Luke and Vader have a day of father-son fun in the snow and have some sweet moments.

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"Are you superheroes?"

Luke looked at the orange Twi'lek who had come to an abrupt halt in front of them and was staring with huge eyes. The child was eating something that looked like snow in a flimsi cone— hey, maybe it was snow. Was snow edible?

"Uh…."

"Yes," his father declared in his gruffest voice, planting his legs widely and folding his arms. "We are the LoneStars."

Now Luke was the one staring. His mouth dropped open stupidly, and he could think of absolutely nothing to say.

"I am LoneStar and this," the impenetrable mask nodded toward Luke, "is my sidekick, The LoneStar Kid."

Weakly, Luke raised one hand in greeting, biting back the most intelligent comment he could possibly say. Which was, indeed, absolutely nothing.

The Twi' gazed at them with awe. The globe of ice fell off his cone and stuck on the heavy jacket for a moment before sliding to the ground, but the child didn't notice. "Wow…." One lekku twitched. "You have three stars."

"Uh...yeah." Luke touched his fingers to his shoulder.

"And you have three stars there. And three stars there." The child pointed to each of Vader's gloves. "But only one star is on your belt. Is that the Lone Star?"

"It is. And now we must be away with all swiftness. We are on an urgent mission to free the galaxy."

Fortunately the youngster didn't question their urgency or ask how they were going to free the galaxy or what they were freeing it from, because Luke wouldn't put it past his dad to say something about Palpatine.

"Make haste, LoneStar Kid," his dad ordered, striding off, his long cape fluttering gloriously.

Luke trailed behind after a last wave to the Twi' who was still watching them with wonder. "I don't believe you," he muttered. "When did you develop such a weird sense of humor?"

"I believe I was about thirteen when it happened. Possibly eleven. Maybe forty." His father's hand latched onto the back of his neck again.

Luke closed his eyes for a moment, shivering with a sensation that was becoming more familiar. This was the fun dad he could have grown up with. "What—why are you doing that? You never did this neck thing before today!" He tried to disguise his wistfulness by complaining. He actually enjoyed the contact, although truthfully it was a little irritating when the fingers squeezed too tightly.

"It makes you easier to steer." Vader demonstrated by turning Luke off the path and down a gentle slope.

"Where are we going? What are we doing? What's over there?"

"We are going there, doing something, and the something is there."

You're in rare form! He grinned to show that was a compliment and then was distracted immediately by a new thought. "Hey! That kid said we have three stars. Does that mean our new uniforms represent the Third Side? You made them like this on purpose, right?"

"Of course," his father said in a tone that indicated he had done no such thing.

"You did not!" Luke snorted. "Still, that kid was really observant, and it's a good idea. Alliance/Empire/Third Side. See? Three stars!"

"And here I thought I made the poncho because you like stars on everything. Your pajamas, your robe, your shirt, my walls…."

"That doesn't explain your stars!" He didn't wait for a reply to his observation because he was distracted again, this time by a lot of people running around in the gully they were approaching. "Look! They're throwing snow at each other! Or is that hail?"

"They are called snowballs. Watch and learn." His dad scooped up a handful of snow. "The snow here is perfect for snowballs. If it was too wet, it would turn hard like hail. If it was too light and loose, it wouldn't stick together to make a ball. You see? Perfect." Vader held the ball in his open palm, then flicked it.

It landed on Luke's shoulder. "Really? You did that?" He brushed his poncho. The snow stuck to it. "This had better not ruin my— HEY!"

Another mound of the cold stuff landed on his sternum with a little splattering on his chin. His father retreated a few yards and began rolling more snow between his hands.

"Oh, yeah? Two can play this game!" He scooped up a big mound of snow and saw immediately that it was too much. It made a huge lumpy ball that broke into pieces as he tried to mold it, and he ran shrieking as his dad pelted him with more snowballs. "Hey! Wait! Stop!"

He backed himself against a small wood shelter and began manufacturing snowballs as fast as he could. But he couldn't make a stockpile because his dad kept throwing and he had to keep throwing back. He landed a few good strikes, but it was hard because he didn't want to hit his dad on his respirator or turn off those buttons hidden under the new tunic.

