Chapter 3

The door squeaked open, disappearing in the left wall. Two clone troopers followed shortly after, carrying what seemed like… a needle?

Luke, like any kid, never liked doctor's appointments. He only went when he was truly sick – which was almost never, because he usually denied the fact that he was a common cold or a hoarse cough. He, especially, didn't like needles.

Which is exactly why he was suddenly frightened. "Hey – what are you doing with that?!" He defended, scooting himself back against the wall, trying to make himself as a small as possible. "You can't – I…"

He couldn't find an argument that would make them back down. "Hold still, Skywalker," the clone told him through his helmet. "This may hurt."

Luke usually had someone's hand to hold. Not here. Not now. Gods, I'm almost eleven and I can't stand needles? He thought. No, this is perfectly normal. Of course! Then there was speculation on why they were giving him a shot. Wasn't it time for dinner?

"Ow," came Luke's one-word response. When it was over, the clone's nodded, examining the blood contained in the hatch on the needle. "Why'd you do that?" He whined, rubbing the spot where they had drawn blood.

The clone shrugged from under his armor. "Sorry, sir," he told him. "Orders from Lord Vader."

'Lord Vader' my –

"Oh, a sir?" The clone got his attention. "He'll see you at dinner now." The clone nodded, motioning for Luke to go out the door.

Rubbing his arm, Luke followed. They took him down a corridor of black wall plating, but white tile floors. It was indeed a sterile place. "Hey," Luke said, getting the attention of the troopers. "Is the emperor here?" He didn't know why he wanted to know; it just seemed fitting to ask.

The clones exchanged glances, and there was muffled laughter from underneath their helmets. "The emperor? Here?" One said. The other just laughed even more, almost mockingly.

Luke blushed.

They led him to the starch white door at the end of the corridor. It was heavily locked – well guarded. "Just go inside," a clone told him. "You're expected."

This is like a death sentence, Luke thought wryly, stepping inside the now open door. There, Vader waited, already seated, the table set nicely with fancy folded napkins and such. As if he didn't move fast enough, a clone trooper pushed him on his back, "Hey!" Luke screeched.

The dark lord huffed. "Trooper, what's your identification number?" He cocked an eyebrow, eager for the clone's response.

He answered immediately. "TX-926," he said.

"Very well," Vader replied, fiddling with his fork, placing his napkin on his lap. "Don't ever treat Luke Anakin Skywalker with disrespect again. Are we clear?"

"Y – yes, sir," the clone stuttered, scampering out of the room, the other following close behind.

Luke took his seat next to Vader. It was very odd – why was he all of a sudden treating him with respect? What did he do to change the way the dark lord acted today in the bar? "What was the about?" He asked.

Vader smirked. "A man can't defend another man?"

Luke sunk in his seat slightly. "You didn't bother to trust that 'kind' action on me this afternoon," he retorted.

The lord frowned. Luke was feisty – he had the temperament of his father when he was that age. "Lets change the subject, shall we?" He said, forcing a smile. "What are you hungry for? We have everything…"

"Everything?"

Vader nodded. "Yes, actually. It's rather enjoyable when you're in a terrible mood," he said truthfully. "Especially with a stomach like mine. The only way I stop is when there's nothing left in front of me."

Luke made no move to say anything. He looked down at his hands, which were in his lap. Vader could tell his eyes were sad – he was missing something.

"Are you okay, Luke?" This was one of the first signs of compassion that he had shown in many years – over a decade, actually.

"No, I'm really not," he said unexpectedly. "You kidnapped me from my home. You locked me in a prison cell for hours. You come to interrogate me, and then you send someone to come and draw blood." Luke was looking in the dark lord's eyes now. They did the same thing they did before – they flickered from blue to yellow, and back again.

"Well, Luke – "

He wasn't finished. "And why do you use my full name when you speak to me? Is it because you knew my father – and he meant a lot to you?"

Vader sighed. When Luke just yelled at him – he realized… "Look, Luke," he said. Luke didn't look at him. Vader used his gloved hair to pull his chin to face him. "I told you why. You have something special about you. You… you are… special to me…?" He was just spit ballin' – he didn't know what to say.

