About Turn

by Mina1

Delirious and in shock after Bespin, Luke inadvertently reveals his next-of-kin, but what will the Alliance leadership do with the son of Darth Vader? Concluded.

12.

Recovering from Bespin, a feverish Luke Skywalker lets slip his parentage, but what will the Alliance do with the son of Darth Vader? Their mistake proves monumental and delivers Luke into the hands of his worst nightmare. Destiny goes into an about turn where there's only one person who can save Luke from the darkside - his father. Recovering from Bespin, a feverish Luke Skywalker lets slip his parentage, but what will the Alliance do with the son of Darth Vader? Their mistake proves monumental and delivers Luke into the hands of his worst nightmare. Destiny goes into an about turn where there's only one person who can save Luke from the darkside - his father.

"I'd rather be liberated; I find myself captivated."

C h a p t e r T w e l v e

"You've changed," Solo pointed out bluntly what was becoming obvious to him, from the moment he had formed this truce and perhaps even before then. "Don't ask me how, and don't expect me to start congratulating you, but you're changing."

Vader didn't speak, instead he fixed Solo with a stare that yesterday would have frozen the smuggler's blood. Today, Solo batted it away with a wave of his hand. "And don't ask me what you're changing into either. But if you're going to get Luke out of there, you better start accepting it or you're going to fall flat on your face."

"Captain Solo-"

Solo turned and pointed a warning finger at him – he wasn't finished. Vader's gaze narrowed but his daughter's chosen mate never saw it through the black mask. "Don't 'Captain Solo' me – I'm not finished." He had an amazing capacity for stating what was blindingly obvious. Vader said nothing. "Now, Her Highness has told me about this 'truce' you two have formed, and I don't like it."

He scowled, the little nick of a scare stretching over his skin. Vader was sorely tempted to bat the smuggler down, but he sat impassively in the copilot's seat.

"Actually, no scratch that. I'd have thought she'd gone space-crazy if she'd done it a few weeks ago." After Bespin. "But now I don't think it was such a bad idea, and that's what I don't like." His lips hardened into a straight, unwavering line before he spoke again. "I've heard the story. Luke is your son, and you want him back. I can understand that. But what I don't understand – and what you and Leia don't seem to want to talk about – is why."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Captain." He shifted uneasily.

"Sure you don't. On Bespin, you snatch your son's best friends, torture them -"

"It was necessary, Captain. There was no other way to get his attention."

"A quick hyper-comm wouldn't have done the job?" He shook his head. "Besides, that's not what I'm getting at." The words were contradicted by the hard glare in his eyes, but Vader let it pass. From Solo's stance, his manners, and the hard set of the jaw, he knew that beneath the bluster of a well-formed attitude, this was hard enough for the smuggler talk about without Vader pointing it out.

"Then what are you getting at, Solo? We have precious little time," Vader rumbled. Again though, Solo seemed unaffected. This could get annoying if Solo refused to be intimidated.

"You torture his friends, then when he turns up you... what? Beat him up a bit, throw him out a window, cut his hand off, toss him down a reactor shaft-"

"-he jumped-"

"And you didn't stop him, did you? Couldn't you do that, with all your Force hocus-pocus?"

If ever eyes truly glared blaster-bolts, Solo's did, the sparks of hyperspace thrown like little jagged daggers at Vader.

"I could have," he said slowly, feeling Solo's point begin worm it's way in. "But he needed to learn-"

"Even if it killed him?" Solo glared, fists clenching and unclenching. The desire to leap on the Dark Lord and beat him to a mushy pile of pulp was clear to them both, but Solo refrained.

"He did not die."

"He should have. That fall should have broken his neck." Again, the finger was pointed at him accusingly. Solo seemed to have only one accusing look, and it involved that finger and several hard lines forming around his eyes.

"The Force was with him," Vader rumbled, disliking this conversation intently. "Make your point, Captain. I have little time for your rebukes."

"I'm getting there, keep your cape on." There was no smile turning the corners of his mouth up, despite Solo trying to lighten the mood. "So you beat your kid up, to… what? Try and get him to join you?" Vader gave a reluctant nod, "But now, suddenly, when he's being 'turned', or whatever you want to call it, you're jumping around like a wampa on the wrong end of an ion cannon."

