Thank you forever to my lovely Beta, SpellCleaver! 3

There were no dreams. Simply thoughts.

Thoughts of Tatooine. He'd promised his uncle to stay on for another season, then...another season never came. All of his ties to home were gone; his aunt and uncle. Ben. Biggs. They were all dead, and he'd never had a real chance to mourn them.

Thoughts of flying. Flying in his skyhopper, dreaming of adventure in the stars. Usually those dreams involved finding his long lost father, then together they'd explore the galaxy. Then he got his first X-wing, and it was as natural as breathing. Twisting and turning, weightless...the feel of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he dove, down, down…

Thoughts of his friends.

Wedge. What must he think of him now that he thought he was dead? Maybe he'd forever think those things, if Luke died tonight.

Chewie. He'd only recently learned enough Shyriiwook to understand without asking for help. It had certainly opened up their friendship, to say the least.

Lando. Well...he didn't really know Lando, but he admired him, for his willingness to do whatever it took to save Han.

Han. He'd taken him under his wing, taught him plenty of practical survival skills, including how to swim. Never once had he judged him, and he wished he'd thanked him for that…

Leia.

She wasn't a friend. She was more than that. She was his sister. All this time...he still could hardly believe it.

And...and…

Anakin Skywalker.

Vader.

The father he'd always wanted, and the man he'd hated and feared. They were one and the same. There was still so much he had to work through to figure out what he'd even do with that relationship. But…

He wanted one.

A relationship.

As insane as that was, it was true.

And though everything was dark, he knew he was near. He could feel him. Like the void of space Luke loved so much, Vader was all at once cold and terrifying… and yet soothing and breathtaking, with pinpricks of brilliant light that were as the stars.

How had he never noticed? In all of their Force interactions, he'd never seen anything beyond the inky blackness that was the Dark Side.

And yet...there was light. And those lights shone brightly, just for him, calling him back.

I will do anything you ask.

The voice of his father pleaded with him. Distant, but there. It didn't sound quite like Vader-at least, not as Luke now knew him.

Stay.

I will do anything you ask.

Stay with me.

Don't leave me too.

He couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't find his way out of darkness. But he clung to those brilliant, illuminated stars within Vader's presence…

And wondered if his father could feel him, too.

Leia felt as though someone had hollowed her out. Every breath felt heavy. Han had made her wash Luke's blood off her hands once they'd jumped to hyperspace, but she still felt its stains on her skin.

Maybe it would never wash away.

The shuttle was suffocating. The time to their destination felt too long and impossible. She wanted nothing more than to get her brother off this shuttle and into a proper med bay.

But for now, she was forced to wait.

Not at his bedside, like she wanted-the room Luke was in was too small for that, and Vader was immovable. She hadn't even tried-she felt it, and knew without a doubt that if she tried to convince him to leave, it would not end well.

Luke was too critical. If he was as sensitive as she was to others emotions, especially Vader's...she doubted it would do well for his recovery.

So she waited. In agony. She was the reason he was like this...she'd do anything to give him the best fighting chance.

But she wasn't alone. Han sat beside her, gently running fingers up and down her spine. Silent and waiting. In front of her, Artoo sat, his optical sensor fixed on her, as though he were anticipating her needs.

Artoo. He was her droid, but he'd flown with Luke so much, he might as well be his. She'd never consciously told the droid to fly with him, but Artoo had volunteered himself to fly with Luke at the Battle of Yavin and...that was that.

She reached up and silently placed a hand on the cool metal of his dome. A mournful moan escaped him.

"Thank you," she said, softly. "Thank you both, for everything today." And for every other day Artoo and Han had helped him.

"Sure, Leia," Han said, "What else would we do? He's our friend, too."

Of course. She knew that. In fact, Han had a tendency to jump to Luke's assistance even when she herself had advised against it. He was the one who constantly took her brother under his wing, teaching him everything from smuggling to how to swim to how to make a good deal. Hell, even at the medal ceremony on Yavin, he'd given Luke his best dress outfit, just so he'd have something other than farmer's clothes to wear.

No. It wasn't just for her sake Han had helped.

"If he dies…" Leia trailed off. She couldn't think about it, and yet it was completely out of her hands. As much as Vader would deny it, it was out of his hands, too.

"You can't blame yourself."

She tensed, whirling. "I can because it is my fault! If I hadn't-"

"He never would've known his father cared about him." Han raised his brows, daring her to challenge him. When she didn't, he continued, "You know how much that meant to him. Even if it is...uh. Darth Vader." He lowered his voice, making a face at the door Vader was behind.

