Luke didn't run to his room. He hardly even thought about where he ought to go, he just acted, following his instincts. He was aching, so the innermost desire for comfort overtook him and guided him somewhere else; somewhere he wouldn't feel trapped and secluded. He hated that feeling.

His body raced right past his room, even as his vision was obscured by tears. His feet would know the way, even in the dark.

When he got to the entrance doors, he didn't wonder if his Force exertion would be strong enough, he just did it. He called on the Force to open them, and the Force obeyed. He continued his dash down the outer hall to the hangar, where he spied his favorite silver and blue astromech, frozen in the center of the bay. Ignoring the impressive collection of ships, he beelined for R2D2.

"Artoo!" he called, voice childish and tear strained.

He leapt on the little droid, hugging it with all his might, just like he used to when he was five and still small enough to cling on for a ride, at least until his father would reach out with the Force and levitate Luke back to his own two feet for a scolding. You could hurt yourself, he could still hear the admonishment.

Artoo neither moved nor responded. Luke closed his eyes and used the Force to find Artoo's disablement and released it.

The little bot whrrrd back to life, lighting up and beeping as if it were still yelling at his father. It must have been midsentence when Dad triggered the freeze, because the bot immediately fired, gears on the ships are in better shape than you! What good is a broken pilot?!

Artoo became aware of the whimpering eleven-year-old clinging to his side and stopped. Luke wondered if he should explain himself or apologize to the droid. But Artoo seemed to get it.

Water leak because of Pilot? The bot beeped in binary.

Luke couldn't reply in binary, but he understood it perfectly, almost as well as he understood Basic. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand and as a warm smile came across his face. Thank the Force for Artoo.

"Yeah, I guess… He wasn't in the best mood tonight..."

Pilot is in need of immediate repairs.

"Don't worry, Artoo. I think Leia fixed him."

Princess is not a human-mechanic.

"Doctor, Artoo," Luke tried to correct. "And she's not really a princess… If you and Dad keep calling her that, it's gonna go to her head. And, look, she probably got him to use bacta at least. Maybe we can convince him to get a new med-droid tomorrow."

Artoo beeped affirmatively. That seemed to quell the little bot's concerns.

Luke sniffled, as he thought about the wound again and the frozen landscape his injured dad had built so easily. Luke knew he was a Sith, just like the Emperor, but sometimes when he was just Dad, it was easy to forget.

Small Pilot. Artoo beeped for Luke's attention. Reset yourself. You are struggling with human sadness.

Luke smirked and sniffled again. "I wish it were that easy, Artoo." He patted the top of Artoo's dome.

Pilot's software is corrupted. I blame his organic yet volatile nature for allowing the virus in his system. He would benefit from a full wipe and reload of a prior operating system.

Luke agreed, as the thought entranced him for a moment. Wouldn't it be cool if you could restore someone to their previous version, before all the problems started? They could reset Dad to CloneWars2.0 and just skip the whole Mustafar2BactaSith3.0 coding all together. His smile faded as he wondered if CloneWars-Dad would like him anymore than SithEra-Dad did.

"I—do you think," the question knotted in his throat. But Artoo and the Force were the only things that never lied to him. His cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. Honestly, he shouldn't even need to ask! "Am I dumb, Artoo?"

Why would Small Pilot wonder this?

"Because maybe Small Pilot doesn't get the best grades in school and maybe because Big Pilot said something tonight…"

Pilot is malfunctioning. His words cannot be taken at face value.

"You're avoiding my question, Artoo."

Small Pilot is unorganized and easily distracted. The bot replied. But *never* dumb.

"But Dad said…"

You must delete those lines from your memory bank. Pilot's faulty programming is not Small Pilot's error.

"But it is my fault, Artoo," Luke said softly as he looked down at the floor. "I couldn't stop Leia. And I know she needed to see he was okay for herself, but when he's like that… I don't know him when he's like that. And I hate seeing it because it makes me wonder… What if that is him? And he's just faking it with us? What if he becomes that way more and more? What if…"

Pilot's code is corrupted by the unknown virus, but he is still Pilot. And Pilot would do anything for Princess and Small Pilot.

