"Luke!"
The raw fury and panic in Vader's voice was tangible when they staggered out of the safe room and into the mess hall, troopers helping the others out themselves. Luke cringed when his father descended on him.
"What happened?"
"I got shot."
"By—" He heard his father's voice catch, saw his head turn towards the unconscious Max, carried between two troopers, and Luke winced at what that cadet had coming for him.
"Father—"
The helmet turned back to zero in on him with a terrifying intensity. "Are you injured?"
"No," Luke drawled, "I just decided to dump juice down my front—"
"Luke."
"I got shot in the shoulder. That's it. It didn't hit any major arteries, and look," he hoisted his shoulder up so he could get a good look at the bulky gauze and bacta patches around there, "we treated it. It's healing."
"You are going to the medbay as soon as possible."
"Sure, but I won't need to stay long." He saw Zev raise an eyebrow at him behind his father—accompanied by a nervous glance at Vader, of course—and a tiny smile curled his lips. "I'm fine. We're all alive. Get back to saving the rest of the Academy and stop fussing over me."
"The troops are sent are perfectly capable of handling it on their own." I am better off here.
Luke rolled his eyes. "I love you too, Father"—Vader jerked back at the words, said so frankly and publicly—"but you can leave me alone and handle things personally. I'm not gonna break."
A finger sprang out to wag in his face. Luke was aware that people were gawking, but he didn't care. "You will take the speeder and go home, and have my personal medic droid see to you."
Luke smiled to himself. "Yes, sir."
"And get your friend to fly you." Luke met Zev's gaze again and stifled a laugh at the sudden tension and shock in his frame. "You are not to use that arm until the droid says so."
"And I presume until after you've doubled whatever recovery time period Embee has set me?"
Vader patted him on the shoulder—the good shoulder, that was. "Indeed, son."
"What if—"
"No."
"Heh. Alright. Go terrorise the staff."
"I am not—" Vader remembered, again, that they were in public. Most of the group had retreated to the other side of the mess hall, but they were still shooting them the occasional inquisitive look. "We will have words later."
"I know, Father." Luke touched his arm briefly, then jogged over to Zev. "You heard that?"
"Every word."
"You up for this?"
Zev laughed nervously. "Sure. It's not like I have a choice, anyway."
"How. Did. This Happen."
"Lord Vader, I—"
"I am not interested in your pitiful whining, Director," he snapped at the old, stiff man cowering behind the desk. "I want to know why this attack came from your own students and how such agents have been able to go undetected for so long."
"We— we have officers looking into it as we speak, my lord, I will see to it that our very best interrogators question those agents we have been able to capture—"
"My lord!"
The man cut off his babbling abruptly as one of the officers Vader had ordered down from the Executor strode in, closely followed by a lieutenant he recognised as the one he'd tasked with keeping abreast of all the updates to do with Angel.
"You've found something?" he rumbled.
The first officer swallowed. "Yes, my lord," he said. "Interrogations have commenced, particularly on the one you gave into Five-Oh-First custody, and what we've learned thus far corroborates with interviews conducted with some of the cadets—"
"Spit it out."
The man swallowed again.
The lieutenant stepped forward, brushing a tight, dark curl back under her cap. "There is speculation that Angel was involved, either as an organiser or an inspiration."
Vader stilled. "Angel is an irritatingly effective burglar. What evidence for this is there?"
"Reports from cadets who knew the insurgents, initial confessions from some of the insurgents themselves mention the name—"
"I will take over the interrogations," he said. "If there is a link, I will find it." He turned back to the director, still seated frozen in his chair. "I will give you one more chance to prove that you are worthy of command of this facility, Director. Do not disappoint me. Find the perpetrators and ensure this will never happen again."
"Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord." He bowed his head, then tried, "I hear your son was highly heroic—"
"Indeed, he proved more skilled than cadets you've been training for years, despite his injury." The room chilled just at that word. "Perhaps I should not bother sending him here at all."
The director got the hint, and bowed his head again. "Y— yes, my—"
Vader swept out of the room in disgust.
Embee was as gentle as ever when treating Luke, the result of years of his father's tinkering to make the perfect, most trustworthy droid possible. He still had the remnants of old stickers a young Luke had plastered onto his off-white carapace clinging to him, and was programmed to play soothing lullabies from multiple languages or theme tunes from all manner of children's holo shows, if Luke was so inclined to use the feature. He hadn't in quite a few years, but it was still lovely to know that it was there.