"I'm pretty sure he can probably hear us."

"Well. Good thing I said something nice, then." She wasn't sure that was really a compliment for Vader, but...it wasn't the worst thing. "Anyway. I'd still be in carbonite, too. You can't say you wouldn't miss me."

It was a tease that would have either made her smile or riled her up. It was something normal, and she appreciated that he was trying. He even gave her that goofy grin of his, though it didn't touch his eyes.

She made an attempt to smile...but it crumbled and fresh tears fell down her face.

"I don't want to lose him, Han."

The grin fell away. "I know. I'm sorry we couldn't rescue him sooner."

She shook her head, leaning into him, Vader be damned. "If you hadn't pointed out that smuggling route, we might not have been close enough to save him at all."

His arm looped around her, and she savored his warmth. "He's going to be okay, Leia."

"How do you know?" She buried her face against him.

"You Skywalkers are lucky. Even when you're not."

That did make her smile, just a little.

But the moment didn't last long. She jumped at the strange tug she felt in her gut, pulling her attention back towards the room Luke was in.

"What?" Han asked, concerned. "Do...do you…? Is Luke…?"

"No, I don't think-" There was another tug, more insistent, then before she could explain the strange sensation, Vader's voice was in her head.

I am calling you. Your brother needs you. Now.

She yelped, bolting to her feet. Vader had said it was possible, and she'd even shared that meditation dream with him, but to actually hear his voice in her mind like it was her own voice…

"I'll be back." She didn't bother to explain to Han as she left him there, going for the room.

As bothered as she was by the intrusion into her mind, she hadn't missed the severe impatience in his tone. And if she could help Luke, she didn't blame him.

She entered the tiny room, immediately squeezing against the wall. With the med droid taking one side of the room to assist Luke, her brother on a stretcher, and Vader on the other side, she felt like she was already in the way.

"What can I do?" She tried to sound strong and unbothered by the fact that her brother was still covered in blood, with a mask and tubes all over him...he looked so small, smaller than her, even…

"The patient needs a blood transfusion," the droid informed her.

She frowned, glancing at Vader, who tensed under her questioning gaze. "I am not a ideal candidate."

His tone suggested she not ask any questions...and she didn't. Not now. Not when Luke needed her.

"Alright." She was already rolling up her sleeve. "Do what you have to do."

Impossibly, Vader tensed further. "Do not harm her," he warned the droid.

"I'm sure it's done it plenty of times," she assured him, inching carefully around Luke's stretcher before holding her arm out.

The droid turned to her. "Relation to the patient?" it inquired.

"I'm his twin."

"Most likely an ideal candidate."

"Yeah, sure, just do it." As the droid set to work with testing her blood, she glanced at Vader. His gaze was back on Luke, though she could feel him monitoring the droid's actions. She didn't dare make a noise as her finger was pricked.

But that was all she sensed from Vader. Everything else seemed to be locked behind steel walls.

"How is he?" she dared ask as the droid analyzed the results.

There was silence, save for the whirring of the droid and the steady rasp of Vader's respirator, but finally he ground out, " Stable."

One word answers. That was never a good sign. And though Luke looked anything but alright, she figured the droid wouldn't be stopping to do a blood transfusion if he wasn't at least somewhat stabilized.

That still didn't tell her what she wanted to know, though.

Would he live?

Vader's helmet snapped to her the moment the thought crossed her mind. " He will live." He pointed at her, as though challenging her to contradict him.

Her lips tightened. "Are you telling me that because that's what the droid told you? Or because that's what we both want?"

"He will live! There are no other alternatives!"

She opened her mouth to argue...and closed it. For just a moment, those shields crumbled. He hastily re-erected them, but...

He was terrified. Powerless.

Anything that could make Vader feel that way…it was almost like a stubborn, vulnerable child believing what he wanted, despite all the facts pointing to the opposite.

She swallowed, hard, then nodded. "Okay," she said instead. "Good."

He probably sensed she was saying it for his sake, and he glared at her for a moment longer...before turning back to Luke.

"Blood type match," the droid announced. "Indeed, you are an ideal candidate for blood transfusion. Shall we begin?"

She too looked at her brother. Too pale. He was too pale…

"Yes," Leia said through numb lips. "Do whatever he needs."

He felt like he was floating.

Was he flying? Did someone turn off the artificial gravity field? Was it broken? He could fix that.

If it wasn't so dark…

Not that he was afraid of it. Not when he could feel his father still there with him.

