agitation. Once there, Skywalker would be picked up by the two officers accompanying Solo. The smuggler himself was set to remain on the ship, ready to hide - or dash - should the need arise. Originally, of course, Solo had insisted on picking up Luke himself, but Leia had been adamant that he was too well known, putting the mission at risk if he were to show himself. In the end, they had decided on a compromise, and the Princess could only hope that he would uphold their agreement.

A forced exhale momentarily disturbed the rhythm of her drumming fingers. The more she thought about this mission, the more moronic, the more suicidal it seemed. After conferring with Oren initially, she had been ecstatic with the prospect of bringing Luke back, her mind completely blanking out all worries and second thoughts. Any chance, be it ever so small, had seemed worth taking, the risks barely a fine-print to be noticed and at once forgotten.

Now, however, as she was waiting, it all was hurled at her in one overwhelming wave of emotional backlash. What if the Ambassador's officer wasn't trustworthy? What if they were discovered? What if they endangered Luke? What if–

A shrill beep from the comm console instantly dispelled her thoughts, and her fingers flew over the keys, hurriedly punching in her authentication code and a receive command.

Accompanied by the sound of Chewbacca's heavy padded footsteps as the Wookiee joined her to satisfy his curiosity, a small blue holo flickered to life and for just a moment, Leia's heart was suspended in mid-beat.

"We have him, Senator," the tiny replica of the Ambassador informed, "He is being escorted to the rendezvous point as we speak."

Unaware, Leia freed an imprisoned breath, her heart resuming its work at what seemed like twice its normal speed.

"I owe you my gratitude, Ambassador."

"Let us hold off on the celebrations until we have Skywalker back safe and sound, shall we?"

To be honest, Daros felt a little underwhelmed. Kind of anti-climatic.

So this was Skywalker: the Alliance's upstart hero, responsible for rescuing Princess Organa from the Death Star, for the battlestation's subsequent destruction at the Battle of Yavin, highly praised for his piloting skills, protégé of the late but legendary General Kenobi, admired by thousands, loathed and feared by his adversaries. The same Skywalker about whom he'd heard secret whispers of wonder, who would one day be inspiration and idol to a new generation living in freedom.

Seriously now?

Gazing to his left, he regarded his charge.

Before today, he had only seen holos of Skywalker, but even those had hardly prepared him.

Skywalker was barely a boy! Small and scrawny, with blond hair and blue eyes that gave him an air of innocence which only underlined his youthful image.

Somehow, he'd always pictured his heroes differently.

Talk about deceiving appearances.

But for all his outward greenness, the boy exuded a strange air of confidence, Daros had to admit. There was no fear reflected in his eyes, not even any nervousness he could detect. Yet he definitely was curious, observing his surroundings alertedly, and, from time to time, even Daros himself. Strangely enough, despite the claims of the sparse intel he had been given, the boy didn't seem like he was being held against his will. Rather than that, he moved with an odd familiarity of the place. More resident than prisoner.

Be that as it may, his job was to complete his mission, and he just hoped Skywalker wouldn't endanger it; for now, he seemed to accept the information he had been given, but just as soon as they were somewhere safe - well, at least out of the Emperor's earshot - , he would have to fill him in. Somehow he didn't think patience would be one of the boy's strongest virtues.

Basically, it's just a matter of getting him out of here, Daros simplified, his own nervousness and tension barely kept in check beneath the surface.

For a while, the strange pair walked in silence. Then, however, Skywalker seemed to grow even more alert, possibly wary, as they passed the entrance to the tunnels connecting Vader's castle and the Imperial Palace.

"Shouldn't we have taken that one?"

Daros stiffened imperceptibly.

Not yet.

"Not today, Sir. It appears there have been some technical issues; I have been instructed to take an alternate route."

Daros felt the boy's eyes on him - Skywalker was clearly doubting him, but what could he do? If he told him now, they were as good as finished. Too much was at stake here.

"That's odd", the boy wondered, as if to himself, "Father should've mentioned that."

