Captain Rex and the Long Night (2/20/23). Part of my Dad Vader & Son Series
Little Luke and Vader have a talk, Captain Rex thinks about when he met newborn baby Luke, and Vader faces his resentment about Luke's beloved plushie.
# # #
He was nearly asleep when he sensed his son's arrival. His mattress dipped. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that Luke had climbed onto the foot of bed and was sitting there. Vader pretended to snore.
"Daddy? Are you awake?"
When he didn't answer, Luke conducted a whispered conversation with Diga, then: "Daddy? Are you sleeping?"
When he still didn't respond, another muffled consultation occurred between Luke and his plushie.
"DADDY? ARE YOU SLEEPING?"
"Not any more." He wanted to smile, but decided that would only encourage such behavior so he frowned. "You should be in your bed."
Luke clutched Diga to his chin. "Daddy mad at me?" His big eyes widened pitifully.
Even though he knew his son was pushing his buttons, he couldn't continue pretending to frown. "I'm never mad at you, sweetheart."
"Huh. I get mad at you sometimes."
Vader arched his eyebrows. "You do?"
"Uh-huh." Tangled blond locks shook as Luke bounced on the bed. "But I love you anyway."
"That's a relief."
There was a small whimper, then Luke snuffled and directed another make-believe pout at him. "Do you love me?"
Thank the Force that no soldiers had ever seen this side of him. "Absolutely I love you, my baby boo. Forever and ever." He tossed the blanket and sheet to one side so Luke could crawl in with him, wishing the hideous plushie would be left behind.
That didn't happen. It never happened. Wasn't it time for his son to outgrow this need?
"You love Diga too?" Luke shoved the thing at him.
He pushed floppy tentacles away from his face. "Not as much as I love you."
"See?" Luke told the dianoga. "Tol' you so! Now give Daddy a kiss!"
"That's all right, she doesn't need to!" Vader jerked his head back. "How about I give you a kiss and you give it to Diga?"
"Okay!"
He kissed both pink cheeks and the tiny nose, inhaling blended scents of bubblegum soap and creamy lotion and his baby. The result of Luke's ecstatic enthusiasm for bathing was that Vader's hair smelled the same. So had his drenched clothes before they went straight into the laundry. "You are a maniac in the bathtub."
"Yep! I swim an' spwash! Like inna' ocean but no big fish!" Luke beamed at him, then kissed Diga's head. "Tha's from Daddy. Say thank you, Diga!"
"You're welcome, Diga," he blurted before settling his little one against his shoulder and pushing the plushie off them. "Luke, we need to talk seriously. Unless it's an emergency, you must not disturb me when I'm working like I was today." When I was busy choking someone.
"It was 'mergency!"
"What kind of emergency?"
"I wantated see you!"
"Wanting to see me is not an emergency. You knew where I was and that I would be back. In the future if you need something while I'm working, speak with Captain Rex. He will help you."
Luke pouted. "I dunno Cap'n Wex. Stwanger danger!"
"He's not– " Vader sighed. 'Stranger danger' was likely the result of another prohibited holo show that had evaded TeeCee's notice. "Captain Rex is not a stranger. He has worked alongside me for many years, even before you were born. And you know what? He met you when you were a baby."
"Did not! He did? I don' 'member!"
"You were too young to remember. But he remembers you."
# # #
Rex was used to unexpected placements. They had been regularly unpredictable with the Jedi generals, but since General Sky– Lord Vader had become Supreme Commander, Clone assignments had been more consistent.
Until the unexpected happened today. He was called to Mustafar, a place heretofore banned from visitation.
Nothing much in the galaxy fazed him but if anything could, it would be this stinking, lava-stricken planet with its ground cover of unstable cinders, roiling rivers of molten ore, and miners who appeared to be either boating on it or dangling precariously from trembling structures suspended above magma that spouted sparks and fireballs. He supposed some of the workers fell in. It was none of his business why Vader had chosen this hellhole to build a castle, but he could still wonder. Even through his helmet's filters, he smelled sour and acidic gasses.
A droid escorted him through cavernous rooms built entirely in shiny black obsidian with ceilings that vanished into darkness. Despite his armor and the heat he shivered, unsettled.
He was left in a room that was, he supposed, pleasant by Mustafar standards. There were tapestries on the walls and rugs on the floor, and he felt cool air, though a small blaze was flickering in the fireplace. He didn't see wood and wondered what Vader was burning in it, then decided to stop wondering.
He waited in parade rest until Lord Vader swept in, clad head to toe in black, the floor-length ebony cape swirling around him. Despite the familiar attitude of command in the stride, it was disconcerting to see Anakin Skywalker's face with golden eyes, though a trick of the light flicked them with blue.
"You may remove your helmet," came an order that he gratefully complied with. Vader studied his face intently. "Normally this would be with me on shipboard, but I will be gone for at least a week to Imperial Center and I do not want to bring… this treasure."
For a second he didn't know what Vader was talking about, but then the arms moved and he saw they were curled around a package.
"You will guard my treasure until I return. I have programmed a TC protocol droid for personal assistance and protection, and I want you to monitor and evaluate it to ensure that it is capable of the level of security that is needed. I have chosen you, Captain, because I trust your complete discretion. You will speak of this to no one. Ever."
