Han slowly opened his eyes and saw sunlight pouring in through the window, it was morning. He tried to remember last night, and one thing he definitely didn't remember was coming back to his room and getting in bed. Sitting up, he realized how quiet it was, but according to the chrono, everybody should be up by now. He threw back the covers and went over to Luke's room and palmed the door open. He was met with the sight of his little brother still in bed, not asleep but also not getting up.

"Hey Luke, you awake?"

"Yeah."

"Good, how would you like to help me get the Falcon restored to working order?"

Luke looked up at him and his eyes almost lit up, almost, but not quite, as if it was too much to hope for.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah, four hands can get it done a hell of a lot faster than two, besides I need somebody to talk to."

Now his eyes lit up at warp speed. "Let's go!" he threw back his blanket and jumped out of bed.

"Whoa!" Han nabbed him by the collar of his tunic and threw him back on the bed. "Get dressed first, we've got plenty of time. The ship's not going anywhere, as we both know."

"Okay."

As before, the days passed with the two brothers spending nearly every waking minute working on the Millennium Falcon. True to his word Vader made all the necessary arrangements for all the equipment Han needed to get it restored, aside from that he kept his distance as before. It did his heart good to see his two sons spending so much time together but he didn't intrude on their work, though he was genuinely curious if Han truly planned to restore the ship to its original state, or if going at it a second time, there were any plans for revision.

Even though the freight hauler had a kitchen, they always came inside at night to eat, during which time Luke would prattle on and on about all the repairs they'd made that day. Han was notably less conversational on the matter but Vader could see the light in his eyes at the progress being made and how much closer he was coming to getting back in space.

One night they didn't come in for dinner, Vader waited, but neither one of them ever entered the palace. He'd kept his distance so his boys, Han especially, wouldn't feel crowded in on, but concern won over and he went out behind the palace to see what was going on.

The internal lights were on but there was no sign of activity. Vader lowered the boarding ramp and entered the ship, right away he didn't see either of his sons. He felt a mild concern but not panic yet, they couldn't be far off, he knew that much.

His first stop was the cockpit, where the bulk of the damage had been sustained. Most impressive. It truly looked like the first time Han and Luke had worked on it. At this rate it shouldn't be long before it was flight-worthy. Turning and leaving the cockpit, he headed towards the lounge, and once there he stopped in his tracks.

Han and Luke had both fallen asleep face-down on the accelerator couch, Luke on top of his older brother. Vader wanted to laugh. He looked around the room that he'd been familiar with but not overly so. There was a bunk built into the wall behind the couch, which he remembered had not been part of the original design.

Vader held one hand out in front of him and channeled the Force. At first it didn't look like anything had changed, but slowly, Luke's body levitated off of his brother and floated in the air three feet above the couch. Vader turned and moved his hand in like, and Luke softly floated across the room, never waking, never stirring, no apparent awareness of his current situation, and glided over to the bunk and landed on it, still dead to the world.

Han had been in a dead sleep himself and hadn't noticed the lack of body weight pinning him to the cushions, but he was however drawn out of his dreamless slumber by the sensation of a sudden breeze and the light weight of a blanket dropping on him, half awake, he turned over on his back and saw a big, blurry, black figure hovering over him.

"Pop?"

He felt a leather glove and the pressure of durasteel fingers beneath it pressed against his lips, and he would've sworn he heard a sound transmit through the vocoder that sounded like his father shushing him. It was only then that Han realized someone was missing, he sat up, slightly more alert now, looked past the couch and saw Luke sprawled out on his bunk. Han tiredly smiled and laid back against the couch and whispered, "Thanks, Pop."

"Sleep well, my son."

Han's eyes could hardly stay open, as they closed he saw their father walking out of the lounge, and presumably exiting the ship.

The screams of excruciating pain jerked Vader's eyes open and drew him out of his meditation.

He didn't have to wonder who it was coming from, only what was happening. He put his mask and helmet back on, left his pod and his chamber and stormed across the hall to Han's bedroom. The door whooshed open and he went in and in the dark he saw his eldest son thrashing around on his bed, screaming and yelping as he tried to fight off something unseen.

Vader leaned over the bed and grabbed Han's shoulders to try and wake him. Han screamed louder and folded his whole body as he reached up and dug his hands into the armor of Vader's shoulders, and kicked his legs up high enough to press them against either side of Vader's armored ribs.

