A/N: I was going to wait until a little later to post this, but it's been sitting on my computer for about a week now and apparently I have no self-control whatsoever. So here, have another chapter.

Also, shout-out to my guest reviewers. I'm sorry I can't PM you directly, but I appreciate you taking the time to comment.

This is an AU where Vader found Luke as a baby and raised him. The Emperor still lives.

Chapter Summary: Seventeen-year-old Luke Skywalker runs away from home and defects to the Rebel Alliance. Vader deals with the fall-out.

Chapter 5: Gone

Vader was standing at the head of the table in one of the conference rooms on the Imperial Star Destroyer Devastator, which was currently orbiting Imperial Center. Around the table, his officers were seated and in the midst of a heated, but still civil (for the moment) debate.

He wished his presence wasn't needed, but without him it was unlikely his men would make any progress. They were extremely prone to bickering. He was surrounded by incompetents. Command meetings, along with paperwork, were the bane of his existence. He was in desperate need of new command staff. Vader had been following a few different Imperial careers who looked promising. Lieutenant Firmus Piett of the ISD Accuser, for example, showed great potential. The lieutenant was rising through the ranks rapidly, and he did not appear to be using familial ties to do so like many Imperial officers were guilty of.

Vader was broken from his musings by raised voices.

"You think the Rebels stand a chance against us?" a younger officer demanded, derision dripping from his voice.

"They have shown themselves to be resourceful in the past," another snapped in reply. "We would be wise not to underestimate them. We can't allow them to gain more ground than they already have."

"You sound as though you admire them, Commander," the younger officer accused.

"You go too far, Lieutenant!"

Vader sighed internally and readied himself to intervene by way of Force choking. His adolescent son was more well-behaved than this group of full-grown men.

Without warning, the Force screamed at him, and it took all his self-control not to flinch. It went silent seconds later, and Vader reached out, trying to discern what was wrong. His heart, had it not been regulated, would have stopped at what he found. There was a nothingness in part of his mind—the part where Luke usually resided. It was empty, as if his presence had just vanished.

He forced himself not to panic. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps Luke had suddenly learned to shield very, very well. Vader didn't notice the room had gone dead quiet in response to his hands clenching and the sudden drop in temperature.

Luke! he called out through their bond, which now felt chillingly one-sided. There was no response, not even a subconscious acknowledgment. Vader stiffened in alarm. Luke, answer me!

Silence.

The seventeen-year-old was willful, but he had never intentionally ignored a mental call from his father. What had happened? Why wasn't he responding? Why couldn't he feel him? Was he deeply unconscious? Hot rage flowed like vitriol through his blood, pounding in his ears. If his son had been harmed in any way, he would annihilate whoever was responsible. If he was de—no! He wasn't! Vader would know for sure if Luke was...

"M-my Lord?" somebody whimpered.

Vader snapped back to his current surroundings. The walls were buckling. Cracks were forming along the ceiling and viewport. Datapads were trembling where they rested on the table. The table itself was shaking. The officers were cowering in their chairs. With tremendous difficulty, Vader reigned in his rage and fear—if he breached the viewport and sent them all into the vacuum of space, while Vader would survive (at least temporarily), it would make getting to Luke that much harder.

Without a word, Vader stormed from the room and toward the closest hangar bay. He wasted no time choosing a shuttle, and he immediately set course for the planet below. He made the normally ten minute flight in half the time, nearly crashing against the far wall of his hangar when he arrived in his palace. He didn't bother powering the engines down. With a negligent wave of the Force, the boarding ramp lowered.

"Lord Vader!" A few of his aides approached him, looking bewildered and slightly panicked. They were clearly wondering about his unannounced and harried arrival. Vader gestured sharply and they slammed into the closest wall, sliding to the ground unconscious. He didn't have time to answer asinine questions. Blessedly, he received no more interruptions on the way to Luke's quarters.

"Luke!" Vader bellowed, not even bothering to knock before barging into the room. Empty. It had been a long-shot, but Vader was still disappointed.

Clothes and possessions were scattered about the room, as if a sandstorm had blown through. With rising dread, Vader checked his son's closet. Just as he'd feared, Luke's travelling pack was gone.

Son, he tried through the Force, desperate, but Vader was again met with nothing.

A flashing light coming from the middle of Luke's bed caught his attention. It was a holoprojector, and the flashing light indicated there was a pre-recorded message. His hands were prosthetic. They still shook minutely when he reached to turn the message on.

