Darth Vader had known a visitor would be arriving at the Imperial palace, he knew who, though the why was still unclear. The man's uniform identified him as an instructor at the Imperial flight academy. He'd contacted Vader earlier that morning but merely informed the dark lord what he had to report couldn't be said in a holo call, they would have to meet face to face.

When they'd finally reached home, Vader had let Luke settle down for a couple days before offering to let him stay on at the palace and re-enroll in the academy next term. After his ordeal Vader wanted Luke to take it easy, he also wanted Luke kept at home so he could keep an eye on him and see for himself and know that his son was truly out of danger. Luke had respectfully declined his father's offer and insisted he was fine, and it was time for him to break away and start his own life. Vader had regretted his son's decision but knew he couldn't change Luke's mind. And now this just a week after Luke left home.

"Lord Vader," the instructor said.

"I would like to know what is the meaning of this," the dark lord said.

"I quite understand, milord. It's not my usual practice to make house calls on the parents of my students, but there's been an incident with your son, and though I'm well aware he's 18 and an adult, I thought as his father you needed to know, and that you would want to know."

Already Vader didn't like where this was going. His mind raced a dozen different ways but he couldn't come up with anything definite that could be the problem.

"What is it?"

"When we get our students, for most of them it's their first time away from home and that can be a rough adjustment. Luke adapted fairly quickly, and he is a promising student, he has the makings of a great pilot, however, when he showed up for training this morning, I had to ground him from all practice flights."

"Why?" Vader inquired.

"His reflexes were alarmingly delayed, his eyes were bloodshot, his speech was slurred and he can barely stand on his feet...he was heavily impaired."

"Drunk?" Vader asked.

The instructor shook his head grimly. "I can't say for certain, but I wouldn't bet on it. I think he is suffering from severe sleep withdrawal. The boy was extremely defensive when I questioned him about it, you could tell he was looking for a fight, and I suspect he would've only become belligerent if I took him personally off all assignments, so I simply ordered all training exercises aborted for the day, typical non-explanatory bureaucratic rubbish, the students bought it."

"Where is Luke now?" Vader wanted to know.

"Still on base in the dorms," the instructor answered. "He thinks we're going to resume training tomorrow, we are, but he can't be a part of it. In his current state he's a threat to the instructors, the other students, and most importantly to himself, he would get himself killed if I actually let him get off the ground. I think your son needs serious help, even the other students are concerned when they see how gaunt he is."

"Gaunt?" Vader repeated, dumbfounded, "That's impossible, he was fine when he left home a week ago."

"That may be, but he's not fine now," the instructor said. "I don't know what's wrong with him, it's not my job to find out and he wouldn't tell me even if it was. I know I'm overstepping my bounds, Lord Vader, and I apologize for it, but simply put, your son needs you to bring him home. Whatever's wrong, he's not going to get any better on the base. I think the only person he's going to respond to is you."

Darth Vader really had no idea what he was walking into. His first instinct had been to go to the flight academy personally and get Luke. Then he found himself grappling with that idea, conflicting with another voice in his head that told him the last thing Luke needed at 18 years old was his father marching in to pick him up. But something was clearly wrong, the boy had to come home. He'd compromised by sending two of the Imperial officers to fly him home, which gave him time to make the rounds in the palace med bay, trying to get ahead of whatever treatments Luke might need based on the report he'd gotten.

He felt like a stone was resting in his stomach, had the medics missed something? Was Luke still being affected by that creature? When you were dealing with the unknown, the possibilities for what could go wrong were endless, especially when you couldn't see it for yourself.

Upon exiting the shuttle, Luke had made a mad dash past his father and stormed up to his room and locked himself in, but he hadn't been quick enough that Vader couldn't get a look at him, and it was alarming. Luke looked like a spice junkie, he'd always been thin but he looked sick now, his complexion was pale, his pupils were narrow slits, he was covered in sweat and didn't look like he could stand steady on his feet. If anything the academy instructor had understated his concerns.

Vader headed up the stairs and used the Force to deactivate the lock and slide Luke's door open. Upon entering the room he was met with the image of his 18-year-old son crouched down on the floor in a ball with his back against the base of his bed, and his wrists covering his face as he sobbed uncontrollably.

"Luke!"

Vader knelt down in front of the boy and pulled Luke against him and held him in his arms, felt the vibrations against him as Luke trembled violently. Luke pressed his face hard into his father's chest plate and cried his heart out, unable to form any words, barely even able to breathe, any gasping breaths he was able to inhale shot right back out as hiccuping, choking sobs.

It was at least a good half hour before the boy started to calm down at all, and closer to an hour before Darth Vader suspected it would do any good to even talk to him.

"What is it, Luke?" he finally tried. "What's wrong?"

Luke was still crying, but much weaker now, as if he'd finally lost all his strength. He sagged bonelessly against his father, tears still pouring down from his eyes as he weakly answered, "It's everything...you wouldn't understand."

