Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm Ltd., itself property of The Walt Disney Company. I make no lucrative nor commercial use of my writings in relationship with the Star Wars license.

Luke felt exhausted that evening when he descended to the mess for dinner. He looked around, trying to spot if any of his squadmates were in the room. A little further, Vil was sitting with Boomer, Cosmo, Dark Curse and Torpedo. Luke put his plate on his tray and went to join them.

"Hi, Shooting Star," Dark Curse looked up from his datapad and smiled at him. "Good sim today."

"Thanks," Luke muttered, trying to ignore the sombre looks of his other squadmates. Dark Curse got back to his reading without noticing any of it.

The others continued their conversation without paying him any more attention. Repressing a sigh, Luke looked down at his food, his heart falling down in his chest. He put a spoonful of stew in his mouth and swallowed it before he could taste it. He wasn't hungry at all.

Finally, most of his squadmates finished their own meal and rose from the table.

"Don't wait for me," Vil said, still eating, as Boomer's gaze seemed to alternate between him and the others. He swallowed his mouthful before going on. "I'll join you later."

"All right," Boomer answered. "See you then. Shooting Star, same."

Luke gave him a half-hearted nod. Boomer followed the other pilots, put his tray in place and left the mess. Luke sagged in his seat with a sigh, the tension draining all at once. Vil shot him a smile.

"Long day, uh?"

Luke shrugged. He stirred his spoon in his stew.

"You could say that."

"I understand. They'll come around, you know."

Luke looked up at Vil. The older pilot was smiling, but that did nothing to help Luke's mood.

"Sure," he replied, looking at his meal again.

"Honestly, can't blame them for being a little jealous," Vil continued, oblivious to Luke's complete disinterest in the conversation. "Eighteen years old, member of Black Squadron, Vader's wingman, flying better than all of us together..."

"I didn't ask for any of it!" Luke retorted. He was so sick of this, of never belonging, of being the outsider, everywhere and always. "What are they even jealous of, anyway? Being stalked and terrorised by my commanding officer? Getting nearly murdered by him?"

"Whoa," Vil interrupted him. "Hey, calm down. I'm on your side, you know."

Luke breathed through his nose, biting his tongue. He felt like screaming, but that wouldn't do in the middle of the mess hall. Plus Vil didn't deserve his frustration. Luke would be stupid to alienate one of the few allies he had left.

"Sorry," he whispered, unable to manage more. He coughed and felt a little better. "Anyway, how are you faring with... uh, everything?"

Vil shrugged.

"All right, I guess. Still reeling a little from Mauler's death. We all are. It'll pass... it always does."

Luke nodded. They sat in companionable silence for a little while, Vil finishing his caf while Luke still toyed with his stew. He felt like talking to Vil about the thing that hadn't stopped bothering him since the end of the battle, but he wasn't sure he could trust him.

"Yeah... can't help thinking about that battle either," Luke said, probing the ground. "Especially the end."

Vil's face fell, and he frowned.

"The refugees?" he asked, and a weight lifted off Luke's heart that he'd understood immediately. He wasn't the only one to have this kind of feelings, then.

"I can't get them out of my mind," Luke blurted out. "I understand they were a risk from their association with the Rebels. But I can't help wondering if there wasn't a better way to deal with them."

Vil nodded.

"The Empire's zero tolerance policy towards Rebel contact is something I've been thinking about too," he admitted, his voice low and controlled. "Sometimes people are just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Zero tolerance policy towards Rebel contact. Luke's relief disappeared as quickly as it had come. As was so often the case lately, he found himself wondering about Biggs; but worry about his friend's well-being, this time, was just an afterthought.

"Once the war is over, this will stop," he said, still half lost in his musings. "We won't need to do this when the Rebels are defeated."

Vil looked at him, then sighed.

"I hope you're right."

He gulped down the last of his caf, and Luke gave up on finishing his stew.

"Hey," Vil said, "if you've got some time right now, would you mind helping me out on the training report I need to wrap up? I need to finish it by tomorrow for the briefing, and I'm a little short, I still have a thousand other things to do..."

"Sure. What's it about?"

"Solar calculations," Vil said. Luke grimaced.

They spend the next hour working on it. By the time it was done, when Vil thanked Luke for his help and they parted ways, Luke's heart was already much lighter.

.

Darth Vader knelt in front of the holostation, trying to ignore the pain in his joints. A faint noise rang to confirm that the signal was being transmitted.

His master would be glad. They had warded off all Rebel presence on Praadost. Furthermore, it hadn't been difficult to find out who, among its allies, had sent the reinforcements that hindered their search for the Rebels. The only thing that bothered Vader was that they still hadn't been able to determine what the Rebels knew of the Empire's new weapon. The caves had been searched as much as they could before being blown up, but nothing had turned up.