The small, blue image of Luke came to life. He was standing with his hands relaxed at his sides, deceptively casual. But Vader knew Luke. He knew to look for the tell-tale signs of stress. Luke's jaw was clenched and the fingers on his right hand kept twitching subtly. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed. Vader wasn't anyone else. Despite his son's tense body language, there was determination shining in his eyes. Luke opened his mouth and Vader leaned forward unconsciously.

"To start off, I'm not dead. You can't feel me because I found someone to teach me how to block our connection. I can't risk you locating me through the bond." Luke's face creased briefly in contrition before smoothing out again.

"You're probably angry right now," he continued. "I'm sure you see this as a betrayal." Luke paused, his gaze falling to the ground. He took a deep breath and looked back up resolutely. "But I can't stay with you. I can't ignore what you've been doing anymore. I can't pretend to myself that the Empire is what the galaxy needs. I've realized some things—about myself and you."

Luke's hands clenched and unclenched. "You don't...love me. You love the idea of me—the idea of a son. You want to keep me here—locked up, safe. I'm just something for you to have. You don't care about what I want or love. You only care about what I can do for you. You want something you can shape into whatever you will."

His son was making an admirable effort to remain strong, but Vader could see tears welling in his eyes. The sight caused something in Vader's chest to throb in pain. He'd always hated to see Luke cry.

"I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment." Luke's voice wavered and Vader watched his throat bob as he swallowed. "I'm sorry I'm not what you want—that I won't sit by and let you mold me into something I'm not. I'm not a weapon you can use. I'm not a possession you can keep tucked away." His son's expression abruptly hardened, eyes burning with passion. "I'm a person and my name is Luke."

The next instant, Luke's face softened, and Vader was reminded of Padmé not for the first time while looking at his son. "Goodbye, Father. I hope you understand I'm not doing this to hurt you. Despite everything, I...I still love you."

Luke smiled sadly and the holograph flickered and disappeared.

Vader couldn't move. Even if the Emperor himself had ordered him, Vader wouldn't have been able to. He would have stopped breathing were it not for his respirator.

Breathe in...breathe out…

He was gone. Luke was gone. Padmé's son. His son. The tiny baby who would wrap his little hands around his finger. The toddler who would tug on his cape and trip over Vader's boots. The five-year-old who would cling to Vader's leg and refuse to let go whenever he had to go on missions. The nine-year-old who was so ecstatic about building his first droid, he slipped on a hydrospanner whilst bouncing around and gave himself a concussion on the workbench. The thirteen-year-old who would pester and beg his father to fly one of Vader's ships from his extensive collection. The fifteen-year-old who became withdrawn but always took the time to ask after Vader's well-being. The now seventeen-year-old who still wore his heart on his sleeve and was too stubborn for his own good. That boy—that bright, clumsy, precious, naïve, loving, intelligent boy—was gone.

"I found someone to teach me how to block our connection."

Vader had to leave Luke's room before he destroyed it in his ire. Someone had taught Luke to block out his father. Someone had poisoned his son against him—had filled his head with lies. They had made him think he had to run from his own father—that Vader did not care for him. Now he was out there either alone or with unknown beings, without his father to protect him. He could be taken advantage of or hurt or killed.

He strode into his training room, lightsaber already ignited.

"Activate!" Vader thundered.

Across the room, a row of dueling droids came to life and lunged for him. The first one to reach him was immediately sliced in half.

Whoever this someone was, they would regret ever coming near his son. Vader would make their death especially painful and drawn out for turning Luke against him. He would get his son back. He would find him and bring him back where he belonged—where Vader could protect him once more. Convincing his master to let him pursue this would be tricky, but he would succeed. He had to. Nothing would keep him from his son.

He stood in the center of the training room, respirator working overtime. Around him, the dueling droids lay scattered in dozens of pieces. His fury was far from sated, but he held on to it and buried it deep down inside. He would let it fester and grow, and wait for the right time to release it. Vader would save it for the fool who had the audacity to take his son from him.

"Send someone to clean the mess in my training room," Vader barked into his commlink, not bothering to wait for an answer. He didn't have the time nor the patience to do it himself at the moment. He marched from the room toward his private holoprojection chamber. He had an audience with the Emperor to request and a wayward offspring to reclaim.

When he found his son, Vader would make certain he could never run away again. He would do whatever it took to keep the boy safe—even from himself if necessary.