Surprise almost made Daros stop in his tracks. Father? He hadn't been aware that the boy had family in the Empire. But then again, it was probably a conscious decision to keep the relationship out of the public eye, considering how it might influence his reputation. Many careers and dreams had been broken simply by carrying the wrong last name.

"He must have forgotten," he decided to humor him. "Or been too busy."

The boy gave a snort, almost derisive, as if remembering something unpleasant.

"Busy doesn't even come close. Sure, much of it comes with his position, but still…"

Was Skywalker whining now? Oh boy…

"Most positions require time and dedication. The further one rises, the more is demanded."

"I guess I should be lucky he's only Second-in-Command, then, huh?"

Although his body continued moving, Daros's insides came to an immediate halt, a deadening coldness spreading throughout.

Second-in-Command? Darth Vader? This boy was Darth Vader's son?! That was impossible… wasn't it? Even though he had served at the core of Imperial Center for years, he had never even heard rumors of potential offspring. Surely there had to be a mistake; perhaps he was jumping to conclusions - after all… was Darth Vader even human inside that suit of his?

"Lord Vader is quite indispensable to the Empire," he began, attempting to extract some further information from the boy, "The Emperor places great trust in him."

He heard Skywalker sigh next to him.

"I'm sure he does", he answered and continued in what was almost a low mumble, as if to himself, "I just wish Father'd take some time for me, too, not just for his work…"

Daros did his best to suppress what could easily turn into panic, mechanically forcing himself onward.

The boy really was the son of Vader! … Or at least believed that much. This tiny, scrawny, gangly youth - the child of Darth Vader!

Perhaps to deflect the oncoming panic, Daros instantly grew hostile.

Why had no one informed him of this? How in the stars could they forget to mention that the very person he was to basically 'kidnap' from the heart of the Empire was the son of one of its leaders himself? It just added a whole new level of insanity to this mission! Sure enough, it also explained why the boy seemed to be quite happy with his being on Imperial Center: he wasn't being forced or imprisoned, he was with his parent - as wrong as the term sounded in conjunction with the Sith Lord.

The boy himself seemed innocent enough, Daros mused after a sideways glance, but then again, appearances could be deceiving. What if the boy took after his father? Was the Rebel Alliance even aware of the potential dangers? And if so, how could they disregard them so blatantly? This youth could easily mean the end to their resistance, could - within moments - destroy all the progress which had been hard earned towards a peaceful and just galaxy! Was it really the right choice to retrieve him - or should loyalty demand another course?

The emotional change in the trooper to his right was so sudden that it almost sent him reeling physically. Where before nervousness and secrecy had dominated, hatred, anger and fear flared brightly now, projected with such uncontrolled intensity that Luke was tempted to sever his contact to the Force.

Where did that come from all of a sudden? He wondered, rubbing his throbbing temples with his left hand, Just what in the worlds is going on here?

Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't good. There was so much animosity in the man, he could be capable of anything.

Anything.

'The galaxy is a dangerous place… many people will be jealous of you. Fear you … Hate you. They will want to take your life…'

The sudden realization almost stunned Luke.

This was not good…

Instantly, he opened himself to the Force, calling out for the steadying, familiar signature of his father, yearning for guidance, instruction, help. He set the fabric ablaze with urgency, his plea resounding far beyond the borders of Imperial Center.

'Father! Help me, please!'

A flicker of recognition soon elevated Vader's signature above the glaring tumult, and Luke hurried to latch on to it.

'Father–'

The trooper's hand on his shoulder suddenly disturbed his concentration, breaking his contact to the Force. Apparently, he had stopped in place to help himself focus and the officer, confusion added to his already intense mixture of emotions, was now motioning for him to continue.

Inwardly, Luke cursed himself for his lack of mental discipline.

Just a few more seconds…

Trudging onward, he attempted to call out again, but found himself unable to regain his focus that easily. He could only hope that their contact had been long enough for his father to register his situation.

Well then, Plan B… He needed a Plan B…

Quickly, Luke took in his surroundings.

