Authors note: It's another short chapter I'm afraid. Sorry, but I've got a lot of work to get done. Hopefully, I'll be able to write more later, though.

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The room was empty. The Force only knew what the Imperials had used it for - a storage space perhaps, or perhaps some kind of waiting room. Whatever service it had served prior to the Rebel takeover, Luke Skywalker found it to be a welcome relief from the noisy confusion beyond the closed doors. Here he took a minute alone to close his eyes and meditate, forcing his mind into calm.

The task was more difficult than he was used to.

So many minds...so many emotions...all crowded together in chaotic disarray. The young Jedi breathed deeper, disconnecting himself from the swell of feeling that threatened to overwhelm him. He retreated further within himself, searching past the superficial disorder for the blissful state of awareness he had found through his training...

He frowned suddenly, eyebrows drawn together in a look of confusion. What the...?

The automatic doors opened with a hiss of steam, sharp footsteps entering hurriedly behind him. The figure was barely a step into the room before he launched into a verbal attack.

"You've got some nerve kid!"

Luke allowed his eyes to slide open slowly. Not turning around, he stared out of the window, tired smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Hello Han," he greeted evenly.

The man behind him scowled darkly. "Don't you 'hello Han' me," he growled. "You knew, did you? You knew and you didn't tell me! How could you bring that...that...that *thing* back here?!"

Luke lowered his head thoughtfully until his chin rested against his chest. "If you know what I suspect you do, then you are also aware of the answer to that question."

"Ah don't give me any of that wise Jedi Master bantha fodder!" Han curled his hands into fists, jaw clenched tight. "Just tell me if it's true!"

"If what's true?"

"Damnit Luke! I need to know!"

The younger man sighed and shook his head. "I guess good news travels fast. I had hoped it would stay secret longer. Guess I didn't take into account how quickly gossip moves around a base, huh?"

Han growled and strode towards him, grabbing Luke roughly by the shoulders and whirling him around to face him. The movement was swift and forceful, his fingers gripping so tight that his knuckles turned white.

"Tell me!!" he yelled, bringing his face to within an inch of Luke's own. "Is he your father?!"

If Luke felt any shock or discomfort at his friend's action, he didn't show it. He looked up at Han's enraged expression with a look of neutrality. Slowly, he gave a single nod.

"Yes."

The single whispered word had a powerful affect on the ex-smuggler. His eyes grew wide, mouth opening in a look of shock before being promptly shut again. The hands that grasped so fiercely at the other man's shirt suddenly slackened, releasing him from his hold. His whole body seemed to sag as though compelled by a heavy weight.

"But...but...how?" He blinked, confused. "It's not possible."

Luke took a deep breath, watching Han intently. "Darth Vader is my father," he repeated, validating the truth of his previous admission. "That is why I brought him back to Endor after the Death Star exploded. I had to save him because I am his son."

Han stared at him, eyes betraying the grief he felt inside. His face was suddenly lined with a look of desolation. "Then Leia..."

"...Is his daughter?" Luke nodded and looked away. "Yes. Yes, she is."

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C-3PO was having a bad day.

Firstly that confounded officer on the third level had refused to tell him anything of Master Skywalker, even after being told - rather insistently, several times - of his position of trust with the Rebel Commander. Then after that he had been jostled and pushed all the way down a flight of stairs as an inconsiderate crowd had rushed past him. And now...now after all of that, he had R2 coming up to him with all sorts of ridiculous stories while he was trying to repair a communications consol for Chewbacca.

"Honestly R2, really! Can't you see how busy I am?"

The little droid wobbled from side to side and whistled persistently.

"Now you know better than to trust an Imperial computer. It probably took one look at you and decided to play you for the simple droid that you are. Hand me those wires."

R2-D2 gave an indignant beep, causing his companion to look up sharply.

"Where did you learn language like that?"

Another flurry of beeps and whistles.

"Well that's what you get for hanging out with the likes of those ruffians, I suppose. I warn you, R2; I will not hear you spread such malicious gossip about Master Luke. He's been very good to us and don't you forget it. He could have turned you in for spare parts years ago, had he not been so benevolent."