"Yeah," Luke replied glumly, unconvinced, "Thanks, Artoo." He did appreciate the bot's attempt at cheering him up. Luke stood back up and tried to smile at the droid again. "So, did you fix everything on the shuttle?" he asked eagerly, hoping that there might be something left for him to work on.

Are you calling me incompetent? Artoo asked dryly.

Luke laughed, "Artoo!"

I always save something for you, Small Pilot.

Leia had finished applying the bacta and was now bandaging her reluctant father. She had forced him to sit back on his bed so she could tend to him easier. She carefully measured and cut strips of the cloth that would sit atop the bacta and help it absorb. It was specially designed to stick without pulling anything, but her father still seemed edgy about it. She laid a long strip directly on the center of the wound, but then added shorter strips to either side, ensuring it was fully covered and secured.

She nodded to herself, satisfied with her handywork.

"All set, Daddy," she said, raising her eyes to meet his. His blue eyes were full of appreciation and awe. His hardened, scarred faced always seemed to melt when he looked at her. She smiled at him and patted his head to tease him, running her fingers across the top of his the dark blonde military-cropped hair, just barely graying around the temples. He pulled her hand away and smiled fully. She smiled back and felt like she had won – getting him to smile like that, especially after everything today.

"Thank you, Princess. It feels even better than before it happened."

She rolled her eyes as the Force whispered lie.

"So, how did it happen?"

Anakin gave an amused snort, "Nice try, short stuff."

She gave him a miffed smile, but wasn't too disappointed. She wasn't actually expecting that to work. He rarely spoke about his work at ISB, and never if it included a visit to the detention center. Not that she really wanted to hear about the detention center. That never lead to any sort of pleasant conversation between her and her father. He had a hard time being angry at her, which she was well away of, and used to her advantage often, but he was firm on what his duties were. She didn't think they would ever see eye to eye on that.

"Now, let's find your brother," their dad said, as he reached out in the Force.

He winced when he found Luke's bedroom empty. Quickly, his presence spread through their entire flat. The relief was instant when he found his son in the hangar, although quickly replaced by aggravation. Luke knew he was not allowed in the hangar without his father.

Anakin lifted himself to his feet. Leia put her hands out, reminding him to take it easy. He gave her a nod in lieu of a promise, and put his gentle hand on her shoulder, guiding her out of his chambers and to her own bedroom door. He put a kiss on her head and said, "Get ready for bed. I'll be back after I get your brother."

"Is he in the hangar?" she asked bluntly.

"That obvious?"

"Where else would he go?" she said with a shrug.

"Well, ideally to his room, for bed. You know, as you two should have done hours ago."

She batted her eyes at him innocently as she lifted her chin. "I'm certain I have no idea what you're talking about, Father." Her voice was proud yet playful.

"My mistake, your highness," he teased with a shake of his head. "Alright, off you go."

Her door hissed open and she bolted in, leaving him to roll his eyes.

One down, one to go.

As he walked toward the hangar, he sensed a trail of sorrow and exhaustion. He frowned, knowing the source, and tried to recall what he had told his son earlier, if he had threatened him or something like that. He cringed, recalling another time when his son had found him deep in the darkside, and he had told the boy his Force-potential was wasted on one so bright. He wasn't sure why he said it, since it was his decision not to train either of his children in the darkside of the Force. They were to remain light, if he had anything to say about it. Still, the darkside spoke through him. And then retreated, leaving him to pick up the pieces. What a mess that had been.

He hated hurting his children. It would be so much easier not to if he weren't, well, a Sith. But if he had remained the unthinkable…a jedi, so weak and arrogant and mislead, a slave to lesser masters, what would stand between Palpatine and his twins? His Master was no fool. He was the most terribly brilliant being in the galaxy. Whatever he desired, he claimed or created. The Jedi stood no chance against him. If he hadn't turned, they would have been wiped out too. And perhaps… his little Luke or Leia would be in his shoes, mangled by the darkness, forced to serve or suffer (ideally both, if Sidious had his way).

Anakin's heart ached, as his mind skipped to Padme. Truly he might not have minded dying a Jedi if he could have died with her – had she not been pregnant. He couldn't abandon their children in this world. At least not while Sidious lived…

But even if he managed to kill his Master, what then? It wasn't like Anakin never thought about killing him. But then he would be the Master of the darkside. How could he ever face his twins after that? How could he trust himself not to sink further in, and try to take them as his apprentices?