He could only play dark lord for a while longer…

"Special?" Luke spat. "What in the five binary systems does that mean?" He put his napkin on his plate, offering that he would not eat here under any circumstances…

"Luke, you won't have to stay in the prison cell anymore," Vader coaxed. He stayed calm, as calm as a Sith lord could get. "I'll get you a – a room, Luke."

He ignored Vader's honest offer. "Do my aunt and uncle know that I'm here? No," he said, answering his own question. He pressed his hands to his temples. "I've got to go home…"

Home? Aunt and Uncle – Luke lives with his Aunt and Uncle? It all made sense now. When he was at the moisture farm, Beru and Owen were arguing about Luke. How Luke wasn't there. Why didn't he see it before? "You live with your aunt and uncle?" He asked.

Luke nodded. "I believe that we covered the fact that my mother is dead and so is my father," he said, not looking up. "Do we have to revisit that fact?"

"When… who brought you there?" He asked.

"A friend of my father's," he mumbled. "After both my parents died, I didn't have a guardian."

What about Padmé's family? Why couldn't he have gone there instead? "Luke, what was your mother's name?" He asked as casually as possible.

Could he possibly not know his own mother's name? "I – um… I don't know her name, Vader," he answered. "But she was a Senator."

Aha! More proof… "Have you ever looked her up on a database, Luke?" He asked.

Luke pondered. "No, I – um," he said, suddenly realizing he was asking ridiculous questions. "Why do you care?"

Vader sat back in his seat, content with Luke at the moment. "Care? Ha!" Vader cracked his knuckles. Now all I have to do is wait for those blood samples to come back… "Luke, get up. I'll have one of my guards to escort you to your new quarters," he ordered. "You're of no use to me now. You'll meet my tomorrow morning at 500 standard time. I'll show you something," Vader smiled evilly.

Luke stood up, and cast Vader a menacing look. Then, he walked out the door, in tow of one of the human guards. The door closed behind them.

The guard had jet black, greasy hair straight from a holocomic. He wore the standard gray suit, required attire. He had a patch over his eye. He didn't look at Luke, just straight ahead.

"Uh, hello?" Luke said, at his small attempt to be kind. His stomach growled – Vader had ordered him to leave before Luke could even grab a piece of bread.

The guard stopped dead, and turned to face him. "Hello," he said, looking the boy up at down. "You're absolutely filthy, boy."

And he was. His tunic from earlier that day was dirt ridden, and he even felt gross from being contained in a small area for over 2 standard hours. "I'm hungry, too," he told him, smiling. Vader had told him that there was food – lots of it. Did that mean he could have some?

"I can get you something to eat," the guard to him. "But I don't know about your clothes… no one here wears that size." The boy was awfully small, bony – he was skinny and short. "Come with me."

He led Luke down another hallway, and into a room that had a porthole on the door. It was a kitchen with a full refrigerator and bar, and… cookies. "Can I choose… what I want?" He asked.

The guard obviously was soft for children, and said, "If you have a glass of milk." He smiled.

"I'm Luke, by the way," he said, taking the cover off a round of cookies. "Luke Skywalker."

The guard smiled. "I know," he said. "Everyone knows." He watched the boy's excited expression dawn over. "I'm Gregor. Have a seat, Luke Skywalker."

Vader pressed replay on the holo clip for the fourteenth time. Why did he find this so captivating? His dead wife's funeral – it wasn't enjoyable to watch; yet he needed to see it over again.

The entire planet of Naboo was mournful that day. The weather even responded to the sadness by raining. Her whole family had been there: mother, father, sister, brother-in-law, nieces, grandmother – everyone. They followed her open casket dressed in black.

He had always worn black. Even during the days when he was a Jedi. He had gone against the strict Jedi brown tunic and worn a black one, with a black cloak. It wasn't like he was 'honoring' the dead, though. He just liked the color black.

Which is why he fit in at Padmé's ceremony. He didn't follow the casket with the rest of the family, no – he followed her with his eyes as he watched on the sidelines from the back of the mobs of people. Oh, how he wished he could've said one more thing to her…

He had called her a liar for saying 'I love you'. She couldn't have loved him, though – she had brought his master to come a kill him. No, it wasn't right. He had done the right thing by choking her… right?

Wrong.

He knew it was wrong.

He pressed replay again.

A/N: Again, thank you everyone for the amazing reviews! Thanks for the great feedback!