His father had no such inhibitions. One ball landed squarely on Luke's nose and he gasped in shock. It was so cold! Although he licked and it tasted okay.

"Are you all right?"

He eyed his father as the man edged closer. "I guess. But my nose hurts." Luke pouted and his dad drew nearer, concerned.

"Is it bleeding?"

Slowly, Luke clawed the snow off his face and frowned at it. Then he mashed it gently but firmly against his dad's visor. "Mmm…guess not."

Vader swiped at it, smearing snow across the lenses. Luke waited, maybe just a little worried about retaliation.

"Uh… sorry. It seemed like a good idea at the time." He raised his hands when Vader began work on a new snowball, turning it around and around, adding more and more snow until it looked like a giant piece of hail. "Don't hit me with that!"

"I won't, Bug. It's too hard, it would hurt you." The voice was soft and solicitous and, as far as Luke was concerned, fake. But Vader lifted his arm and threw the ball over Luke's head.

"Phew. Thank—" He looked up in time to see the ball smack onto the roof of the shelter. A huge slab of snow slid off and plunked directly on top of him, blanketing his head and shoulders.

His dad was laughing as Luke bent over to brush snow out of his hair. "Dad!" But his protest was full of glee, even though his entire body was cold and wet. He pulled up his hood and—

Snow cascaded out and enveloped his head. His dad laughed even harder and his breath caught, which sounded painful… but not painful enough to silence him.

"It went down my neck!" Luke moaned, laughing as he wiped his eyes clear. This was the best time he'd had in— well, maybe ever. Being with his dad like a normal father and son was even better than shopping. Impulsively, Luke hugged him through the layer of snow that caked his poncho.

His dad pushed back Luke's hood. "Take that off before it melts and you turn into a soggy mess."

"Wow, thanks for the sympathetic paternal advice, Dad." He tsk'd as he tugged the poncho off.

"You're welcome." Vader snatched his wrap, shook out the snow, then draped it over his own arm before walking off. "Come this way."

"It's cold!" But he followed mainly because his dad had his poncho. Well that, and he wasn't going to let his father out of his sight for even a second. "Give that back!"

"Momentarily. But first I will teach you something else."

"How to keep warm without a coat? That would be a good lesson right now." He tried to lengthen his stride so he could step in his dad's footprints, but they were too far apart. Luke resigned himself to watching his boots sink deeper and deeper until it felt icy under his leg armor. He couldn't believe he'd been excited to see snow. It was cold and messy and— well, okay, his dad made it fun.

Vader stopped and stood directly in front of him, grasping his waist with both hands. "Fall straight back. Don't bend your knees. Hold your arms perpendicular from your torso. And don't fret, the snow is deep, you will not be injured."

"Not fretting." Not wanting to do this either, but he'd save his objections for bigger battles because he wanted to keep his father in a good mood.

Yeah, the snow was indeed soft, but Luke decided that the only time he'd been wetter and colder was in a shower in the air-conditioned barracks. Or maybe in a rainstorm. Or on Dagobah.

"Now slide your legs outward, back and forth, and your arms up and down. In the snow, Luke, not in the air!" Vader was obviously enjoying himself. "Good. Now take my hand and let me pull you up straight."

"I feel like a puppet," he grumbled when he was upright, and his dad took his shoulders and turned him around. Like a puppet.

"Look at what you created. It's called a snow an—"

"A bird!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Cool! Like the birds in the jungle that I saved! That I hope they didn't all kill for lunch." He studied the image. If he had more time here, he'd figure out other designs he could make because snow held shapes much better than sand did. "It is supposed to be a bird, isn't it?"

"Yes. You made an excellent bird. Let me brush you off." Vader made quick work of his task, then pulled the poncho over Luke's head.

"Great! Now you do it! Make a giant bird!"

"No. Are you hungry? Do you want to see the ice skaters again?"

"Not unless you do." He smiled because it felt like they shared a secret. "I want to keep that memory by itself. It was magical."

"It was."

"But I need to go to Toodoodles again. I need a sandwich to eat on the way back, and I forgot that I need a hairbrush." He hurried to catch up as Vader headed toward the town center.

