Standard disclaimers.

*I want to note that while I have this piece labeled a tragedy, it's not in the traditional sense. I just don't have the option of a better label for it, or a better idea of what to call it.

Chapter Two

There had been a time in his life where standing on the bridge of a Star Destroyer, watching as they pushed the rats of the rebellion out of their holes in the galaxy, had brought him great pleasure. Men, his officers or not, trembled in his presence, fearful for any mistake that might cost them dearly. The darkness that guided him no longer simply surrounded him, it consumed him, and blocked out everything he did not wish to remember.

Standing on the center of his bridge between every view port, he felt as though he was at the center of the galaxy, surrounded by his precious stars, and that had always been enough for him.

Then he had found his son.

Even though his son was not always with him, his presence had always been right there against his mind, the thought of his son's disappointment in his actions always causing the Dark Lord to hesitate. For the first time since turning, he cared about what someone thought of him, and he no longer wanted to see the look of sorrow that crossed his son's face when he learned of his father's decisions.

But his son was no longer here to judge him or his actions.

Despite this, it had still been a long time since he had felt able to bear the weight of the stars. In fact, it had been three years since he had been able to look out at the specs of light and not drown in all he had lost. Now, he merely felt a slight discomfort when he acknowledged their existence.

Luke had loved the stars, and he had taken them from him when he had found his very young son on that desert world. Now, it was as if the stars had exacted their vengeance and taken his son back in penitence for all he had done.

I'm sorry, Father.

Sorry for what? That is what he wanted to ask his son – what was he sorry for? Sorry for leaving him alone in this cruel world? Sorry for not leaving a trace of himself to be buried or mourned over? Sorry for not reaching out for help, and instead jumping first to unchangeable solutions?

I'm sorry, Father.

The note, the crumpled, torn, yet unbreakable note haunted him like a shadow, every step he now took heavy with the implications of the words. "Sorry" no longer cut it for him. Shield by shield, he had locked the thoughts of his son into the deepest recesses of his mind, refusing to allow them out. For so long he had denied the fate of his son that so many walls had been built around his mind he was unsure he could feel anything but pain and suffering at all anymore.

The bridge was deathly silent this day, so stifling was the atmosphere that Darth Vader wished he could instead hide in his quarters to wallow in his misery. Even three years after his son's death, he could not will the pain from his heart (if a heart is what one could call it – more like the pain radiated from the black hole where a heart might have once been) no matter how he gave into the deepest pressures of the dark side.

Still he wondered over their last conversation. "Have I been to a desert?"

Could it be that his son's memories had returned? That the young child he had taken from a supposed aunt and uncle in a nearly uninhabitable desert was resurfacing, demanding attention, and his son had not known what to do? Could it truly have been that he had not noticed the ghosts following his son like wraiths of wrath, whispering secrets into his innocent son's mind?

How he so desperately wished for death now; his son had not even been able to shoulder the burden of his misgivings. But death was not an option for one like him, because he had given his life to the darkest parts of the world in exchange for his power. Now all he had to show for it was a dead wife, a dead son, and the right to execute death upon anyone he deemed deserving of it.

The last of the rebels were soon about to discover this. If not for the rebels, he would not have had to leave his son for so long and so often. Of all the people in the entire galaxy, if it were not for the rebels, Vader was certain his son would still be alive. Ruthlessly he hunted them in his own vengeance, and he had now cornered the last lot of them in the entire galaxy.

"Admiral, has the base been located?"

Admiral Firmus Piett stepped up in a salute. "Yes, my Lord. The base is within range and both the pilots and the stormtroopers are ready to depart on your order."

"Very good. Tell them to remain ready, I will first speak with them."

"Very good, my Lord," Piett bowed, gesturing for the communication officer to make contact.

Almost immediately their hail was answered, the picture of Mon Mothma appearing before them.

Snorting, Vader moved in front of the screen. "Mothma. How wonderful to see you again."

Keeping a schooled face, Mothma indicated her head slowly. "Darth Vader. Why do you hail us?"

