It was my birthday on the 21st and I'm depressed so enjoy whatever the fuck this is.
Summary: After being rescued from slavery by Darth Vader a 6-year-old Luke talks to Vader about the father he never had.
This was originally a Oneshot posted seperately called "Daddy" I decided to turn this into a Oneshot compilation as I have so many ideas I'd like to post but not make into full stories just yet so I'll be posting them here as frequently as I can. Updates aren't promised and there is currently no update sceduele. Everyone is free to write a Oneshot and have it posted here and there is currently no select theme you have to write too, this is just for fun. :)
Daddy
He watched the boy sleep, his small form was covered in bandages and bacta patches, he looked no younger than 5.
The boy stirred, large blue orbs stared into the artificial red lenses of his mask, his small form shook in fear—grasping the linen sheets close to his chest, if he wasn't so devoid of empathy, he'd almost feel sorry for him.
"W-where am I?" the boy asked, his small voice wavering and large eyes darted around the room frantically—he looked on the verge of tears and cringed every time he heard the incessant rasp of his respirator.
He stared at the boy for a moment, his respirator was the only sound between them. "You are aboard the Executor awaiting passage to the nearest Family Services facility." He explained, the harsh baritone of his voice modulator bellowed.
The boy jumped back at the sound, clutching the thermal blanket closer, he wasn't the first person he'd met who'd reacted in that way, such a voice was so—inhumane, a way for his master dehumanize him some more, take away everything that made him even remotely human in the eyes of others—he wasn't sure whether he liked it better that way or not. "The Executor?" the boy asked.
"A large ship." He clarified, he felt awkward standing here, his seven-foot form looming over the medical bed of a child who looked fresh out it's mother's womb—he was just so small, fragile? He'd slaughtered thousands of children before, many younger than this boy but something about this boy made him feel, almost sorry for him.
The boy seemed to perk up at that, his eyes grew wide in childish wonder "In space!" he exclaimed
He stared at the boy for a moment before replying "Yes."
The boys stare unnerved him slightly, something about his blue eyes were familiar—too familiar, he wondered if he'd possibly killed the boy's father or perhaps known him. "Are you my daddy?" the boy asked, as if reading his mind.
He flinched back from what he'd heard, a father… maybe in another life perhaps, in a life were his wife hadn't forsaken him—chose his best friend over him and turned her back on their little family, perhaps in a life where he wasn't kept awake at night replaying there confrontation in his head, ways he could've made her understand, made her choose him.
He shook his head and buried that thought pattern deep down—he mustn't think on it, this boy needed to learn his place really quickly, he wasn't a father and he most certainly wasn't this child's father, he'd make him understand that regardless of how injured he was right now.
"No!" he hissed back.
The boy flinched back, hiding under his blanket before peeking over the top of it. "I-I'm sorry, Daddy was going to come and get me and take me away from all the bad men." He stuttered back.
He waited for his respirator to catch up before replying "And where is he now?" he enquired.
The boy shook his head "I dunno, but he'll be coming! He will come and kill all the bad men Pow Pow! And take me away on his big ship!" he made a blaster motion with his finger as he explained.
"I see."
The boy settled back down and smiled at him "Does your daddy have a big ship?" he asked.
He wondered how he'd possibly go about explaining midichlorians to a child, or even if he cared enough to—he didn't owe this child anything, if it were anyone else he wouldn't snapped there neck and crushed their windpipe were they stood—so why hadn't he done that to this boy? "I never knew him." He eventually replied.
The boy nodded in understanding "Me neither!" he confessed.
That baffled him, were all children this cryptic? Or was this boy just a special case naivety? "Then how can you be certain he'll come back for you, if you never knew him?" he asked, his annoyance was bubbling.
"Because my heart told me." The boy replied.
He stared at the boy in disbelief, that was the most foolish thing he'd ever heard in his life—this boy was truly naïve and utterly devoid of a brain. "Then you are most foolish." He scolded.
The boy seemed not to hear him "I hoped Daddy would come for me a little sooner though." He confessed, nervously biting his bottom lip.
"He is not coming back for you because he does not care too, cease this foolishness immediately." He snapped back, if the boy was to go to family services, he had to cease this foolish idealistic crusade immediately, it only ever led to suffering.
He bit his lip "Mummy said the same, she said Daddy won't be coming back because Daddy is a horrible bad man." The boy explained
He was silent
The boy stared at him, fiddling with his hands nervously "Is Mummy okay?" he asked.
He was silent for a moment, wondering if he should tell him the truth or not—he was young and orphan, he shouldn't care for this boy at all, he'd only known him a couple of hours yet he felt this fierce paternal need to protect him from danger, protect him from the truth—was it because he reminded him of himself at that age? He did not know, all he knew was that he had to severe this connection immediately, this boy was not his responsibility.
"She is dead." He confessed, his tone blunt and steady.
The boy begun to cry into his hand, he cringed at the sight "Not Mummy! Mummy strong, mummy did horrible bad things with bad men so I would be okay, Mummy got loads of ouchies." The boy cried.
"They are dead also." He replied.
The boy sniffled, snot clung to his face and wet his sleeves. "The bad men?" he asked.
