"Did I mention the experimental retina replacements?"

Luke palmed his own eyes. "Now you're just saying things to agitate me."

"That too." His father chuckled. "However, I intend to take advantage of this time, your presence, and the superior medical team to do everything that can be done, and so I will allow the attempt at a solution for my partially damaged retinas."

"But you can see well enough. Why take the chance?" It was like arguing with a bantha so he didn't expect an answer. He leaned his forearms on the desk. "Have you thought more about the neuro… stuff?"

"We'll make that decision together after we talk to the specialist. It would mean something that I believe you would like." The corners of Vader's eyes crinkled. "No more needles poking into my head."

"Really?" Luke straightened. "Dad… with new lungs and a new… well, head, you wouldn't have to wear a mask and helmet!"

"But I would, at least for awhile. I would feel exposed without them. And the synthskin must still be protected."

"That's what my hair is for. You can't wear a helmet with my hair! Do you know what that would do? It even has a name— helmet-head!"

Not surprisingly, his horrified protest was completely ignored. "Go change and—"

"Change again? What, do I have to get redressed every hour? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"You napped in your clothes and they are wrinkled. You are less than impeccable. First we will check on the progress of my hair, and then we are spending the rest of the afternoon and evening on the bridge and in Engineering."

"That's great! Except for a dinner break." Then he added (because questioning was part of his nature): "Why?"

"You are going to learn how the Executor moves and operates. Piett will be testing it further, and it's imperative that you understand what happens in Engineering prior to and as a result of new maneuvers. I want you to be as familiar with the Executor as—"

"Wait! You mean I get to fly it?"

"Most assuredly not. Unless Admiral Piett, in his role as skipper of this ship, directs you to pilot, at which point I would be forced to question his sanity as well as his qualifications to command the Executor. Now— change into black and add the items that have been laid out for you."

Laid out? "New clothes? You got me new clothes?"

"As usual, your eagerness betrays you."

Luke giggled. "That doesn't make sense, Dad!"

One finger pointed to his room, then his father strode away, heading for his private quarters to don the mask and helmet that turned him from Dad into Darth Vader.

# # #

Armor? More armor? How much armor could one guy wear? Still, the sculpted black chest plate and extended armored epaulets made him look super-fierce, maybe even grim. Definitely dangerous. Plus there was a nod to their future lives with a narrow strip of blue on each shoulder—and three tiny golden stars on each. He hooked his lightsaber on the belt and was still admiring his reflection when Vader arrived.

Sith Father stood behind him, and they looked into the mirror silently. Luke felt odd, the way he felt every time his father's image was behind him. Like his dad had replicated. Like they melted together and turned into a giant blob. Like Luke was merely part of his father, not his own person. Like his destiny had already been determined, and he had no control over his future.

"You should stop looking in mirrors, Son, if they lead your thoughts into Darkness."

"Is that what this is? Darkness?" He corraled his wandering mind and looked at himself with as much cool detachment as he could muster. But now all he could see was the oh-so-short hair. Luke thought it made him look much older. He'd never wanted to grow up, but at this point it seemed inevitable. As if he were standing on top of a dune that was beginning to slide.

"You are growing in many ways, my blob, but 'up' is not one of them."

He sent his dad a REALLY? look in the mirror. "This armor weighs nothing. Will it even protect against a blaster bolt?"

"No. It's similar to stormtrooper armor. Impractical." Vader shrugged. "Primarily it's for appearances. Blaster bolts will be stopped by your lightsaber."

"Good to know. I like these shoulder things though. They make me wider."

"See? You are growing."

He groaned. "Keep your day job. Anyway, they look cool. My cape will hang—"

"No cape. Partially cover your lightsaber with the belt. Leave the end of the hilt reachable."

Luke clucked his tongue. "I hope I don't accidentally turn it on."

"I hope so too." Vader studied him. "Lightweight armor will be worn on board and, I think, when you meet with the Alliance Council. It's not as intimidating as your other armor, yet it projects a powerful image."

"I look Sithly." Yeah, his image was fascinating, and he couldn't stop staring at his dangerous self. "Does this haircut make me look older?"