"You're not buying a cheap hairbrush, my dear bottomless pit of need. I saw a salon. We will get you one that has the best quality bristles."

"I don't need the best!"

"Remember whose hair you're brushing, Bug."

Oh, right. It was only his hair for a few more weeks. "All right," he acquiesced, "but I saw that salon too, and in the window they had hairbrushes with crystals on the handles. Maybe they have a blue one with gold stars."

"I sincerely hope so," the Sith said insincerely. "Whatever the handle, it will be best quality, and we will purchase two. One for me."

"You're so vain, I love it! You take after me!"

"And we will purchase something healthy for you to eat on the ship."

"And we will go back to your ship so you can pressurize it so you can take off your mask." He was determined to have the last word in this conversation even if he had to change the subject.

"No, we will go to your ship to ready it for your return trip. I can remove the mask there. Yahoo is capable of increased levels of pressurization."

"It is?" Well. He'd never thought to check, figuring if the ship lost pressure that was what his helmet was for.

"Son, Yahoo can do everything a grownup ship can do."

Wrinkling his nose, he linked arms with his dad, feeling more than a little cocky as they formed a barrier, walking down the center of the sidewalk, forcing everyone to detour around them.

# # #

"Okay, we need to talk."

"I'm all ears." His dad removed the visor from his eyes and readjusted the breather, testing the ship's oxygen level.

Luke leaned his chin in his palm, watching. "Just think… in a month you won't need to worry about pressurized air or using the mask to breathe."

The silence was jarring in its intensity. Vader stared at the face shield he held between his hands and turned it over, his thumbs rubbing over the blue lenses. Then he fingered the equipment covering his throat.

"Oh." Luke blinked a few times. "You… know that, right? But you haven't… thought about it?"

His dad placed the covering carefully on the table between them, his breathing shaky whether from emotion or removing the respirator, Luke wasn't certain. "Intellectually and practically, of course. But emotionally… you are correct, I hadn't thought beyond the surgery, not in great detail. Not how it would… not the personal aspect, only how it…."

He was willing to give his father time to think about it, but Vader shook his head and sat opposite him. "Never mind. You want to talk about something. Let me guess— our plans?"

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "Dad, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but you're sort of impulsive, you know?"

That drew a chuckle but no comment. Determined, Luke continued. "Well, you are and okay, maybe I am too, but I need to know our final plan. You can't keep changing things and having new ideas."

His dad shifted the chair sideways and leaned back, stretching out his very long legs and crossing his ankles. "First, we need to be ready for anything— even if it means reacting impulsively— in case the plan doesn't go as expected. However, it remains as I described in our meeting. Basically."

"Basically. Uh-huh." That plan had seemed relatively solid, and the officers had appeared to support it. "But I'm worried that Palpatine may already know about us— or will find out— and that will change things."

"And that is why we need to be ready to pivot. He certainly knows you are growing in strength, but I am confident he doesn't know where you are."

Pivot? Not convinced, Luke shook his head. "But he must know you're the one training me. Isn't he suspicious about where the Executor is? That it might be near me?"

"It's possible. Which is why it is prudent to move the ship frequently to divert any suspicions that may arise, be they creations in Palpatine's mind— or from the ship's crew."

Oh, great, the crew. More to worry about. "I don't think the Executor should go to Carosi. That's the only medcenter outside of Coruscant that can help you. He knows your cybernetics are junk, and he must know that you want better. And what if he has spies on the ship or on Carosi? I think the ship should go somewhere else, and we can take a shuttle or Yahoo to Carosi and sneak in."

His father crossed his arms and considered his words before nodding. "Agreed. Good strategy, Son. In fact… it would be helpful if the Alliance staged some attacks, perhaps near Ord Radama. That would give reason for the Executor to travel there, and it's far enough from Carosi to divert suspicion yet near enough to be a reasonable travel time. You must talk to the Alliance Council and direct them."

"Oh, sure." He still didn't know when the Council was meeting. "They might not get together before I go to the Executor— if you still want me to come early, I mean."

