A few days later Vader realized something was amiss. It was still early in the morning, but late enough Luke should've been awake and downstairs by now, but there was no sign of him and the palace was as still as a tomb. Vader went to Luke's room and found the boy still in bed with his face buried in his pillow.

"Wake up, Luke," he said as he nudged the boy's shoulder.

Luke softly groaned and barely opened his eyes enough to see the sunlight coming in the window. His response was to reach behind him and pull the sheet up over his head to block out the light.

Behind his mask, and not strong enough for the vocoder to pick up, Vader chuckled to himself.

"No, Luke," he pulled the sheet down, "it's time to get up."

Luke groaned softly again and turned on his side and murmured, "I don't want to."

Oh boy.

"What's wrong, Luke?"

The boy opened his eyes and looked up at his father and shook his head helplessly, "I don't know."

Vader sat on the edge of the bed, he had a feeling they were going to be here for a while.

"What's going on?" he inquired.

Luke tossed and turned around under the covers so he was on his back looking up at his father.

"We finally got the Millennium Falcon fixed and in working order, Father," Luke explained. "It's just as good as new and it's ready to go, you ought to see it." There was an obvious pride when Luke about the work they'd done, for a brief instant his eyes lit up, but the light was gone in the next minute as he continued, "But Han hasn't said anything about taking off again. I asked him, but he won't say anything."

For some reason none of this struck Darth Vader as particularly surprising. He truly felt he understood his eldest son better than anyone gave him credit for.

"You are simply going to have to be more patient with your brother, Luke," Vader told him.

"What's wrong with Han, Father?" Luke wanted to know. There was an obvious note of concern in his voice.

"He's starting to fully feel the effects of being carbon frozen, and when the destroyer was shot down and he nearly died. He hasn't flown in over two months, and it may be enough to keep him grounded and close to home for the time being," Vader explained.

"Is he going to be alright?" Luke asked.

"In time, for now, he needs you to be patient with him."

Luke could hardly keep his eyes open, and Vader could tell he was trying to stay focused on this conversation but he wasn't having much luck with it.

"Are you feeling ill, Luke?"

The boy shook his head. "Just tired...I got in late...or I guess, early this morning. I've had a lot on my mind with all this and just needed to get out last night and let off some steam."

His father wasn't unsympathetic. Emotions had been running high in the palace the past couple weeks, and it was hard enough even if you understood what was going on, but for Luke, who was still new to much of this, it was especially overwhelming.

"You go back to bed for a while," he pulled the covers tight over Luke again. "I'll check on your brother."

Luke was just about asleep already, but he woke up enough as he sat up and called to Vader, "You know, Father...the other night I went to see a holofilm...in it, the hero had his whole family slaughtered, his home planet was blown up, he was taken prisoner, sold into slavery, whipped like a tauntaun, his hand was bitten off by a wampa, but in the end he still rescued the princess, saved the day, and walked away like nothing happened."

"Those are the things that make good adventure stories, my son, unfortunately reality isn't so simple," Vader told him.

Han was very painfully aware of every crease and line in his face, because he could feel every single one of them from the eyebrows down as he grimaced in his sleep. His head was killing him, his stomach was just as bad, if he actually had to open his eyes, he was sure his head would explode. His head and gut both pounded and pulsated in almost perfect unison, and they just got worse, and worse...slowly he realized because there was a sound that every time he heard it, it made them pound even worse. When he realized it was the sound of mechanized breathing, his eyes opened against his will, he was sorry he had, but he got his answer when he saw Darth Vader standing over the bed, no doubt taking in the image of Han sprawled face-down on the bed still in his clothes, half tangled in the sheets, and two empty bottles of Corellian brandy laying on the floor by his bed.

Vader said nothing, there was just that sound of his breathing, and every time Han heard the koosh sound of the respirator, his head throbbed and his stomach throbbed in sync with it. Desperate for any relief from the sound, he buried his head between the two pillows on his bed.