He shook his head like a wet dog at the thought. Never. He was sure his mind would torment him with these thoughts later tonight anyway, as he inevitably would lay awake in his misery, unable to sleep. But now, he was nearly at the hangar, and it was time to put his fatherly face back on, and see what he could do about getting his son to bed.

The hangar was fully lit, indicating motion within, and Anakin could hear the tinkering of metal and chatting of one son and one astromech. He sent a poke down their Force bond. He felt his son reel in surprise, and then heard a thud, followed by an, "Ouch!"

Luke!

I'm fine...

What was that?!

You surprised me! I just… hit my head…

Come out here.

…No, that's okay…

It wasn't a request.

When is it ever?!

Young man, I am not amused. Now come!

He heard a loud, dramatic sigh fill the air, before he saw his son trudging out from behind his shuttle, followed by Artoo, who was naturally reactivated. But that would be a conversation for another time.

As the duo approached, Anakin wagged a gloved finger at them and admonished, "Luke, I don't care how angry you are with me, it's not an excuse to break the rules!"

Luke stopped in his tracks and balled his hands at his sides defiantly. "I didn't!"

The boy looked crabby from head to toe, with his confidence boosted by the blue and silver droid at his hip. Anakin wanted to groan. He was hoping for a quick apology and then off to bed, but clearly that was not going to happen.

"You know damn well you're not allowed in the hangar without supervision."

"But Artoo's right here!"

Sadly, without a fix for your faulty wiring, Artoo beeped.

Anakin cast his glare to the little bot. "Ah yes, I've got a restraining bolt with your name on it."

Artoo whrrrd with offense and beeped out a slew of Huttese curses, leaving Anakin slightly amused and very glad he never taught the children his mother tongue. Anakin ignored the disgruntled astromech and fixed his stare back on his child.

"Luke, I know you're upset…"

Luke huffed, unwilling to be scolded without a fight, and interrupted his father, "The last time I closed myself off from you because I was hurt, you grounded me for a month! Longer than any other time!"

"That's different…"

"Only cause you decided it is!" he argued and folded his arms to sulk.

Damn that pout, Anakin sighed, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. It was hard to be stern when his kids were that adorable. Of course this seemed unfair to his son. How could he explain it to a child? He made his tone sweet and gentle to say, "Lukey, it is different, because I'm the daddy and I take care of you. It isn't supposed to be the other way around."

Luke's eyes widened into an irritated stare, just a step before an eye roll.

Artoo beeped, Pilot is unfit to make judgement calls in his current status. Needs extensive repairs.

He sent the bot a glare. "Artoo, I'm not broken. Stop telling my son that!"

If not in need of systems check, then why malfunctioning?

"I'm not malfun—I'm not arguing with you! Don't forget who programmed you."

Picking on Small Pilot is a serious malfunction.

"Force help me, Artoo," he said with a threatening shake of his head. "I wonder if there's a record out there for number of restraining bolts fit on a single astromech..."

Artoo began to cuss Anakin out again.

"Leave him alone!" Luke jumped in with a stomp of his foot before his father could speak again. "At least Artoo likes me!"

Anakin narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Luke looked at the floor and grumped, "Never mind, I don't want to talk about it."

"Luke…"

"Just never mind!" his son exploded.

Anakin felt this argument had reached a place of pointlessness. Leia was much more articulate than her brother and it was far easier to talk her down; she had always been that way. Luke, on the other hand, needed an activity to focus on to help him calm down. But it was nearly 01:30. The only acceptable activity would be sleep and they could try this again in the morning.

"Alright, that's enough. Time for bed. Long overdue, come on," he said, summoning his child with an impatient twirling of his wrist.

Luke groaned and walked with shoulders slumped towards his dad.

"Artoo, charging station," Anakin ordered, pointing a finger to the bot's designated spot. As his son reluctantly neared him, Anakin attempted peace offering of humor, "Luke, charging station," gesturing to the hall.