He tried moving his shoulder under the small mountain of bandages on it, and felt only the faintest twinge of pain shoot through it.
"The bacta has nearly totally healed it," Embee said in his calm, relaxing voice. Just hearing it made Luke want to fall asleep there and then, let his body and the bacta finish off the work, but he blinked to stay awake.
He needed to meet Leia later. He couldn't afford to drift.
"Now, I recommend you rest and recover from this incident. My assessment indicates no lingering trauma but if in the future you—"
"I think I'm fine, Embee," Luke said calmingly. He knew what to say to reassure the droid. "I'll go and sleep in my own bed instead of here in the medbay"—well, not the medbay, his father's medbay, which was why Luke was so familiar with it and why there was only one bed—"and check in with you tomorrow, is that alright?"
Embee tilted his head, the white lights of his eyes flickering slightly, and nodded. "I find that—"
"Unacceptable."
Luke turned to see his father looming in the entrance to the medbay. This was not unusual, considering it was his medbay and he spent more time in here—especially after. . . audiences with the Emperor—but the fact remained that Darth Vader had the ability to fill any room with his presence in a threatening manner, and this room was no exception.
His finger was pointing at Luke as he stalked closer. "You will stay here tonight, no excuses. I want to make sure nothing else—"
"Nothing else is wrong, Embee just confirmed that!"
"I had thought that nothing was wrong with the Academy when I allowed you to attend that event. Clearly I was incorrect, and I will not risk you the same way twice."
"Allowed me?"
"Luke, look past your urge to be independent and get into that bed," Vader snapped. "You are staying here."
"I don't need to. As I said to Embee, I'd prefer to sleep in my own bed and have the confirmatory check up tomorrow. He was about to give his blessing."
Vader folded his arms. "Was he?"
Luke glanced at Embee. "Weren't you?"
Embee looked between them but, oblivious to the nuances of their human conversation, and said, "I was."
A burst of static from Vader's vocoder.
"And," Luke hurried to add, "you know that the moment you leave, I'll leave anyway."
"I can place troopers here with the purpose of keeping you in." But his tone was getting more tired, now, and he could hear him giving up.
Luke smiled—gently, gratefully, not victoriously—when he heard it. "And you know I'll just get past them anyway, Father. And then what would that do to my shoulder to exert it like that?"
Vader tilted his head, durasteel fingers flexing in their gloves.
Then he huffed.
"Very well, little one. It appears you have beaten me."
"It's my mother in me," Luke teased.
"That it is. I knew the moment I married her I would never win an argument again for the rest of my life." He sounded melancholy, but fond. Luke sometimes wondered if Luke's presence made his father's grief for his mother better or worse.
"Nevertheless," Vader continued, raising his voice again, "I want your word that you will not leave the penthouse until tomorrow. Longer, if you are not healed by then."
"No," Luke said immediately.
He could feel his father's eyes narrowing behind the mask. "This is not because of your injury, Luke," he said, dangerously softly. "This is because you were almost killed in a Rebel attack and until that threat is proven to be neutralised, I would rather not risk anything going wrong like this again. And while I am uncertain whether it will be cleared up by tomorrow, I will certainly not risk you having to deal with something going wrong like this again while injured. Do I make myself clear?"
"Absolutely."
"So do I have your word that you will comply?"
"Absolutely not."
A grunt of frustration. "Luke—"
"This isn't an independence thing again," Luke hastened to say. "But I genuinely had plans this evening and I don't want to miss them. They're not anything strenuous, I promise."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! What would I do that's not— oh." He leaned forwards on the little bed to buried his face in his hands. "Oh. You're still hung up on the ridiculous podracing idea."
Vader folded his arms across his chest. "Indeed."
"You know it's not true."
"I know. But it leads me to wonder what else you are doing that means you so often come back injured."
"I haven't come back injured since you got home!" Well. That he knew of. The bruises Mara had left still hurt, but fortunately Embee had not questioned the days-old bruises and just treated them along with the blaster shot.
"Son, it has been a week since I got home."