He felt a gloved hand on his back. That was fine, that didn't make him feel like he was going to puke. Han stayed like that for a few minutes, knowing what he had to do, not wanting to, but he spent several minutes preparing himself to face the bright lights, the loud noises, his father's voice. He willed himself not to throw up, and finally pulled his head out from the pillows. His eyes were open a slit, that was enough, he forced himself to swallow and got out a half audible, "Hi, Pop."

The hand resting on his back moved up to his shoulder, still fine, still wasn't making his stomach roll anymore than it already was.

"How are you feeling?"

Han wanted to laugh but just the thought of it was too painful. "That's a joke, right?"

"Luke is worried about you, Han."

Right now that might make two of them, Han wasn't sure.

"I'm fine," he weakly insisted. True, it had been a good many years since he'd drunken himself into a hangover, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle before, and it wasn't anything he couldn't handle now...if he could just get rid of the fire knife between his eyes every time he heard a sound.

"The Millennium Falcon is fully repaired?" Vader inquired.

Han closed his eyes and nodded.

"It's operational?"

He nodded again, oof, that hurt.

"So when are you two taking off again?"

Han squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and murmured, "We're not."

"Why not?" Vader didn't sound surprised by this revelation.

Han groaned as he turned over on his back and forced his eyes half open to look up at his father. "Do...do we really have to discuss this now?" he asked in a whisper, his temples throbbing in a nauseating rhythm.

Those dark red, unmoving lenses seemed to be boring a hole right through him.

"I will have a medic droid come and tend to you."

"They can't do anything for a hangover," Han got out in a half whimper.

"No, but they can dispense the necessary treatments to ensure you don't die from it."

Han tried rolling his eyes back in his head but it was too much of a strain. He felt the gloved hand pat his knee and he had a feeling he was getting a dose of his father's sense of humor, assuming he had one.

He felt one of the gloved hands touch the side of his face and something in him snapped. He blindly reached up and grabbed the leather-clad wrist with both hands, practically wrapped both arms around his father's, and pressed his cheek against the leather glove. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had the presence of mind to hope this was still the alcohol talking, he heard the low whimpering sounds that were escaping him and he was embarrassed by his behavior but not in enough control of his faculties to actually stop it.

The other gloved hand patted his arm just under the shoulder and the modulated voice told him, "It will be all right, my son."

Vader returned to Han's room several hours later to see how he was doing. The young man was definitely more awake and alert now though he still looked plenty miserable, his eyes were bloodshot and he still looked like he was willing the contents of his stomach to stay there.

"I'm sorry," the words came out quietly, strained, they would've been easy to miss. Han didn't make eye contact, he folded his arms tight against his chest and looked down at the bed.

Sorry for what, though? For drinking to the point it made him sick? Or maybe more to the point, because he did it in their home? Where Luke could've been a witness to whatever happened? Honestly, Vader was surprised, he'd expected this to happen after Han was discharged from the Navy, to his surprise it hadn't happened. One of the reasons Han excelled as a captain was he possessed an almost inhuman amount of self-discipline, which apparently carried over into his civilian life. With everything Han had gone through recently though, it wasn't entirely unexpected, clearly this wasn't a common occurrence for him, for which the former Jedi was thankful. If it had been Luke that would be one thing, he knew Luke was an adult but he was Vader's youngest and it wasn't all that long ago Luke was still just a sheltered teenager. Han was an adult who knew what he was doing, it wasn't so unreasonable that once in a while he cut loose and drank himself into a stupor. It was still painful to watch though, but Vader knew there wasn't anything he could do about it that would make Han feel any worse than he already did to himself, and at his age he didn't need his father coming down on him for it anyway.