They were now a good way from his father's castle, crossing the Imperial Plaza, heading in the general direction of the Palace. Several groups of officials and politicians moved about, most in active conversation or even debate. Among them, there was always security - the closer to the Palace, the more armored troops he counted. Overhead Luke could make out various skylanes, although none of them was in direct air space above the Palace - and of course none of them were even remotely accessible to him. Returning to the castle, although tempting and initially logical, was out of the question: he could easily be followed inside by authenticated personnel, and would likely only navigate himself into a trap. His kidnapper - odd word, somehow, and a bit surreal - would have no problems calling on enforcements; and since his father was not in the building, it would be no more of a safe haven than the open planes of Tatooine during a sandstorm. Quickly scanning what had to be considered Imperial Center's equivalent to a horizon, large chimneys and production towers to the west drew his attention.

Well, here goes nothing…

Once more, Luke sought contact to the Force, and though his grip was light, fleeting, it sufficed.

A large, crashing noise rose to their right as a flying maintenance droid hurtled itself into the side of one of the Plaza's giant statues. Within seconds, the attention of every living person in the Palace's vicinity was on the accident, officers and security personnel hurrying toward the site of the odd event. For a few moments, nothing else existed.

And those seconds were all Luke needed.

'Father! Help me, please!'

His mind suddenly erupted with the Force, the desperate plea momentarily eradicating everything else from his perception; his senses instantly alive with his fire, the very fabric of the Force billowing in turmoil. Agitation assaulted him, and fear.

'Father–'

'Son!' Vader replied urgently, driven by an instinctive reaction to the boy's despair rather than conscious thought.

Yet the connection had already been severed, roughly, abruptly, his son's signature dimming, eventually sinking back into the disturbed body of the Force. As if drowning.

The Dark Lord was almost paralyzed for a moment, overwhelmed by the unexpectedness of the contact, by its intensity. And possibly even more by its harsh end. Never before had his son's conscious communication through the Force been so disturbed.

Never before had his son's signature betrayed such fear.

Fear for his life, Vader knew instinctively, the acknowledgement tightening his chest, numbing his insides despite all artificial assistance.

Brusquely, the Dark Lord rose from his seat.

"Lord Vader…?" came the hesitant, slightly confused reaction. A General, standing across the conference table from Vader himself, regarded the latter questioningly. Understandably, the remaining officers presented a similar picture.

"Conclude the briefing and supply me with a full report later," he supplied curtly, "I have an important matter to attend to."

He barely waited for the General's nod of affirmation before stalking out of the meeting room, his heavy footfall echoing through the corridors of the Palace's ground floor. The Zolanders and their foolish conflict could wait.

His son, on the other hand, could not.

Opening himself to the Force again, Vader was once more assaulted by the remnants of the boy's desperate plea. Around him, there seemed to be only chaos, disorder. Hurriedly, he stretched out for his son's signature, almost tearing through the waves of boundless energy, careless of the potential effects.

Nothing.

The chaos was simply flooding his entire mind, possibly the Force even. He knew the signature was there, was aware that his son was alive, yet no matter how much concentration and control he exerted, its location remained obscure, submerged within the Force.

Uttering an angry growl which puzzled his vocabulator, Vader marched towards the tunnels connecting the Imperial Palace and his own castle, almost breaking out into a run - yet the brisk walk alone cause enough for many an officer and trooper to hectically step or even jump out of his way.

The last time he had seen the boy, the latter had been in his personal quarters, performing maintenance on his R2 unit, so it would be only logical to begin from there.

Quickening his step, he soon entered the corridors of his own residence, took the turbolift up and hurried toward the boy's private quarters.

It was immediately obvious that he was no longer there - for no matter the state the Force was in, he would have sensed him instantly at such short distance.

Unclenching the fingers of his gloved right hand, he punched his security code into the control panel of the door to the bedroom. Yet before the durasteel plates had even finished their separation, a storm of beeps, hoots and whistles erupted from within and a small, stocky shape shot out into the corridor, almost colliding with the Dark Lord's armored legs.

