"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks to the readers! Again.

Chapter 37

The Executor, Darth Vader's chamber

Vader stormed into his chamber, wanting to scream in frustration, wanting to choke every one of his men for failing to recapture the Millennium Falcon, wanting especially to choke Calrissian for betraying him. He should have known that trusting the fool wouldn't end well. Perhaps if he hadn't been so distracted by Han, he would have sensed Lando's intentions . . . if this had actually been his intention the entire time.

Luke was gone. Worse than gone. Vader wished he could drive his son's devastated scream out of his mind. His child – the fruit of his marriage with Padme – detested him. The truth terrified the boy, made him wish for death, even. Mustafar had repeated itself. The Sith found that he was glad he had sliced Luke's hand off. The ungrateful, disrespectful boy deserved to be crippled.

Vader listened to his own mechanical breath in an attempt to calm himself as he stared at the one person he had successfully captured, the one member of his family still in his grasp, leaning against the wall, preserved indefinitely. In this condition, Han couldn't attempt escape, couldn't even call his friends for help. Lando and all others involved thought Boba Fett had taken him – Vader had even had a stormtrooper fly the bounty hunter's ship off-planet so they wouldn't suspect the truth. Most importantly, Vader could easily hide his son from Palpatine in this condition. Yes, this part was unquestionably a success.

If only Han didn't look so . . . horrible, if only he didn't look like he was in so much pain. Vader shook his head slightly, as if trying to drive the emotion out of his mind. This had been the best thing to do, the best way to ensure Han's protection. He may have suffered during the freezing, but now it was nothing more than a long sleep. Once the Empire was theirs, he would be released, and their family would finally be able to live in peace.

- - - - - - - - -

"Daddy?"

"Han? Han, where are you?" Anakin crept through the complete blackness, unsure where he was going, following only his child's voice.

"Daddy . . . I'm cold."

"Well come here, Han, come to Daddy. I'll warm you up."

"I-I can't . . ." Han's voice was shaking, sounding on the verge of sobs.

"All right, all right sweetheart, just hold on, I'm coming." Anakin broke into a run, still unable to see anything, still following only his son's voice.

"Daddy . . ." Han's voice was weakening, slowly fading. "D-D-Daddy . . ."

"Han, hold on!"

But he came too late. Han's body lay cold on the ground, his skin blue, his eyes blankly open, a victim of the devastating cold.

"HAN!!"

Vader awoke suddenly, finding that he had fallen asleep sitting straight up, staring ahead at his frozen son, tinted red just like everything else in Vader's vision. The Sith remained still for several moments, the dream settling in his mind. When was the last time he had dreamed of his child, of his old self, of anything from his previous existence? He couldn't remember.

When was the last time he had dreamed of anything?

He rose and walked slowly toward the carbonite box, his hand reaching out to touch it even though it had no touch sensors. Ever-so-gradually, his finger rubbed against the carbonite, tracing his son's tormented face, unable to look away, the dream lingering in his head, his little boy's suffering almost breaking through his mind's barriers and becoming an actual image.

Suddenly he could stand it no longer. The motion of his fingers grew more and more rapid as they brushed Han's face. Within a few moments, his hand fluidly moved to the side of the box, flipping a switch, pressing a button, not caring about the consequences. He couldn't keep his son like this.

The light on the side of the box began pulsing as the carbonite glowed red. Han's frozen hands slowly returned to their natural color, taking several seconds to regain their ability to move in the tiniest increments. Vader instinctively held his arms out, preparing for the moment when his son's body would be free.

The moment came all of a sudden. Han's body fell out of carbonite and collapsed into Vader's arms, pressing his weight on his father. A few seconds passed before the young man took in a gasp of air and his body began shaking much like it had on the switchboard. Vader gripped Han's sides, seeing that his eyes were still closed.

"Relax," Vader ordered calmly. "You are free of the carbonite."

Han's eyes began to open, his blinks as slow as someone falling asleep, a brief look of panic crossing his face even though he was barely conscious.

"Relax," Vader repeated.

"I can't see . . ." Han mumbled.

"Blindness is a common symptom for those released from carbonite," said Vader, though he wasn't sure whether or not it was actually true. "Your eyesight will return."

"Wh-where am I?"

How was Vader supposed to answer that without making it sound like he was keeping Han prisoner. Even if he was keeping Han prisoner for now, it was for his own safety, but how could he make Han understand that? He couldn't outright tell Han the truth yet, he couldn't make that mistake again . . .

"You are safe," the Sith finally said.

Another look of panic crossed Han's face, his eyes appearing more aware, as if he were only now recognizing the voice. "V-V-Vader . . ." he stuttered.

"Yes." Vader's artificial hands gripped Han's arms with a tightness that was probably painful.

"Y-you . . . you kidnapped me . . . didn't you . . .?"

Vader stared at his son, ignoring the pricks at his heart. "It is for your protection."

Even though he was blind, Han glared as best he could at the Sith. "Yeah? W-well whaddya care about my protection?"

"The bounty hunter is dead," Vader declared, "and your friends escaped."

"No thanks to you, I'm sure," Han snarled.

Vader shook his head slightly, wishing he still had the ability to sigh, realizing that there was no point in trying to reason with his son when he was recovering from the hibernation. There would be plenty of time to talk later.

"You need sleep," he said, carefully leading Han towards the bunk he never used. There was little point in sleeping in a bunk when most of his body was gone.

"Why?" Han said, though he was obviously fighting to stay awake. "So you can drug me up? So you can turn me over to Jabba yourself?"

"I have no interest in the Hutt's money," Vader truthfully said as he lay his resisting son down on the bunk. "Now sleep."

Han was breathing in pants, his eyes closing despite his best efforts to keep them open. "Y-you . . . you say that like you actually expect me to listen . . ."

"Sleep," Vader repeated in a rather stern voice, desperately trying to drive out memories of trying to get a five-year-old to go to bed.

Just as Vader predicted, Han's physical needs finally overcame his worries – his head fell back onto the pillow and he was sound asleep in only a few seconds, leaving his father to stare at him. He looked so . . . vulnerable, finally beginning to resemble the small child Vader knew him as, but with that idea came the realization that once Han recovered he would do all he could to escape. That couldn't be allowed, Vader decided. Han would have to remain vulnerable.