Authors note: Once again, for the interests of school work, I've had to cut this chapter down from how long I meant for it to be. Reading it, the plot to this chapter might seem unnesisary and inconsequential, but its supposed to act as a set-up for the next chapter (which should be coming soon ----)

Thanks for the reviews, guys. To answer questions:

Morgan D - yup, Han is going to have a little talk with Luke. Probably in the next chapter. I like the little power trio that Luke, Han and Leia had in the movies, and I'll be trying to keep them together in this story.

Cyber Hawk - lol, I like that idea! As soon as ol' Vader's up and running, I'll have him ask about his ship ^^

MK - wait and see ----







Han stood, hands on hips, and watched the young mechanics as they worked at fixing a broken energy conduit. The Imperial base on Endor - now in Rebel hands - had been badly damaged during the takeover. The previous night's ecstatic revelry had given way to more tedious, but no less pressing, matters. He himself was helping to oversee the repairs that would be needed to get the base back into working condition. It was giving him a headache. Either that or he was still hung-over. Whatever the reason for the dull pain in his skull, he was in a particularly foul mood --- much to the distress of the mechanics under his supervision.

"Bolan, you idiot! Red wires fuse with the computer interface, blue wires fuse with the neutral charge." He scowled down at the young Rebel. "Get it right!"

Standing slightly apart from their little group, Chewbacca looked up from his data-pad and gave a warbled moan.

"Ah, shut up Chewie. You want the job done right don't ya?"

The Wookie growled in the back of his throat and turned his attention away, leaving his friend staring ruefully after him. Ordinarily, Han would have appreciated his expressed concern. Not today. His head was too full of other matters to worry about being nice to Chewie --- probably not wise, as the shaggy creature was nursing a hang-over of his own and was not in a particularly peaceable mood either. Not that he was afraid of Chewie - they had been friends for too long to worry about the possibility of severed limbs. He would make it up to him --- later --- after he'd let himself calm down a bit. After he'd spoken with ---

He shook his head, pushing the thought away. If Leia wanted to act all secretive, that was fine by him, but he wasn't about to go chasing after her because of it.

No doubt she would rather talk to Luke about it anyway.

Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of resentment at that thought. Completely irrational, of course. Luke was Leia's brother - Han knew that he was foolish to be jealous, Leia might love Luke but it was in a completely different way to how she loved him. Her feelings to Luke were ones of chaste friendship. Her feelings to him were ----- well, they were different. But there was that bond --- that special bond that they had --- that bond that Han could never be apart of. It hurt him, sometimes, to know that his lover could share some things with her brother that she could not being herself to with him. The whole business over breakfast was just one example.

He sighed and ran a hand through his tussled hair, his mind tired and stressed. The knowledge that Vader was lying in the medical bay did nothing to improve his mood. What had Luke been thinking? And what was it that was so important that Leia couldn't bring herself to tell him? He felt like he was being shut out all over again. It hurt more than he cared to admit.

"Han?"

The sound of an achingly familiar voice drew him from his thoughts. He glanced around, expression hardening to disguise the confused emotions he was experiencing. Damn her! He had been prepared to blank her completely, but looking at her now - her eyes wide and worried, her lips slightly parted - he knew that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it.

"What's the matter, princess?" he asked wearily, turning to scowl at the mechanics.

Leia's slim eyebrows pulled together in a look of searching. "I need to talk to you Han."

He gave a diminutive nod. "I'm listening."

She glanced around the crowded corridor, a strand of dark hair falling across her forehead. "Not here. Somewhere private."

"In case you hadn't noticed, your highness, we're a little busy here at the moment."

She frowned, momentarily hurt by his irate tone. He had been so gentle with her at breakfast --- so loving --- and now he had slipped back into his familiar mask of sarcasm and cynicism. It was her own fault, she knew. She shouldn't have run out on him. Now he was upset and keeping his distance. She didn't want that.

"When then?" she pressed, taking a step towards him. "Lunch?"

He paused to look up at her. One eyebrow arched at her offer. "You think you could get through a meal without getting all melodramatic and running off?"

The young woman sighed and nodded, slightly annoyed. Here she was, about to bare her soul and tell him her darkest secrets, and all he could do was shoot oh-so-unfunny little snipes. Git.

Han scratched a persistent itch on his shoulder. "Alright then. I'll meet you in the cafeteria when I'm finished here --- about noon."

Leia, again, heisting expectantly. When it became apparent that that was all he had to say on the matter, she gave a brief nod before turning to walk away. She could feel her lover's intense stare following her down the corridor even as she stepped through the automatic doors. A tight knot of fear twisted in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what she was going to have to do. Within the next couple of hours, Han was going to find out the truth --- the truth about her father.

