A/N: Okay, so first let me clear up any confusion over the title. This story was meant to be called Unveiled Revelations. However, I mistakenly typed in my original title, Unveiled Relations. Sorry for any confusion this may have caused.
Secondly, I would like to thank everyone who read, followed, or faved this story, especially 1005 and Zigflorian, my first two reviewers.
1005: Thank you for pointing out that I was not clear. Anakin's limbs were all replaced by prosthetics, though I assume he has some feeling in them, assuming they are hooked up properly. Hope that clears up the issue!
Chapter 1: Capture
"Ten creds says this one's alive."
"You're on."
Rhilo Jast and Zek Parsa, the members of a two-man search team looking to capture any surviving Imp pilots stranded on Yavin IV, had found three crash sites so far. All of the pilots were dead on arrival.
Jast, ever the gambler, had been looking for means to entertain himself for the past five and a half hours. He had finally settled on a wager.
"I have to wonder, why would you assume this one survived?" asked Parsa. "It's not like any of the others did."
Jast smirked. "Aw, c'mon Zekkie, we gotta pass the time somehow."
"Yeah, but giving annoying friends my money isn't exactly my idea of fun."
Jast snorted and continued towards the column of smoke indicating another crash site.
The two walked in near silence for another several minutes. When they neared the downed fighter, they drew their blasters. Jast held his at the ready, should the pilot be alive as he predicted. Parsa's hung at his side.
"If you're alive," Jast started.
"Which he's not," interjected Parsa.
Jast ignored him. "Come out peacefully. We will not hesitate to fire on you if you do not cooperate."
When nothing happened, Parsa stepped forward. "Formalities are out of the way, now let's get 'im. Take out your wallet, if you please."
With that, he stepped into the clearing and around the mangled TIE.
Zek Parsa was a young man. So, naturally, he thought he couldn't make any mistakes. That was why when he saw not a dead Imperial pilot but a certain Dark Lord slumped against a tree, he froze in shock.
"Why so silent Zekkie?" came the taunting voice of Jast. "Realize that you owe me ten credits after all?"
That was enough to snap him out of his daze. He spun on his heel, sprinted back into the trees, and tackled Jast, his hand covering his friend's mouth.
"Rhilo," he hissed. "You are never gonna believe this."
Jast didn't believe it and, ignoring the pleading of his friend, went to check for himself.
Darth Vader hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until he was awakened when a hand rested on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and groaned.
"He's waking up," a voice said. "Get a sedative ready in case he tries something."
His vision, still foggy, began to clear, and the pinkish blob kneeling over him became a Mon Calamari dressed in a white uniform. Her hands moved to his chest, feeling under the control panel.
"There are some broken ribs, but he seems to have set them himself. We'll want to move him gently or they may fall out of place again."
Exactly what was going on had escaped him until that moment. The Rebels had found him.
Suddenly but predictably Vader became furious. To be found by Rebelsin such a vulnerable state! It was unacceptable!
He lifted his good arm in a focusing gesture, and an extension of the Force tightened around the Mon Calamari's throat.
Her hands went up towards her neck as she let out a small strangled noise. One of the spectators, realizing what Vader was doing, began to yell.
"Let go of her! Sedate him! NOW!"
A prick on his neck, and the world went dark.
This time Vader wasn't in a forest when he awoke, but what was unmistakably a holding cell. He was still groggy from the effects of the sedative, so it took him almost a minute to figure out why he was there.
Oh, that was right, he was captured by Rebels.
OH.
He was captured by Rebels! Those weak, arrogant, self-important foolsthought themselves capable of taking him, the great Lord Vader, apprentice of the Emperor himself, captive? What utter idiocy!
Vader forced himself to calm down. If there was anything he had learned over the past twenty years of serving the Empire, it was that he became rash when he was so infuriated. And in the hands of one's enemy, even an enemy as inept as the Alliance, one could not afford to make poor decisions.
He sat up to find that his prosthetic limbs were almost completely repaired, though not fully activated rendering him physically weaker than usual. The intravenous tube, he noted, had been left unfixed. He looked through the energy field at the young man standing guard outside his cell.
"Awake are we?" the man asked. "Shame. If you had stayed out for five more minutes my shift would've ended and I wouldn't have to be the one to report to Mothma. And here I was hoping to join that sabacc game today..."
Vader would have raised an eyebrow if he had one, though it wouldn't be seen through the mask anyway. He said nothing.
Sure enough, a slightly older man with messy black hair came in about five minutes later and addressed the guard stiffly.
"I'm here to relieve you, Lieutenant," he said, holding a blaster rifle to his chest.
The lieutenant smiled, lacking his comrade's professionalism. "About time, Zekkie. I thought you were never gonna show!"
The new man, Zekkie, frowned. "Lieutenant Jast, you are to remain professional at all times when on duty," he snapped. Eyeing Vader suspiciously, he added, "Especially around prisoners."
Jast ignored him. "By the way, you still owe me ten creds."
"Rhilo..." Zekkie trailed off, exasperated.
"Well he's alive, isn't he?"
"Well yeah, but..."
Jast had already left.
Zekkie sighed and shook his head. "Stars, Rhilo," he muttered. "You're really an idiot sometimes."
Deciding that he may as well gather information on his guards for blackmail, Vader inquired the new one, "A friend?"
"Yeah," the young man replied, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was speaking to one of the Alliance's worst enemies and taking the opportunity to vent. "But I'm not sure why, he's such a moron. Even more immature than Luke, I swear..."
"Luke?"
Now Zekkie looked at Vader with a contemptuous smirk. "Yeah. One helluva pilot. He's nineteen but acts like a ten year old. I suppose you can get away with it after you blow up the Death Star though."
This man, Vader decided, liked to be on top of a situation, and was willing to give up potentially sensitive information to make sure he was in control.
"A prodigious pilot indeed," Vader continued. "I assume he is rather talented, to have accomplished such a feat at so young an age?"
Zekkie's smirk widened. "Heh, yeah. We've never seen a pilot like Luke Skywalker before."
