SUMMARY: Meeting Bail Organa flusters Luke and he reverts to his old precocious behavior. Vader tries to soothe his son in the way he knows best: fashion accompanied by a dose of fatherly reassurance.

# # #

"…and please," Sith Father continued, "refrain from uttering provocative and outrageous remarks simply for shock value."

Luke lifted his chin as his father tugged his collar higher. "Maybe I shouldn't say anything then!"

"Don't pout. If you have ideas or questions that seem outrageous to you, by all means state or ask them. But no grandstanding for the fun of it."

"Grandstanding," Luke repeated.

"Hold still." His dad released the collar. "That doesn't work. Let's try the scarf."

Luke stared at the ceiling. "Out of curiosity, Dad, when you were little did you play with dolls?"

"Mm." Vader was focused on tucking in the fabric. "That doesn't work either." He whipped off the scarf. "No, you are my first doll."

He wished he could be annoyed, but that was funny. Luke wobbled his head from side to side to demonstrate silent amusement.

"I said, hold still." Vader stepped back and studied the completed outfit. "Good enough. No dolls, but my mother made a necklace that I always wore. For a slave child, I believe I was quite stylish."

His dad rarely mentioned his childhood. "What sort of necklace? Do you still have it?"

"It was beads from petrified wood. Tatooine used to have oceans, as you know." His father sighed. "I couldn't wear it as a Jedi padawan and kept it in a box under my bed. After the Temple 'debacle', as you so delicately describe it, it was lost. Not that I looked for it. I was…."

"In a mood," Luke said.

"Whatever that means. Now you look quite presentable."

"As if I normally don't?" He grinned, but checked himself in the big mirrors to be certain. His dad had chosen the black high-neck tunic that he'd gotten in Coronet City. The intricate ivory trim that edged the throat and vee-neck lightened the impact of all black. "Shouldn't I be wearing blue with gold stars? Or jewelry? Huh. What're you going to wear? Oh—how about the dark blue robe, the fancy one? Or—no, you can't wear blue if I'm not! So what about the black version I had replicated— or the fancier black version that I know you probably had made. I mean…you're dressing Anakin-ish, aren't you?"

"Luke, this isn't a social dinner, it's a serious meeting." His father pursed his lips. "But perhaps…. You are correct, I did have it remade in a finer fabric. I kept your color selection though—black with gunmetal gray trim."

"Yay!"

"Now put the new armor over this— stop fussing, it will be fine, you won't be wrinkled. Don't forget your lightsaber. And please remember that we are embarking on a life-altering— and hopefully life-sustaining— plan. You're not modeling in a fashion show."

"I know." He brightened. "But that's another thing we could do in the future. When we're not on the seasonal galactic racing circuit, we could model new runway fashions."

"Luke. It's time to be serious. Organa is arriving. Fetch him and take him to my anteroom, not your quarters."

"Fine, but it's going to be awwwwkward!" Luke scowled. "Are you sure you don't need help getting dressed?"

His dad Looked.

"Okay, okay! Sheesh. I'm going." Me and Sky Ozoner!

"Armor first. And wait a moment."

He sighed heavily. "Now what?"

His dad pulled him into a hug and nuzzled his head. "This is our time to succeed, Bug. Our future depends on us. And having the Rebels join us is necessary."

That was probably a subtle warning, though he wasn't sure why his dad thought he needed to be warned. It wasn't like he had anything personal against Organa. He didn't even know the man who'd raised Leia as a princess and abandoned her twin to drink, drugs, poverty, a lousy education, fear, pain, and a barren, hot wasteland full of danger.

No, he had nothing at all against Bail Organa.

# # #

Well, there was The Man Himself, a helmet shield masking his sight, looking nothing like a prince or consort or whatever he was called. Although Luke supposed the clothes were nice enough.

"Hello, your highness… or is it Senator? Or Mister?" He linked his hand firmly around Bail's arm. Sure, the helmet could come off now that he was safely in the hangar, but there was no rush. "I'll escort you to His Lordship."

