Okay, this is a short chapter, and I'm not 100% sure how happy with it I am, but it had to come out XD We're building up to the good stuff. Also, it might seem like I always update this fic when I'm tired, there certainly seems to be a trend, but again: if there's any weird sentence constructions or typos or whatnot, that's because I'm ready to fall asleep where I sit.


The next morning was… awkward, to say the least.

Luke got up to find his father hovering in the living room, staring out the large windows at the speeders zooming past. The moment he sensed Luke arrive, he turned; Luke froze under the weight of his gaze.

"I…" He paused, then laced his hands together behind his back. "I noticed that you have another speeder in the hangar that you were working on."

Vader, Luke knew well, was usually the most direct he could possibly be. Beating around the bush was not a skill in his arsenal.

But there had been a few times in Luke's life where his father had tried to break something to him delicately—and ended up lost for words.

"Yes?" was what he replied with, then, trying to see where he was going with this. "I was going to spend the day at the mechanics' fixing it." And showing Trace how to—retreating to his familiar sanctum.

Vader simply offered, "I would enjoy working on it with you, in the hangar."

Luek blinked. "Don't you have work to do? Aren't you busy catching Angel?"

"I have no leads there," Vader grumbled. "And… I have cleared most of the day so I can spend time with my son."

Despite himself, Luke smiled. Broadly.

"I'd love to," he said.


"Pass the hydrospanner."

He didn't specify which sized one, but he didn't need to; his father handed him the right size anyway, and Luke didn't even have to come out from under the speeder to receive it, the Force scooting it into his hand. Vader had tried to get under there to do it himself, but Luke had insisted—and he was far too big, anyway. He just sat on a chair off to the side, providing dry commentary and pointers in response to Luke's questions.

This was peaceful, he thought. This… it was nice.

He reached up to unscrew a bolt and grunted, squinting at it. It was stuck fast; he grasped the hydrospanner with both hands, and pulled

The spanner slipped off. He slammed his head back against the floor. "Kriff."

"Are you alright!?" His father's cold presence crowded around him; the spanner grew frozen in his hand, but at least there was a sort of ice pack around his head?

"'M fine," Luke grunted, lifting his head up again. "This fracking bolt's just being stubborn."

"Allow me to help," Vader said; with a flick of his fingers, and the Force, it spun and clattered to the floor. "And language," he added as an afterthought.

Luke laughed. "Sorry," he said. He wasn't really sorry.

A few more minutes passed in companionable silence, before Luke said, "We should do this more often."

"Which part? The part where you injure yourself while performing basic tasks?"

"Very funny. But you know what I meant, Father."

Vader's presence softened, settling around Luke's shoulders like a pair of warm, heavy wings.

"I do. And I agree. We have not spent an abundance of time together… ever, in fact."

"Well, that might be because you sent me to the Academy."

"It was necessary."

"I know, Father." Luke resisted the urge to sigh. "But even after I got back," he teased, "you've been away."

"The work of the Empire is important, son."

Luke knew that. When he pushed himself out from under the speeder and sat up, he tried to keep his disappointment off his face.

Even so, Vader leaned down to capture his chin in his hand. "But not as important as you."

His thumb stroked Luke's cheekbone: Luke tried not to flush.

"I will make more time," Vader promised, sitting back again.

Luke swallowed, and tried not to look too… hopeful? Sceptical? He didn't know.

"That would be nice," he tried with a nervous laugh. "You don't need a reason to hang out with me, after all."

Perhaps he'd been tempting fate, by saying that.

Because the moment he did, Vader said, "…I do not."

Luke flicked his eyes and pricked his ears up immediately. He could hear the but loud and clear.

"But today," Vader admitted, "I do have a reason."

"Ah." Luke should've known. "What was it? I knew you were being cagey earlier."

Vader sounded affronted. "I," he declared, "was not being cagey—"

"Yeah, you were."

Vader huffed. If he'd been feeling more light-hearted, if the air hadn't felt like it was pressing down on, in and around him, Luke might have laughed.

"Your friend," Vader said abruptly. "Zevulon Veers."

Oh.

Luke… Luke knew exactly where this was going—

"He attempted to defect last night," Vader continued—Luke let his shock at this being discussed with him by his father, his horror at having to have this conversation at all, at having to act innocent, ring out; he hoped it was convincing.

