Chapter 10: Expectations

Summary: Piett never expected a young rebel to stir memories of a little, kidnapped prince, but then he knew better than to trust expectations.

Piett had never expected to garner the attention of Darth Vader.

He certainly hadn't expected to wind up being promoted to Captain and transferred to Lord Vader's own flagship.

And he most definitely, never in milenia, would have expected to find himself in the role of glorified babysitter to Darth Vader's son, the young Prince Luke.

And yet here he was.

Life, as was so often the case, cared nothing for your expectations.

Such subversions only continued when he'd met the Prince. Luke was the very opposite of what you'd expect of the son of Darth Vader. Golden-haired, rosy-cheeked and bright of mind and disposition, even a little shy. He was a trouble-maker, often entertaining himself by playing pranks, whether by levitating a stormtrooper's momentarily removed helmet into the air and confusing the poor man, or leaving sharp tacks on the chairs of certain officers before a meeting. He didn't know much about children, but he wouldn't have expected such cunning and mischief from a three-year-old, but once again, Piett was learning not to put much faith in expectations.

What he probably should have been expecting but hadn't, was how affectionate Luke was. He'd latched onto Piett almost instantaneously, and Piett wasn't sure how he felt about that. He didn't know what to do when Luke would attach himself to Piett's leg like some kind of suction creature, or lifted his arms to be picked up or hugged. Piett had always refused unless the situation called for it, but Luke was never deterred, quite the opposite, it seemed to make him more determined.

The next unexpected thing was the effect the boy appeared to have on the Dark Lord himself, whether to soften his appearance or his temperament. Piett hadn't quite been successful in not staring at the image of the Dark Lord standing, tall and menacing as ever, which was completely undermined by the bubbly little toddler nestled in his arm.

He didn't fail to notice how much calmer, more patient the man was when the boy was around. Lives were saved by his presence alone, although the same could not be said if something happened to the boy. Force help them all if Luke was ever hurt in any manner. To think Vader was terrifying normally.

To say Lord Vader was protective of the Prince, would be an understatement of the highest order, but so too could that be said of any parent, and contrary to popular expectations, it proved to Piett in no uncertain terms that there was indeed, a human heart beating within that cold, armored chest.

Then came that horrible day. The day that did not go as expected, every detail of which was branded into his mind.

The rebel attack, a diversion, or mere coincidence, they never knew. Lord Vader suddenly stiffening, then whirling around and running, it was the first and only time Piett had ever seen him truly run, in the direction of his and Luke's quarters. Piett's heart jumping into his throat upon realizing something must have happened to Luke.

Piett almost following him, before realizing that Lord Vader was more than capable of handling whatever situation was taking place, and Piett would be expected to assist the dangerously incompetent Admiral Ozzel in overseeing the bridge and continue to regulate the defenses.

Then Lord Vader returning, ordering with a sharp and dangerous, although if Piett didn't know any better, almost a panicked tone, an all out search of the ship, a search for the young prince.

Then the report that one of their shuttles had been taken, and whoever it was had escaped in the wake of the chaos. Piett knew, as Lord Vader must know, that Luke had been aboard that shuttle, and he and whoever had kidnapped him were long gone.

The way that unfortunate ensign, the Admiral, whose own oversights had allowed for this ambush and several other officers had at that moment risen into the air simultaneously, suspended by some invisible force, all clawing at their necks, mouths open, fighting for a breath that would never come, was still a sight that haunted him and kept him from sleep.

Piett was promoted to Admiral that day.

Lord Vader was never the same.

Immediately after the incident, he called for searches of nearby planets that yielded nothing.

Piett saw it physically, in the way he almost appeared more stooped over, more tense. Imperceptible to anyone, save for Piett who worked with the man on a daily basis. He saw it in how much shorter his temper had become, how he snapped at the smallest obstruction or offense. He saw it in how much harder he was to please and placate. He saw it in how much crueler and unrelenting he was when dealing with insolent or incompetant underlings. He saw it in how much more ruthlessly he hunted rebels, and interrogated prisoners.

And most of all, he was obsessed over finding his kidnapped child, tearing the galaxy apart, hiring bounty hunters and spending more and more time at the viewport, staring out at the stars.

But beyond that, life went on within the Empire, as it did on board the star destroyer. Years passed, and the kidnapped prince was all but forgotten.

Even Piett tried to put him out of his mind, but with little success.

Piett stepped onto the deck where a group of captured rebels were gathered and several of his men were busy processing them, prepping some for interrogation.

He examined the rag-tag bunch with some disdain. How such an unruly and obviously undisciplined horde of beings could be causing such grief for the Empire was beyond him.

A younger man caught his eye.

He was towards the center of the group, partially obscured from view, almost as though his fellow rebels were shielding him, for all the good it would do.