Luke blinked. "And I haven't been injured in that time!"
He was not amused.
He stalked even closer, dark cloak waving around him, and towered over Luke. "I want your word," he growled.
Luke debated it. Opened his mouth to say. . . anything, when—
There was a sharp buzzing.
Vader pulled out a comlink, and Luke recognised the tone. The message that popped up was one from the bureaucrats at the Palace.
"A summons," Vader spat. He turned his attention back to Luke. "We will continue this conversation later. Do not leave until I return."
He spun on his heel and walked out.
Luke glanced at Embee. "You said I could leave the medbay?"
"You can."
"Then I'll see you tomorrow for the check up." Luke pushed himself to his feet and headed out, tossing over his (non-injured) shoulder, "Thank you!"
He waited to hear the "You are most welcome, Master Luke," before he let the door close behind him.
Vader listened to his own breathing and tried to calm the intense need to see if Luke was alright—the worry. He knew his master would be expecting it, but he wouldn't like it.
He strode into the throne room like a man possessed, barely deigning to pause to lower himself to one knee. But he had to—his master would not be pleased otherwise. So he knelt.
"Rise, Lord Vader," Palpatine said almost immediately, irritably, He cut a sharp motion with his hand and gestured him to join him in his stance by the window, staring out over Coruscant. Vader had an eerie premonition of... over a week ago now, when he'd first returned, and had to explain to his master why he was there. It had been dusk then; it was dusk now, darkness falling on one of the many, many eventful days that seemed to play out whenever Luke was involved.
Sunlight caught on the windows of the starscrapers, glinting like earthbound stars in their own right.
"Sparks," Palpatine said finally. "Catching and spreading. If this were sunrise"—he held his hands out, palms facing the transparisteel—"this light would soon be ablaze."
"It is not sunrise."
Exasperated, Palpatine dropped his hands. "What did you learn from your interrogation of the Rebel who attacked your son?"
Vader ground his teeth at that way of phrasing it, but didn't deny it; he was who he was, in Vader's mind, and he was not about to change it.
"He was sponsored by an outsider, a traitor high up in the Imperial hierarchy, despite petty attempts to cite Angel as an inspiration. Everyone in the attack was, though it seems that whoever ordered it was a poor planner. It failed utterly."
"I wouldn't say that," Palpatine mused. "Quite a few people were killed."
"People of little importance. The infiltrators apparently had orders to take high value Imperial hostages alive, so no one of political value was killed."
His voice was extremely tight. No wonder Palpatine commented on it: "And I take it that is why, even with a blaster to young Skywalker's head, he did not kill him?"
"He would not have been able to," Vader growled, "Luke is skilled, he would have found a way to save himself—"
"As indeed he did, if the reports are correct. You do not need to announce your son's qualities to me, Lord Vader. I am well aware of them—and well aware of what I could make of them, with proper training and discipline."
Vader kept silent. Discipline.
He knew exactly what that meant.
"He's strong, brave and clever—he certainly impressed some of the students and other visitors during the attack. If you would allow me to put him into the public eye, even, in lieu of training him... He could be the Imperial prince to inspire a generation, a role model for the citizens of the Empire, the symbol of the Empire's future, its strength, its resilience—"
"No."
Palpatine sighed, and patted his arm. "Think on it, my friend. You can leave the investigation alone; all that's important has been discovered."
Vader balked. "We still do not know who did this," he insisted. Luke was shot; I will not leave it alone. "We do not know who ordered it—"
"Oh, that is simple." Palpatine waved a hand. "I did."
Vader's respirator... skipped a breath. Or two. Or three.
When his breathing was finally in sync with it again, he asked, "What?"
"The open day is an annual event; I have had this organised for a few weeks now. Disillusioned youths, approached and radicalised by a shadowy figure..." He shook his head. "How easy it was is deeply concerning to me.
"Originally this was simply a way of invigorating Imperial forces against the plague of the Rebel propaganda threat, the infection in our children and youth. But in the past few weeks, it appears that this Angel has been lighting sparks and fires... ideas of Rebellion catching and spreading..." He paused. "You know a low-ranking member of court's penthouse was broken into last night? The assailant was caught and interrogated, but I've just been informed that he cited his inspiration as Angel. Even without the thief, youth are flocking to the Rebellion like rats. We needed a decent disaster, to show people what the Alliance really is—and, well, my attempt to tie our petty thief to it, ruin their prestige, was shoddy but effective."