Organa was walking confidently at his side, pretending he could see. Luke was tempted to release his grip and let him stumble, but there was nothing for him to fall over.

"Thank you, officer. And you are…?"

Yes, I certainly am. "Sky Ozoner. Maybe Leia's mentioned me."

The taller man's stride faltered for two steps before he recovered. "Indeed she has. May I remove the helmet now?"

"Oh, let's get you comfy first. You wouldn't want to trip on…anything."

Luke.

Dad! Was he never allowed to have any fun!? In silence he steered Organa through a short corridor to his father's anteroom. "Here you go, safe and sound! Let me help with that helmet."

"I can do it, thank you."

I can do it, I can do it! Some king/prince/whatever, he sounded like a petulant child.

He sounds familiar, you mean.

Dad! Luke sighed and took the helmet. "Oh, dear." He looked critically at the Alderaani royal. "Do you have a comb? No? Let me smooth down this reckless little scamp of a hair on the tippy-top of your head."

Luke. But there was laughter behind the mild scolding.

Bail suffered his ministration, his gaze darting across Luke's armor, then lingering on his face. "So you're Sky Ozoner. What are you doing here? You're an Imperial. A spy, as Leia believes?"

"Please, have a seat." He figured Organa would remain standing just so he could look big, and he did. "No, I'm a Third-Sider. You know. People who think both sides should come together and stop fighting."

"I didn't realize there was a third side. The Rebel Alliance wants peace. But how are you—"

The door slid open, and Luke sighed with relief— but it was only Lekauf bearing tea again. This time there were cookies. "Thank you, Captain. Tea, Senator? Should I call you 'Senator' or do you have a royalty title?"

"Senator is fine. When can I expect to meet with Lord Vader?"

"When he gets here." Luke shrugged and poured tea for them both. "I can't sit until you do, so please park it." Organa surrendered to his extreme politeness and sat. "Anyway…. Okay, I'll be honest. Leia and I aren't an item. We're just friends."

"That's not what she said."

"Yeah, well, she doesn't like that you and Mrs. Organa want to 'betroth' her to some prince or whoever. So we cooked up a story that we're in love to get you to stop interfering."

Organa made a small sound, then sipped carefully at the hot tea. "Why would you care what my daughter likes or doesn't? How is she any concern of yours?"

Wow, Dad, he really doesn't know! Luke stared into his teacup before looking directly at Leia's adopted father. "I care when my sister is upset."

Bail hesitated in mid-gulp, choking slightly. He said nothing, apparently not comprehending.

"Yeah, I'm Luke Skywalker." He tried to smile but couldn't manage it. "I'm the twin you didn't take and left in a shit life for fifteen years."

"I…." Organa was completely taken aback and needed several seconds to recover. "I'm sorry, I didn't know…. It wasn't my choice."

"Oh? Whose choice was it?"

There was a hesitation before the other spoke again. "Master Yoda thought it would be best if—"

"Of course!" Luke gave a short bark of laughter. "It would be Yoda. Was Kenobi involved too?"

"Yes. He took you to watch over and protect."

"He didn't do a very good job of it." Except once, but he didn't want to dwell on those memories. "Lucky for me that my father found me. He's given me a wonderful life for the past couple years."

Organa watched him closely, saying nothing.

"So you had better not—"

Bug, don't threaten.

He swallowed his warning. "I don't want anyone to hurt him ever again. Work with him. Change the galaxy for the better. End as much pain as possible— including his."

Finally, the door slid open. Luke turned toward it and leaped to his feet. His dad was Anakin Skywalker, wearing the beautiful black robe open, making it a floor-length jacket with simple black silk tunic and trousers underneath. His lightsaber gleamed like it was freshly polished. And his eyes were a startling shade of blue.

What the hell, Dad, are you wearing contact lenses? Whatever, you look fabulous.

"Anakin!" Bail Organa's exclamation was involuntary.