"Yes."
The boy looked down at his lap in shame, his red and puffy eyes were leaking tears—he looked utterly miserable—were children supposed to be miserable? He barely even remembered himself ever being happy as a child. "Mummy said I should not be happy about people dying, but they were nasty to me and Mummy." the boy confessed, his shame evident in his voice.
"So, I have heard." He confessed.
"They did not feed me and hurt me a lot." He mumbled; his self-pity was truly pathetic—that need to stop immediately.
"I do not care for your life story." He replied, his cold tone made ten times worse by his voice modulator.
He looked down "A-are you going to hurt me too?" he whispered.
"Only if you anger me." He replied, and it was true—if the boy like any other soldier under his command displeased him, they'd be punished—most severely.
The shivered slightly, bringing his tiny legs up to his chest, wincing as an uncomfortable ache shot through his small form. "W-what's your name?" he asked.
"You will call me Vader." He replied.
"Vader sir, y-you can hurt me, I promise not to cry—just please don't give me anymore ouchies here." The boy whispered; a small hand moved to rest between his legs.
He panned his neck so that his black mask stared down at the boy. He recoiled back at the thought of ever sexually assaulting a child—he'd done many horrific things in his life but he always executed children as painlessly as he could, he couldn't comprehend how anyone could find a child attractive and hurt him like that—maybe that's what the general population thought about him, wondered how he could murder and torture without so much of a second thought.
"Are you in pain?" his voice wavered, he tried not to let his concern be known to the boy—he didn't want the boy to form an emotional tie to him, or any tie to him of that sort—but he needed to make sure that the boy was alright before he transferred him to family services. The last thing he needed was for the HoloNet to accuse him of raping children, that would truly wound the Empire—if the public had a weakness it was children.
He nodded "I got a big ouchie." The boy whispered.
He stared at the boy, he looked so young… he was no fool to the cruelty of slavers, he'd been a slave once before—but this children looked far too young to used like that, surely…"How old are you…?"
The boy thought on it for a moment before raising six fingers "I think I am six." He replied.
He was silent at that—six...
The boy bit his lip nervously "C-can I have a drink please Vader sir?"
He ignored him "Did those men cause that pain?" he pressed.
The boy nodded, suddenly tearful again "Ah huh, they were hurting Mummy, I told them to stop being mean and then they stopped hurting Mummy and hurt me." He quietly explained.
"How many were there?" he asked, he needed to know—he wasn't sure why, he just needed to know he'd slaughtered them all.
"I think seven." The boy confessed
He was silent once more.
"It might have been eight."
He looked at the boy once more, before picking up a datapad and typing in a quick order for a med droid. "You will be happy to hear that I killed everyone inside." He replied.
The boy tearfully starred at him and then at the datapad in suspicion "W-why would that make me happy?" he asked, his voice wavering.
"Because those men are dead." He replied.
The boy managed a tearful smile "it's okay Vader sir, I forgive them, I just want Daddy." He said.
He frowned, even now—after everything that had happened, this boy still yearned for his father—was willing to forgive such scum just for a chance to see his father, the boy was too forgiving—it utterly baffled and infuriated him. "Your father is not coming." He snapped.
The boy frowned "Why?" he asked.
He stared at the boy, his anger was bubbling and threatening to unleash itself at this child's naivety and utter cluelessness at his situation—his deadbeat father wasn't coming back for him, he couldn't understand was he continued to speak on it as if, he'd just show up and suddenly care, the boy's father was a terrible one. "Because he would have rescued you sooner, any father would have slaughtered anyone who lays a hand on their child." He sneered, cleanching his fists in frustration.
The boys lip wobbled once more "D-Daddy not coming for me?" he asked, as if he couldn't truly believe his father wasn't coming to get him—as if his entire psychology had been pulled into question—good, it was about time the boy grew up, let these phantom figures go.
"No."
"What will happen to me now?" the asked.
He stared at him and sighed; the sound sounded strange when filtered through his respirator. "You will be placed under Family Services custody until you are adopted." He explained.
"No!" the boy protested.
"It is not up for debate." He scolded
The boys lip wobbled, and his temper flared. "I said no! I want Mummy and Daddy!" he cried, unleashing a colossal tantrum.
He grabbed the boy roughly by the arm and shook him until his was quiet. "They are dead accept that!" he roared, finally loosing his temper with the boy.
The boy begun to cry huge sobs wrecked his small frame. "I don't want any more ouchies!" he sobbed
Vader silently seethed and decided to let the boy have his tantrum, he'd deal with him in the morning—make sure he never had another in his presence.
"My back hurts!" The boy cried
He cried until he tired himself out, his small form sat onto the floor, Vader moved to pick up the small bundle and place it back onto the bed.
Sleep eyes stared into hollow red lenses. "C-can I stay here?" he mumbled.
Vader placed him back onto the bed and pulled the over the small form—stepping back a comfortable distance he replied "No."
A small hand reached out and grabbed his own larger prosthetic one.
"G'night Daddy." He sleepily mumbled.
Vader was frozen.
I hoped you liked this little oneshot Please review and tell me what you think.