"Ancient."

"I'm serious! I feel… yeah, that's exactly what I feel. More serious."

Vader folded his arms. "Yes. And if you control your enthusiastic blurts of speech, people will take you more seriously too."

"Blurts of speech?!" He grimaced. "Yes, Master."

"I'm not your master." There was a smile behind the mask. "And with me, you may be as enthusiastic as you wish. I enjoy your unfettered exuberance."

"Lucky for you." He tore his gaze away from the mirror and looked his dad up and down. "Yeah, you look okay too."

"Thank you for relieving my mind. I was uncertain." Vader waited for Luke to roll his eyes, then added, "Would you like to rethink your decision not to wear a head covering?"

He whirled back to the mirror. "Do you think I need one? I do look sort of...bare." There was something lacking to make him perfect, but he couldn't pinpoint what was missing. (But it was definitely not a hat!) "I don't have a crown yet, and I don't want one of those ugly caps."

His father's hands moved up and wrapped around his throat, the fingers interlocking and covering his neck almost to his ears. Luke coughed several times and pretended to choke.

"You forgot this, Bug."

"Sure, this is great, perfect— providing you want to walk around behind me, throttling me the rest of the day."

"That is highly unlikely. However…." Sith Father picked up a strip of black cloth from the table.

"I didn't know what to do with that. It's too short to go around my waist. Oh, no— it's not going on my head!"

"No." Vader tucked it under the back collar of the jacket and crossed the ends in front under the tunic. "Perhaps if your neck is covered…."

"Oh." He studied his image critically, then nodded. "Yeah, that's better. More elegant, right? But it's not going to stay in place. See? It's already coming out!"

His father reached to the table again. "Which is why you have this."

This was an oval sapphire set in a narrow circle of gold that snapped on and pinned the center of the scarf together.

"Oh." Luke smiled. "Thank you. It's beautiful." Even though it's not a star!

"I worried that we were overdoing the gold stars. Sometimes drama needs to be subtle."

"Really? That's a new attitude." He turned slightly to admire the vividly blue sparkle of the stone. "Okay, are we ready now?"

"Luke."

He felt the room's atmosphere change, seeming to darken as it reflected his father's mood. "What's wrong?"

The mask was unreadable, even to him, now. "When I am unconscious, you must keep my lightsaber."

"Yes, of course. I'll hold onto it." Questions raced through his mind, but he waited.

"Wear it. If you must, use it. In fact…." Darth Vader was uncharacteristically hesitant. "You will practice with it tonight. It is not the same as your saber. It will feel differently, not only the heavier weight, but you will feel the Darkness of my crystal."

He caught his lower lip between his teeth. "Are you expecting trouble?"

"I always expect trouble, but this is not an ordinary time. Security is exceptionally strong, and only those troopers personally loyal to me will be guarding the medical rooms. However, I have never had sedation that rendered me unconscious. It is…. I don't know what will happen."

Luke shifted on his feet. "Dad… I'll be there. Everything will be fine." It was a worthless reassurance, because there was no predicting the future despite what legends said. "You'll be okay. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know." Vader's fists clenched at his sides. "Wear both lightsabers and be prepared to use them— even if it is against me."

His breath escaped in a sharp exhalation. "No! Never! I'll never fight you!"

"You will if I instinctively struggle against the sedation and strike out."

He chewed the inside of his cheek. "Dad...you're ready for this. You know the sedation is coming. You're prepared. And I'll be with you, not just physically. Mentally too. We can control any bad reaction together."

"I hope you're right."

Involuntarily, his left hand reached up and stroked the helmet, the closest he could get to his father's scarred head. "Together we can do anything."

The mask stared at him for a long moment. "Luke."

Now what? "Now what?"

"Did you just smudge my helmet?"

"Uh." He snatched his fingers away and looked, then wrinkled his nose. "Maybe? A little?"

Vader reached under his cape and pulled out a small black cloth that Luke suspected had been attached to his belt. He handed it to Luke.

Surely he wasn't expected to not roll his eyes, because of course his father carried a polishing cloth at all times. So he rolled his eyes and grinned, then used the cloth to return the helmet to its usual pristine state. "There. All fixed."