Why did he? It was a very good question indeed. They were so weak, all it would take is one order and the entire resistance would be gone.

But something pulled at him to speak with them first, somehow he knew he would regret simply destroying the lot of them without a bit of finesse first.

"If you have not noticed, your base is surrounded. Surrender, and there will be no need for death today."

A small, mostly sad, smile graced his opponents face. "Death is always the toll of the dark side, is it not? We will not surrender."

If not for the mask, they would have seen the gleam in his eye and the smile pull at the corner of his lips. "Very well. Then prepare to die-"

"WAIT! DON'T!"

Both sides fell ominously silent. Clearly, someone on the side of the rebels was panicking in the face of defeat, but Vader wondered who would crack so easily. Very few rebels cracked easily that would be allowed in the command center, most certainly where Mothma was being projected from.

Before he could move, Mothma was stepping aside, a figure dressed in black stepping up. Vader recognized them immediately.

"Shadow. I was not aware you had formally sided with the rebels."

Only the gleam of Shadow's teeth could be seen as he grinned. "There's a lot you don't know. I can offer you something better then this base."

"Oh?" Vader waited for him to continue.

But Shadow said nothing more. Instead, the black caped man – the thorn in his side, the menace of the Empire, the Alliance's apparent new hope that had appeared a mere three years ago – pulled down his hood.

At first, no one recognized him, until a soft gasp came from his Admiral. Yes, the Admiral, he had once known Luke.

Luke? Luke! How in the galaxy could this man remind him so much of his son. Older, more refined, and it was hard to tell through the holo but perhaps his eyes were a bit brighter.

"What sort of trickery is this?" Vader demanded, the pace of his heart trying to out race the confines of his suit. It was quite uncomfortable.

"It's no trick...Father."

Rage soared through the Force, the room sweltering in it. The men in the room froze, eyes glued to their stations.

"How dare you call me that – you have no right!"

The man frowned. "Am I so unrecognizable now, Father? Do you truly not see it's me?"

Reaching out, Vader realized with a shock that where his son's presence had been dead and empty for nearly three years there was now a spec of light. Pushing on it, he felt Shadow's hesitations as he lowered his shields and allowed it open, his son's presence flooding back to him.

If not for his suit's stability, he would have collapsed to his knees. As it was, he did not know what to say.

"You...you died. I felt it, the Emperor felt it, the Force declared it. How is this possible?" Vader finally snarled out.

Clearly unsettled, Luke stared at the ground. "I faked it all. A Jedi master taught me how to shield myself from you, and I had a friend waiting for me with a speeder when I jumped."

"You will surrender yourself at once. No son of my mine will be wandering aimlessly with a group of ruthless rogues!"

Luke's fire was back. "We aren't aimlessly wandering! We are trying to save the galaxy from the likes of you!"

Vader snapped. "You dare speak back to me?"

"Yes, I do! And I will only surrender on the condition that you will let the Alliance go."

For a long moment, Vader did not know what to say. Never before had his son ever talked back. What was he even thinking – how could his son have possibly been hidden from him for so long? How could he never have felt the presence that had been simply blocked by a wall of his own making? To have ignored for so long the tiny spec where his son should have been, to have not realized it was there at all, was grievously wounding to his pride.

"I will send a shuttle for you. When you are aboard the Executor I will allow the rebels to leave."

"No. I will remain here until the rebels have cleared the area, and then and only then will I come aboard the Executor."

"And how will that work, child? You are aboard one of their ships."

Luke faltered.

"You will come aboard now and will have to trust my word. Otherwise, I will send my men after you and will destroy anything in between us."

A silent deliberation clearly happened on the other side. Perhaps it involved denial, perhaps shock at the news that their enemy's son had been serving among them. Whatever it was, Luke returned his attention to Vader shortly. "I will come aboard on your word that the rebels will be allowed to leave."

"Very well."

Nodding, Luke moved away from the screen. Mothma returned.

"He is on his way to you now..." It was clear there was no trust between them.