The room was silent for a few beats, where Vader steadfastly refused to think. "Your point?"

"The question no one here seems to dare ask – why?"

Vader let the sigh slip from his lips. Solo might be an arrogant ego-tripper, but he was astute. Solo pushed on when there was no answer. "One minute you're beating him up, and the next minute you're coming over all fatherly. I've seen you pacing, I've seen you stand and just stare into nothing, and that's not something I'm used from the great, infallible Darth Vader."

No, it wasn't was it?

"So, why?"

Vader was silent for long seconds and Solo just sat staring, demanding, his eyes belying the quick intelligence working there. This was a question Vader had hoped never to have to address. Leia seemed inclined not to mention Bespin, the politician in her knowing it could shatter their uneasy truce. She had avoided it, despite the obvious pain and anger she felt. Vader was more than happy with that decision.

Solo, though, was no politician. And, what's more, he was right.

That was a hard thing to admit. He had respect for the smuggler, but only for his amazing lucky streak and his ability to win over both his children. He had never really given too much thought to his intellectual abilities.

"When Luke was reported dead and I couldn't find him in the Force..." He trailed off, Solo's intense gaze choking the words in his throat.

"Go on, like you said, we haven't got much time." His eyes flicked to the hyperdrive counter, but there was a deeper meaning there. If Vader didn't face the truth soon then there would be no time to do so. And that might just be disastrous.

"I was angry," he said at last. Solo leaned back in the black couch like he wanted to be some Imperial Centre shrink earning thirty thousand an hour. He almost begged to have little spectacles balancing on his nose and to have his finger steepled together thoughtfully. Vader banished the image and continued. "I was angry at the Alliance. But I was angrier with myself. It was my fault the Alliance tried to rid themselves of Luke, because of who I am." He turned his head to the stars, "I am not used to guilt. It is a new emotion to me."

Solo gave a quick smile, "That wasn't the only new emotion, huh?"

"No."

He sat back with a slightly smug grin, "Go on."

He couldn't say it. He didn't remember how. "You've made your point, Solo."

The smuggler shook his head, "Not quite. Come on, it wasn't the anger that mellowed you."

Mellowed. Mellowed. That was hardly the word to use for the Lord Darth Vader.

"Solo-"

"Allright, I'll say it. You realised you loved that kid. Am I right?"

"Solo, we're approaching reversion..." Han didn't have to say anything; the look on his face said it all. If you can't say it now, then we've already failed. And the worst thing was he was probably right. If Vader didn't sort through this mess of emotions, how could he possibly hope to act on them and win? His eyes closed, his breath came slower, and he barely felt the reversion to realspace.

"Very well, yes I realised I felt love for my child. It was... more destructive than I could have possibly imagined. I left the fleet and sought out Leia."

"You told her you wanted to know if she still felt Luke. But that was only an afterthought, wasn't it?"

His teeth ground at the insight. Never, never would Darth Vader have imagined having a heart-to-heart with Han Solo. It was... ludicrous. But then, so was forming an alliance with the Princess of Alderaan, so why not?

"Yes, it occurred to me during meditations on the way to Tatooine."

"Why did you go there originally?"

He had the unnerving feeling Solo had already knew the answer. "I... wanted to know Luke. I couldn't think of anyone else who would know him as well."

Solo refrained from a smirk and nodded. "Like I thought." He turned back to the controls and guided the Falcon in towards the distant speck of a ship against the starred background. "You've changed."

It was Solo's turn not to meet the other's stare, until finally Vader was forced to ask, "You've all noticed?"

Yes, it was a little less than blindingly obvious to all of them, but Vader wasn't quite sure... how he had changed, what he was changing into. The 'why' they both acknowledged, but what did it mean?

Solo nodded, brown hair throwing faceted highlights around the cockpit, fresh from the shower. "I think even Threepio noticed, and that's quite an achievement," he smirked,

"I built Threepio." Vader said, almost quietly, almost embarrassed. He chided himself for that tone of voice, but there was no taking it back now.

Solo turned to him, eyes growing wide, "You what?"