"Yes. You will be shipboard when we divert to Ord Radama. And Luke," Vader reminded, "the Council must schedule around you. Either they come to Yavin or you go to them within the next two weeks. Remember to emphasize that we are fully able to execute our plan without them, but the likelihood of succeeding and conquering Palpatine is greater if the Alliance cooperates." His dad frowned, his eyes glittering in that weird alternating gold-blue way they did sometimes, which was distracting and made Luke wonder if subconsciously that's why he'd wanted their uniform colors to be gold and blue. Well, that and the baby stuff.

"Are you listening?"

"Uh… yes. I was wondering… when my mother bought the baby things were they for me or for Leia?"

A long whistle that maybe was a sigh came from Darth Vader. "Luke, we didn't know we were having two babies. Can we get back to discussing our plans?"

"Yeah, but… I mean, who do you think was born first? Who's oldest?"

"I'm certain it was you," his father said firmly. "Now focus. Tell the Alliance that if they cooperate, we are allies. If they do not cooperate, then no matter whether we fail or succeed the war will become more difficult for them."

Luke frowned. "Maybe I shouldn't open with a threat, Dad." He rubbed his face. "And I still want to protect the base. I don't want to make enemies of my friends."

"Indeed? Tell me, Son, if circumstances force you into a position to protect one of us, will you choose your base or me?"

"Are you kidding?" He managed to keep the curses under his breath, just quiet enough so his dad wouldn't say language. "You! As you well know! But it had better not come to that or I'll be really angry." He scowled. "And that's emotional blackmail!"

"What do you know about emotional blackmail?"

"Hey, you gave me those tapes, and I happened to like the psychology ones. And you definitely emotionally blackmail me a lot."

"And you don't?"

"Oh—" Nope, this was not going to escalate into an argument and spoil their day. "You know, I was thinking…."

"There's more? I'm waiting."

Really, he wished he could consult with someone who had known young Anakin Skywalker to confirm that his dad had always been a smart-ass. "This is serious. On the way here, I was thinking about all the plant life on Yavin and it reminded me of you. That you were…" He hesitated. Maybe his ideas were too intimate, too delicate to be voiced.

"Go on." The voice was gentle and encouraging, so apparently the little snit about emotional blackmailing was over.

"Okay. Well, when you were young you were like a plant that was dried up. And someone came along to— well, to water you." He flushed a little. "And you absorbed the moisture and came back to life. I mean… you lived on Tatooine and it was a desert that sucked out all your juices— Don't laugh!" he scolded when his dad did just that.

"Sorry." His dad lowered his face to disguise (unsuccessfully) his amusement.

"I'm serious! I meant that Tatooine wasn't kind to life. Then you went to the Jedi Temple, and it was full of growing plants and friends and teachers and learning, and you blossomed. But then in the— the suit you withered again. And now you're…." He gave up. "I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"I do. That metaphor could also describe your journey from Tatooine to Yavin, from a desert to a planet of abundant flora." His dad reached across the table and took his hand. "Luke, I know you're talking about love. Specifically, how your love has given me a new life after so many years of emptiness and anger."

He nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. And you've done the same for me." He twisted his hand over to entwine their fingers. "I know we've talked about this before, but I needed to say it again."

"You need reassurance." His dad's words were hesitant but tender. "As do I. Sometimes, Luke, I fear that I am sacrificing your youth in hope of repairing my mistakes. I worry that you may resent my demands and interference— if not now, one day."

"What? Dad! I've never thought that! I'm not sacrificing anything— I mean, I don't feel like I am. Just the opposite. I know how lucky I am to have you in my life. That you saved me and love me and take care of me and— I want to do the same for you."

"You do, Bug." Vader coughed and Luke stiffened, but relaxed when it sounded more emotional than physical. "But you expect too much. It is inevitable that I will disappoint you."

"Oh, stop! It's not inevitable. That's just your withered side talking."

A bark of laughter was surprised out of his father. "We shall see. And now, young one, since we have only a short time remaining, shall we meditate? It will be good for both of us. And then you should leave and surprise your commanders by returning early. But only a little early."

Wrinkling his nose at the idea of missing even five extra minutes with his dad, Luke nodded reluctantly and closed his eyes. His father's hand cupped his cheek briefly before their minds joined in the healing embrace of the Force.

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