Upon closer inspection, he found that he was in fact, very young indeed. Perhaps a teenager or just barely into his twenties at most and inwardly Piett sighed. How he hated to see the youth caught up in this war, falling prey to Rebel propaganda and fighting against what they no doubt truly believed to be a tyrannical government. The Rebellion was truly despicable for taking advantage of young people's naive and self-righteous zeel.

Piett made a point not to think about Luke, but he had no control when something so strongly reminded him of the boy. As the young man did now. That boy had to be about the age Luke would be now, and he was even blond…

A niggly little thought danced cheekily across his mind, but he snuffed it out before it had a chance to fully form. The odds were astronomical. They had searched for years for where Luke had been taken with no success. The boy was either dead, or was so well hidden, the most prominent power in the galaxy could uncover no trace of him. To think that he might simply be handed to them here and now in such a manner was preposterous.

And still, he found his eyes continuously wandering back to the young blond rebel as if by some magnetic pull.

The young man was rather small. Possibly about Piett's height or shorter. It was difficult to say since the boy was kneeling, hands cuffed together behind him.

...Luke, despite being a whirlwind of energy and wildness, had always been a bit small for his age. Such a tiny boy, yet so full of life...

He scolded himself fiercely. He must stop thinking of this. It was of absolutely no benefit. The young man was not Luke. It was not possible.

The boy must have somehow felt Piett's gaze on him, for he glanced around and their eyes locked. Piett sucked in a breath-

Blue eyes. Just like Luke had- enough!

It was coincidence, nothing more. Luke was far, far away from here if he was even still alive. Piett would likely never see him again.

It came the boy's turn for processing. A stormtrooper seized his arm and dragged him carelessly to his feet.

Unexpectedly, Piett felt a surge of protectiveness. There was no need to be so rough, the boy was already bound and obviously hurt if the way he favored his left leg was any indication. Then he shook his head in frustration. He should leave. Things were proceeding smoothly, and he wasn't needed here. He'd distance himself as much as possible from the rebel that made him feel as though he were looking at a ghost.

Still he didn't yet move.

"Name," he heard another trooper say gruffly.

The boy set his jaw stubbornly.

The trooper holding the young man struck him across the back of his head with the butt of his blaster and the rebel stumbled several steps, pain written across his features.

Piett wanted to reason with the boy, try to make him see that resisting for the sake of something as insignificant as a name was foolish. It would earn him only pain, and he should conserve his strength. He would need it.

"Name," the trooper demanded again.

...He had been kidnapped by a Jedi. During a Rebel attack. There was no evidence to suggest that those two things were correlated, but… Surely the Jedi would want the Empire done away with as much as the Rebellion did. Surely it was not inconceivable to think that they might have sought refuge with, if not joined that group of renegades… If that were Luke, Lord Vader would be furious-

No, what was he thinking of!

But those… those eyes.

It couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be but..

"Luke," the boy finally spat, and ever after Piett could have sworn his heart quite literally did a somersault in his chest.

"Luke what?" the trooper said sharply, but Piett didn't even hear anymore. He didn't need to. He was striding forward, and then he was in front of the boy.

He stood for several pregnant seconds, staring hard.

The features matched perfectly. Like the pieces to a puzzle he fit them all together in the form of this boy. Dimple chin, bright blond hair, high cheekbones, small, curved nose, full lips, small in stature for his age, and of course, dazzling blue eyes… they were all Luke's, only older, bigger, sharper. There were differences as well, such as a small dimple in one cheek, light freckles and more color in the skin, and an assortment of scars, but nothing that couldn't be attributed to time, sunlight exposure, and a rough life fraught with danger.

He cupped the boy's face with his hands, eyes darting from one feature to another, just to make absolutely sure he hadn't imagined it. There was bruising on his jaw and around his eye he noticed, suggesting that he hadn't come quietly because of course he hadn't. Luke, for all that he'd been sweet as Nubian honey, he was also a fighter, and as stubborn as his father. Often refusing to be locked in his quarters or go to bed or leave his father's side.

The boy, for his part, looked startled by the attention, and even more by the contact, and Piett was fully aware of how odd his actions appeared to the surrounding rebels and imperials alike. But for once, he found he didn't truly care about appearances.

"Luke? Luke Skywalker?" he said, barely louder than a whisper.

The boy's already wide eyes grow wider. But this older version of Luke, this rebel that wore Luke's face didn't light up and squeal a greeting as the toddler he'd known would have.

No. Luke stared at him as if he had no idea who Piett was.

Because he didn't.

And that hurt.

What could he expect though? The boy hadn't even been four standard years when he'd been stolen away. By now he would have little, if any memory of his time as the young Imperial Prince, and that felt like a crime.

But he was still Luke.

He couldn't help himself, he pulled the boy against him in an embrace.

Luke was stiff against him, probably both from discomfort and surprise, and Piett pulled back and turned to the trooper in charge.

"Continue with your duties, I will take custody of this one myself," he told the officer in charge.