The huge blue hologram of the Emperor's head appeared. Vader bowed deeper.

"You have news about the campaign, Lord Vader."

"Yes, my master." Vader rose his head to look the Emperor in the eye, but didn't stand up, his right forearm resting on his upright knee. "The Rebels were hiding refugees in caves in their mountains. They didn't seem to know anything about our project. Our search for suspicious activity pertaining to that remained fruitless."

The Emperor's face hid deeper into the folds of its hood. Vader thought he could make out the shadow of a smile on his lips.

"Good. You have done well."

Vader acknowledged him with a nod.

"Praadost's forces are small and were weakened by our former assault on the base. They couldn't resist us for long. But our search was impeded nonetheless. Reinforcements came to their aid, which we traced to Rindia."

The Emperor looked pensive.

"Then you know what you have to do. No world can be allowed to defy us. Show Rindia what we are capable of."

Vader inclined his head.

"It will be done."

He waited for the transmission to be cut, and for the Emperor's face to vanish into shadow; but the call didn't end. Vader looked at his master again. What else could he be wanting to ask about?

Uneasiness awoke in his abdomen. There was only one other thing the Emperor could be interested in... Indeed, he was proven right when his master spoke again.

"By the way... how is your own little project progressing?"

"My... project?"

"Yes. The boy that you talked to me about. Is he as strong as you thought?"

Vader gritted his teeth, checked his shields. He would have preferred to avoid talking about the boy, but his master's curiosity, of course, had to be appeased. The Emperor's eyes were gleaming with greed; Vader's stomach writhed angrily, taken by a possessive instinct he didn't know he harboured.

"Yes, my master. He has shown great potential, and knows next to nothing about the Force. I have started his training, but it could be some time before he pledges himself to the dark side."

"All in due time," Sidious answered. "I am much intrigued by this apprentice of yours. You must bring him to me, once he is ready."

Vader shivered. There was no mistaking the covetousness in the Emperor's voice. And yet the boy wouldn't be turning any time soon, not with Vader having abandoned his training... He felt trapped. He had overestimated his master's interest. When he had first brought up the boy with him, he had thought the Emperor was merely indulging him. He hadn't expected him to want the boy trained...

"That could prove... difficult," he tentatively said, his heart hammering in his chest, hoping Sidious wouldn't take offence. "He has shown a certain... lack of interest for the ways of the Force..."

"Nonsense," the Emperor cut him off. "You must merely offer him what he craves. How did you try to sway him?"

"I offered to teach him to improve his flying," Vader answered, thinking as fast as he could. He needed to tell his master he no longer wanted to train him, but even as he thought it, the words seemed childish, spineless to him. Sidious should never know about the humiliation of his shameful feelings for the boy. "He has proven himself an excellent pilot..."

"As you once were," Sidious said, smiling at him as if it was a compliment. But Vader knew better. He had been a very good pilot, and he had been swayed to the dark side; surely this boy could be too.

He swallowed, a powerful wave of hatred coursing through him. As usual with his master, he was losing control of the conversation. How he despised this helplessness, this loss of power...

"His flying skills are unparalleled. I believe he would best serve the Empire here, in the squadron."

The Emperor's eyes narrowed, and Vader knew he had made a mistake.

"I would allow it, but you were so eager to train him, last time we spoke of him... what has changed?"

"Nothing, my master." As soon as he words left his lips, he knew they had come a little too fast. "I merely assessed him better..."

"And found him strong with the Force," the Emperor insisted, frowning in a show of concern. There was no getting out of this. "What is troubling you, Lord Vader?"

A cold and slick tendril, pure and oily darkness, brushed against Vader's consciousness, and he had to refrain himself from slamming his shields down on it.

"Master..."

Before he could react in any way, the tendril lightly probed at his memories, dredging up images of the boy before retracting.

"He looks much like you did," the Emperor whispered.

Vader didn't answer, his teeth gritted in anger and shame.

"He also comes from Tatooine?"

"Yes."

"Close to Kenobi's hiding place, it would seem."

Vader swallowed his furious retort, feeling stripped bare like every time his master invaded his thoughts so. He had no right... this was his mind...

And yet should he have tried to conceal these things from him? They were so trivial... it was Vader's fault if he let these emotions get in his way, not the Emperor's. He still had so much to learn.

"I first wondered if he was his apprentice," he ground out. "He is not."

The Emperor looked at him without speaking, and Vader held his gaze. He focused on his breathing cycle, unable to control even his own breath, even this most basic part of his life.

Finally, Sidious sighed.

"Very well, Lord Vader. I will trust you on this. If you believe it... wiser... for the boy not to be trained, I will abide by your judgement."