Or perhaps, another thought occurred to him, what Han was actually sorry about was the way he'd latched on to his father earlier. That had also been painful to watch. Han had been on his own since he was younger than Luke, and he'd learned how to survive without anybody caring about him, sometimes though, merely surviving wasn't enough. Vader knew if it hadn't been for Luke he very likely would've died alongside Padme simply because before Luke was born, she was his entire galaxy. Likewise he shuddered to think whatever would've become of Luke if anything had ever happened to him and the boy was taken away when he was younger. Like Luke, Vader knew that Han was an adult and he could make it on his own, but in that moment when Han grabbed his wrist and pressed his face against Vader's hand, all he saw was a small hurt child that needed his father's touch. He knew the two of them would never have the relationship he had with Luke, as painful as that was, he accepted it, but he knew Han still needed his father, and he'd be there for his oldest son in whatever capacity he needed.

"Let's try this again," he said as he stepped over to the bed. "Now that your ship is repaired, when are you two taking off?"

Han slowly shook his head. "I told you, we're not."

"Why not?"

Han arched an eyebrow and even that was clearly a painful experience for him.

"You know why."

Sometimes he wondered if Han reveled at the fact his father could not read the minds of people who were not Force sensitive, it enabled him to be particularly stubborn when he wanted to be.

"Enlighten me."

Han shook his head. "You'd actually let me take Luke with me again after what happened?"

"He's an adult, he doesn't need me to let him do anything," Vader pointed out.

"Right," Han scoffed, "most powerful man in the galaxy, and you wouldn't stop him?"

"Why would I?"

That question threw Han off his guard.

"What?" He blinked. "You're serious? You'd...you'd really trust me with Luke?"

"More than anyone else in the galaxy," Vader answered simply and sincerely.

Han's eyes got big as a wave of humility washed over him.

Vader couldn't say he hadn't seen this coming, but he remembered the course of events very well.

"We were getting ready to takeoff, and these guys...the..."

"Bounty hunters."

"Yeah, they were just...there, they surrounded us. Han started blasting so I could get on the Falcon, he followed behind me but they got on the ship before the boarding ramp was up."

Han's teeth chattered and a strangled "Brr-rr-r-r-r' sound escaped him as he tried to talk, "Pop..."

"Hush my child, you need to rest," Vader told him.

"I-I-I-I'm s-s-sssorry about Luke," Han said, "I didn't mean for him to get caught in the middle of my problems."

One of the last conscious thoughts Han had was protecting his brother, and he was the first concern Han had when he came out of hibernation. The fact he felt so much guilt about endangering Luke, even now, spoke volumes to Vader of just how seriously he took his responsibilities as Luke's brother. Yes, it wasn't foolproof, nothing ever was, but Luke was safer flying through the galaxy with Han than he would be with anyone else. It wouldn't stop him from sitting home and worrying while they were gone, but he suspected that would be true no matter what happened. But he knew he couldn't let his fears hinder Luke from going out and living his life, like it or not he was an adult now, but it did give Vader some comfort to know he wouldn't be alone and unprepared, he had his older, more experienced brother to keep an eye on him.

"I understand why you did what you did," he told Han, "but I also know you won't be so reckless again."

Han pursed his lips together and shook his head. "No, sir. Definitely not."

"And you will keep me updated on what happens," Vader said.

Han slowly nodded, with a small wince, "Yes, sir."

"Then you and your brother have my blessing on this."

Han looked up at him, there was still a large amount of discomfort in those eyes, but they brightened up a little as Han quietly responded, "Thanks, Pop."

Han's eyes squinted all but shut as he looked like a spike was jammed into the middle of his forehead. He forced his eyes open a slit and weakly asked, "What about the other night?"

"I don't see what bearings that has on your abilities as a pilot," Vader told him.

"But Luke-"

"Luke will be fine, he's already witnessed this, he will know what to expect. If necessary, he can help you."

"You really want that for him?" Han barely got the words out.

"I want both of you safe, and happy, this is the best solution."

Han tipped his head down to look at the mattress, this hangover was still having an effect on him.

"I really appreciate hearing that, Pop, thanks," Han murmured.

Vader reached one gloved hand up and softly patted Han on top of his head and added, "Now that that's settled, how about dinner?"

Han groaned and turned over on his stomach and buried his head between the pillows again. Vader lightly chuckled to himself and patted Han's back.