(Part of The Truth universe. Set between "Kissing Babies" and "Closeted")

Luke faces the indomitable Cricket Crystal from the ChitChat Channel. It might be easier if his father didn't keep Sending comments. Also, Anakin gives his son fashion advice.

# # #

He folded his arms and watched his son turning around and from side to side to study himself from every angle of the multiple mirrors. Luke was frowning.

"You look elegant."

In return for the compliment, Anakin received a look that was part scowl, part disgust, and part disbelief.

"No! I look too… too fancy! Nothing is right! I don't have anything to wear!" Luke collapsed onto the padded circular bench. "I can't do this! Why don't you do it instead?"

"The ChitChatChannel didn't invite me." Fortunately. He wasn't eager to be the poster boy again; this time around it was Luke's turn. "People are more interested in you."

"They don't even know me!"

"They want to get to know you. Son, you helped defeat the Emperor and you… well, destroyed the Imperial Palace and an extremely large and important section of City Center using a mysterious magical power."

"Nobody cares about that! They only like me for my clothes, that's all anybody talks about!" Luke stood and looked at himself again, appearing no happier. He was wearing a hip-length, fitted, very expensive jacket in a buttery cream color. A high collar trimmed with silver braid framed his face.

"And wonderful clothes they are. You look like you've bathed in sunlight."

"How poetic." His boy tried to sound sarcastic but the blush that raced across his cheeks betrayed his pleasure. "I mean… thanks, it's a pretty great jacket. It's just not right for morning. Maybe I should wear the blue uniform. What do you think?"

"I think that you have no reason to be intimidated by Cricket Crystal. Or," he added, "her bosoms. I reminded the network that she would be interviewing a minor child and should dress appropriately."

"They don't intimidate me! And… minor child?" Luke echoed. "That makes me sound five years old!"

"If only." Anakin tilted his head. "You've withstood Rebel interrogations and out-talked Palpatine. This is no different."

"This is totally different! Those times were private! Or just for a small audience. This is… this will be broadcast live! Millions of people will see it."

"Billions," he corrected automatically.

"AAARGH!" Luke wailed. "Billions? I'll make a fool of myself! I'll say something I shouldn't!"

"Probably," Anakin agreed with a smile.

Luke glared at him. "That's not funny! I'm serious! And this outfit is too much! I'll look silly! Or spoiled! Or rich! Or something!"

His little chick needed his feathers smoothed. "Sweetie…."

"I heard that!" Luke pouted. "I'm not a chick and I don't have feathers!"

"Would you like some?" He winked and stepped behind Luke, hands squeezing his shoulders as their eyes met in the mirror. "Maybe a huge feather boa? Or a headdress?"

"You are so weird!"

"You're not the first person to make that observation." He crossed his arms the remainder of the way around his son's chest and rested his chin on Luke's head. "Son, no matter what you say or do today and forever, to me you will always be perfect."

"Oh…. No, don't get mushy, you'll make me cry. And… ditto about you."

"Well, thanks for your kind… word."

Luke smiled, then squinted at their reflections. "Uh…Dad? Have you…?"

"Have I what?"

"Ahem. Have you gotten taller?"

"Of course not," he denied, which was not precisely a lie. "It's my boots."

His son scrunched his nose and glanced down. "Those look like your regular boots. What did you do? Did you get new legs? People will notice!"

"I'm only an inch taller."

"More like two inches!"

Anakin shrugged. "I'll slouch."

"Daaaad!"

He knew the tantrum about clothing was disguising what really worried Luke. Usually his son was supremely confident (or pretended to be) in new situations, but now he seemed almost timid. Anakin kissed the crown of his young one's head and released him. "Now, my little chick, wait right here. I'm going to dress you properly."

Ignoring the childish sigh of exasperation, he explored the ever-expanding closet, searching through racks until he found the items he wanted. Returning to the central dressing room, he tossed them onto the circular bench. "Here."

"Those aren't new. Or are they?" Luke frowned. "Gray? Bor-ing! Cargo pants and– Oh, ugh! Is this the stuff I wore on Dagobah?"

"Same style, better fabric." Anakin held up the short jacket and a gray tank. They looked so tiny, he wasn't sure they would actually fit his son.

Luke wrinkled his nose. "You think I should wear this?"