He shrugged lightly. "When I heard your son would be attending, I had faith he would be the symbol I needed to demonstrate the Empire's might, but I ordered them not to injure any valuable hostages anyway. I had no desire to see him among the dead."
"You... don't?" Because that had always been a threat, hadn't it—assassination attempts too close to successful to be from the outside, from the moment Luke had learned to fight; insistence that he leave Luke in Palpatine's care and the horrible premonitions he would get from the Force when it came up; the possessiveness when he spoke of him which, now Vader thought about it, indicated something far, far worse than the desire to kill...
"Of course not." Palpatine smiled. "He is our future—as I said, the symbol of Imperial might. He is our spark to match Angel's, and he will burn brighter, hotter and fiercer than any flame this rebellious little tooka could hope to conjure up."
"He is not ready."
Palpatine snapped, "He is eighteen, Vader."
Vader stiffened.
"You may not have been here for large swathes of his teenage years, but that was your choice. You sent him away, and he is no longer the eleven year old who clung to your cape and screamed like a banshee at the mere prospect of going to school." His tone was intensely mocking; Vader felt ire rise on Luke's behalf.
Luke— Was he threatening—
"He is an adult, and if he is not ready then he needs to be ready, because time waits for no one. I did not only allow you to remain here so you could hunt Angel, Vader. You must make sure your son sees sense, and takes his rightful place with us. I have no wish to see his potential squandered."
He sighed. "And I have no wish to see him led astray, either. I had thought you would be able to deal with that yourself, Lord Vader. But I suppose I will have to take matters into my own hands; you are clearly too soft and weak where the boy is concerned. Even now, he takes advantage of it."
Vader had been in the middle of turning away.
But now he froze.
I will have to take matters into my own hands.
"What?"
Palpatine moved his golden gaze from the city, now dark and grey, to Vader. There, in his irises, were the sparks he spoke so fervently of as he said, "Oh?"
Oh what?
Palpatine couldn't hear the words, but he must know what he was thinking anyway, because he cackled. Loud and gleeful.
He said, "You did not know that as we speak your son is in the Senate gardens, meeting with Organa?"
The flight to the Senate was uncomfortable with his injured shoulder still smarting and Luke was glad when he finally arrived. He could sense Leia already inside, pacing, and his thousands of questions crowded his mind, his tongue, until for a moment he could barely think.
Did you know about the attack today?
Do you know how many casualties there were?
Do you know what this will do?
He tried to disguise his urgency as he strode in but his footsteps were quick and clipped and Leia, pacing next to a large bush of purple blossoms native to Naboo, turned on him with fire in her eyes and excitement snapping in her voice.
They spoke at the same time.
"Did you know you were my brother?"
"Did you know about the attack today?"
Then they paused.
"I saw it on the news."
"Oh. That."
Leia's face lit up, and she closed the distance between them to jab a finger into him. "Ha! You did know?"
He took an indignant step back, rubbing his chest. "I knew the man in the holocron was my father. It was pretty obvious. From what you said afterwards, I extrapolated and put the two together." He scowled. "How did you find out?"
"My master told me the truth. She thought I'd be sad about it."
"Well, that's the general thing people expect when you have Darth Vader as a father," Luke bit out. "And... you mean to say you're not?"
"I wasn't talking about Vader, nerfherder." She took another step forward and shoved him again. "I was talking about you. She was all apologetic, sorry you have to have an evil pseudo-Imperial prince for a brother, and"—she seized his hands—"I told her there was no one I'd rather have."
Luke stared at her for a moment, squeezing their clasped hands together.
Leia did, outstandingly, look like his—their—mother.
"Brother," he said quietly. "I'm your brother.
He grinned.
"And you're my sister."
She smiled broadly in response. "Yes."
He hugged her.
Bent down to pick her up slightly, hissing when it aggravated his shoulder, but murmured in her ear, "There's no one I'd rather have as my sister, either."
She hugged him just as tightly.
Then he let her down again. She frowned at his shoulder—the red patch slowly growing in the fabric of his pale blue shirt. "You're hurt?"