Maybe he could ask him. He probably had the answers to what was happening. How did he even get here, anyway?

He should ask. He needed to. He didn't know why it was important, but…

How did he do that, again?

He tried to remember, but it was difficult to concentrate on any one thought for long. Each time he thought he was onto something, the thought slipped from his fingers. Sometimes he managed to hold onto one, but it ended up not being useful, at all. Things like how to reinstall a hyperdrive in an X-wing, or how to piece a motor on a vaporator using tape and some old droid parts.

None of that helped him reach his father.

But that star-flecked presence never left. Not for a single second. Maybe he'd have to settle with that.

Yet...he wanted to reach him…

So he kept trying. Most of the time the thoughts slipped away or he forgot what he was trying to do.

But eventually, he managed it.

There were no words. He couldn't remember how to speak, let alone project coherent thought. And it probably was an accident when he finally managed to brush back against his father's presence.

Immediately, it grew stronger, wrapping around him, eagerly searching him. He was pretty sure there were words too, intermingled with his own.

Luke.

Okay?

Surgery…

Safe.

Talk…

Those were the only words he managed to pick out, and they made no sense. He wanted to ask, or even show his father he was confused...but he forgot how again.

Reluctantly, he stopped trying, and allowed himself to float in darkness.

Vader never once left Luke's side.

Not on the shuttle. Not when Solo dropped them out of hyperspace and needed the clearance codes to dock. Not when the droid moved Luke's stretcher to his personal med bay. Not when Luke, with a newly stitched up abdomen, was dunked into bacta.

It was there he waited, working on other med droids so that when Luke was ready, more droids would be available to assist to the fullest extent.

"Why not just use a normal doctor?" Leia questioned when he explained why he was working on them. She had followed them into the med bay, and though he would never admit it, it was somewhat soothing to have her near.

At least one of his children was alive and mostly intact. Besides, he couldn't have torn her away from Luke if he tried. And maybe having her near would help him. He was willing to try anything to bring him back.

"I will not risk my son's life to human error," he growled.

Besides. He knew these droids and their skills intimately. They'd worked on him plenty enough, and if they could handle his extensive injuries, then surely they could help Luke's.

Injuries that he'd sustained because of a foolish decision to help someone beyond saving. A decision that had presented itself because Leia had sought to protect Luke from him.

Because of what he'd done on Bespin.

Because of how he'd treated her every time they'd run into one another.

His hands stilled, guilt churning in his gut until he wanted nothing more but to break and tear and let the entire galaxy feel the pain of what he'd done…

He was a failure of a father. Luke's condition only proved that.

The original droid helping his son approached, breaking him from his internal spiraling. "I have completed an analysis of what needs to be done on the patient," it announced. Though he'd modified it to be gentle and efficient in its procedures, it still spoke impassively.

It was too calm. He felt that everyone should be roaring in rage, in terror, just to fit the horrid situation he'd pushed his son into.

He glanced at the boy floating peacefully in the bacta, half hoping his son would reach out to him. He hadn't stopped trying, not once, since Arorua.

"Explain."

The droid tilted its head, accessing Luke's internal file. "The patient has a broken clavicle and leg, with two cracked ribs. The leg is the worst break, but the patient did a decent job at stabilizing the injury, so it only needs resetting and a plasto-cast."

Vader wasn't surprised, but he still clenched his fists.

His fault. His fault.

"The clavicle fracture is beyond fifteen millimeters out of place. I would recommend surgical assistance so it heals properly."

If only he'd spared that pirate...he could at least take out his fury on him. He'd killed him much too fast, even if it had been necessary to get to his son.

"The ribs have not punctured the lung. As long as the patient refrains from strenuous activity, they should heal on their own."

Oh, that wouldn't be an issue. There was no way in hell Luke would be doing anything but focusing on a full recovery.

"The bacta should heal the bruising on his face, as well as old wounds on his chest. He has a concussion that he must rest from, or serious damage could occur. He will also likely have scarring from the abdominal injury."

Vader couldn't help but look again at the boy's exposed stomach, and wrestled to control the white hot rage that threatened to overwhelm him.

If he broke something important to Luke's recovery, he'd never forgive himself. Even with the stomach wound relatively fixed, he was still far from safe.

"Finally, there is a matter of his diet. He is far under recommended weight. I will draw up a recommended nutrition schedule to assist."

He'd already begun losing weight even before this whole misadventure. Because of what he'd done.