"When I was nine. I built him." Vader tried not to squirm beneath the smuggler's gaze. Darth Vader was not intimidated by Han Solo.

"Why?" Solo asked, then laughed at the double meaning. Why torture the galaxy like that? Vader chuckled, actually chuckled, and shrugged.

"Idle pastime, I suppose."

Solo grinned and shook his head, "You see, this is exactly my point." He pointed that finger again and Vader was sorely tempted to relinquish Solo of it if he didn't damn well stop taunting him with it.

"You have another point to make?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you think you could get around to it a little quicker this time?"

Solo smirked again, "And her Highness says I'm too blunt. Sure, Anakin."

He jumped in his seat despite himself and whirled on Solo, seeing the man back up just a little at the obvious vehemence, "That name no longer has any meaning for me."

"Sure it doesn't." Solo leaned in conspiratorially. "That's why you claim his kids, his droid, and his childhood I suppose?"

Vader stilled, no rebuke for the smuggler. He did think of Luke and Leia as his... and yet they must have been conceived before Darth Vader was... born. Solo was not only astute, he was merciless as he carried on making his 'point'.

"And I suppose that's why you didn't answer to the name 'Vader' back during that weird séance? You want to guess what name you answered to?"

Vader was still, watching the Mon Calamari cruiser grow in the forward viewport. "No." It wasn't so much an answer as a denial.

Solo grinned smugly, but thankfully dropped 'the finger'. "'Fraid so, Anakin."

"That name no longer..."

"You need to try and sound more convincing when you say that, you know. I don't think even Threepio would buy that right now."

Vader's hands clenched on the edge of the copilot's seat, "They are my children. I am-"

There was a crunching sound as the upholstery ripped free of the metal support on the wookiee's seat and he looked down at it, broken.

Solo leaned back in his seat and gave him a little privacy by focusing on the stars again, "Like I said, you need to start accepting it, or Luke doesn't stand a chance." Vader was surprised when Solo leaned in closer, conspiratorially, "This is your call, you know. You think you can rescue Luke, and I believe you. But only if you're ready."

"Captain Solo-"

"I know, I know. I'm the last person you expected to hear this from, but everyone else, Leia included, didn't seem prepared to touch the subject with a force-pike." He smirked, "Don't get any ideas about me forgiving you about Bespin," his eyes had hardened and there was a little shiver of remembered pain that he couldn't suppress, "But I know when something has to be said and I'm not afraid to say it." He turned away again, "Even if it's something I never could have imagined myself believing before." He murmured and lapsed in to contemplative silence.

He was right – the situation was ridiculous. Small-time smuggler lecturing the Dark Lord? He might have smirked, but the words, all of them, stung a little too true and he sat pondering them for long minutes as the Falcon approached Home1.

The Calamari cruiser that had been bulbous and crude to Imperial eyes but strangely compelling and organic to his own, hung in a stationary orbit over Sangrine on the other side of the galaxy to Tatooine. Long hours in hyperspace had taken their toll on the freighter's occupants, but not nearly as much as the brief contact with his son had. He kept telling himself that at least Luke still lived and held a little defiance, but the feelings he had touched during the brief contact burned.

"Han?"

They both turned at Leia's shaking voice and saw her enter the cockpit, a hand on her forehead.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?"

Both men glared at each other before turning back to the Princess of dead Alderaan.

She stumbled forwards and Solo leapt upwards and caught her before she could fall, lowering her into the navigators seat. "What is it?"

She shook her head, bit her lip. "I... felt like I couldn't breathe, I was suffocating. And then... nothing." She pressed the heel of her hand into her temple, "And now I think I have the world's worst migraine."

Vader stood and approached her, his fingertips resting on her temple before Solo could complain. She sighed thankfully as he bled away the pain, then crouched in an un-Dark-Lord-like fashion. "Luke?"

She nodded, "I think so."

Vader sighed and looked out the cockpit uncertainly. What was Palpatine doing now? If only they had a location.... but Luke hadn't known, and only one person might yet be able to tell them. Mothma. He was going to have to be careful not to kill her out of rage before they could get any information out of her.

Chewie muscled into the already-cramped cockpit and Vader turned to Solo, "Get her to the med bunk and give her a pain suppressant."