He shrugged. Then he stopped, because it hurt. "Attack."
"Ah, yes, I saw it on the news." Her lips pursed. "'Luke Skywalker, son of Darth Vader, saves the day at the Imperial Academy and shows the galaxy what the next generation of Imperial rulers are made of'— ugh. You'll act all heroic and let yourself be a symbol for the Empire, but not the Rebellion?"
"Heroic? I," Luke said, patiently, like he was speaking to a child, "was shot."
"Clearly. Were you being stupid and heroic?"
"I was just trying to stop anyone from getting hurt, and when I was getting treated in the medbay because, you know, I was shot, the Imperial news ran wild! I had nothing to do with it!"
Leia swallowed and frowned. "Alright, I'm sorry. I believe you." Then she added slyly, "But yes. You were being stupid and heroic."
Luke sighed. let himself smile. Tried to force himself to relax.
It had been... a stressful day.
"They're saying the attack was orchestrated by the Rebellion," he said quietly. "Did you know anything about it?"
She shook her head. "No," she muttered. "It must have been a splinter group—or even just a group of disillusioned cadets, desperately wanting to make a stand but just getting in over their heads."
His voice cracked. "People died."
Leia stayed quiet too. "I know, brother."
"I felt them."
She took his hand in hers and laced their fingers together. "I know."
"We need to—"
"I'll see if I can find out who did this," Leia promised. "I'll see— there must be something I can do. This sort of action only brands the Rebellion as terrorists, when it's something we don't do—it's closer to what the Empire would..."
They stared at each other, realisation dawning in synchrony.
"Do..." Luke was the first to try to voice it; he swallowed. "Do you think..."
Alarm screeched through the Force.
They sprang apart and Luke whipped his head around, that presence that drenched the gardens in cold intimately familiar to him. Leia had paled significantly, staring at the monstrous black form that she'd always hated, but never had to reconcile with...
With being her father.
"Luke," Vader boomed as he strode forwards, "why are you not at home?"
Leia, for all that she could stare Vader down on any other day of the year, flinched on this day, and Luke instinctively stepped in front of her.
"Embee said I was free to leave," he said, placating. His hands hopped up to hover in midair in front of him. "My shoulder is healing, I'm too fired up right now to sleep, so I—"
"Did exactly what I told you not to do?"
Leave through the back door, Luke said to Leia. Now.
But she didn't, frozen in place and also perversely fascinated, for the first time in her life, in the interactions between her father and brother.
"You have a meeting with the Emperor tomorrow morning. You need to be fully healed, and you need to be ready. And after today"—his massive hand wrapped around Luke's slender wrist and yanked him forwards—"you will not be meeting with Rebel sympathisers as friends."
Luke tensed up. He could sense Leia behind him, confused, but he just lifted his chin and tried to pull his arm out of his father's grip.
He failed, but it was the thought that counted.
"We've talked about this already, and we came to an agreement," he said sharply, and— not coldly, but his voice was no longer placating. "Why are you changing your mind now?"
Vader froze. His grip constricted on Luke's wrist even tighter, but it didn't hurt. He was careful enough to make sure of that.
"The attack earlier—" Vader began.
"I dealt with it. I'm fine."
"You were shot."
"I'm fine." Luke couldn't fold his arms across his chest when one was caught in a tight grip, so he planted one on his hip and glared to make up for it. "What did the Emperor say to scare you so badly?"
Vader bodily jerked back at that.
Get out, Leia. I mean it.
She went. Vader's helmet snapped up to track her progress, hand clenching, but Luke waved his fingers and drew his gaze back to him again.
Once Leia was gone, Luke said again, more softly, "What did he say?"
"Nothing I was not aware of before," Vader ground out. "He wishes to train you as a Sith. He wishes to install you as Imperial prince. I already knew that."
"But now it seems more immediate," Luke guessed. He ignored the pit that had opened in his stomach.
Vader growled, "Come home with me now, Luke. I am sorry I exploded in front of your friend, but in light of this recent attack I believe we should update our agreement."
Luke's shoulder tensed, but he narrowed his eyes at his father and saw that he would not budge. Not on this.
Not right now.
Vader said into his mind, Palpatine in watching you both.
Well.
That changed things.
"Alright then," he said quietly. "Lead the way."
