"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always to the readers! Sorry I've been so absent lately - the adapter to my laptop stopped working and the battery only works for a short length of time before it needs to be recharged, so basically I can only write when my brother lets me borrow his adapter. Hopefully I'll be able to afford a new adapter soon - I've gotten a job substitute teaching for the school year, and that starts next month.

Chapter 38

Han could crawl now.

Though Anakin continued to repeat that notion in his head, though he saw the factuality of that statement right in front of him, it continued to amaze him. Wasn't it only a little while ago when he was just a tiny baby who could barely roll over?

Well he wasn't like that anymore. Now he was pushing himself across the carpeted floor, smiling so widely and babbling happily in baby language. It seemed like he was always smiling, like even the most insignificant events filled him with happiness, that being a baby meant everything was new and exciting.

"Come on, Han," Padme was saying, sitting on the floor across from Anakin with her arms open. "Come to Mommy!" Her blue skirt was pulled and wrinkled around her legs, though she didn't even notice – all her attention was directed on her baby. "Come to Mommy!"

Han merrily crawled in his mother's direction, his eyes wide with excitement, as if seeing his Mommy was a special occasion. Anakin could see the soles of his little socked feet, which kicked up every other second. Once the child was within reach of his mother, she scooped him into her arms, making him giggle loudly, once more bringing his smiling face into Anakin's view.

"There you are, my sweetie!" Padme said in a high, singsong voice. "You're getting big, aren't you? Aren't you?" She tickled the baby's stomach, making him laugh louder. "Ooooh, you're so big, so big, so big." After giving him a large kiss, she gently put him back on the floor and patted his back. "Come on, go to Daddy now."

Han immediately began crawling toward Anakin, still smiling. Although the child couldn't actually talk yet, it seemed obvious that he understood what his mother was telling him to do, which filled Anakin with wonder. He reached out his arms, a mirror image of his wife a few moments ago. "Come to Daddy!" he coaxed. "Come to Daddy, Han!"

Han continued babbling as he crawled closer and closer to his father. Anakin felt a great surge of fatherly pride at the thought that this baby looked at him with so much unyielding love, so much admiration, so much complete devotion. "Come to Daddy," he repeated. "Come on Han, come on."

The baby reached his destination, and the father scooped him into his arms with a loud, merry laugh. "Here's my baby, here's my baby, here's my baby!" He kissed him several times over, hearing Padme laugh in the distance, wanting this single moment to just last on and on.

- - - - - - - - -

Vader opened his eyes to the red-tinted world he had known for so many years, though his mind remained disoriented from the dream of regular colors, of regular life. He never dreamed about Padme anymore. Never. Why was the past deciding to haunt him now?

He shook his head, knowing that trying to fool himself was futile. The trigger for the dream was right in front of him, sleeping in the bunk his seat faced, still appearing so helpless.

Vader stood up and walked trance-like toward his son, who was curled up under the blankets Vader had draped over him, snoring gently, one of his bare feet sticking out from the covers. The Sith remembered looking down at Han like this many times before, always amazed by how innocent he could look in sleep. Even now, sleep exposed innocence. His hair still spread itself across the pillow like it did when he was a child; his arms gripped the pillow with the same tightness as he used to grip his toys.

But suddenly Han stirred, squeezing the pillow as if it could protect him. "No . . ." he muttered. "No . . . no . . . no . . . no . . ."

Vader continued staring, unable to look away much as he might like to.

"No . . ." Han repeated, now rolling from side to side, ". . . no . . . don't hurt her . . . don't her her . . . please . . ."

Vader felt something twist inside him, that long ago memory trying to break through the barriers in his mind no matter how fiercely he pushed it back. Inside his head, he heard his son's screams in that small, terrified voice, that voice that could reach out and tear at his heart, that young voice blending with the screams of his older self in the present.

"No . . . no . . . no . . . NO!!!!" Han's eyes suddenly popped open, as if awakened by his own screams. He breathed rapidly as his eyes shifted from side to side, though the lack of focus told Vader that his sight still hadn't returned.

Vader slowly reached out and his fingers brushed his son's chin so lightly that he didn't seem to notice. "Your mother was hurt in a terrifying incident, was she?"

Han took a large inhale. "H-how do you know that?"

"You talk in your sleep," Vader said simply.

"So I've heard," Han mumbled.

Vader once more brushed Han's chin with his finger, this time making him flinch. "What do you remember?" He didn't know how the question came out, yet once it was spoken, he realized that at least a small part of him was desperate to know what Han's impression of that day was.

"And why is that any of your business?" Han snorted, glaring upward even though he was blind. "Why am I even talkin' to you?"

Vader rolled his eyes behind his mask. "If you don't wish to tell me, I can simply use the Force to look into your mind."

There was something like fright in Han's eyes, but it quickly turned into another glare.

"What about your father?" Vader continued. "What happened to him?"

"He's dead," Han mumbled. "They're both dead."

Vader leaned in closer to his son. "Did you actually see them die?"

"I saw my mom die," Han said in a voice close to a snap. "Not that it's got anything to do with you."

Something reached further into Vader's heart, squeezing it like a fist. He suddenly felt ill, as if Padme's death had occurred only this minute. She was gone. It was a notion he had long struggled to drive away, long tried to forget . . . but once again it was staring him in the face, insulting him, humiliating him, showing him his true powerlessness against death.

"My dad killed her . . ." Han suddenly said, softly, hesitantly, as if only to himself.

Anger drove away the sorrow. How dare his son believe that! His metal hands clenched as his mind flew through possible responses that wouldn't give away the truth, and more importantly, wouldn't take him back to the day his life ended.

"Your memories must be faulty," he said, concentrating on bringing authority to his voice.

"No," Han choked out. "I couldn't make somethin' like that up."

"But your father no doubt loved your mother," Vader said matter-of-factly, leaning in at a proximity that would probably frighten Han if he weren't blind. "You and she must have been his entire world, weren't you? So how could he possibly kill her?"

Han swallowed. "I dunno . . . but he did . . ."

"You must miss him, don't you?" Vader persisted.

The young man said nothing, yet his sightless eyes were clouding up and he gave an unmistakable sniff, bringing Vader sudden hope that his son's affection might not be lost forever.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" said Vader. "I'll bring you something to eat."

- - - - - - -

A few minutes later, Vader was kneeling by the bunk, feeding Han spoonfuls of soup. Neither one spoke, but Han gave surprisingly little resistence to the Sith feeding him. Once again, biological needs were overcoming his rage. Vader felt himself relaxing. With time, his son would open up to him – he felt confident about that. And there would be plenty of time. Han would remain weak for however long it would be required to keep him here.

The drugs Vader put in his food would ensure that.