That single thought terrified her beyond anything she had ever known.



Vader was sat up on the hard bed, watching with dull interest as the medi- droid proceeded to attach a new hand onto his arm. The process was slow and painstaking - one which he had been through several times before. Nevertheless, it never failed to invoke his attention. The human hand was one of the most complex things to recreate mechanically and everything had to be calculated meticulously, not even the slightest fault could be allowed or else it would not work at all. There was no pain in the act. The charred stump at the end of his arm was already mostly machine, and what little flesh remained was deadened beyond feeling. He wondered if Luke's had hurt when his prosthetic hand was attached. For a moment he considered asking him --- but something held him back. The question would have brought up too many memories, not only for his son, but for himself too. He decided that it would keep for a later date.

"How are you doing?"

He glanced across the room to where Luke stood. The boy hadn't left his side since returning from his meeting with the Rebel Leader's the previous night - a fact that both pleased and irritated his injured father.

"For the tenth time, son: it does not hurt," he growled, voice rasping through his breathing apparatus. "Kindly let me endure this is in a little dignity rather than being clucked over by an over-anxious child."

To his intense annoyance, the younger Skywalker merely smiled at his comment.

The medi-droid gave a low beep and moved slightly away, metallic head tilting to one side. "Your hand is finished, sir. Would you care to try it out?"

The Sith Lord gave his gloved fingers an exterminatory flex, pleased to watch them respond to his commands. His hand moved with ease as naturally as though it had been his own flesh and bone. That was good. He knew only too well how incompetent these Rebel medics were --- he was glad that it had been an Imperial droid that had performed the actual procedure itself.

"Is the performance to your satisfaction, sir?"

Darth Vader paused, then allowed himself a throaty grunt of indifference. He noticed Luke watching him closely. "It is --- tolerable."

The medi-droid gave a quick beeping in acknowledgement and then began to clear away the tools and wires that he had been working with. Vader continued to stare down at his new hand. He had felt oddly incomplete without his limb and was more glad than he would have admitted to have it back. Long fingers stretched and clenched, reacquainting himself with the feeling.

A shadow passed over him and he knew that Luke was close by. He fought the urge to look up.

"I know how you feel," his son murmured quietly. "Its kind of strange at first, isn't it?"

The masked head was lowered in a nod. "Yes. Strange, though not wholly disagreeable," he mused thoughtfully.

The young Jedi hesitated, then moved to sit down on the bed beside him. "I guess we're even now."

Vader looked up, curious. "Even?"

"You know, on the whole hand-severing thing." Luke gave a weak grin before glancing down at his own gloved hand. "You did it to me, I did it to you. We're even."

Darth Vader arched an eyebrow - a wasted gesture, as he knew fine well that it was hidden behind his mask. "I was not aware that I was supposed to be keeping scores," he commented dryly before glancing up at the two Rebel guards that flanked the doorway to the Infirmary. No doubt there would be several others outside. "Must they insist of standing there like idiots?" he muttered, gesturing to the young men, "I find their presence extremely off-putting."

His son looked down at him, brow pulled together in a look of - what? Apology? Sympathy? The Sith Lord couldn't be certain. "I'm sorry father, but you'd better get used to it. Mothma was very specific about it - you are to be under constant supervision. If there was another way---"

"You did what you could, given the circumstances," Vader interrupted, waving the boy's concerns away with an idle movement of his hand. "I did not expect a ready welcome."

Luke, however, still seemed uncomfortable, despite his father's assurances. His mind was troubled - Lord Vader could sense it. He reached out with the Force, seeking to gently probe his son's thoughts. He was a little surprised to feel his son's presence pull forcefully away from him, constructing mental barriers between them.

The Sith frowned behind his mask. "What is it?"

"It's nothing."

"Do not lie to me, son. Your mind blockade, while admirable, will not offer much of an obstacle to me." His voice was suddenly lowered to a soft, almost threatening, growl. "Do not make me force you to reveal the truth. Now tell me - what is wrong?"

Luke stared fixedly into space, drinking in the ominous words. He knew him well enough to know that he spoke the truth - he would have no qualms in pulling Luke's thoughts apart until he located the cause of his anxiety. Nevertheless, he was more than a little reluctant to discuss the issues with his father. It would be --- difficult to explain.

"Tell me, Luke. I will not ask again."

The Jedi slowly turned to face the pitiless black mask. A sad smile played on the corners of his mouth. "Do not speak to me as though I were a child, father," he murmured quietly, "I have proven myself to be beyond that."

Darth Vader said nothing for a long moment. Hollow intakes of air filled the silence between them, the harsh rasp of the respirator sounding like an artificial heartbeat. When he finally spoke, it was more gentle --- more understanding. Almost proud. "Yes ---- you did, didn't you? Not a child anymore. A Jedi." He paused. "It may take a while for me to adjust to this change. Give me time."