"Very good, Admiral," he replied professionally, though his confusion was apparent.

He put a gentle but firm hand on the small of Luke's back, above his cuffed wrists, prompting him forward. To his relief, Luke didn't resist him, but Piett kept a close eye on him anyway.

"Where are you taking me?" A hesitant voice queried when they were out of ear-shot.

Piett, who'd just been contemplating how he'd explain this to Lord Vader, swiveled his head to gaze fully at Luke, Luke! Yes, it was him, he was sure of it now, and considered how to respond.

He slid his hand from Luke's back to the boy's shoulder and squeezed in what he hoped would be a reassuring way. "Everything is going to be alright now, Luke."

Luke frowned, looking as if he didn't believe him. "Who are you?"

A lump formed in Piett's throat.

It's not his fault. He reminded himself. He was kidnapped for the last fifteen years.

"I am Admiral Firmus Piett. But you may call me, Piett."

Peet! Peet! Come pway with me!

Luke only blinked at that.

For one brief moment, trickling terror seized him. What if he was wrong? What proof did he have that his suspicions were accurate? Perhaps he had only seen what he wanted to see, and by acting rashly and bringing him straight to Lord Vader without verifying, he'd just earned an automatic death sentence for the young man, and very likely himself as well.

But the moment passed. No, if it wasn't Luke, it was someone who bore an incredible resemblance to him, and who could blame him for being fooled?

Well, Vader. Vader could, and would if he was wrong. But he stood his ground, determined that he was indeed correct.

He keyed open a certain doorway and ushered Luke inside.

Luke appeared to brace himself, setting his jaw for what lay inside, then his mouth dropped open.

Piett gave the room the once over as well, but mostly he watched Luke. He himself had not been inside for many years, and it was almost precisely as he remembered, with toys, some clothing articles and droid parts strewn about hap-hazradly. Even the blankets on the small child's bed in the corner were still carelessly pushed back as though someone had only recently vacated it.

Luke turned to him, befuddlement coloring his every feature, and it was almost enough to make Piett laugh.

"This… This looks like a children's room."

"And?"

Luke seemed at loss at that. "It's… It's just not... what I was expecting I guess."

Indeed.

He hadn't bothered to comm Lord Vader. He was sure the man still had his comm programmed to alert him if anyone dared entered these quarters.

They didn't have to wait long.

The door slid open to reveal the hulking, menacing form of Darth Vader. He didn't waste any time. Scarcely was the door open wide enough to admit him than he was stepping through launching into a sharp reprimand. "Admiral, what-"

The mask concealed the man's face completely, but still Piett saw the moment his eyes landed on the young man, for he stilled, whether from anger or shock it was always difficult to say, but he was willing to wager anything that it was the latter in this instance.

Lord Vader took several long steps towards the boy, who stumbled back in alarm. When Lord was in arm's reach, he brought up a hand.

The boy was now pressing himself against the back wall as though he could somehow merge with it and escape the Dark Lord's reach, and he let out what Piett could only describe as a squeak when Vader cupped his jaw with shocking gentleness.

"...Explain," the Dark Lord said to the Admiral, though his gaze never strayed from Luke's face.

"He was brought in with a band of rebels who were apprehended earlier today, My Lord. As you can see, he bears a striking resemblance to…"

"Luke," Vader finished.

"How do you know who I am?" the boy asked, his curiosity seeming to outweigh his fear. Definitely a trait of the Prince's.

"It is you do not know who you are, boy. I raised you myself until you were stolen from me!"

Even Piett winced at the vehemence in his voice, but at the same time, something in his chest loosened. As sure as he'd been, he couldn't quite, quite dare to believe it. Not until Lord Vader confirmed, and if he did, then it was true. In the past several bounty hunters had tried to present an imposter to him in the hopes of reward, but Vader had always seen through the deception immediately. There could be no deceiving the Dark Lord of the Sith.

"That's-" Clearly, whatever Luke had been expecting the Dark Lord to say, it wasn't that, but he recovered quickly enough. "That's impossible!"

Vader said nothing. Rather he changed the position of his hand from Luke's jaw to his forehead.

Whatever Lord Vader showed the boy, memories, if he had to guess, of Luke's too brief time with his father, it made the boy's eyes blow wider still, and he began to tremble.

"No… that… this is a trick."

"Luke," Vader said, as softly as he could with his vocaloder. "I am your father."

Luke had looked all too ready to retort, but instead, his shoulders slackened, his lips parted with no sound escaping them.

Piett was absolutely sure he had not expected to hear that from the Dark Lord's mouth.

Expectations truly were unreliable.

A/N: I wrote this one-shot in a fevered frenzy like I've never experienced before. 0-0

Yeah, so, It's been a while since I posted any writing, I know. That's not to say I haven't been writing though! I just… um, haven't finished any lately. But I may be getting back into my groove now, we'll see!