He didn't expect you to look like you! Because his dad looked like the old holos, his skin scarless and smooth, a head full of beautifully tousled hair, his body straight and tall… a little too tall, but oh so impressive.

"Senator." Vader held out his hand, and Organa didn't hesitate to take his grip. "Thank you for coming."

"I admit that I'm intrigued by your proposal."

"Good. We have a few more points to discuss before we meet with the group. Son," Vader turned to address him, "thank you. You may go meditate and then dress for dinner."

Oh. Meditate. That was a polite way of scolding. Well, okay, maybe he had been a bit out of line with Organa. So he nodded— and turned it into a slight bow, that should score Dad Points— before marching out of the room. At least he was included with the group meeting, but he wondered what was so private that he couldn't stay. They probably weren't going to talk about Leia, because Organa obviously knew that Anakin was her father. Although he wasn't sure if he had known that Vader was Anakin. Or maybe he did, if the dead generals had told the Alliance Council. Or maybe he didn't know until Vader had told him earlier. Or maybe—

Life would be less complicated if people didn't lie.

# # #

"Did everything go okay?" He could feel that his smile was more like a grimace and tried to fix it. "Sorry I was… you know. Hey, it's past dinner time. We should go."

Vader folded his arms. He had changed clothes and looked very imperious (or Empire-ish) in the midnight blue robe, with his height and hair and his sassy new appearance.

Luke sighed.

"I did not know," his father said finally, "that you harbored so much resentment toward Organa."

"I didn't either. I really wanted to knock him down. Not literally." Well, maybe.

"You dislike his composure. He has an aura of calm resolve and the certainty of his station in life. He was born into that life. It's something you and I will never have no matter what we accomplish."

"Yeah." He frowned. "Like Leia. She knows her place, and it's at the top of the food chain. It's not fair."

"Privilege also means restrictions and responsibilities, Luke. And you are trying to lead me away from the real issue—your feelings of abandonment and betrayal."

"Oh, Sith-hell!" He rolled his eyes, not caring that his dad didn't like it. "Yeah, so what? Of course I feel abandoned and betrayed— because I was! By the Jedi!"

"Bail Organa is not a Jedi."

"He worked with them!"

"As did many politicians. And military leaders and merchants and civilians. And me. The Jedi were a major power in the galaxy." Vader took him by the shoulders. "And you're doing it again, trying to distract me from your distress."

"Dad." He leaned his head against his dad's chest. He could feel lightweight armor under the robe, but no more switches or the life support monstrosity. "It is what it is. I promise to behave. I won't take it out on Organa again."

"Good, because we need him." Vader rubbed his cheek on the top of Luke's head. "I really like the feel of your fuzz-cut."

"Fuzz-cut," he echoed, as unhappy with the label as he was with his shorn head.

"Remember, if Bail had raised you, I would never have known you existed. We would not be together now."

"Maybe, maybe not. Always in motion is the future. Even if it's in the past."

"Please stop quoting Yoda. Are you not going to change?"

"No, I think I'm fine the way I am— Oh, you mean my clothes." He yelped softly as his dad squeezed his arms before letting him go. "They're okay. I mean… they're fine. I don't need to change, no one cares. And nothing goes with the fuzz-cut anyway."

"Very well." His father paused. "Pity. I did have a surprise for you, but if you don't want it…. It wouldn't go with what you're wearing now anyway."

"Don't try to distract me with your seductive Sitherish ways, Lord Vader!" Luke wrinkled his nose. He didn't like to be manipulated into asking, but…. "What surprise?"

"Never mind. It was made to go with the new beaded outfit, but—"

"I can change!" he offered quickly. "I wouldn't want something new to, you know, go to waste."

"Be quick about it then." Vader crossed to his desk and sat. "I'll finish up a few things."

He didn't even bother to hang up the clothes he tore off in his haste to get into the beautiful gray pants and shirt and boots— and the fabulous vest that was heavily beaded. And the short cape with the stiff, fabulous collar that matched the beading. After a quick once-over in the mirror, he raced back to his dad.