His gaze strayed to the hand he'd taken, the one that looked deceptively real. It hung limply. It would forever be a reminder of what he'd done. He should have just told him the truth the moment he'd walked into that room. But no, he'd wanted to see what his untrained son was capable of, and he'd lost control and-

"Is that all?" Leia asked.

He needed to stay focused. He was no use to his son out of control, and if he hurt Leia unintentionally…

"The patient is lucky to be alive." The droid shook its head, and Vader fought the urge to stab a lightsaber through it. "If he makes it through, he will also need physical therapy to ensure proper mobility of his shoulder and leg."

"He will make it through," Vader snarled, pointing at the droid. But the droid just stared at him, the threat either going over its head, or its personality wasn't programmed to care about threats to its own wellbeing.

"I understand your concern. I will do my best to save the patient." The words were spoken like it was reading from a pre-written script, and he suddenly had the urge to completely reprogram the droid to have some sort of a personality-

There was a brush against his bond, and Vader whirled back to Luke. The heart he didn't even know he still had leapt into his throat, terror and hope rushing through him so quickly, it was painful.

He knew that presence.

Luke.

He'd responded back. There had been no words, but it was the first response he'd had since Arorua. It was the first personal sign that there was still life there, and that his son was fighting to come back.

Are you okay? Can you hear me?

He gently and ever so carefully probed his son's mind. It was a jumbled mess, and he couldn't get anything specific.

He tried again.

The med droid says you'll need surgery. I'm not going to leave you. You will be safe, I promise.

He wasn't in any position to promise anything. He'd promised Padme he'd save her from death, and that had turned out...well.

"What's wrong?" Leia asked from behind, and he sensed her worry.

He approached the bacta tank, placing a hand on the glass as though he could physically pull him back from the brink of death.

Please. Talk to me. Please.

But his son's mind had quieted, and his bond had gone silent again. He could feel him alive, but it was almost like there was a barrier between them, one he couldn't break through.

Slowly, he leaned his helmet against the glass.

"I don't care what you have to do," his voice was quiet, and he knew the stupid droid wouldn't pick up the lethal fury in his tone, but he seethed with it anyway, "you will save my son or you will find yourself in pieces."

Not that he'd stop there. If he lost Luke...if he lost him again…

"I understand your concern. I will do my best to save the patient."

He gritted his teeth, but didn't move. The droid definitely had terrible bedside manner programming. Regardless of the outcome, it would be in pieces at the end of it.

The droid floated away, back to Luke's monitor, and still Vader did not move. He needed to finish with the other droids, but if Luke reached out again, he wanted to be right there. It was ridiculous, since he was already in the same room and there was nowhere on the Executor even that he would not immediately be able to respond to his son. But he didn't move anyway.

At least, not until he sensed Leia approach from behind, hesitate, then… "Lord Vader?"

He closed his eyes. Lord Vader. How he hated the title. How he hated the name. At least, when it was spoken from his daughter's lips. "What?"

Another hesitation...then he felt a trembling hand on his arm, and he stiffened.

She was...touching him. Willingly touching him, and even through the suit, he felt as if his arm was on fire.

He pulled away from the tank, looking down at the hand that suddenly seemed too small and delicate, then at the girl it belonged to. Her eyes were rimmed red from tears he'd largely ignored, but she now stared at him with determination.

"I know Luke," she said, softly but firmly. "He's a fighter. If he's lasted this long, he's not going to give up."

She didn't try to say he would be alright, when neither of them knew they had no control over that. And the way she looked at him, with her hand on his arm, even as tentative as it was…

His throat tightened as the image of her came into his mind. How many times had Padme comforted him like this? Maybe a little warmer, but…

He nodded once. Curtly. Then, he reluctantly stepped aside. An invitation to join him at his side as he watched over Luke.

She accepted it, and wordlessly, they monitored the person they both cared for beyond anything else in the galaxy.

Something was wrong.

He knew now. He was asleep. It felt so good, like a comforting blanket had been wrapped around his mind. For once, he didn't even feel the sting of sharp rocks pressing into his back, or the feel of cool metal on his face. He felt like he was lying on clouds, clouds that were sucking him deeper and deeper into a cocoon of total comfort.

And it was wrong.

He was in danger. He remembered that now, but he couldn't remember why. He couldn't sleep for too long or...or…

Or what?

He needed to get up. He needed to get moving. He didn't remember why, but he began fighting to wake up, to get up-

His father's presence, ever there, strengthened, and he felt his mind and body relaxing, seemingly out of his own control before he fell back into oblivion.

At least, for a while.