Something in the way he said it sent Vader in a rage. Sidious knew of his unwanted feelings; there was no other explanation. But he was wrong. Vader wasn't this feeble, wasn't this weak.

"He will turn, my master. I will make sure of it."

The Emperor flashed him a smile that Vader could only describe as sinister.

"Then I look forward to meeting him."

His face softened.

"You have done well, my friend. I am certain you will continue to make me proud."

The transmission then cut before Vader had time to answer. He was left on the console, reeling in confusion, his fists still tightly closed.

He rose up, gritting his teeth against the pain in his artificial joints. He hated these cumbersome appendages, unfitted to his morphology, clumsy and heavier than flesh and bone. Not for the first time, he wished his medical condition was better. The Emperor had told him he was too unstable still for his prosthetics to be changed, and they risked losing him if they tried to upgrade them. Vader only half believed him, and anger flared once again in him at the thought that his master would willingly leave him in this state.

Not that he would have minded taking the risk. In his opinion, the peril was well worth it. But he hadn't pressed the matter.

He did deserve the constant suffering.

Vader headed towards his hyperbaric chamber, overcome with the need to breathe by himself, to feel the air brushing against his face. He was tired, drained by the conversation. Taking his mask off for a while would do him good.

He sighed when the too white walls closed and the plate of metal was finally lifted from his face. His eyes prickled at the contact of atmosphere. He closed them for an instant, allowing his damaged tear ducts to produce the moisture they needed.

Feeling a bit calmer, he thought about the conversation he just had with his master again. He tensed, overwhelming guilt and disgust washing over him. Once again he had lost his composure. Once again he had let himself be ruled by his emotions. What a pathetic Sith apprentice he made, broken in every way, unable to master himself.

And as usual, his master had gotten exactly what he wanted out of him. Vader didn't know who he was most resentful at, himself or Sidious, for being manipulated into picking up the boy's training.

In any case, he had to consider himself lucky his master hadn't discovered the traitorous thoughts that had crossed his mind the last time he had thought of the boy. He was still remorseful about it. How could he even think about getting rid of Palpatine when the man had saved his life and kept him at his side, supported him through the darkest part of his life? Vader owed him his loyalty. It was the only thing he still had to offer.

But he had to admit, and the thought filled him with shame, that the perspective of a life free from his master was an alluring one.

He rose up, furious with himself. What was it in him that made him feel like his nine-year-old self any time he had to deal with the Emperor? Why couldn't he handle himself maturely, like any grown up adult?

And how had their relationship deteriorated like this, to the point where he could dream of killing him? He still remembered the moments spent in the Chancellor's office, discussing the war and the Jedi. He had felt understood back then. Palpatine had been, with Padmé, the one person he had felt able to trust completely. Vader longed to have this friendship again, and grieved the loss of it. What had changed between them?

He sketched a self-deprecating smile. Here he went again, drowning in his own misery. Was it really any wonder that his master kept preying on his weaknesses, when he was so unable to reign them in? All this time, and he still hadn't learnt anything.

He let the droid set the mask and helmet back on his face, then stepped out of his chamber. He would take care of the boy later. For now, he would prepare the attack against the Rindians.

He strode in the corridor, ignoring the doors of Black Squadron's quarters as he walked past them. He most certainly didn't feel any relief or disappointment when nobody came out of the rooms.

He would need information about Rindia, its planetary data, the layout of the world and its specificities, he thought. Hopefully Commander Piett would be able to compile it quickly, so that he could devise an attack plan.

His heart missed a beat when a familiar figure exited a meeting room, engrossed in a datapad. The boy looked up and froze when he saw him; Vader was glad his mask concealed his equally stunned expression. Soon enough Lars recovered and stood at attention.

"My lord."

Vader took a step forward and the boy twitched. He was getting better at keeping his face neutral, but simmering resentment swirled around his Force presence too strongly for Vader to miss it, trickling even in his voice. The Sith Lord couldn't help but bask in it. He reached out to touch his presence, drawn to his brightness like a moth to a flame.

"Ensign Lars. We keep running into each other, it seems."

The boy swallowed. His jaw tensed.

"Not on purpose, my lord."

He shot him a defiant glance, but stood at perfect attention, taut and terrified. Vader found himself transported weeks into the past: he hadn't been confronted to such coldness and fright from him in a long time.

"At ease. I will not harm you."

Lars looked at him once more, his face guarded, assessing him. His entire body was on the defensive, ready to bolt at the slightest threat.

That wouldn't do, Vader thought. He needed Lars to trust him if he ever was to turn him. And he had all but promised the boy to his master... He dismissed the unpleasant sensation awakening in his gut at the thought.

"You are welcome to start the lessons again, if you so desire," he said, remembering Lars's earlier request.

All fear disappeared from the boy's face. Instead he stared at Vader incredulously.