"Well? Is this all right? How do I look?"

"Fabulous," Vader drawled.

Luke waited expectantly, rocking to and fro.

"You are greedy and far too materialistic," his father said.

"Uh-huh, yeah, I know. So what is it?" He eyed the box on his dad's desk. It didn't look very big.

Sith Father pushed it across.

He threw aside the lid and ripped open the tissue. Jewels and beads set in a delicate pattern sparkled up at him, and he gasped as he lifted the thing out carefully. There was a small gold star in the center. "A tiara?! Are you kidding?! I just suggested it— how did you get it so fast?"

"Seriously, Son, do you believe I would not anticipate your needs?"

"Needs?" Plural? He reached into the box again. "Is this an animal?"

Vader waited for him to pull it out.

"It's a wig?!" Yeah, and it was a lot shorter than his own hair had been. "But… how can I wear this when everybody's seen me with fuzz?"

"Enhanced hair growth, yet another miracle from the Force." Vader helped him arrange it on his head. "It only has temporary adhesive, so the tiara will assist to keep it in place. Tomorrow you can have Shalan glue it to synthskin so it will stay on until your own grows back to a satisfactory length."

Once the hair was in place, he raced to his father's dressing room because he required a lot more mirrors. "Ooooh." Oh yeah, the hair was short and spiked and radical, but it was so much better than the fuzz.

His dad appeared behind him and poised the tiara over his head. "Your royal highness," he declared as he set the sparkling crown over the spikes.

Wow. He was speechless. He looked every bit as important and regal and calm as Bail Organa. Yeah, he had an aura.

"Well?"

He met his father's gaze in the mirror. "Have I mentioned lately that you're the best father in the universe?"

"You may have said it a few times, yes."

"We could model in a fashion show." He stared at their reflections. "And are those contact lenses?"

"That's my secret for the time being. Now we are fashionably late. Shall we go?"

"If you're sure I won't dazzle them so much that they can't concentrate on their food. Or the meeting."

"Thank you for your consideration. I will endeavor to retain their focus." His dad led the way to another suite. "They have had forty minutes to become sufficiently lubricated that their tongues may be loosened, so brace yourself for compliments or stunned silence."

"You too! Hey, are they having Happy Hour?" he asked, surprised as they entered the room and into what appeared to be a fancy reception. With wine. Or maybe it was straight liquor.

"It's called Attitude Adjustment Hour," Vader said in a low voice before he raised it and asked (though it wasn't actually a question): "I assume you have all introduced yourselves."

"Or recognized each other from Wanted Dead or Alive posters," Luke added cheerfully.

Grandstanding.

Luke glanced at his dad contritely. Oops. Sorry. Then added: Really?

Well… maybe not.

"Gentlemen." His dad nodded and Luke followed his lead by adding his own regal nod, hoping the tiara didn't slide off.

"Captain Lekauf," his father said, greeting his aide before the others.

Captain Lekauf what? he wondered before the captain roped the group and drove them into the dining room with a snap of his magic lasso. Well, okay, his hand. Of course his dad would have the whole thing choreographed. Everything was arranged according to his plans.

Except for my Wild Card.

You mean your Wild Child, he corrected, not bothering to hide his grin even when General Veers glanced his way and stared for a few seconds longer than necessary.

Try hard to behave, his father said. You will sit between Commander Narra and Captain Jovay. They will protect you from unwanted admirers.

He had to swallow an indignant gasp. You're banishing me? I should be next to you!

Double the dazzle might overwhelm everyone.

Luke bit his lip. You're right. I'll try to help by being inconspicuous. Just this once.

I will believe that when it happens.

That was definitely a challenge. I can do it!

Start now.

He clicked his tongue. Narra glanced at him, then the tiara, and Luke smiled. "Have a seat, Commander. I'm your dinner companion tonight. Are you prepared?"

"For you or for a feast?"

"Exactly," Luke agreed.