R2-D2 made a low clicking sound and proceeded to retract a claw-like arm to pick up the wires for 3PO.

The gold armored protocol droid gave a world-weary sigh. "Honestly. Darth Vader in the medi-bay. I find it hard to believe how gullible you can be at times, R2."

R2 remained silent, but dutifully handed the wires to his friend.

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"Are you alright?"

Han glanced up at Luke's softly spoken words. They were sitting side-by- side leaning against the wall, legs drawn up and elbows resting on knees. Warm sunlight shone in through the tall windows, casting a bright patch of gold on the cool grey floor. Everything was quiet.

"Yeah, I guess. Its just kind of a shock, you know?"

The young Jedi gave him a rueful smile. "You don't know the half of it...believe me."

Han stared down at his hands. Rough brown fingers tapped together listlessly, drumming out an illegible beat into the silence. Han had never liked being still. He always needed to be out there...to be doing something...to be suddenly confronted by this stillness was slightly daunting.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he questioned quietly.

Luke paused, considering the question. "You didn't need to know," he reasoned after a moment's silence.

Han glanced over to him, eyebrows raised challengingly. "Did Leia need to know? Is that why you told her and not me?"

"Yes, Leia did need to know."

The ex-smuggler stared at him darkly for a moment, then turned away. One hand rose to knead at his forehead, smoothing out the lines of worry that had begun to form on his skin. "What the heck am I going to say to Leia?" he murmured despairingly.

Luke watched him closely. "What makes you think that you have to say anything?"

Han gave a hard laugh. "Well, it's not a subject you can just skirt over, is it? Her father's friggin' Darth Vader!"

"And does that matter?"

"No...well, yes...well..." the older man's face contorted in a look of confusion. "...Oh, I don't know!"

Luke's eyes fixed on him with a sudden intensity. "Search your feelings, Han," he whispered, "You know how you feel about Leia."

"Of course I know how I feel! I love her!"

"And have those emotions changed, now that you know the truth about her father?" he pressed insistently.

Han hesitated. Thick eyebrows drew together in a look of deep though, mouth pulled down. Slowly, uncertainly, she shook his head. "I...I don't know."

Luke blinked, surprised by the admission. "Han..."

Han stood hurriedly, running a hand through his already tousled hair. He looked down to his friend, gaze strangely weary.

"I need some time to think about this Luke...you understand, right?"

The young Jedi was silent, but gave a short nod. He watched impassively as the ex-smuggler turned and walked towards the doors, footsteps loud against the smooth stone floor. The doors opened and closed with a hiss, and Han was gone, leaving Luke to stare at the space where he had last stood.

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The medi-bay was uncharacteristically quiet.

It was one of four that served the ex-Imperial base and, despite the influx of wounded that the doctors had been treating since the takeover the previous day, it remained strangely empty. The whole section had, in fact, been cautioned off - Mon Mothma deciding late the night before that she did not wish for the single patient that occupied the room to come into contact with more Rebel's than was necessarily.

Though whether this policy was to protect Darth Vader or to protect the Rebel's was anyone's guess.

Despite his attempts to stay awake, the wounded Sith had quickly slipped into unconsciousness as soon as his son had left him alone. The sedatives they had given him while they were repairing his injuries were extremely potent, and the aftereffects of his exposure to Force lightening had drained him in both body and mind. That given, he was asleep for often than not that day.

The only other figures in the room at that moment were the medi-droid and a young medical worker who was busy cleaning the surgical tools. As soon as his task was completed, he wiped his hands free from cleaning fluid on a towel and turned to the stationary droid.

"We've run out of swabs, G5. Go down to the storage rooms of level six and see if you can find some more, will you?"

The medi-droid gave a compliant beep before obediently leaving the infirmary.

The medical worker watched the doors shut fast behind it, one hand drumming idly on the metallic work-top. A heavy silence fell upon the room - the only sound being the steady gasp of the patient's respirator. The medic waited for a moment further, than moved towards the door. He flicked a small switch on the side, effectively locking the only entrance into the infirmary.

Then, with deliberate stealth, he moved closer to the figure on the bed, reaching into his uniform and pulling out a blaster as he walked...

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