"So now...?"

He swallowed, blue eyes still fixed on Vader with fire in their depths.

"Thank you, my lord, but I'll pass."

He bowed then strolled past Vader, walking away.

Vader gaped at his gall. He reached out with the Force and grasped the boy's shoulder to prevent him from going any further. Lars turned rigid in his grasp, his breath hitching. Vader took the few steps separating them and came to stand in front of him. The pilot was keeping his datapad against his chest, his shoulders slumped, but he looked up at him with a glare.

"What do you want from me?!"

Vader forced himself to ignore the disrespect in his voice.

"You seemed eager to keep learning, when you came into my quarters."

"And you practically strangled me!"

Vader pursed his lips, repressing his anger and frustration. No, that had probably not been wise of him indeed. He had to gain the boy's trust again, he reminded himself. If he wanted to get anywhere with him, he needed to remain calm.

"Nevertheless, I am offering it to you again," he said, holding out his hand. "Do you no longer want to fly? To protect your squadmates?"

Lars flinched. He looked down at Vader's hand, then up again into his eyes.

"And then what? Will you ignore me for weeks, or just kill me once you've decided I'm no longer worth your time?"

Vader let his arm fall down.

"Watch your tone, young one," he growled, taking a step towards the boy. He waved a threatening finger in his face. "I am growing tired of your insolence."

Lars took a jerking step back, half-raising his hand in defence before catching himself. Vader froze, surprised by the unexpected reaction. The boy swallowed and looked away.

"You still don't get it, don't you," he said. His voice was shaking. "I can't keep doing this. I can't be on edge all the time without knowing what you'll do to me next. With all due respect, I think I should concentrate on my squadron training."

Vader stood there, crossing the boy's gaze again as he waited for his reaction with a nervousness he couldn't conceal.

The nerve of this youth. To talk back to him like this, to dismiss him so easily. Months of training and serving, and he still couldn't be bothered to learn respect.

He probed him through the Force, taking a cruel pleasure in seeing him shiver when he lingered around his neck. The boy's hand shot up to his throat, rubbing it as if it could make Vader's presence go away.

"You overstep your boundaries," Vader said, his voice soft and vicious, full of danger. Lars's breath caught in his throat."I have been too lenient with you, if you think my offer was something you could throw back in my face any time you desired."

The boy's eyes widened, his breath quickening.

"I – I hadn't realised it was an order..."

"I am making it one now," Vader snapped. "And you will comply if you do not want your life to be even more unpleasant. I have had enough of your petty rejections."

Lars kept his eyes down, gritting his teeth.

"Yes, sir."

"From now on," Vader continued, "you will report in the simulators' room every day at 0600. You will practise what I teach you and do your best to succeed at what I ask of you."

"Yes, sir."

The boy's shields were tightly held against his mind, but Vader could see the fear starting to overwhelm his stance again, the way his muscles contracted both in anger and in fright. It wasn't too difficult to see the mutinous expression of his face even as he looked away, or the way his fists were clenched.

His own anger subsided at seeing his pitiful state.

"I promise I will not hurt you," he said, softer. "You need not fear."

The boy didn't answer. Vader had to refrain from taking a step towards him to elicit a reaction from him. Finally, he waved him away, and Lars hurried to leave.

Vader watched him turn the corner, somewhat disappointed by the turn things had taken.

.

As soon as he was out of view, Luke stopped walking and put his hand against the wall, pursing his lips to repress the scream building in his chest. He couldn't go back to his squadron quarters like this. He was already not in the best terms with the other pilots; he didn't want them to see him in this state.

He took a trembling breath then another, forcing them through his constricted throat. His heart was still drumming from the fear caused by Vader's behaviour. He still felt those tendrils wrap around his throat, the sensation mixing with another, older and more terrible, where he no longer could breathe...

He was dead. There was no other issue now. He felt as though the walls were closing in on him like a trap he couldn't escape. Vader would never leave him alone now.

And yet... wasn't this something he had wanted? This was the opportunity of a lifetime. It could make him the best pilot anyone had ever seen... and hadn't he promised himself to do his best? Didn't he owe it to Mauler, to Chaser, to Backstabber, to his father even, all this people whose fight he had sworn to continue?

He wished they were here with him, that he could hear their voices again, see them laugh. He felt so alone.

Didn't Vader know how frustrating and exhausting his constant changes of mood were? Luke had no idea where he stood with him. He couldn't bear this uncertainty any longer, especially when it came with the constant risk of being killed on the spot.

He didn't seem to have much of a choice, though. And if he was honest with himself, he was looking forward to the lessons again, to sweeping in the folds of the Force like nothing could stop him...

He just hoped it wouldn't cost him his life.

Luke took another deep breath, straightened up, then walked back to his quarters.