He hoped his father was convinced.

"General Veers caught and apprehended him in the act; I was on my way to interrogate him along with Hyadum, on suspicions that they were a threat to— that they had links to Angel…" Luke couldn't quite meet his father's eyes, but he knew Vader couldn't tear his gaze away. "Angel spirited them away before I could."

Luke… was silent for a moment.

He didn't know how to react to this.

He didn't know how his father was expecting him to react.

"…what?" he said finally, and perhaps how utterly lost he was even helped his act.

"Your friend is a traitor. I… am sorry, Luke. He betrayed you."

He didn't, was Luke's instinctive reply, but… Luke was the Imperial prince. He supposed it would look that way.

"Zev…" he said.

"There are security concerns," Vader barrelled on. "Zevulon was your friend—he has betrayed you once already, and we know he has come into contact with Angel. He… may have betrayed information about you, your schedule, where you spend your time—"

"Why would I…" Luke shook his head. "Why would Zev… Why would Angel want to know that?"

"Because you are the prince." His father sounded irritated, now. He even stood from his chair, kicking and scattering various tools with his feet, and paced up and down beside the speeder. "Luke, I had thought this news would cure you of your nonchalance about this whole situation, and about your safety. You have already faced one assassination attempt. Why are you so certain there will not be another?"

Luke… didn't know how to respond to that.

"I don't," he said.

"Then listen to me when I say that the fact a Rebel agent has been so proliferous in breaking into Imperial strongholds is a threat to you!"

Luke grimaced. "I guess."

"I am glad we are in agreement," Vader drawled, or snapped; however he said it, it was sarcastic, angry and biting. "Because tonight, you will be moving into the prince's quarters of the Imperial Palace, and you will be staying there for the foreseeable future."

"What!?" Luke jerked upright. "No!" He supposed, fleetingly, hysterically, that it would make it easier to rob the Palace, if he decided not to rob his father after all, but… no! He wasn't moving there!

"It is not safe here," Vader insisted stubbornly, "and I will not lose you."

Those words, the roaring possession in them, almost dried Luke's tongue in his mouth, but he still had the wherewithal to shoot back, "And moving me to a building Angel has already just breached recently is your brilliant plan!?"

Silence, for a moment.

Vader said curiously, "How did you know that Angel breached the Palace last night? I did not specify that the prisoners were kept there."

Luke went pale.

There was a heartbeat of silence, Luke's mind whirring—argue that he had made an educated guess, argue that he'd meant something else—

I assumed no one could ever breach the Executor, he could argue, play to his father's pride and joy—

Or:

"They broke in again!?" he stammered. He hoped his reluctance could be put up to surprise. "I— I was talking about the first time."

His father nodded, realisation looming loud in the Force. "I see. That makes sense. But yes," his tone turned grave; Luke hoped the way his eyes widened was believable. "Angel did."

"Perhaps you are right," he conceded. "I… will speak to the Emperor about the most prudent course of action." Luke scowled; Vader definitely saw it, but ignored it. "If nothing else, there will certainly be more guards posted here as soon as we have spoken—by tomorrow night, certainly."

Tomorrow night.

So… for Luke's attempts at breaking out… his attempts at breaking in, if he wanted to steal his father's lightsabers…

They would have to happen tonight.

Luke said, "Father…"

Vader stopped pacing for a moment, staring at Luke.

Then he lunged forwards and Luke barely had time to squeak before he hugged him.

His face was crushed against his chest plate, his arms coming up to encircle Vader on instinct—and it wasn't really until that moment that he realised how scared his father was.

He was terrified of Angel—of Luke.

For Luke.

He closed his eyes tightly and buried his face in his father's cloak, letting the armourweave absorb his tears, and trying not to let his intense guilt cloud their bond.


Zev had never heard of a planet called Yavin, nor a moon called Yavin IV, which he supposed was the point of the Rebels making a base there.

Solo—a fair pilot, if an abrasive man—led them in calmly, landing with barely a whisper. They'd already dropped Jem, who'd claimed he didn't want to go to the Rebel base, would rather find a way to return to his family, off at Polis Massa along the way, Han even escorting him to the next docking bay so he could get away safe, and this landing was even better than the one Han had pulled off there. Zev could see why Luke liked him. The familiar sight of the Millennium Falcon was apparently welcome on this base; a great gaggle of people came to meet them once they'd set down.