"Han, Han, wake up!"

His eyes opened but they didn't register right away and he still struggled against the man towering over him for a few seconds before the fight started to leave him and it started to dawn on him where he was. He let go of his father and sank back against the mattress.

"Pop?" he asked in a daze.

"It's all right, Han, you're safe now, it was just a nightmare."

Han shook his head and stumbled out of bed, almost tripping on the covers that bunched up under his feet, "No...no, it wasn't a nightmare...I remembered..." his chest was heaving rapidly and his breathing was labored. "I...I...was in the carbon freeze again...I felt it...those bounty hunters were there standing around me, I saw them..." his eyes widened as he cupped one hand against his mouth as his breaths became ragged heaves.

Vader reached over and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "It's over now, you're all right."

Han choked something into his fist that was indistinguishable, though Vader could guess what he said.

Han unlocked his elbow and rested his hand at his side, and asked as he turned to his father, still breathing heavily, "Is this...this is why you wouldn't let me back on the fleet, because you knew I was going to crack up after the crash?"

Aside from Vader's respirator, the room was filled with an uncomfortable silence following Han's question.

"Come here," he told his son as he held an arm out towards him.

Han looked to him, heaved a long sigh, and approached his father and stood in front of him. Vader wrapped his durasteel arm around his eldest son and sat on the edge of the bed with Han draped across his lap.

"Han, I know you're an adult," he told his son as he used one gloved hand to smooth over Han's hair that had become very unruly during his writhing and thrashing. "I know you are capable of making your own decisions and running your own life. But you are still young, and you still have much to learn."

"So I'm finding out," the younger man quietly murmured to himself.

"You have been through so much trauma in a short amount of time, I wanted you to have time to recover mentally once your physical injuries had mended," Vader told him. "It's the things we can't see that stay with us the longest."

"No kidding," Han said under his breath. He inhaled, and exhaled, and it came out as a low whimper, which took even him by surprise, as did the stinging burn of his eyes as tears quickly welled up, then trailed down his cheeks. He covered his face with his hands but couldn't stifle the sobbing breaths that escaped him. His whole body started shaking, stilled only slightly by his father's inhumanely strong arms.

"Has this happened in regard to the destroyer crash?" Vader inquired, picking up on something Han had mentioned earlier.

Reluctantly, Han nodded.

Vader felt a sinking feeling in his chest even though he had long suspected this. "Often?"

"Enough," the word barely got out around the shaking sobs.

Vader pitied his son. So much time had passed that after a while it was easy to forget, but once he found himself in this life support suit, which could tend to most of his bodily needs, he didn't sleep anymore than was absolutely necessary, all too often he woke up thinking he was still in the lava pit, still feeling every inch of his body burning. He knew all too well that which his eldest son was experiencing now, but unfortunately for Han, he was still 100% human, he needed to sleep, which posed a difficult obstacle for him.

Han just wanted the whole galaxy to disappear, he didn't want to be here, he didn't want to go through this, worse, have his father watching it happen. He was so wrapped up in those thoughts he let out a startled noise when he felt both durasteel arms tighten around him.

"One day when you're a father," Vader told him, "you will understand that the only thing you want to do is protect your children from everything."

Han weakly nodded his head. He'd understood, or thought he had, at the time why Vader wouldn't overturn the Navy's ruling to discharge him, he thought he had, now he was starting to find out he really didn't know anything.

"Something no one had ever told me before your mother and I had you," Vader said, "that instinct never goes away. Even when your children are grown up, you still want nothing more than to protect them at all costs."

Han lowered his head and closed his eyes, he almost jumped at the sensation of the gloved hand on the back of his head.

"Because no matter how old you get, and no matter how old they get," Vader continued, "there is nothing more painful for a parent than to see their children hurt."

Han pressed both hands against his mouth vainly trying to stifle the noises that were coming out of him. Cracking up seemed to be a good way to define what was happening to him. Until this whole mess started, the last time he'd cried was when his mother died, that was, damn, almost 10 years ago. He didn't even know what the hell this was anymore, it was almost like in addition to his life not being his own anymore, his own body wasn't his own anymore either, it kept doing all kinds of weird things he had no control over: flashbacks, nightmares, all kinds of weird dreams that carried over into when he was awake and left him feeling creeped out all day, sudden cold chills he couldn't shake, and now this latest indignity. If he had stayed on the fleet and this all started, he would've been a laughing stock, he never would've been able to show his face there again.