The astromech.

Gazing down at it, Vader almost expected it to flee, but eventually was surprised when the droid stood his ground, expelling stream after stream of excited binary.

Despite his own agitation, Vader raised a hand in what he assumed to be a calming manner.

"Alright, slow down."

After what could only be called a binary snort of indignation, R2 started over, even if hardly slower than before. Vader listened intently, and although some words were unfortunately lost in the excited babble, the core of the message remained intact.

Apparently, the droid had shut down for some internal maintenance routines projected to last a few hours but had reactivated beforehand due to a minor power fluctuation and a resulting reset. He had then noticed that his master was nowhere to be found and, disturbed by not being able to locate him, had gone into the security recordings.

"You say a stormtrooper came to escort him to the Emperor?"

It was hardly a question, but rather a statement of incredulity. He had not been informed of any pending meetings and, although it was more than likely that his master would not see the need to inform him when seeing his son, he was entirely certain that the boy was not with Palpatine. As far as he was aware, the latter would be conferring privately with some important figures of the arms- and deep-space construction industries for the rest of the day.

If the trooper had come under false pretenses, his only objective could have been the abduction of his son. And although questions about his reasons, techniques and certainly the employer found its way into his mind, they were secondary at best.

His son had been taken from him.

His own flesh and blood.

His son; barely a boy.

…their son.

In that very moment, Vader longed for anger, rage, hatred, yearned for senseless destruction and mayhem, to revel in the power of the Dark Side as he had so many times before, to make use of its ferocity to further his own ends. But although he felt nothing but contempt for his son's abductors, the rage would not set in. Instead, a numbing chill spread from his battered chest across his scarred scalp and mutilated limbs, affecting true and artificial skin alike, reducing his body to a state he had not experienced since his birth as Darth Vader, since that mind shattering revelation barely perceived on that cold, surgical table almost a lifetime ago.

His son had called for help, feared for his life.

And for the first time in many years - or was it decades? - Vader himself feared.

Feared for the safety and well-being of his son.

Feared for his own sanity.

Feared losing the last shred of his former life he had taken so much care to bury.

And dread, that cunning illness, left no place for anything but itself.

"R2," he gruffly addressed the rotund droid before him - the greeting's familiarity lost on him in his current state, "Access the security recordings again and see if you can locate the boy, the trooper or any information on potential routes. Also, stay alert for unusual or irregular occurrences."

A short string of beeps followed Vader as he turned around to leave.

"There is no time. Contact me if you find anything."

"What do you mean you 'lost him'?" Leia's voice echoed through the cockpit, her natural calm transfigured into disbelief, shock even.

The small blue holo flickered before her, as if in reaction to her outburst.

The Ambassador raised his hands in a gesture of appeasement and addressed her quietly.

"I assure you, Senator, that we are equally distressed as you are. Frankly, my contact was quite beside himself when reporting to me, muttering some nonsense about Skywalker and Lord Vader. Nerves, surely."

Leia nodded hurriedly, the trooper's sanity being about the last thing on her mind.

"Yes, but… What exactly happened? According to your last report, Luke had been safely taken out of the castle and was en route to the rendezvous point?!"

"That is correct. Shortly afterwards, however, an accident occurred on Imperial Plaza - something involving a maintenance droid, I hear - and it appears Skywalker used the officer's temporary distraction to flee from the scene."

"Why would he run?" Leia asked incredulously, unwilling to believe the very benefactor of their rescue mission had undermined their efforts.

The Ambassador looked troubled, almost apologetic.

"It seems Skywalker had not been informed about the true purpose of the mission at that point. Daros, the officer, claims to have had good reason, however."

"Be that as it is", Leia sighed audibly, "we need to get to him. This whole operation cannot have been for nothing."

"Daros has taken up pursuit - Skywalker seems to be heading into the Works, the old industrial district. Quite dangerous territory. I will try to send reinforcements, but any help would be very appreciated."

The comm console crackled.