Normally that would have drawn an irritated daaad, but Luke ignored the joke and stormed to his room. Anakin waited to see that Artoo did in fact move to his station, and then turned to follow his gloomy child at a distance. He tried not to despair, even as that voice inside him jabbed why are you only good at hurting the ones you love?

Luke began dragging his feet as they neared his door. Anakin sensed the weary protested before it came. Now that his pain had subsided, he opened himself fully to the bond with his children, beyond just quick communications, and felt Luke swimming in uncertainty and frustration, wanting both to yell at his father and weep in his arms. This felt oddly similar to an overly tired toddler in desperate need of a nap before a meltdown.

Anakin put his hands gently on his son's shoulders, guiding him forward until they reached the door. He turned the boy around and spoke before the child could, "Pajamas, teeth, bed – clear?"

Luke's chin crumpled. He blinked back tears of exhaustion and nodded.

Anakin brushed his flesh thumb across one of his son's cheeks and said a gentle, "Good boy. I'm going to say goodnight to your sister and then I'll be back to say goodnight to you."

Say Goodnight was the pre-teen version of "tucking in." The twins no longer accepted being "tucked in," even though little in the routine had changed. He wasn't telling stories quiet as often as he used to, but they were requested at least a few times per week.

Luke disappeared in his bedroom, leaving Anakin to move back to Leia's door and see to her.

"Leia?" he called, as he entered.

It was so much more orderly than Luke's room. It gave him a sense of relief every time he entered. Leia came out of her 'fresher at her father's call. She was in her pajamas with her hair fixed into two sleeping braids.

"Teeth?"

"Brushed," she replied, as she went to her bed and pulled back the neatly made spread.

She climbed in and looked at her father expectantly. He sat at her side and studied her face. There was something irked in her expression. She certainly didn't look like a child about to fall asleep. He tried to get ahead of the protest.

"It's very late… Goodnight, my girl," he said, as he pulled her blankets to just below her chin.

"No, Daddy, it's not fair," Leia said, pushing the blankets away to sit up.

Anakin grimaced. "I thought we agreed you were done reprimanding daddy for the evening."

"But you have to hear it because I don't want to forget and it's important."

He frowned and petted her head. "Okay, little angel. But then it's bedtime. What do you need to tell me?"

"It's just… Daddy, we love you. And when you don't take care of yourself, it hurts us. Just like it hurts you to see us sad. But we don't get a choice, so you have to make better ones… Even if it's just for me and Luke."

"Leia…"

"Promise," she insisted.

"Promise what, exactly?" he asked. He hated making promises he couldn't keep. He had already broken a few today. He wasn't about to set himself up for any more failure in her eyes.

"That you'll take better care of yourself. That you'll use bacta when you have to. And sometimes see a doctor."

"Princess…"

"Daddy, this should be the easiest thing I ever ask you for."

"Okay, sweetheart, I promise. Now, please, for the love of the Force, go to bed, okay? I love you, Leia. Thank you for taking care of me tonight. Sweet dreams, my good girl."

She smiled at him, as if all the weight on her was alleviated. She laid back down and let him tuck her in. "I love you too, Daddy. Goodnight."

He stood, bending once to place a kiss on her forehead. She snuggled herself down for the night and closed her eyes. He sent soothing feelings down their bond as he flicked off her light. He could feel how tired she was becoming and knew she would be out quickly.

Thank the Force… Now for Luke…

Anakin entered his son's room without announcing himself. The room was a mess. Toys and knickknacks everywhere, clothes and towels tossed on the floor, data pads stacked without any semblance of organization… Anakin shook his head. Another discussion for the morning. He couldn't very well scold his son for a room that looked like a tornado had struck it, when his own quarters were still coated in quickly melting ice.

All that mattered right now was bed anyway… Anakin looked at the unmade spread, a twisted bundle of sheets strewn from mat to floor, and sighed. Luke was still brushing his teeth, so he decided to take care of it himself. He pulled apart the tangled blankets and neatly laid the sheet, then the medium weight blanket, then the puff. He smoothed it out, as Luke exited the 'fresher, thankfully in his pajamas already because Anakin wasn't sure he had any more patience left for the evening.

"Thank you for making my bed, Daddy," the boy said blushingly.

At least he has the decency to be embarrassed by this mess, Anakin thought.