Sometime later, the feeling was back. His mind was once again screaming that he was in danger, and he needed to get up or he'd die. He felt the clouds again, and the warmth surrounding him that spoke the opposite, but he didn't care.

He had to get up, he needed to protect himself-

His father was there again, and this time he was certain he felt his gloved hand on his forehead.

Sleep, son. You are safe.

He felt his body immediately relax. He wanted to say something. He wanted to at least ask if Vader would take care of whatever it was that threatened him, but his mind was yet again going black. It was like some unseen force ignored his instincts and forced him to sleep…

The third time (was it the third?) he could have sworn he actually opened his eyes.

The images that entered his brain were not familiar. The room was gray and black and bare. There were black sheets and pillows everywhere. A huge viewport overlooked what he thought were stars.

Danger! his mind screamed at him, and he closed his eyes again. He imagined fighting, or getting up to get out. A few times he even thought he did, only to open his eyes again and realize he was still being swallowed by pillows.

Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up, get up…

And this time, even as his father's presence rushed to push him back to sleep...he found himself already blackening out himself.

Tired. He was so, so tired...and these pillows felt great…

Maybe it was okay to be eaten if he was so comfortable before it happened.

It had been a week since they'd brought Luke back to the Executor. A week since Luke had undergone multiple procedures to save his life. The first few days had been the worst. He'd teetered on the edge of life and death, though Vader said he could feel him reaching out through their bond occasionally. Leia had begun to pick up on when that happened, because Vader would drop whatever he was doing to check on him.

Not that he'd left the room Luke was in. She hardly had either, except when Vader made her get rest herself. The first time he'd forced her to sleep, she'd been awake for two days straight and the suggestion had made her whirl on him to tell him exactly where he could shove it.

But the look he'd given her (or rather, the look she'd felt), made the words dry up in her mouth.

He wasn't in a patient mood, but he was trying for Luke's sake.

So she should, too.

She continued to try that entire week. Eventually Vader stopped pressuring her to sleep, and Han and Artoo took up the task instead. She wondered if Vader had ordered them to. Or maybe they were just worried…

But she was pretty sure Vader was the ultimate cause.

Now it was her 'turn' to watch Luke. Vader didn't sleep like normal people, it seemed-instead, he meditated, and he'd decided Luke's room was the perfect place to do it. So even though he was as asleep as he would ever get, she knew she was not truly the only one monitoring her brother.

Especially since, according to Vader, Luke had attempted waking up multiple times. Each time Vader had apparently forced him back to sleep, claiming he wasn't yet 'ready,' whatever that meant. But...maybe he was right. Luke was out of the med bay, and they were certain by now that he would live, but he still looked too fragile. Because he was. If Luke made a wrong move, it could cause his injuries to worsen and…

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her gaze following the mess of wires still attached to him. She swallowed a lump in her throat. There were no tears left. Not after everything this week. But she wished he'd get better soon, just so she didn't have to see him like this and feel the guilt weighing heavily on her shoulders…

Luke shifted, and she tensed, watching him carefully. Part of her hoped he'd wake up, just so she'd truly know he was going to be okay, but he needed the rest. She couldn't be selfish and hope for something that would delay his recovery.

But then his eyes opened. Blue as a clear sky on Alderaan. They were unfocused and darted around, clearly taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

She should wake Vader and have him help him back to sleep. That's what he told her to do.

And yet…

She inched closer, hardly breathing, so that she was in his line of sight. She knew he recognized her, because she watched him relax further into the pillows, his breathing slowing to a calmer rate.

"Leia."

She'd lied to herself. There were definitely tears left, and they were falling silently at hearing his voice say her name. It was rough from not being used in a while and from having a breathing tube shoved down his throat during surgery, but she recognized it anyway.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered back. With trembling hands, she reached out and touched his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Luke. Please forgive me."

His gaze never left her. "Nothin. For-forgive."

The words were slurred, but she got the gist anyway. "You're too forgiving."

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, and his eyes were drooping.

"I love you, brother," she whispered, stroking his cheek. "I'm glad you're home."

He closed his eyes, and she knew he was drifting away.

"Love...sis."

He was asleep again, and she felt as though a load was taken from her chest.

The next time he was pulled from sleep, it was because everything hurt.

His entire body throbbed. His head. His chest and shoulder. His leg.

It certainly wasn't the first time pain woke him up. But this felt different, somehow. It felt...healing.

He didn't know how else to describe it. In fact, as his mind became more alert, he could feel his leg elevated and wrapped in something tight, hard, and relatively uncomfortable . His left arm was also elevated, on what felt like pillows.