"Absolutely. You believe that everyone knows you as a fashion icon– and rightfully so. Now, however, you will show them how fierce you are. And wear your lightsaber. Try this on."

Luke was so nervous about the impending interview that he didn't even give a token protest when Anakin stayed in the room and turned his back, waiting more-or-less patiently, staring at his boots and wondering if people would notice the difference.

"I'm ready." Wearing the fatigues, Luke strutted confidently around the room like a soldier, surprisingly forgoing a runway spin. "You're right! I like being fierce. They won't dare…." His relief faltered. "But what if they ask about Tatooine? What if they know about… you know… drinking and spice? What if they know about…the other thing?"

"Son, you excel at controlling and directing conversations. If you don't want her to ask, she won't because you can be intimidating in your very special and charming way. If she does ask something unpleasant, you can decline to answer. However, that would make reporters suspicious. Answer what you can, as honestly as you're comfortable with, because if you lie you can be sure they'll investigate and find the truth."

"Huh." Luke shook his head. "Seriously? That's some rich advice coming from you. And what if they ask why I didn't grow up with you? Or how I found you if you were Palpacreep's prisoner? Or how you got away from him? Or how you –"

"I am very grateful that you are not the interviewer. Although maybe you should be. Reverse the tables on her. Turn up the heat, create a gravity well, explode the cameras." He leaned back against the bench and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. They were very nice boots and the lifts inside were not excessive. Only an inch. Or two. "Do whatever you need to do."

"I'm fairly sure you're kidding, but not one hundred percent." The youthful voice shook so slightly that only a doting father would notice.

"Also, I will be watching from backstage and if I feel you're in trouble, I will join you and act as a distraction." He smirked, imagining Cricket Crystal's reaction at being close to him.

"Okay." Luke took a deep breath. "Okay," he repeated. "I'm ready for battle."

"Excellent. Remember, when in doubt, use the Force. Perhaps not your lightsaber."

"Obviously," his son said in such a patronizing tone that Anakin had to duck his head to hide his amusement.

"Or show off your muscles. They will distract her."

"Hah! Yeah, probably!" Luke straightened. "Oooh! I almost forgot to practice what I'm gonna say."

"Which is?" Praise for his father defeating Palpatine? Gratitude for the wardrobe?

"Umm… for want of a dumpster, the Empire was lost."

Anakin blinked. "What?"

"You know! Because there wasn't a place to throw out the candy bar wrapper. In the Palace."

Of course. Only a Skywalker would have believed he could save the day (and did) with a folded wrapper. "You said it was a protein bar."

"Candy, protein, same difference." In front of the mirror, Luke tilted his head and his expression changed to what Anakin suspected was intended to appear humble or modest, but it failed completely and he ended up looking adorable. "For want of a dumpster, the Empire…. No, garbage can. No, trash can. No… rubbish container?"

"Wastebasket?"

"Mm… trash bin? Yes! For want of a trash bin, Palpatine's Empire was lost. That's it!" Luke repeated the phrase under his breath a few times. "It will be my most quotable quote so far. Trash bin trash bin trash bin."

"Say it if you must." He didn't believe it was quotable at all, but if Luke thought so, then he would say it and his father would repeat it until the media appreciated it. "Are you ready? And remember, don't share anything personal that can be recreated and sold this afternoon on a shopping channel."

"I have no idea what you mean." Luke shook his head. "If people want to start wearing cargo pants and short jackets– Oh! Do you mean my lightsaber? Maybe I shouldn't wear it."

"Wear it, don't ignite it," he warned. "There are already plastic replicas on the market. Hopefully they are non-functioning."

Luke sent him an incredulous look, inspected his appearance once more and tugged at the jacket that barely reached his small waist. "Yeah, hopefully. Well? Are you ready?"

Anakin ignored the question that was certainly rhetorical. "At some point, take off your jacket and let the galaxy see how buff you are."

"Buff," Luke echoed. "Dad, I don't know whether to laugh or cry."

Neither do I, he Sent because, though he would never allow the thought to escape, he was extremely nervous about his talkative son's first interview as a public figure.

# # #

An invisible audience roared and applauded. Luke waved at… well, nothing, no one… and sat in an upholstered chair next to the host's desk.

"It's such a pleasure to visit with you, Luke." Cricket Crystal flashed a wide expanse of teeth. The two front ones sparkled. Did they have rhinestones embedded in them?!