Senator Hyadum—a really nice woman, he'd found along the way—bore nothing more than an expression of relief as she looked out there. Zev's feelings were decidedly more mixed.

He didn't like being stared at, the way the crowd was doing to him now. He… got antsy when he saw the amount of starfighters and bristling blasters and other war machines in this patch of the landing pad alone.

He wanted to fight the Empire, but he was General Veers's son, and he still didn't trust that they'd react any better than Hyadum had when she'd found out.

So he bounced on the balls of his feet as the landing ramp descended, glancing curiously at a symbol spray-painted on the wall of what look like a temple—a four-leafed clover with the bottom leaf larger and heavier than the other—before his gaze fell on a rip in the crowd. It widened further, to reveal a tall Togruta woman with blue and white montrals and two… lightsabers swinging at her hips. She looked severe, but calm, and she strode right up the ramp the moment it touched down, leaving the crowd of curious people behind her.

"They heard that Angel rescued a person, this time, instead of just stealing resources," she explained, walking right past them both and into the cockpit, where Solo and Chewbacca were still lounging in their seats. "They want to ask questions about what it was like, what Angel is like, since Chewbacca isn't so forthcoming and Captain Solo hardly deigns to socialise with the rest of them."

Luke, Zev thought. Luke, do you know the effect you've had here?

The Togruta took up a stance at the front of the cockpit, hands clasped behind her back; Zev and Hyadum exchanged awkward looks but perched on the two remaining seats.

The Togruta turned around. "My name is Ahsoka Tano," she said. "I knew Luke's mother, a long time ago; I was very close with his father; and even now I teach his sister."

"Luke has a sister—?" Zev began.

"But even I did not know Angel's true identity until recently," she continued. "I interacted with Han and Chewie, but they did not tell me Angel's identity, and I did not ask. They do not speak of this to anyone. Not Luke's name, not his location, not even what he's going to steal next."

Behind her, Han shifted awkwardly. Zev considered making a sarcastic comment about that moment back on Coruscant that had revealed Luke's identity, but decided against it—he was sure that was an outlier.

Ahsoka surveyed them intently. "Now that you know, I must impress upon you the importance of keeping this knowledge private. There may well be spies on this base. Do not risk them finding out, no matter who asks you for details, no matter how pure that person's intentions are. Do not be the reason that Luke is caught and executed."

Silence fell for a moment.

"Of course," Hyadum said. Zev echoed her.

Luke, he thought, scared all of a sudden. Luke, what have you got yourself into?


Sana didn't know, exactly, how much information she had on Angel, but she did know two things:

She had a sizable, valuable amount. She hadn't seen Angel's face, but she knew he was blond, and male; she didn't know his name but she knew roughly his age; and, most importantly, she knew about Han, and she knew what Han had told her.

It was unlikely, esteemed bounty hunter though she was, she would get more.

She'd spooked Han. Pushed too hard. He wouldn't say a word to her on the topic ever again.

So there was only really one way to profit off of this information and gain the gargantuan reward for giving the Imps a few clues, and that was to hand the information over.

Sana had expected that the comm frequency listed as the place to report information about Angel would be manned by some stiff Imperial. One of Vader's quaking aides. She was glad, of course, that it wasn't manned by Vader himself, but—

Why did it have to be manned by her?

"Sana?" Aphra's voice was incredulous—both highly amused and utterly unamused at the same time.

"Aphra," she snapped back. She would not acknowledge their previous familiarity by calling her Chelli—they hadn't been that close, or close in that way, in a long time. "You're the one running this investigation? No wonder it's going to the dogs."

"Well, I'm helping." Aphra smiled. "Pays well, y'know? Pays extra well when I do well." She raised her eyebrows at Sana.

Ugh.

"C'mon, don't give me that look. What do you have to report?"

What did she have to report?

She wasn't about to tell them that Han Solo and the Millennium Falcon were Angel's allies. If she played her cards right, she could get the bounty off of Han and the bounty off of Angel, but not if Han was in an Imperial prison—and besides, she knew he was close to paying her back. She'd interrupted him while Chewie was out to have a conversation about that already.