"What about Luke?" Leia asked, brown eyes wide. So much like Padmé...

"Leia... there is nothing we can do from here. I'm sorry. The sooner we get that location, the sooner we can actually take action. Until then..." He trailed off sadly, feeling the words tear at him as surely as they did at his daughter. She nodded glumly and allowed Han to guide her from the cockpit. Chewbacca wedged himself into the copilot's seat as Calrissian appeared stony-faced and grim in the doorway. Vader stepped aside and the Baron-Administrator took the helm.

Hold on, my son. Just a while longer...

He had the wrenching feeling that it was already too late.

* * * *

Leia had some serious misgivings, but she hid them away. Home1 had allowed the Falcon to dock reluctantly, Ackbar almost believing Leia's story that she was sorry she had overreacted and had come back to the fight. Ackbar had pushed her for details, but swallowed Leia's concerns about comm security.

Those weren't her concerns however, and she had no qualms about lying to Ackbar. She didn't even have any problem with Vader coming along, cloaked by the Force. That only gave her an unnerving reminder at his power. What had her stomach performing tight barrel-rolls was the upcoming meeting with Mon Mothma.

Her eyes were set as hard as duracrete as Vader opened the door by sliding the saber into the locking mechanism. She took a breath and steeled herself. Han leaned in close to her, smelling of soap and aftershave and she breathed it in, a familiar, welcome scent in what had become enemy territory.

"Relax, Leia. You'll do fine."

She nodded, her short hair bobbing up and down. She gave a grateful little smile and brushed nervously at her ship-suit, smoothing out nonexistent creases.

Vader walked in front of them, a black avenging cloud of anger, frustration, and barely checked fury. Strangely though that didn't concern her either and she could only wonder at the ease with which the thought of killing Mon came to her. She shucked it from her shoulders and followed her 'father' into the darkened room.

This was not the scene she expected. Mon was laid on a far couch, not touched by the starlight, and she didn't stir even at the sound of Vader's respirator. Han shot her an unnerved glance and Leia shook her head fractionally, confused. The door shut behind them, blocking off all light in the room and still Mon didn't stir. In the starlight, Vader stepped towards the sleeping figure, shrouded in a white senatorial dress and clutching a brushed-silk cushion over her head.

Leia was by his side in a few steps and she reached down tentatively for Mothma's pale neck. There was still a pulse and she closed her eyes in relief. If Mon had been dead...

She seated herself on the sofa opposite to Mon and laid her blaster in her lap. Han stood behind her, arms resting on the back of the sofa and she accepted the strength his presence offered.

"Wake her up," she said.

Vader's black-gloved fingertips rested momentarily on Mothma's forehead and she was sure she saw him snatch his hand away in disgust. That was a feeling she truly understood.

The room was quiet as Mon's eyes flickered open and she sat up abruptly, white fabric whispering against her skin as her eyes grew as wide as twin Tatooine suns. The short auburn hair was dishevelled as she began to rush to her feet with a cry of alarm, seeing Leia seated opposite her, fingers playing with the trigger on her blaster.

Vader's hand pushed her down none-too gently and she finally seemed to register the wheezing sound of his respirator. She sat stock still like a womp rat caught in the glare of speeder lights. Her breath stopped, them came out in a rush.

Leia smiled and it was small and bitter, "Hello Mon."

Mon seemed far frailer than Leia remembered and she clasped her shaking hands in her lap as she tried to find a focus. "Princess," she said, voice caustic but quiet. Leia frowned mentally but didn't let it show on her face. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Vader seemed to tense but Leia knew Mon better than he, and he was quiet. For now. "Oh, I think you can guess that Mon."

Her eyes narrowed, sparking. She pulled the fabric of her dress closer around herself as she spoke, "I thought you were above murder, Your Highness."

"Unlike yourself." Leia nodded, trying to suppress the bile rising in her throat.

Mon said nothing and Han leaned over the sofa and plucked a small bottle from the table, examining it in silence. Mon followed his actions but said nothing, despite the panic that crossed her face.

"We need some answers Mon." Leia said. She was careful to let Vader's presence do the intimidating, and for herself to act as the lesser of two evils. "I think you might have them."