"Count me in", Solo replied promptly, having followed the conversation quietly thus far, "I've been to the Works a few times myself, so I'll get my men and see if I can't find the kid there. Shouldn't be too hard."

Next to Leia, Chewbacca let out a dragged growl.

"Don't worry, pal", the smuggler answered, the grin on his face quite audible, "Wouldn't want you and the Princess to end up all alone and lonely. I'll be back with the kid before you know it."

"I am grateful for your assistance, Captain Solo," the Ambassador replied. "My men will coordinate with you. And, Senator, I will inform you as soon as I have news. Positive ones, I promise."

With a final nod shared between the two politicians, the transmission was cut and dimness returned to the cockpit.

Leia leaned forward, resting her arms against the console, and began kneading her fingers.

"I don't like this. At all," she muttered, more to herself than to Solo over the open commline.

"You worry too much, your Highness," the latter instantly sounded, clearly in an attempt to cheer her up. "That boy is as nervous as a bag of fleas, but at the end of the day, he's as innocent and docile as a newborn shaak." He paused for a moment, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I'll bring him back, Princess, I promise."

Stars, this place was big!

And a maze. So Luke felt only little shame at the fact that he seemed to have completely lost his way - then again, he hadn't really had much of one to start with, had he? His priorities, after all, had been on getting the seven hells out of there, doing so fast, and making sure they wouldn't find him again.

Even though he had left his pursuer behind miles ago, he still ran, stumbling clumsily from time to time as his legs told him to finally find some place to rest. But there was no time for such thoughts - his head still raced with the recent events, the trooper's hatred still fresh and threatening in his mind. The fear for his own life anything but forgotten.

Did that man act by himself or was he maybe part of a larger group, its members crawling all over the city, hot on his trail, to fulfill their mission? What was their mission, anyway? Who had sent them? And how in the worlds had they gotten into the castle? If he wasn't safe in his own home, could he be safe anywhere?

Lost in his thoughts, Luke failed to see the thick power supply cable in time and crashed down hard onto all fours. His hands and knees instantly began to throb, and gritting his teeth, be brought himself around to sit down on the dirty ground and inspect the damage. The fabric of his pants was torn at the knees, a thin reddish film of blood seeping up through the scraped skin. His left hand was similarly chafed, some dirt and debris piercing into the raw skin. Hesitantly, he brought up his other, his artificial hand.

"Oh Sithspit!"

Where his natural, biological skin had gotten away with minor scraping, the synthskin hadn't been quite as lucky. The same debris that stung his left hand had also found its way into his right one, easily penetrating the intricate material, tearing a gash that exposed the neural net and mechanics of the ball of his thumb. The sight made him grimace. He had never had much love for his cybernetic limb, although having become more or less accustomed to it over time. It still didn't quite feel like a true part of him - and seeing behind the pretense of a natural appearance only intensified the feeling. For a brief moment, thoughts of his father entered his mind, of his own injuries, of all the limbs and organs he must have had replaced for him to be required to live in the suit, and the emotional implications made him feel almost ashamed for his own petty complaints.

With a sigh, he flexed his neck and bent his throbbing joints. Maybe he really should just stay down for a while, get some rest. His father would already be on the way to him, Luke tried to persuade himself, so sure of the Sith Lord's superiority to all potential pursuers that he instantly attached the concepts of security and safety.

A small noise from behind startled him - was it the scraping of boots? Hadn't that been laughter?

Or maybe he should keep walking, he conceded, throwing a fearful glance backwards.

Within split seconds, the dull pain was forgotten and Luke was back on his feet. Albeit slower than before - partly owing to the pain in his appendages but also an added sense of caution - he scrambled onward, deeper and deeper into the mechanical jungle of grey power lines and crimson heat.

It really was a maze down here, many of the tunnels barely tall enough to stand in, others expanding into the size of respectable shipyards. Luke laughed grimly. He had always wanted to escape the castle and experience the exciting city beyond it, but this wasn't quite how he had pictured it.