"Talk to me, Luke," Vader lightly touched the fingertips of one gloved hand against the boys cheek. "Tell me what's wrong."

Luke opened his eyes and looked up at his father. "I can't stop thinking about what happened on the ship. I remember that creature attacking me...I remember feeling like I was being smothered..." he sucked in a breath and it was wretched back out of him. "Thinking about it...what it did to me, that thing it put inside me...the way everyone on the ship looked at me afterwards...I..." Luke exhaled, sucked in another breath and forced out, "I feel like I was raped."

The words seemed to fill the air, and for a moment there wasn't anything else said. Luke continued, "I see it every single time I close my eyes...I can't eat...I can't keep anything down...something's wrong with me, Father, and I don't know what to do!"

Behind the mask, behind the armor, Vader's heart broke at hearing the pain in his son's voice, his utter helplessness of the situation. He held Luke close and tried to console him through their bond in the Force, though it seemed to do little good.

Luke finally quieted down, and Vader took that opportunity to say, "Let's go down to the med bay and get you looked at."

The boy weakly resisted, he shook his head frantically, tears still streaming down his face though his voice was so weak, so tired, as he pleaded, "No, Father, please, I can't go through that again, I don't want them to put anything else in me."

"I know..." the dark lord's heart went out to his son, "but it's strictly a precaution, then we can figure out what to do."

Luke shook his head, "No, Father, please! I can't, I can't..."

"It will just be a standard examination...they won't hurt you," Vader told him, "I won't let them."

Vader gazed down at his son, asleep on the exam table with the help of a provided sedative. On the other side of the table, the older medic was going over Luke's scans.

"Given your son's ordeal, I can certainly understand his hesitance to come in...our procedures are invasive...but they have to be."

"I know," Vader nodded. "I understand, I'm just not sure Luke does."

"Well, the good news is we didn't find anything that shouldn't be there, no foreign substances, no chemicals, no viruses, and no organisms."

That was good to know, but it implied there was something else.

"What did you find?" Vader wanted to know.

"Trace amounts of caf tablets, stimulants, he's been taking them so he won't sleep," the medic answered. "Also, the scans found little evidence of acid damage to the stomach lining, the esophagus, or the teeth from constant vomiting, more likely he got sick a few times and merely took it as an incentive to quit eating. With your permission I'd like to get him on an IV and start pushing fluids, he's severely dehydrated. All his physical symptoms appear to be self-inflicted and self-induced."

"You mean he's doing it on purpose?" Vader asked.

"Not by any means, Lord Vader," the medic answered. "Merely that this is the only way he knows to cope with what happened to him, he's not even thinking about it consciously, he's just doing it."

Vader felt completely lost.

"What your son said earlier about likening his attack to a rape...he was correct, that's exactly what it was. He was paralyzed, put in a coma, he was completely subdued, unable to consent or fight back, essentially pinned down, tortured for hours on end and forcibly impregnated with an alien life form. There simply is no other way to describe what was done to him."

Hearing that gave the dark lord a cold feeling in the remainder of his human body.

"So what happens now?"

"Well we can get him on an antiemetic and an acid neutralizer, should make it easier for him to eat again. He'll sleep for a few hours now, and ideally I'd like to dispense some sedatives for further use, it's my estimate he's been awake most of the last 200 hours, but he's going to need a different kind of treatment for the root of his problems. I know it's not a popular choice, but I think I know someone who can help."

One step forward, two more back. Once Luke woke up and left the med bay, he became defiant and wouldn't eat or sleep. Vader knew why, he understood why, but it was troubling to him to have to watch his son going through this. To keep an eye on Luke and what he was doing at night, Vader had the boy's bed moved into his private chambers, Luke hadn't been thrilled with it, but he'd complied with his father's decision. He spent the nights tossing and turning, the few times he actually fell asleep, he'd wake up screaming a short time later and then be up the rest of the night, and all the next day.

Things continued that way for a few days, before Vader finally confronted Luke about it.

"Luke, you can't carry on like this."

"I can't do anything else," he replied, "I feel sick and every time I try to sleep, I see that thing coming at me."

"I know...I want you to see someone."

"Not the medics again."

"No, not them," Vader said. "I want you to see the flight academy's cerebral behaviorist."

Luke looked at his father in disbelief. "The guy who grounds suicidal pilots? I don't want to talk to him either."

"I know you don't want to," Vader told him. "But you need to, you simply cannot keep doing this."

"All he's going to do is talk, what good's that going to do?" Luke sniped.

"I don't know," Vader answered honestly. "But right now he's your only option, and we have nothing to lose by trying."

"We?" Luke asked with a sneer.

Maybe it was the wrong choice of words, but there was truth to it. Vader didn't know how to help his son and he had to spend every day watching him suffer knowing there was nothing he could do about it, as a parent that was the worst experience you could live through. For both their sake, this had to work, they needed it to work.