Not deigning to answer her, Vader waited until he felt his son in transport before nodding once to the Admiral. Cutting off communication with the rebels, Vader growled, fingers clenched.

"You have your orders, Admiral."

Despite the words not having been said aloud, Piett knew exactly what the dark lord meant. "Yes, my Lord."

Turning, Vader walked crisply off the bridge and headed towards the hangar bay now receiving his son.

Luke had already disembarked when he arrived, the brigade of stormtroopers surrounding his son still not feeling like enough. Luke's hands had been tied behind his back, and even though Vader knew he could have undone them easily with the Force, his son allowed the restraints. Was it to appease his father, Vader wondered, or because he had merely given in to his fate?

The ships could been seen from the view port, Luke turning to give one last longing glance at the people he had found a home with as if to get one last glance at the people he now considered family.

Vader felt no remorse as ship by ship they began to explode in brilliant balls of light, the horror emanating from his son only feeding his satisfaction.

"You gave me your word!" Luke howled, tears streaming down his face. So unexpected was the attack, the rebels had no time to brace for a defensive or to escape. Within minutes, they were gone.

Chuckling deeply, Vader shook his head. "I did no such thing. You accepted my affirmation as my word, a mistake with a very heavy cost to you. However, their loss should mean little to you – those rogues held you captive for far too long."

Step by step, he walked up to his son, grabbing his chin in his hand and pushing his face up. Overall, his son looked well enough. Perhaps a bit thin, and his hair was darker now, his complexion more pale from the lack of sun.

Letting go, Vader paced a slow circle around Luke.

Luke shook his head. "I left on my own will! I was not captured. They did not even know who I was."

"And who was that? Who were you, child?" the venom could not be hidden in his voice, nor did he want it to be, noting the way Luke flinched.

"I became Shadow. I don't expect you to understand, and I don't think things will go back to they way they were-" Oh, please, don't let things go back - "I am a prisoner of the Empire now."

"So you refuse to accept your rightful place at your father's side?"

Luke hesitated a long moment, staring at the ground. "Lord Vader, I, Shadow, have no father."

It was meant to sting, but Vader had been numb for so long, it hardly mattered. The backhand he dealt out to the boy still relieved the slight stab he had felt.

Sprawled on the floor, unable to catch himself with his hands behind his back, Luke spat blood from his mouth, struggling to at least sit up.

"You will soon accept your place, child. Take him to a cell – do not allow him to escape."

Pulled to his feet by the stormtroopers, he did not resist as they began to drag him towards the detention center. They paused only when Darth Vader raised a single gloved hand.

There was a look between anger and regret in his son's eyes now, but the fire that lay beneath it could not be hidden.

"Oh, child, I wish it did not need to come to this," the gloved hand caressed the bruising cheek gently, the boy trying to flinch away from the touch but unable to when the guards held him place.

"It doesn't matter what happens to me. Even if you have destroyed the Alliance, another group will rise up to stop this madness!"

"Child, do you really believe that? Who else would be so brave as to stand against us after what has been done? Their greatest strength was you – and you belong on the side of the Empire. I will allow nothing else."

Luke now had nothing to say, so Vader continued.

"You will return to Coruscant where you belong, and the people will celebrate the return of their prince. It will all be blamed on the rebellion, and the people will rejoice at the strength and protection of their Empire."

Vader now grabbed Luke's chin again, staring into his eyes. "Never again will I allow harm to come to you...no matter what form it comes in. If necessary, you will never be allowed outside of the palace walls again."

The bright look in Luke's eyes was now gone.

Reaching through the Force, Vader ignored the guilt that tried to sneak its way into his emotions as he felt the last of the fight drain from his son.

"Take him away."

Stock still, Vader listened as his son howled and shouted profanities at him until he was out of hearing. Certainly the guards would be now on the receiving end of his son's ire, but Vader could feel as his son fell numb when the door to his cell locked behind him.

Now his son could feel the grief he himself had felt for so long, and learn the consequences of causing a Sith Lord pain.

To be continued...