Carefully traversing a low platform, he dropped into yet another quite sizable dip, its ceiling removed rather on purpose than by mistake, exposing the area to what little sunlight made it through the sector's ever thick blanket of smog.

"Ye lost, boy?"

Luke started, swiveling around to face the source of the heavily accented voice.

The one who had addressed him was a small, almost tiny but nevertheless heavy-set humanoid, his shabby clothes as densely grimed as his grubby face. His plump fingers curled around an ancient blaster, ready to pull the trigger should he so see fit. To each of his sides was yet another humanoid, taller than him, more muscular, but equally decrepit. And armed. Possibly bodyguards.

Luke cursed under his breath. Out of the frying pan, into the fire…

As his eyes began to dart around hectically in search of a potential escape route, he notice that the two larger men were stepping away from the smaller one.

Circling me… Oh Sith, Sith, Sith!

"Ye dun look like ye belong 'ere", the tiny man spoke again, his voice shrill and unpleasant. His eyes slipped up and down Luke's body, fat lips turning into a grin, "Some fine threads y'ave there, shame they're all torn up."

The Works. Of course. What other location in the planet-wide city would his son be drawn to but the Works, the enormous industrial area which had seen the advent of the Clone Wars, birthed countless battleships and was currently considered one of the most dangerous sections of the Imperial capital.

Of course his son would know where to find trouble. Then again, he supposed he should count himself lucky the boy had not found the Invisec first.

Depressing the accelerator of his speeder even further, Darth Vader still felt nowhere near as fast as he would have liked. Avoiding the auto-nav'd skylanes, he weaved past oncoming speeders, transporters and buildings alike, easily mastering critical situations which would have turned other, even expert, pilots into nothing but tiny smudges on transparisteel windows.

On other days, he would have reveled in his skills, seeking the thrills of height, speed and proximity to return some enjoyment to his life. Today, however, he had no mind for such petty pleasures.

All that mattered now was to find the boy, to recover him, return him to safety. The memory of their last contact through the Force brought unbidden companions; his son was not easily frightened, so what had caused him such fear - more importantly, what had made him sever their contact so abruptly, leaving the Force in such chaos? An answer readily suggested itself, but the father's heart would not have it.

No. It was simply impossible. His son could not have been harmed, he insisted stoically, almost desperately, he would have felt as much. The Force would have made him aware, no matter its condition… would it not?

His fears were nourished by the insecurity, dread gripping his chest even tighter, making the Dark Lord wonder how much of a strain his respirator and iron lungs were able to withstand before collapsing entirely. He briefly tried to envision the sensation, recalling the countless times injuries in battle had left his breathing apparatus crippled. Was that what it would feel like? Laboredly gasping for air until there was none? Pain would be irrelevant, for Vader had known more than his lifetime's share, hardly even remembered a time without it. Perhaps there would be numbness in the end. After all, nothing would matter if…

No, he could not doubt. Could not give into his despair. Not now. He would find him. Alive. Unharmed. The boy was strong, the Force his ally - he was destined for greater things.

He would not lose his son.

He could not.

He could not lose him, too.

Han Solo cursed under his breath as he climbed through the intricate surroundings that were the former production facilities of the Works. He had been here many times before, some of them taking place during his service with the Imperial Forces, but none of his memories involved this much exhaustion!

How in the worlds had Luke managed to cross such a distance in such short time? He had to have been in a real frenzy to tear through a place like this one!

Thankfully, Daros seemed to have a decent set of legs himself and had managed to follow Luke quite deep into the facilities before eventually losing him in their maze. Still, it gave them a workable area; if he, his team and Oren's men spread their net from the surface level, they'd find him in no time.

He just hoped 'no time' would still be soon enough.

Just be safe, kid.

The small man stepped closer toward Luke.

"What's 'at in your right 'and there? Show me!" he commanded, staring curiously at the boy's artificial limb, obviously mistaking the exposing injury for something else.

"It's nothing. Just my hand," he replied, hesitant.

"I'll see 'at m'self," tiny replied gruffly, then repeated, waving his blaster: "Show me!"