Time. The one thing in the world that they didn't have, Luke thought wistfully to himself. In the cold light of morning, this fact was just starting to become apparent. Mon Mothma's words echoed through his skull, reminding him that this was no ordinary family reunion. His father was a war criminal --- and a war criminal in Rebel hands.

----"I will make no compromises. He will be executed. Believe me; I would lose no sleep over ordering his death warrant, Commander. And do not think of this as a permanent arrangement. When he has regained sufficient health, he will be tried as a war criminal."-----

There was no doubt in the young Jedi's mind that Mothma meant what she said. There was no love lost between Darth Vader and the Rebel leader. His father would have to be told, it was inevitable. But it didn't make the experience any less daunting.

"I was just thinking about something that Mothma told me last night --- during my meeting with the other Commanders." He hesitated, slightly uncomfortable under Vader's intense scrutiny. He could almost feel the masked eyes boring into his head. All of a sudden, he didn't feel much like a Jedi. He felt like a farm-boy who was in over his head. "They want to try you as a war criminal. They're going to arrest you as soon as you've recovered. I'm sorry."

There was a long silence between the two men. Even the medi-droid seemed to have fallen into an unnatural quiet.

The Sith Lord stirred. "Do not be sorry for what is beyond your control."

Luke sighed and shook his head. "This is my fault," he muttered quietly. "I should have known better than to bring you here."

"And if you had not, I would be dead." Darth Vader stared down at his son, breathing clinically regular, helmet betraying nothing of his inner emotions. "I do not fear the Rebels, son, nor do I fear a trail. They are unwise in thinking that they hold the upper hand here - believe me, you need not concern yourself on my part." The Dark Lord paused grimly. "There are far more dangerous things in this universe."

The younger Skywalker paused, then looked up to the other man. The Force was trying to tell him something. He studied his father closely for a moment, reaching out to feel his emotions for any clue of what was going on in his unfathomable mind. He sensed trepidation - an unusual feeling to be emitting from the most feared man in the Galaxy. His eyebrows drew together in a ghost of a frown.

"---Father?"

Vader seemed to pull himself forcibly from his thoughts. He gave a shallow grunt and glanced at Luke, hands gripping tightly. He said nothing.

"Father? What is it?"

Darth Vader took in a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. For a brief moment he considered confiding in Luke about what he had sensed the previous night - that cold, deathly presence that had invaded his dream. He had tried to convince himself that it was merely a dream, but a nagging fear at the back of his head told him not to dismiss the nightmare so readily. It had all been so --- so *real*. The terror, the hopelessness, the utter dejection. He knew that it could have only been the Force calling to him. But to what end?

He looked down at the expression of concern etched deeply in his son's face. No, he decided, he would not burden the boy with this just yet. Not until he could be sure. They faced so many challenges as it was - why add a phantom in a dream to the growing list of problems?

Vader shook his head and looked away.

"Leave."

Luke blinked and straightened. "Leave?" he sounded surprised, and a little hurt, by the detached coldness of the order.

"I presume that you have not eaten recently, and I highly doubt that you got much rest from your sleep last night. Go. Leave. You are of no use to me if you exhaust yourself, son."

The Jedi scowled. "I'm not leaving you."

Vader fought to suppress a sigh of irritation. Typical Skywalker - as stubborn as an Albiniaak sand-mule. It was a trait he remembered sharing in his youth. "I do not require a babysitter, Luke."

"Nevertheless, I'm not going anywhere."

The Sith Lord paused, fighting a growling sense of annoyance. He knew what happened when he got annoyed - it generally involved someone choking. He sensed that would not be a wise course of action at this point in time. However, he was a man of many resources. He knew his sons weaknesses ---- and exactly how to exploit them.

"And what of Leia? Do you not wish to speak with her?"

His ruse did the trick. He saw Luke hesitate. "Leia?"

"Yes --- your sister."

Luke's frown deepened. "What of her?"

Vader remained still and motionless, an ebony black statue in an infirmary of pristine white. "I am weak, son, but I am not a fool. I know that she would rather that I had died on the Death Star, and I know that it is causing a rift between you. I can sense her fear --- her anger --- her frustration." He stared at his son with fathomless masked eyes. "It is she needs you now --- not I. Go. Explain to her."

The young Jedi watched him carefully for a long moment, blue eyes dark and thoughtful. "And --- and you'll still be here --- when I return?"

He sighed wearily. "Where else would I go?"

The words seemed to comfort his son. He gave a slow nod and rose to his feet, one hand rubbing at his forehead. "I'll be back soon, father."