"Yes, sir." What was it? He managed not to lean forward and peer, though he was certain Vader sensed his curiosity. Jewels, precious metals? A bomb? No, it had to be something much more important. An artifact from the Jedi Temple? An urn with the remains of an ancient master? Judging by the care with which Lord Vader was holding it (a painful reminder of the moment he'd seen Anakin Skywalker holding Senator Amidala's hand in his durasteel one; he banished the thought from his brain immediately), perhaps it was the recently-severed head of a Jedi to be staked. It had happened before, but always publicly. Unless this was a very special Jedi. Could it be Kenobi's head?
The object was bulky but small, dwarfed by the gloves and hidden in the dark folds of the draped cape. It appeared rounded with no sharp edges. It moved slightly, like it was breathing. A pet? Or a youngling, perhaps an escapee from the Jedi Temple.
Not unexpectedly, General– Lord Vader– could see his thoughts clearly.
"Special, yes. Precious, yes, but not metal." Vader paused. "A Jedi…?" He was quiet for a moment, pondering. "I don't know."
The Dark Lord shifted the bundle slightly, and it uttered a tiny mewl of protest that ended when Vader rubbed it comfortingly.
A tooka?
Lord Vader's mouth canted slightly. "This is my son."
Rex couldn't control a gasp. "Your son?"
"Mm-hmm." It was the old familiar teasing tone. "His name is Luke."
Vader's voice had softened, becoming melancholic, and Rex felt another moment of wistfulness for a time not long ago that had vanished so quickly. He regathered his thoughts; mourning was useless. "Luke…?" Skywalker? Vader? He didn't ask aloud. For all the good that did.
"Just Luke." Even though the voice was unnaturally soft, Rex could hear a tremor. "For now."
He swallowed and nodded, agreeing with unspoken uncertainty about the future.
"I am all he has."
It was a lament, and in his mind Rex heard what wasn't said: He's all I have.
He wanted to ask, he wanted to know. He hadn't been blind for the last few years. He'd seen the Jedi and his lady seek out private moments; he'd even protected their privacy during more than one close call. The reasons why their world and the galaxy were upended he didn't understand, but his General suddenly had a Lordship and metal legs and Senator Amidala had fled the new Empire, likely with the assistance of surviving renegade Jedi.
But even though his knowledge of her was limited, he didn't believe she would ever leave her baby behind. He dared allow his eyes to ask the question.
The Sith Lord didn't acknowledge his curiosity. The little bundle in his arms squirmed and made a small sound. One gloved hand as large as the baby's head supported it gently as the thumb brushed the blanket aside to reveal a plump ivory face.
Vader's grip shifted to lift the child away from his chest. Blue eyes stared into blue eyes.
Rex swallowed, blinking to control unexpected emotions. His General deserved so much more than this. He deserved a life with his son and his lover. He was young and had always been selfless, caring for his Clone troops in ways no other Jedi had done. He should be whole and happy. Whatever had happened to change him so drastically and quickly, mutilate him into a half-cyborg, a counterpart of a Jedi or whatever a 'Sith' was– Well, Rex wished he had the power to turn back time to the day before Order 66.
But he was only a soldier, created to serve and programmed to obey. Mostly. But his unconventional General had encouraged critical thinking abilities, and for that and other reasons had earned his loyalty a million times over.
"I will always protect him, sir. I promise you."
# # #
Vader half-woke, thinking that he was cuddling Luke, though his child's star-covered pajamas felt excessively fuzzy and squishy. He opened one eye and sighed. Diga's spindly tentacles were splayed over his shoulder and chin, and her head was squished against his chest by his own arm.
He could feel Luke snuggle against his back, fingers clenching his nightshirt.
He couldn't move because he might roll onto Luke. He wriggled closer to Diga, trying to push the plushie off the bed so he could slide out, but Luke moaned a protest and scrunched closer.
"Luke? Are you awake?"
There was no response to his whisper. He couldn't fall asleep again, because what if he rolled onto Luke? What if he had a nightmare and flailed around and injured Luke with his prostheses?
Darth Vader resigned himself to not moving until morning, which was a very long time away. He shifted his grip on the plushie, rearranging until it was more comfortable against his chest, and cuddled–
Damnit.
Fine. It was cuddly and he was cuddling it. He told it something he could never say aloud: Good night, Diga, sleep well.
And when I'm away, always be here to comfort my little boy.
He was nearly certain that it agreed, but of course plushies weren't sentient.
They weren't. Not a chance, despite what Luke believed.
"Do you want me to take him?"
His heart felt like it caught in his throat, because for just a moment, for just that one second before his rational mind reclaimed control, he'd thought that Diga had said–
But light from the hall spilled into his room, outlining the shape of Rex in a bathrobe, one hand on the door lever.
"No!" he whispered, flustered and even a bit angry.
Ever sensitive, Rex began to back away. "Sorry. I was checking on him and he was gone and… uh, good night, sir."
The door closed. His eyes closed. He couldn't even begin to imagine what his troops would say about this scene. But Rex was too loyal to repeat what he'd seen. Still, he groaned under his breath.
"Mwuah," Luke mumbled before wrapping his fists tighter into his father's shirt.
Sleep, little one. He hesitated before adding: You too, Diga. But he glared at the plushie because now he had two children to care for.
Three, if he counted TeeCee. And Rex made four.
A family of five. That sounded... doable.
The smile lingered on his lips as he and Diga drifted into sleep.