Seeing himself with no other option, Luke slowly raised his right hand and brought it forward, injured palm facing toward the open sky.

Intrigued, the man grabbed Luke's hand with his left and inspected it carefully, turning it here and there, squeezing and scraping it, as if he were examining a piece of particularly expensive metal.

"Got yerself a new 'and, eh? Quite a nice piece o' work, 'at is. Will fetch me a good prize!"

He grinned toothily, giving his two companions a silent sign, and Luke instantly felt sick to his stomach.

What in the stars had he done to deserve this much bad luck? First kidnapped, then mugged by some petty criminals who were after his artificial hand? Had the situation been less serious, he surely would have laughed.

Then, just as he felt the muzzle of a blaster pressing into his lower back, something caught his eye. There was someone there, he was sure of it! Someone was approaching them on the upper level!

Unfortunately, however, one of tiny's bodyguards had made the same discovery, and before Luke even knew what was going on, had already fired his blaster in the general direction of the newcomer. Almost instantly, a return shot was fired and shouting sounded from above.

Luke blinked. He knew that voice…

"Han?"

Tiny and his companion resumed resumed their fire, the remaining brute keeping Luke in a tight grip at a short distance. Soon, the boy's ears rang with the sound of the shots, and he watched almost detachedly as tiny and his bodyguard were struck and crumbled to the ground in heaps. Quickly thereafter, the newcomers began dropping to their level and warily approached the remaining criminal holding Luke.

"Okay, buddy," one of them began calmly, "take it slow. This doesn't have to end badly for you."

The hand tightened around his arm, and instinctively, Luke knew what was about to happen.

"If I'm going down, I'll at least take someone with me."

Before he had even finished the words, his finger pulled back the trigger. Strangely fascinated by the almost comical expressions of his would-be rescuers as their shock manifested in slow motion, Luke managed to squirm, and shift the muzzle away from vital organs before a kaleidoscope of pain exploded before his eyes and he sank to the ground.

For a split second, his vision blanked entirely before erupting with the blazing brightness of pain. The Force roared around him, through him, shrieked as if it were experiencing the physical injury itself.

A wounded animal, thrashing wildly, regardless of the effects.

Vader was barely able to stop his speeder, his body now entirely numb as realization set in.

Luke!

'Luke!' he called out through the Force, regardless of the pain in his head, the unresponsiveness of his limbs. 'Son, answer me!'

Yet the reply came as nothing more than a feeble acknowledgement of understanding.

Fighting down a rising panic, Vader restarted the speeder, and decided to banish all conscious thought from his mind. Except one.

He had to get to his son.

"Come on, buddy," Han half-pleaded, gathering the boy's slumped form in his lap, "Open your eyes already. You know I'm not one to fall for those stupid tricks of yours."

Inspecting his friend closely, the smuggler's face turned grim; the flight had taken its toll on Luke, but most of the injuries were nothing to be worried about. That blaster wound in his side, however, needed treatment. And soon.

A stir went through the blonde's body as he slowly regained consciousness, his eyes opening and trying to focus. The almost instantaneous recognition sent a grin to the smuggler's face.

"Han?" he asked, his voice low, almost weak, "What are you doing here?"

Solo raised a mocking eyebrow.

"Getting you out of here, of course, what else? You're having the Princess pretty worried, you know?"

"You… shouldn't have come," Luke managed to press out from between his teeth as he tried to push himself up into an upright position.

"You're delusional. And you really shouldn't be getting up!"

Nevertheless, Han grabbed the boy's hand looking for support. It caused a peculiar tickling on his skin, and curiously, he inspected it – and almost pulled back in shock.

"What in the worlds have they been doing to you here?"

Luke only briefly glanced at his right hand and gave a tiny shrug.

"It's nothing. I've had it for a while; it usually looks better than this."

Han blinked in consternation, almost furious at the boy's obvious disinterest.

"It's not nothing! It's a mechanical hand, for stars' sake! What else have they done to you while keeping you here to make you this indifferent?"