"If you were wearing your gloves, there wouldn't have been anything to fix."

It was a challenge not to laugh. He looked around. Since there were short black gloves on the table, Luke assumed that the gold ones were a no-go. Tugging and wriggling his fingers into them, he found the gloves were soft and thin and flexible.

"Why do only officers wear gloves? No one else does."

"Everyone else works. Officers don't use their hands for anything other than holding occasional datapads and gesturing."

Luke looked pointedly at his own hands and then his father's. "Huh. Guess I need to learn more gestures."

Yet again his father ignored him, although Luke knew his dad never actually ignored him, only pretended to.

"Did I mention that I have new clothes for you?"

"What?" Extra points for a clever diversion, Dad!

"I will give them to you after my surgeries. You will model them for me while I'm recuperating. You will be my entertainment and prevent me from becoming bored."

"Isn't that what I always do?" He bounced a little on his toes. "What kind of clothes?"

The helmet tilted to one side. "Not Sithly clothes. They are garments for more civilized, elegant settings."

"Like dinner with… oh, say, Emperor Dad?"

"I believe that is highly likely."

His eyes widened. "Color me speechless," he murmured as they left their quarters.

"Ah, a color that will look especially good on you for the next several hours."

Will you EVER let me have the last word?!

It's possible. But highly unlikely.

# # #

He could tell by the silence that his father was less than impressed with the new hair on the mannequin's head.

"Of course it's only attached temporarily to the synthskin, my lord, to give you a general idea," Lim Shalan said, turning the comb over and over, then tapping it against his palm. "It can be arranged however you wish. I blended the colors personally. Are they satisfactory?"

"They are," Luke affirmed on his dad's behalf. "But he wants to part it on the right."

"Ah, yes, that is easily changed."

"And it should be curlier. Like a tumble of riotous curls."

Both Shalan and his father looked at him. Vader hooked his thumbs in his belt.

"I read that in a spy novel. Or maybe it was a riot of tumbling curls." Luke cleared his throat. "Okay, not curly then. But looser. More casual and carefree. And cut differently, like...uh, feathered? Layered? You know what I mean," he appealed to the stylist while his dad chuckled in his head. "Like he got out of bed, ran his fingers through it, and didn't comb it all day."

My habits exactly.

The Naboolian sighed softly but nodded. "I understand. It should be easygoing and informal, yet retain the ability to be wrangled into submission for formal occasions."

Like my son, Vader commented.

"Yes." Luke decided to exact revenge for that. "Impulsive. Whimsical. The haircut of a pixie. Or a sprite."

The green eyes flicked between him and his father. Vader said nothing. Luke smiled blandly. "Of course," Shalan agreed (because what else could he do?). "Low maintenance, but not messy."

"Lovely." Luke kept smiling. "We'll leave you to it. Lord Vader, shall we…?"

# # #

They spent the rest of the day between the bridge and Main Engineering. The ship's maneuvers were as awesome (and as cumbersome) as Luke had anticipated, but the best moments were watching his father as Vader completely engaged with the mechanics even to the point of taking over a delicate adjustment from the Chief Engineer.

An engineer who didn't blink or demur as he handed his tools to the Sith Lord. In fact, said engineer actually had a small smile on his face. Luke would have smiled back, but he was more fascinated with watching as a seemingly minor alteration his father made caused a satisfying click as the recalcitrant sensor slid perfectly into place.

"Your tinkering was brilliant," he praised with a contented sigh as they walked back to their quarters.

Vader snorted, but Luke knew he was pleased. "When you are here in a position of command, you will be allowed to 'tinker' as well."

A position of command? Huh. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but his father's faith in his abilities sent color rushing into his cheeks.

His dad turned left instead of heading straight. "Dad? Where are we going?"

"My hangar to test your skill with my lightsaber."

Luke stared at his feet as they walked. "Does everything have to be a test?" Walking caused a breeze to blow across his bare head, which made him feel vulnerable. Exposed to the wild elements. Like his head could be smashed with—

"Not 'everything'. You are exaggerating, a weakness you have a tendency to exploit in order to win nonsensical arguments. Captain Gallia should add 'everything' to your list."