"Princess-"

"There's no need to be so formal, Mon. Please, call me Leia." She smiled weakly and Mothma shifted uneasily. Take it, Mon. Take the easier option and just tell us.

They had discussed this at length, Vader wanting to opt for a simple mind probe to get the answers. Leia had no qualms about that, but Vader didn't appear to know how well it would work, and they would only have one shot at the probe. So persuasion was plan A; the mind probe Plan B.

"Leia, I didn't expect you to fall in with such bad company when you left. Won't you consider coming back?" Mon asked.

Han was tossing the small bottle of pills from hand to hand, a frown on his face.

"I would, if the Alliance wasn't as corrupt as the Empire. That's not why I'm here, Mon," Leia said. She glanced at Han – what? – but he just shook his head.

"Then why don't you get to the point, Princess?" Mon bit through clenched teeth.

Leia was going to answer but Vader interrupted, heavy bass tones rumbling and more reminiscent of the Vader she had known from before this whole mess had started, "Where is my son, Mothma?" The concern appeared well masked, but not to Leia. It still tainted his words, the need, the desperation; all bitten short by his fuse-less temper.

His hand was on her shoulder, squeezing, and she gritted her teeth against the obvious pain. "I'm afraid he's dead, Lord Vader. I-"

"Mon, we know he's alive," Leia said. She was going to say more but Mon looked up sharply, lips parting in surprise. Leia really did frown now.

"What?" Mon almost shouted, only Vader's hand keeping her down. Misgivings started to grow tenfold in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know. She really does think he's dead. "But the shuttle..."

Leia shook her head, and when she looked back up, there was that same cold, hard hate in Mon's eyes, little specks of yellow scooting outwards into the dark. "He's alive. Where is he?"

"I... I don't know what you mean," she stuttered, eyes glaring, but the rest of her was shocked still. "I don't know." And the worst thing was, Leia believed her. She looked to her father in askance but he seemed to have slumped.

"She's telling the truth," he said, words quiet.

At that new tone of voice Mon turned suddenly on the Dark Lord, eyes growing even wider. The room was quiet for a while before Han spoke. "These are some serious chemicals, Mon. Having trouble sleeping?"

Leia heard the accusations in Han's voice and bit down on her tongue to stop from screaming in outrage at the woman in front of her. She forced herself to concentrate on her as she slumped against the seat. Vader actually let her shoulder go. "That's none of your business," she snapped.

She actually trembled then and Leia gave her father a shocked look. "Answer him," Vader said, the words trembling through her.

Mon closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Mon..."

She gritted her teeth as Vader moved closer, almost menacingly. "I've been having headaches. Migraines. Not that it's any of your business."

Vader inhaled sharply and moved around the sofa back to stand in front of Mothma. To her credit, she barely flinched when his hand shot out to her temple. Leia, memories of the Death Star churning in her gut, stood and walked to her side.

"What is it?" she hissed. Han was on the other side, the same expression of confusion on his face.

Vader said nothing and Mon hissed and closed her eyes.

Something stained the air, a tingling of anticipation and her hands tensed around her blaster, seeing Han do the same as he tossed the small packet of depressants to the floor. Her fingers were trembling when Mon's eyes flew open and she launched herself at Vader's throat.

Both Han and Leia reacted instantly and hauled her back to the seat. Leia sucked in a shocked gasp as Mon's eyes settled on her, burning yellow.

"Father?" She turned to Vader, but he was still.

Mon didn't blanch at the designation and a cruel smile spread over her lips. Vader didn't speak, his hand clenched around Mothma's temple.

Mon cackled then, a cruel, cold laugh that wasn't quite in sync with her lips. Leia felt her own eyes grow wide at the sound, memories rampaging through her mind. Memories... that laugh.

"Mothma…" Han started, but suddenly quieted, words dying as he stared off into an imaginary distance.

"No..." she hissed. "Palpatine."

The thin lips smiled wider as she threw back her head and laughed, a sick sound that came straight from the crypt.

"Father!!" she called in alarm. The woman underneath her arms bucked as she fought Leia's grip. It was only then that she noticed the deathly pallor of Mon's face, the yellow eyes dominating.