Luke sighed, carefully running his fingers across his side, flinching at the contact.

"They haven't done anything to me; it was just a stupid accident. And they're not keeping me here."

Admittedly, he had no idea what had gotten into the boy, but he was getting a little freaked.

"What are you even talking about? If nobody's keeping you, then let's get out of here already!"

Finally, Luke looked up, the boy's blue eyes fixing his intently.

"You don't understand. I'm not being kept here. But I can't go either. I just can't."

Han wouldn't understand. Couldn't. Luke had already made his choice long ago. Leaving was no longer an option. It pained him to disappoint his companions, hurt them even after they had endangered themselves for him, but the choice had been made.

"Honestly, kid, you're delirious", Han continued, waving some of his company over to assist him, "First, we'll get you out of here, then we'll see to that nasty wound of yours."

Luke shook him off, pain flaring up instantly in his side, and Solo backed away.

"No. I told you I can't, Han. Why won't you listen to me?"

Suddenly, the Force alerted him to a familiar presence and he immediately turned in its direction.

Excitement broke out within the small group of Rebels as Darth Vader came into view, rushing straight toward them.

Fear came off the Rebels, even Han, but the latter stood his ground, stepping even closer to his friend protectively. A funny notion that almost made Luke smile.

Within moments, his father was at his side and, after regarding him silently for a moment, kelt down and inspected his wounds.

"You are injured," he stated plainly, his low baritone echoing throughout the site.

"It's no big deal; just a scratch," Luke managed with half a smile, closing his eyes against the pain. Safety. Security. The wound really wasn't a big deal anymore.

"I beg to differ," he was reprimanded lightly, but soon Vader's voice took on a darker, sharper edge as he addressed Han, "You are involved in this?"

Before Han could even begin to think of an answer, Luke pre-empted him.

"A group of criminals attacked me, one of them caught me with his blaster," he paused for a moment, needing to gather strength to go on, "They just wanted to help me."

He could instantly tell that his father was not satisfied with his explanation, that he knew that Luke was hiding the complete truth. Quite possibly, the boy suspected, Vader was even aware of the others' true purpose and identity. But for the moment, he seemed too preoccupied with something else to act on it.

"Leave."

Han, however, seemed far from happy with how things were going.

"I don't think so," Boldly he grabbed for Luke's arm, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by yet another command, but one in a voice so vicious it sent a shiver up Luke's spine.

"Don't."

Solo drew his hand back only slowly.

"Do not try to lay a hand on my son again, if your arm is of any importance to you."

"Father, please…"

Luke tiredly glanced at Han, even through the pain picking up the shock and disbelief in his friend's mind as he mouthed the word 'father'. His only answer was comprised of an exhausted smile and simple, quiet request.

"Tell the other's I'm okay."

Then, eventually, finally, his consciousness slipped away and world turned a calm black

a/n: Good Lord, this chapter did take a while to write… About 12-14 hours spread across two days and, mostly, nights, to be honest. Incidentally, though, it is also one of the longest in the story yet. I suppose it would have been alright to split the chapter into two, but once I have my mind set on a particular structure and content, I tend to stick to it. I'm sorry it forced you to wait a little longer.

As always, big thanks go out to all my reviewers! Your kind words give me the motivation necessary to finish a chapter even if it's already 4:30 AM. I hope this chapter does not disappoint, but any reviews, be the praise or constructive criticism, would be greatly appreciated.

Now, as for a few specific points:

Jack Napier: Although Palpatine did not play much of a role in this chapter, this will certainly change in the future.

Irene Sharda: Your predictions were quite spot on! To be honest, I consciously decided to keep Leia out of the game for a little while longer so I can focus on the father/son relationship. Those two have enough issues that needed to be dealt with as it is!

Darth Dracon: I am with you 100%. Although the classics were almost perfectly executed and stand as masterpieces of their own, I would have loved to see more Luke/Vader bonding. Their relationship is so dynamic and full of potential, it's sad to see it wasn't used more.