But his chest...and Force, his abdomen…

He felt like someone had beat him with a rod for a week straight.

And someone was poking his right hand.

The hand, he vaguely remembered, he'd rendered useless in his escape attempt.

A… an escape that had gone horribly wrong…

His eyes snapped open.

The room was very clearly Imperial. It had the sterile gray and black colors, with the lights in the wall blinding him. To his right, he heard the sound of Vader's respirator before he managed to turn his stiff neck to look at him.

Vader's helmet was turned downwards, staring at his mechanical hand. The wires compartment on his wrist was open, and he was fiddling with a tool.

Fixing his hand.

Luke watched, too stunned to say anything.

He'd taken that hand from him. How many times since Bespin had Luke looked at that hand with vindictiveness for everything it stood for? It was a physical reminder of his failure, of the last of his innocence lost as Vader hurled the truth of his parentage in his face. He'd hated it, and he hadn't cared that he'd damaged it in his escape attempt beyond the difficulty it would cause.

And now Vader was fixing it.

Luke's head blanked. There just… weren't words to describe the odd yet strangely intimate care the man he'd once hated showed.

"Move your fingers," Vader suddenly ordered without looking up.

He should have known he'd know he was awake. Not that he was trying to hide it, but…

He wiggled his fingers.

Was it just him, or were they somehow smoother and more natural than ever before? If it weren't for the exposed wires and the too-perfect synth skin, he might never notice the difference again.

"Your Rebellion may have given you a top of the line model prosthetic, but they don't know how to properly install it."

He swallowed, and noticed just how sore his throat was. "It didn't stop working because of that."

When was the last time he'd said a full sentence? Though it hurt to talk, it also felt liberating to do it. And to actually talk to someone face to face…

Or. Face to mask. Whatever.

"I am aware. I didn't just fix that. I improved it."

Luke didn't miss the satisfaction and guilt simultaneously in his father's voice. And though Vader had given a rather terrible apology in their first vision together, he felt as if this was an apology worth far more than words could ever convey.

He looked around the room again as Vader finished. "I'm on the Executor."

"Yes." He heard the compartment snap shut, and again he wiggled his fingers.

"How long have I been out?"

A pause, and Luke swore the room darkened. "Over a week."

"A week?!" He tried to sit up, and immediately regretted it as a wave of horrible pain slammed into him and he was back against the pillows.

Vader jumped up and hovered over him. It might have been terrifying to see his mask over him before, but now…

"Do not move or I will put you back to sleep!" he warned, shoving his finger in his face.

No. It was still terrifying, if also a little confusing at how much concern there was in their bond.

"Put me back to…?" he finally managed to gasp out, then, "Hey wait a minute, have you been doing that?!"

Vader froze. "...It was necessary."

" Necessary?! How?!"

"You were only waking up because you thought you were in danger still. You were not in your right mind, and you needed the rest." He crossed his arms. "I was not pleased about it either."

Again, he couldn't help but be stunned. From what he'd seen of his father, he was rather selfish. He would have thought he'd force him awake the first chance he got.

Was he really that worried about him?

Yes, something seemed to whisper, and he thought he remembered something, something before he'd blackened out…

I will do anything you ask.

Luke's mouth went dry.

Was that a dream caused by blood loss? He'd been sure he was going to die. He'd lost the ability to talk to Leia, and she'd been begging him to keep going, to say anything. Then something heavy and warm covered him and he was being lifted…

It was too bizarre to be a dream.

"I think," Luke rasped, "we should talk."

He was half afraid Vader would scoff and say no. He didn't strike him as the kind of man who favored talk over action, and their conversations often led to either extreme awkwardness or an argument. He didn't have it in him to argue now, and he was well aware that he was totally at his father's mercy.

But though Vader remained tense, he hesitated… and nodded.

"Yes," he rumbled. "We do."

So no hugs (that would REALLY hurt Luke in this chapter), but...feels? The Vader fixing Luke's hand was significantly inspired by pydiyudie on Tumblr. In fact it was one of the first pictures that inspired a lot of how Luke and Vader's relationship has progressed in this story.
The feels continue NEXT CHAPTER! Luke's finally getting some LOVE. See? I do give him nice things sometimes.
Also thank you so much for the support!
The song that inspired the title: Sleep by Eric Whitacre
All of my Birds by Jessica Curry
Safe and Sound cover by Madilyn Bailey
Leave some love!
Love,
LadyVader23