But even the information she knew about Angel alone…

Even if it was good enough to catch him…

Did she want to hand it over?

Did she want to give it to Aphra?

She was having second thoughts about that.

But… Aphra was working for Vader. Aphra, knowing her, would get spaced or strangled or stabbed soon—probably extremely soon.

"I have a lot of information," she told her, watching her expressions carefully. "Enough for you to catch them."

Aphra rolled her eyes. "Alright. And what is it?"

"I want payment in advance, first."

"No. Obviously not." Aphra smirked at her, tapping a little rhythm out, probably on the console of the Ark Angel. "If that's your try, Starros—"

"I don't trust you to pay me after I tell you."

"And you think I trust you to give me solid leads? Please." She snorted. "Give me something small, and I'll pay you something small. Give me something big, then I'll check it, and then I might pay you something big."

"How big do you think Angel's next target is?"

Aphra's expression flickered through so many emotions, then, that it sent blue hologram light leaping across the console of the Volt Cobra. Sana pinched her lips and tried not to look amused.

"That's worth a down payment," Aphra said. Oh, it was definitely killing her to say that.

"A few thousand credits down payment?"

Her face was thunder. "You could say that. But you're not getting the full reward."

"Of course not. I'll give you this, you give it to your boss… and when it's proven correct, and you're inclined to trust my information, I'll give you the rest, and you give me the rest."

"That seems like a way to operate."

"Good."

"Now. Where are they gonna hit?"

Sana smiled. "Angel is after lightsabers for the Rebellion." She'd cornered Han on Polis Massa, when they'd stopped there briefly; he hadn't said anything specific about Angel, just that Han would be smuggling valuable artefacts soon and that it could make them both rich if she gave him time… but it didn't take a genius to figure it out. And it didn't take a genius to figure out— "And I think we both know what the next target will be, then."

"Yeah," Aphra agreed, lighting up in a grin. "Third time's the charm."


"And this informant is," Vader paused, allowing himself to loom, before finishing, "reliable?"

Aphra shrugged. "Absolutely not," she said. "We have a history."

"I have no interest in your sordid love affairs."

Aphra made a sound like she was choking on her own tongue. "No, boss, didn't think you would. But she's a good bounty hunter. Like, she scares me, good. I think she… probably knows what she's talking about? And if this information is wrong, I don't pay her for whatever else she wants to offer me."

"I see." He paused, mulling it over for a moment. "And she claims that Angel wants to steal… lightsabers."

"From the Imperial Palace, yeah."

"Where else would they be stealing them from?" he shot back, irritated. "No matter. They have proven themselves cocky in regard to their misadventures in there. This ends now."

"You'll set a trap for them?"

"You are the archaeologist," he reminded her. "We will enter the Emperor's trophy room, and there we will lay the trap. Angel is arrogant. This will be their downfall."

Aphra looked excited. If he were a happier, or better, man, Vader might have called himself excited as well, but no—he was apprehensive, anticipatory, and full of bloodlust.

"Looking forward to it, boss," she said, then had the audacity to wink before the connection cut off.

Vader strode out of his communications' room in a world of his own. It was that, he was sure, which made him miss Luke's presence in the living room at first. He was perusing a datapad; when he heard him coming, he raised his eyes and his eyebrows in question.

"You are at home for once," Vader observed; he'd thought that Luke had gone to that mechanics' shop after their conversation, but if he was back— "Good. Going or staying out late under the circumstances is ill-advised."

Luke didn't respond; just looked vaguely gueasy. Perhaps that conversation that morning had frightened him more than he'd realised; Vader felt bad, but couldn't bring himself to regret it.

So long as Luke was safe

"Yeah," Luke said. "I think I'll just end up going to bed early tonight."

Good. "Good. Sleep well."

"You too." And there was Luke's chiding look, the one that made Vader feel more child than parent. "How much have you slept in the last week?"

Very little, but the night of Coruscant was just as busy as the day. Vader needed to be awake, he needed too catch Angel. He needed to protect Luke.

"Enough," was all he said. He ignored Luke's scoff as he made for the door, and the speeder. He was already mulling over all the preparations he'd need to make for tonight.