No, his dad said. You may NOT have diamonds in your teeth.

I wasn't asking! He smiled back at her. "Thank you, Miz Crystal."

"Please call me Cricket. May I call you Luke? Or do you have a title?"

A title?! Dad! "Unfortunately, I don't have a title. 'Luke' will be fine."

"All right. Thank you, Luke, for agreeing to appear on A.M. Chit-Chat. Viewers, my producer is saying that we're starting a contest to find a title for Luke. He deserves a great one! Go to AMC_C to submit your entry now and vote on the finalists this afternoon. We'll announce the winner on tomorrow's show! Now, Luke, I'm surprised and intrigued by your wardrobe choice this morning. I've heard that your clothing is generally quite glamorous, but today's outfit seems very utilitarian. Is this the latest street style?"

Street style!? He managed not to huff at the slight and gave the camera a smile, then noticed there were several cameras. He smiled at each of them. "I save the fancy stuff until after lunch."

Luke, when there's a red light on the camera, that's the one filming you.

Cricket laughed gratuitously. "You know the old saying, Luke – it's always five o'clock somewhere!"

He kept smiling. "I guess that means it's… uh, not five o'clock here, Miz… Cricket." Dad, WTF does 'five o'clock somewhere' mean?

Did you just say WTF to me?

No. Luke blinked. "I like your sparkly… um… corset…?"

"Thank you! It's actually called a bustier, but you wouldn't know that. You have no need for one!" She beamed toward the cameras. "Of course, my faithful viewers know that I would not normally wear a camisole beneath it and a jacket over it, but since you're a minor, I thought it was appropriate to cover up the girls… although I imagine that you've seen —"

The girls? Seriously? "Yes," he agreed, hurrying to divert her, "it's appropriate, plus it's only oh-nine-hundred and there are probably babies watching."

Luke. Babies breast-feed. Don't give her openings like that.

"Well, babies br–" she began.

"Do you have children?" Luke interrupted.

"Not quite yet. Are you –"

"Not quite yet?! Are you expecting? Or trying? How exciting! Is there a contest to name the baby? Maybe we should start one! What do you say, audience?"

Apparently the Invisible Audience had gone home because there was no response.

Her mouth moved for a moment before she managed to say: "No, I'm not expecting or trying, Luke. So, tell me how you and your handsome and virile father were able to overthrow the Emperor. It's not every day we celebrate 'The Coup on Coruscant', as the tabloids are calling it."

"Those clever tabloids! And thank you for complimenting my dad. I think he's handsome, too." In his head, he felt his father smile. I'm not touching the 'virile' part, Dad.

As well you should not.

"Yes, well…. Is that a lightsaber you're wearing?"

No, you're just happy to see –

Dad! Stop!

"Yes, it is, Cricket."

"Oh, I know our audience would be thrilled to see how it works! Can you show us?"

"No." He struggled not to sound like his father. "A lightsaber is not a toy. It's a lethal weapon. It's only ignited in the most dire situations of life and death."

Good job, Son. You sounded like me.

"I see. Of course. Well, Luke, tell me about your battle with Emperor Palpatine. He was an elderly man. Did he put up much resistance?"

What? He stared at her. "Uh, yeah! I don't think he was elderly, just older. He was a Sith Lord! You understand what that means, right?"

"Yes, yes, an extreme sorcerer." She waved her hand dismissively. "But exactly what transpired? What were you wearing? We've heard rumors about ghostly Jedi joining the battle."

"One Jedi ghost helped, my dad's old dead instructor. He and my dad were dueling Palpatine with lightsabers, and it was really spectacular!" He was warming to the narrative. "My dad didn't want me to fight that way because he's sooo protective and it was incredibly dangerous, so I took a candy— a protein bar wrapper that I had stuffed in my armor –"

"You had— Wait… what kind of protein bar wrapper?" She leaned forward, the too-sheer fabric at the top of the bustier threatening to split. "Can you tell me the brand?"

"No." He frowned at her until she settled back in her chair. "I folded the wrapper to look like a fighter, then I aimed it at Sidious with a subliminal message that it was a poison dart and that distracted him and my dad sliced him into a lot of pieces so we don't have to worry about him regenerating."

"Regener —"

"And under the gorgeous white armor, I was wearing glimmershim." He smiled at the red-light camera. The light immediately switched to another camera. His smile followed it.

"What happened then?"