"In," he replied.

Luke seemed relieved he wasn't getting a scolding. He plopped himself onto the bed and let his father tuck him in. His face was troubled in the way his sister's had been, but he didn't have the desire to talk. Still, Anakin didn't want him to lay there stewing rather than sleeping.

Anakin put his hand on the back of his son's head and began gently scratching, something that always helped Luke fall asleep. It was like magic. He saw his son's eyelids droop.

He stopped the petting to say, "I'm sorry for tonight, son. I'll—be better, in the future."

Luke didn't reply to his dad. He didn't even look at him. His tired face seemed… jaded?

"I love you," Anakin said.

Luke looked somewhere else, refusing to look at his dad. Oddly, that hurt the same as the refused hugs.

"Luke?"

Tentatively, Luke's eyes darted at his Dad for a moment, and then picked another new place to settle.

Anakin's chest ached. "Luke, I'm sorry. If I could change everything about tonight, I would… I'm sorry I upset you…"

"You called me dumb," the boy finally spoke.

"I—what?"

"The Force didn't say it was a lie. You don't think I'm smart. You think I'm dumb."

"Lukey… of course not. I'm…"

"Don't say sorry again. I don't care if you're sorry or not."

Anakin let out a weary breath as he watched two fat tears roll down his son's hurt face. It didn't suit Luke, to be so upset. He tried to swallow against the knot in his throat. Leave it to him to dim the brightest light in the galaxy. He felt like a monster… no, worse. Vader.

"You don't have to accept my apology. I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I hope you know how proud I am of you."

"Proud?!" Luke sat up indignantly.

"I know you're smart, son. It's just not always easy for you to keep your focus at school…"

"But I do try," Luke insisted.

It wasn't as if it were some whimsical experience for him to trapse around the halls of the Academy. He was bullied, constantly. If his mind was elsewhere, it was on how to survive the day… Okay, sometimes it was an indulgence; a day-dream of flying, or digging into mechanical texts instead of studying for his history quiz, because those brief little pauses made it possible for him to get through the week. And then he would scold himself, feeling so low and guilty for average or substandard grades. He wanted to do well. He meant to. But it always seemed to escape him.

"I know you try, I know," Anakin reassured him. "I hate myself for saying that to you. It was cruel and unfair…"

"The Force didn't say it was a lie."

"Because it wasn't said to pass as truth. It was meant to hurt. Which is not to justify it, but when I was in that space… All I wanted was to frighten you two away, so you wouldn't have to see me like that… Or, Force-forbid you somehow break through my shields while I'm distracted… I didn't want either of my little stars to feel the kind of pain I was in."

Luke didn't seem convinced as he studied his floor, working up the courage to say, "But you hurt me anyway."

"I know," Anakin said and petted his son's head. "And it's okay if you don't forgive me, just as long as you know I love you."

"Doesn't change anything," the boy said sullenly.

"Luke, how many eleven-year-olds do you know that can help Artoo patch up a hyperdrive, understand fluent binary, or can fix Threepio's hand? Just because you don't get the best grades doesn't make you dumb, Luke. The only dumb one here tonight is daddy's mouth."

"Yeah," Luke said softly, as some of his sadness began to lift.

Anakin began scratching again his hand on his boy's neck, watching tired eyes flutter shut.

"Do you think you can fall asleep on your own, little star?"

The boy gave a shrug.

"Okay, let's seal the deal then," Anakin said and closed his eyes, reaching down the bond to guide his son to sleep. His Force presence wrapped around Luke's, soothingly, rather than intrusive, lulling his son gently into the meditative state.

Luke was too tired to resist. His father brought him to their spot: a warm, grassy field overlooking a pristine lake, with a powder blue sky and gently moving silver clouds. He smelled the familiar air, woody and crisp, with a hint of citrus, and felt the sunbeams kiss his neck. Luke wasn't sure if that place was real or fully built by Dad, but it had been the spot Anakin always used to transition his children to sleep.

Goodnight, my sweet boy, his father said, and before he could protest being called sweet (gross!), he felt his father's Sleep command enter his mind. He imagined it was like firmly blowing out a candle, which is how it felt on his end. Just like that, he was out.