Vader's hand was squeezing deep into the flesh of Mothma's temples as the woman shook with an alien laughter. He didn't appear to react.

"What the hell is going on?" Han snapped out of his daze and shouted over the sound and Leia daren't answer him. The muscles in Han's arms bunched as he held the slight woman down. "Leia, what's-" He was suddenly quiet but Leia couldn't move her head to see if he was allright; she was held tight, her gaze locked on the frail, pale woman.

Mon turned her head to Leia, skin bunching around Vader's unmoving grip. Those yellow eyes bore into her, ripping straight through her and she cried out in alarm.

"Who would have thought it? Twins," Mon hissed, but the voice was older and more cracked than it had once been. Leia's breath went out of her in a gasp and she turned to her father, unmoving, locked in some battle of his own.

"Father..." Leia whispered despairingly, unable to move or away.

Vader stirred and looked over at her, achingly slow as her feet went out from under her and she began to fall. Then his hand shot from Mon's temple as if burned and the woman slumped back suddenly from his grip.

" What happened?" Her lips were numb, but the words were still understandable as he leant over her urgently, concern etched in every movement.

His fingers rested on her temple and when her senses began to clear she saw him shaking his head.

"Mon-" Her head flicked over to Han, trance broken again, his hand trying to find a pulse and failing. Her eyes were still open, but were a dull grey in the starlight.

"She's dead."

* * * *

"It was Palpatine. He had some sort of link to Mothma," Vader explained. "I tried to find out where he was."

Leia, walking a little shakily at his side, nodded, "You didn't manage it?"

He turned to her, "No. I was about to but he would have attacked you." She looked up, eyes wide and tired and he could feel the exhaustion she was trying to hide from the sudden attack.

"I... I don't understand," she said. She glanced at a Rebel trooper as he gave the group an overly long stare. Vader frowned and waved his hand, and the man shrugged and walked on. That was sloppy; he must be more tired than he cared to admit. They had better get back to the Falcon soon or the crew might begin to break through the vision he was projecting over them.

He sighed, "I think he did it through me, rather than Mothma. She has no Force talent so..." He trailed off.

"But you don't know." Solo walked up beside Leia and hugged her waist to him when her steps began to falter as they approached the docking bay. Vader almost thanked him, but stopped himself.

"There is much Palpatine can do which I do not understand," he admitted.

She nodded, lost it thought. If Vader hadn't reacted to that plea – Father! – if he hadn't believed he was Leia Organa's father, what then? But he had. He had answered that name, and Anakin Skywalker was her father, not Darth Vader. So what did that make him? Anakin or Vader? Was Vader just a shell he was hiding inside? And if so, why? Why didn't Anakin just step forward as Anakin?

So many questions… Solo was right; he was going to have to resolve this. He had to accept it… he had changed.

As they entered the bay a group of tech officers were approaching. Most gave them a wide berth but a few walked towards the group, apparently oblivious to them. One walked into Leia, knocking her over. He saw his daughter bite back a comment about watching where they were going; knowing it might break the illusion.

The crewer continued, despite having bumped into an invisible obstacle, turning her back on them. He frowned at her as she hurried from the docking bay. She never looked back, her head of red hair pointed firmly towards the nearest turbolift.

"Hey!" Leia called, surprise rolling off her.

Vader whirled towards his daughter and Solo helping her off the deck. In her hands, trembling with excitement, she held a datapad.

"Stop her!" Leia called. Vader turned back for the young tech, but she had disappeared.

"What is it – oh, Sith!" Solo almost swore, then he was whooping in delight.

Excitement took his feet and compelled him to snatch the datapad from Leia's hands. He looked at it; looked again, reread it a third time to be sure he wasn't seeing things.

He's at the Manari Mountain Palace Retreat, Coruscant. You've got maybe another two days before it's too late.

It was followed by a string of co-ordinates, and a floor plan of the Palace. The tech had slipped Leia Luke's location. He glanced behind him again but there was no sign of the redhead. It didn't matter: the Force was screaming at him that this was right, that this was where he would find his son.

"It's over a day to Coruscant from here," Leia said, voice shaking. Her excitement sparked through the air. "Let's get moving."

Vader closed his eyes and laughed.