Chapter 18

I lost track of time—being imprisoned on a starship with no chrono will do that to you. I think that I was on the Executer for almost two months. Per Vader's instructions, I was treated well, brought better food than I'd ever had—which I didn't eat much of—and books and holos to entertain me. There was a bathroom in my quarters with a sunken tub. I tried not to take too much advantage of Vader's hospitality, but I did get bored.

I don't know why I was toted around for all of that time. I think my capture was being kept a secret from the Emperor. I thought then that maybe Vader wanted to keep me a secret to have me all to himself, perhaps as a bargaining chip or simply to train me in the ways of the Sith as he saw fit, with none of Palpitine's influence. Now, I'm not so sure if that had anything to do with it. Now, I wonder if it wasn't out of concern for my wellbeing. I wonder if he was trying to keep me safe. For my sake.

The thought didn't cross my mind at the time.

Vader came to see me almost every day, or sometimes more often. I would sit on my couch and glare at him. He couldn't begin to imagine how much I hated him, the terrible things I dreamed myself doing to him every night. I wouldn't listen to his words when he talked to me; I would wish for my lightsaber so that I could slash through the life-support panel on his chest and watch him die…slowly….

In time, I reminded myself, calming my breathing. In time.

There were strange, erratic moments of honesty between us, such as the time before when I'd asked about my mother. As much as we hated one another, we were, after all, father and son, getting to know one another for the first time, we both had questions that came not from ill will or malice, but simple curiosity. I asked him once how he had met my mother, and he gave me an abbreviated answer about a place he'd worked as a kid. He once asked me how long I had been married. "Almost three years," I replied evenly, not wanting to talk about Leia, but not wanting to say so. It would initiate more questions, and I would have to talk more about her in the long run.

"I…married your mother when I was nineteen. About how old you were?" he asked, almost sounding civil for once.

I nodded sullenly.

"I could have her brought to you…" he suggested, perhaps taking my hesitance for longing.

I nearly sprang to my feet, threatening him with my eyes. "Stay the fuck away from her," I growled.

He seemed taken aback—or maybe more than taken aback, maybe genuinely frightened by me, if only for a moment. "Are you threatening me unarmed?" he asked curiously.

Before I knew what I was saying, I answered, "For my wife, I would."

We stared into one another's eyes for a long moment, each daring the other to make a move. Neither of us did.

"Your feelings for her are very strong…."

Are they still?

No. Not anymore. They can't be….

Out of fear that maybe he could sense things that I could not even admit to myself, I backed away onto the couch, drawing shaky breaths, blocking Vader out of my mind.

"You…fear her?" he asked, looking me over, genuinely puzzled. He was no longer provoking me—he was interested.

"It's over between us. That's all," I said softly. "It ended badly and I don't want to talk about it!" I shouted, wishing that we could discuss the dark side instead. That was easy. But this….

"I see…" he murmured, his voice a little more like a purr than his usual growl. "She is the key, then. She is your darkness."

I blinked, not believing my ears. But Leia was my light…now…no longer…?

"Love turns easily to hate, my son," Vader said, and it almost felt as if he were trying to soothe me. "Strong emotions are not stable—this I know well. Your mother was my key."

No. Love's pure. It's the human psyche that becomes twisted, the way both of ours were—the love does not become corrupt. Does it?

"Go away," I breathed, tears in my eyes. I would not let Vader see me cry.

He hesitated, looking down at me with the air of someone who thought he should apologize but did not know how. His guard dropped for a second and I felt a flicker of something softer that I expected to ever feel from my father. But just as quickly, it was gone, long before I could have put a name to it. Resolutely, he turned to leave, his cape swirling behind him.

The next…morning?...he came to see me again, his manor changed once again to that of the unfeeling Dark Lord of the Sith, no trace of familiarity in the way he addressed me. He told me that he was taking me to the Emperor at long last.

"Where's that?" I asked dryly, absently, refusing to look at Vader.

"That part will be a surprise," he replied maliciously.

Another Death Star. It was half-built, terrible and huge, its jagged missing sections like holes rotted by the evil contained within. It made me nauseous, angry, afraid for my friends and their cause. I may not have been myself anymore, but I certainly didn't want the Empire to win the war. The evil would stop and it would stop soon. Seeing the Death Star only made me more determined.

"I doubt that you will have the same opportunity with this Death Star as you had with the last," Vader sneered as I stared at in from the bridge of the Executer, hands bound, spirits, contrary to expectations, roaring.

"Someone will," I insisted. Several nearby officers glared at me. I glared right back, not caring if they hated me. I hated them, too, and it only made me stronger.

Honestly, I wasn't afraid of Emperor Palpitine. There are much more frightening things in one's soul than without. That I knew well.

He knew I wasn't afraid of him. He looked into my eyes and I didn't flinch, which he found amusing. Maybe he had been partially responsible for my father turning to the dark side, and for all of the rest of this mess. But by and large, this was a family matter and he was a bystander. Maybe after Vader was dead I'd kill Palpitine, too, before I took my own life, but for know, he did not merit enough attention to be at the top of my hit list.

"I did not expect to find you embracing to the dark side already, Young Skywalker," the Emperor said from his throne, sounding pleased.

"I think 'embracing' is a rather strong word," I answered evenly, calmly. I didn't hate him nearly as much as I hated Vader, therefore he didn't matter as much, and I wanted to let him know that he meant so little to me. He couldn't even upset me. "I'm only using it to suit me purposes—I don't plan to live to become a Sith Lord."

"Perhaps you refer to the immanent attack of your Rebel Fleet."

If I hadn't been so thrown off, I might have reflected that the Emperor was missing the point. I wasn't a Rebel any longer—this ran deeper, much deeper than a traitor to the Empire being converted to the dark side. This was about me, and Vader, and the past. And he had no idea.

But I was thrown off. He saw the surprise, confusion, and fear on my face. I hadn't known of any such thing—I'd left long before the mission was planned. I reached out frantically for Han and Leia and sensed them, not far off. Oh, no….

He laughed. "Ah. You were unaware of the attack. No matter—you need not worry. We're quite safe from your friends here."

So began the longest day of my life.