"Uh… well, then it was over except for the building collapsing. Anyway, the point is that I wouldn't have even had the wrapper if there had been any garbage… junk… wastebasket… trash… bins… uh… in the Palace. So you could say: 'For want of a trash can, Palpabin's empire was lost'!"

Did you just say…?

He tried to hold onto the smile, but felt it collapsing into a grimace.

"Palpabins?" Miz Crystal's teeth reflected the bright studio lights, nearly blinding him. "Palpabins! How delightful! I think the city's Recovery and Beautification Initiative should include Palpabins on every street corner! How about it, audience? Palpabins!"

Luke looked around for the source of the sudden applause and whistles but apparently an audience hadn't sprung from nowhere.

She's laughing at you, his father observed, a blade of anger slicing his thoughts. Shall I join you now?

No, I'll handle it. Taking his dad's suggestion to 'turn up the heat' literally, he shut down the studio's air conditioning and raised the temperature twenty degrees. Cricket shifted in her chair and glanced around but said nothing.

"It's getting very hot in here," Luke noted. "I hope there's not a fire. May I help you off with your jacket?"

"That won't be –"

"And I'd like to take off mine too, if that's okay." He stood and unfastened his jacket, sliding it down his arms and folding it neatly on the chair arm. Instead of sitting immediately, he paused for the cameras to get some good shots (hoping it didn't look like he was posing) of him stretching and flexing his arms, then smoothed the tank over his torso and ensured it was tucked into his waistband. He smiled at her again. "You look like you're sweating, Cricket. Let me help."

She was staring at his arms and chest and clavicle. Judging from her expression, he supposed they must be very attractive. Well… yeah. He knew how fabulous he looked.

Buff, Anakin declared smugly.

But not virile?

You're only a baby, much too young to be… that.

Cricket stood and put one finger to her ear. Luke supposed she got a message telling her not to get distracted. "Yes, thank you! Luke, I had no idea you were so physically fit! Do you have a special exercise routine? Or a diet plan? Do you have a protein drink every day?"

His fingers touched the back of her bare neck, making her shiver as he eased the jacket off her shoulders. "No. I guess my finely tailored clothes hide my muscles. Or did you think I was wearing a corset?"

She sighed. "No, I mean… I just never imagined… I mean, you look like your…. Never mind. You're welcome… I mean, thank you," she murmured.

"You're welcome, ma'am."

Ouch! His dad laughed. She's not just twenty degrees hotter, you made her twenty years older! Ma'am!

"I… yes…. Speaking of your wardrobe, where do you get your clothing?"

"From my dad." He tried to look blank and innocent.

"Oh. Of course. But where does he…." Cricket touched her earpiece, cleared her throat, and glanced at her notes. "I can't believe our time together is going so fast! We only have a few minutes left, Luke, and there's so much about you that we don't know. Your fans have been sending in questions. Maybe you can answer a few." She was talking too fast. "What's your favorite color? Favorite food? What do you do for fun?"

Dad, if I say blue, chanilla, and jumping around, will they all be on the shopping channel tomorrow?

Probably. Also, your 'fans' will inundate you with gifts, possibly trampolines covered by blue-dyed chanilla.

"I like every color, Cricket. It's wonderful that people today are free to express themselves in whatever style they choose. Even you." His face was beginning to hurt from holding the smile. "What do you wear at home when you're relaxing? Your work wardrobe is so fashionable, I imagine your private choices are equally as elegant. Speaking of private, do you have a special person in your life? I hope so, although I know it's hard to have a private life when you're a public personality. Maybe you can give me some advice." He leaned toward her. "Could you? Please? I'd love to hear your tips on living a private life in the public eye. You have decades more experience at that than I do!"

He clasped his hands together and waited eagerly as she struggled to answer, her forehead beginning to bead with sweat. He decided to be merciful and allowed the air conditioning to kick back on as she wrapped up his segment.

"Well, unfortunately my producer is telling me we're out of time. I'd love to continue our talk if you'll agree to come back. How about that, audience? Shall we invite Lit– Luke Skywalker back to the show?"

He stood and waved to the Invisible Audience to thank them for their enthusiastic support. She almost called me Little Luke! Did you hear that? Did you?

I heard. Overall, that went well, his father observed. Except for the Palpabins. I have a feeling those will haunt you like a Jedi ghost.

Luke sighed.