"No! I want to keep some words and that's one of them!" He grumbled a string of nonsense under his breath as they entered the small bay. Yahoo was there, nestled among his dad's… well, all those weird ships were probably experimental too. "However, maybe 'experimental' should be added to your list of banned words."

"I don't have a list."

"You should. I'm going to start one for you. 'Experimental' is the first entry."

"Give me your lightsaber." Vader tossed his own, and Luke reacted quickly, the sabers passing in mid-air.

Luke huffed as he caught his dad's saber, not prepared for the weight of it even after the warning. The grip was too thick, and he couldn't curl his hand around it comfortably. But his hold was good enough. He flicked on the blade.

The laser shot out, deep red and humming differently than his own. A very real acknowledgement came from the blade. Appreciation coursed down his arm, seeking familiarity and finding something unexpected… but adapting quickly. He shivered as a whisper brushed his mind. "My… my saber doesn't…. It doesn't act like this."

"It does." Vader ignited the purple blade, and there was a smile in his voice. "I would recognize this saber as yours out of a thousand other blades."

"Oh." He swung the crimson light cautiously, and it sang with a curious sound of delight as it sliced through air. Luke felt…. He felt that it knew him somehow. And he knew it. A powerful surge of energy ran through him— his arms, torso, legs felt so strong, like igniting the blade had ignited him. It was Dark. Oh yes, it was Dark, and it was glorious. It was half of him. It knew him.

But not in the way his saber did. The shocking shade of purple had nothing to do with spice like his dad thought. No, it was neither Light nor Dark. It was him.

"Allow them to clash," Sith Father instructed. "But beware my saber's aggressive instincts."

Oh, great. It wasn't only himself he had to control; apparently the lightsaber had a mind of its own.

"Not a mind, but a will," his father said. "It has been through many battles and created death on a scale that your relatively innocent blade cannot comprehend. It is eager to repeat actions it has known, and if you allow your guard to fall, it will push you to do its will."

Vader swung Luke's blade and, almost without his instruction, the crimson saber leaped to meet it in a sizzling display. Luke struggled to tame it, to make it obey him when it strained to challenge. He wondered if the blade had no loyalty, if it would kill its Dark master without recognition or care.

"That's enough." Luke stepped back and turned off the laser. He expected, for a moment, that it would defy him, but it retracted obediently. He tossed it back to his father and shook his head, his breathing ragged. "If I need to protect anyone from you, I'm using my blade— I can control it. I won't touch that wild thing of yours unless the threat comes from others. It's a killer."

"Of course. All lightsabers are. That is their purpose." Vader handed him his purple saber. "Interesting, that my blade knew you. If you ever need it, it will respond to you as it does me."

"Oh. That's… good, I guess." He felt lost somehow, less certain of himself. Like when he looked in the mirror and saw father and son as one being.

"You are fine. You are strong in all ways." One big hand clasped his shoulder. "Whatever happens, you will be true to yourself. Whether you judge your feelings as good or bad, you must accept that we are composed of every emotion, every joy, every pain that has altered our courses and our intentions. But none of those things will change the fundamental you. As they have not changed me."

He studied the mask and relaxed inside their bond, understanding immediately. The galaxy would say that Anakin Skywalker had become someone else and was lost. But Luke understood that no one ever really changed. Light, Dark, good, evil— those traits were in everyone. At some level, people chose what they would use and what they would be.

"Destiny fits in there somewhere," his dad said dryly. "Perhaps."

"Or perhaps not." Luke smiled. "Are we done for the night?"

"I have desk work to do, and you have homework."

Luke groaned. "Not all those tapes!"

"One tape. And if you are a good boy, later we will try one of the vid games that I acquired for us."

"Hah, a strategy game! Maybe I have a chance of beating you!"

"Possibly, but highly unlikely," Darth Vader said because he always had to have the last word.

He could have argued that the enhanced vision of his father's mask made games easier or that his father had more strategic experience. But this time, because he loved his dad so much, Luke allowed the final word to go to him.

# # #