Darth Vader said nothing.

Luke paused for a moment, almost half-expecting an answer, then turned on his heel and walked out of the room.





Han had been doing a lot of thinking.

He couldn't help it, his mind kept running around in the same well-worn circles - relentless, incessant, and beyond his control. Leia knew something that she didn't trust him enough to talk to him about. Leia didn't trust him. She didn't trust him. *She* didn't trust *him*.

Not that he blamed her particularly. Were the situation reversed, he probably wouldn't have trusted himself either. But they had become so close recently, he had thought --- well, he had presumed that she loved him enough to see past his failings and have confidence in him. Now he could see that he had been fooling himself - first by not telling him about Luke, and now by not telling him about Vader.

And it hurt. He couldn't deny that it hurt. He felt like he was being shut out again, that Luke and Leia were closing ranks to keep him in the dark. For the past few years, they had been a team - Han, Chewie, Leia, Luke, the droids ---- they had worked together, as friends. But now, ever since Luke arrived back on Endor, it was like the two siblings had formed their own private club ---- and Han Solo didn't have membership.

He sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. He wished that he hadn't been so short with Leia earlier. Thinking back to the previous night, it was amazing how much could change in a couple of hours. They had been so happy --- so blissfully happy. What they had devoted their whole lives to fighting for had come to pass - the Empire was defeated, the final battle was won. All the pain, all the sacrifices, suddenly paid off in a blaze of fireworks. He had gone to sleep that night for the first time in his life not dreading what the new day would bring. It was as though a weight he hadn't even been aware that he was carrying had been lifted from his shoulders. In all honesty, he could not think of a time when he had been happier.

And in the space of a few hours, the dream had been shattered. And he knew exactly why.

Darth Vader.

His mere presence was like a poison seeping through the Rebel base. Han was no Force sensitive, but he could feel the darkness tainting the very air. What could the kid have been thinking, saving that monster and bringing him to Endor? No matter how much Han thought about it, he couldn't decipher any logic to the action. When Leia had told him about Luke going to confront Vader, he had known in his gut that one of the men would end up dead. Even back then Leia had been hiding something. He could see it in her eyes --- in the tremor in her voice. There was something definitely going on. At first he had assumed it was her feelings for Luke, but now ----

---- Now, he didn't know what to think.

"I'm telling you --- I was there when Commander Skywalker brought him in. It was I who alerted the Alliance Leaders to his being there."

Han paused and frowned, glancing behind him. He had been walking absently down the corridors, lost to his thoughts, when the sound of voices stirred him from his musings. Two men had just come out of one of the doors onto the hall and were walking in his direction. Their heads were bent close together, speaking in hushed whispers in an obvious attempt not to be heard. They did not seem to have noticed his interest in their conversation. Perhaps they, misguidedly, believed that he could not hear them. Curiosity alighted, he continued on his way down the corridor, his ears now keyed in to the low murmurs.

The younger of the pair - a man in a medic's uniform with pale amber eyes - frowned. "I thought that it was Princess Leia who reported Skywalker?"

"No, I was already there when she arrived."

"Really? What did she say?"

Han noted with a discrete glance over his shoulder that the addressed wore the garb of a Field Sergeant. The Sergeant shrugged. "Not much really. She seemed to be in shock more than anything else."

The medic gave a low whistle. "No wonder - wasn't Vader one of the Imperials who destroyed Alderaan?"

The Sergeant gave a knowing nod.

"---Sith---"

"I know. Fancy having your best friend save the man who destroyed your home planet."

The amber-eyed medic tilted his head questioningly. "Are they good friends then, the Princess and Commander Skywalker?'

"Oh yes, they're always hanging out together. Very intimate by all accounts."

An arched eyebrow. "Really? I thought that she was with Solo?"

The Sergeant gave a low snort and shook his head. "Can't see that one lasting, can you?"

Han felt his cheeks flush crimson as he listened to the conversation. He was in half a mind to turn around and give the gossiping rebel's a few choice words. Something stopped him, however. Later he would call it curiosity - right now he didn't know what it was.

"Don't be so sure, De' Lahara. Princess Leia might not be so soft for the Commander when she finds out the truth about why he saved Darth Vader."

The Sergeant paused, studying his friend closely. "Do you know something that you're not telling me, Sisman?"

"Perhaps. But in the interests of Doctor/Patient confidentiality, I can't say any more."

"Bantha fodder! Come on, don't you trust me?"

Sisman seemed to hesitate for a moment. "This can't go any further than between you and me. Its more than my jobs worth if this gets out."

Han slowed down a fraction, listening intently. This was what Leia had been afraid to tell him -----

The medic paused and took a deep breath. "Luke Skywalker," he whispered, "Is Darth Vader's son."