The strong grip around him disappeared and then Han felt leather-clad fingers digging into his own hands and gently prying them off of his mouth.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Han," Vader told him, "I need you to tell me what you're thinking."

Han shook his head and weakly responded, "I can't." He pushed himself to his feet and stood up.

The man in black stood up and put a hand on Han's shoulder and told him, "It can't be as bad as you've convinced yourself it is."

"Want a bet?" Han quietly asked, feeling the strong arms around him again.

The bedroom door whooshed open as Luke entered the room, still in the process of rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Father? What's going on?"

It was as if Luke's presence was too much for Han to deal with, he pushed his way out of his father's arms and stood against the wall facing away from his brother, he tried to compose himself but it only worked as long as he didn't breathe.

"Luke," Vader turned to his younger son, his modulated voice as soft as could be managed, "come over here and give your brother a hug."

Luke didn't ask why, and he didn't need to be told twice. He moved over to Han, who finally, regretfully, turned to face him. Han sucked in a gasping breath and tried to say something, tried to insist he was fine, but it was impossible, his throat was too swollen with tears for any words to break through and they started pouring from his eyes again as he hugged his little brother and found himself all but clinging to him. That infamous Skywalker stubbornness, he still tried to clear his throat to insist he was fine, but all that came out was a rapid stuttering sob that consisted of the same half syllable repeating itself.

Luke's eyes still weren't fully open but there was an obvious look of concern on his face as he held his brother in his arms and asked cluelessly, "What's wrong?"

"It was just a nightmare," Vader offered as he reached over and softly patted Han on the top of his head, to let the young man feel his presence. "But those can be bad enough." As they all well knew.

It was a few minutes before Han was finally able to pull himself together, as well as pull away from his little brother's unrelenting hold on him.

"All right," Vader looked at the two of them, "it's obvious no one is going to sleep any time soon." He turned to his younger son and said, "Luke, get your hologame table set up."

Luke looked up at his father, eyes wide with surprise. "Really?"

Han was confused. "You can't play dejarik with three people." It was only after he said it he even thought to question the possibility their father even knew how to play.

"My table can be set for four players," Luke said.

"We don't have four players," Han pointed out.

"That is unimportant," Vader answered, "The computer will serve as a fourth player."

Han rubbed his eyes, brushing loose half-dry eye crust that stuck to a few lashes and poked his eyes. "This ought to be interesting."

Three games later, Vader stood towering over both sons, who had finally lost the battle with sleep. Han was leaned back in his chair with his head tilted back, and Luke had fallen asleep sprawled across his table, wreaking havoc with the holographics.

Vader stepped around the table and nudged Han's shoulder. His elder son didn't seem to notice.

"Han."

"Rrrmmm," he grumbled in his sleep.

He nudged slightly with more force. "Han, it's time to go to bed."

The young man didn't even open his eyes as he weakly protested, "One more game, Pop, I'm not even tired yet."

"Of course you're not," Vader remarked. He shut off the table's graphics, went around to the other side and considered just what to do with his youngest son. He settled for jerking the chair back, wrapping one durasteel arm around Luke's waist to pull the boy to his feet, or rather, up high enough his feet didn't even touch the floor, and walking him the short distance over to his bed. Luke tumbled onto the mattress with little more than a soft moan and quickly took to the feel of the soft sheets and his pillow.

One down, literally. Vader went back over to his firstborn and pulled him to his feet.

"Han."

"Hmm?"

Vader likewise walked him over to Luke's bed and pulled back the covers and told Han as he gave him a small shove, "Here, get in with your brother."

Han never opened his eyes, he was just barely awake enough to do as told, he crawled into the bed alongside his brother and the two spent a couple minutes tossing and flopping around every which way to get comfortable before they both fell asleep in each other's arms. Vader looked down at the two of them and felt a swelling sensation in his chest. How he wished he could've seen this when these two were small children. How he wished things could've been so different from how they'd turned out.

Turning on his heel, he exited the room and left his sons to sleep undisturbed.