Chapter 8

A/N: Eh, sort chapter. I promise I'll get better after this!
He strode into the cockpit a different man, giving different orders, for different reasons, he felt. He leaned over the pilot's shoulder, looking at the maps. After all, he was once his own pilot, a skilled one, at that.

"Redirect the ship to Tatooine," Anakin told the captain.

The man gave a puzzled glance over the shoulder at Anakin. Weren't we just there? Anakin could feel these words scanning over his mind.

"Yes, Lord Vader."

Anakin turned to leave, but was interrupted by a question,

"May I ask why?"

Anakin snickered, a rude comment coming when he saw Luke's head in his mind. He changed his words into something…kinder, yet still stern. "Actually," he told the captain. "No, you can't. It's personal business." He tapped the man on the shoulder, waiting for the captain to meet his eyes. When he turned his head, facing him, Anakin's eyes widened. "Strictly personal, captain. The emperor must not know of this detour."

"Yes sir," the captain could sense how serious this was, and felt that he needed to keep this a secret. It wasn't everyday Lord Vader entrusted you with something like this.

Anakin left the cockpit, and hurried to Luke's quarters to report to his son what he had just done, hoping it would further prove his fatherly attitude. He knocked on the doorframe, for the door was already wide open.

"Hello," Luke greeted, not cheery at all.

Anakin smiled anyway, coming in and sitting on the foot of Luke's bed. Heirback, Luke's droid, was bringing Luke a few new, tan tunics. "What's wrong with the black ones I had made for you?" Anakin asked – a bit insulted by this event especially after he had just redirected their course back to his precious Tatooine.

"Nothing," Luke answered wryly, "Except it's as if I was going to a funeral." The boy sneered at his father's own black attire.

He has my wit, Anakin said to himself with a smidge of pride. "Who says you aren't?"

Luke turned around, and dropped his things. "Am I?" He asked, eyes wide.

Anakin shook his head. "Ever since my mother passed – I… black tunic were essential to me. I don't know. I never got over the loss of her," he told him, shaking his head. "I've always been a bit different, I guess," Anakin bent his head, "If only I could've been faster…"

"Oh," Luke interrupted. That was all; he had nothing else to say. He felt a pang of regret, like it was something special to his father and he had thrown it in his face, scoffing it as unworthy. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll keep them." He said in monotone, almost like the line had been rehearsed hundreds of times.

"It's up to you."

There was a small silence and Luke felt it up to him to break the gathering tension.

"So why are you here?" Luke asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Anakin coughed. "I came to tell you that we're en route to Tatooine," he said. His news didn't seem so wonderful now.

Luke's eyes lit up immediately. He crawled to the edge of the bed and grasped his father's arm, "Really?" He was ready for this nightmare to be over.

Anakin frowned, a tight pang in his side as his only son was overjoyed at the thought of going home…leaving him. Momentarily, Anakin had a glimmer of hope that Luke would ask him to stay with him, be his long lost father and stay by his side forever.

Luke looked over to his father and also felt the same pang, an image of coming home from school to his father tinkering in the garage. Maybe….

"Father, I…"

"What?" Anakin asked, still upset at Luke's eagerness to leave him.

Luke sighed, things never seemed to get better for him, "Nothing…"

"Luke!" Anakin exclaimed. He was happy to see his son show up for dinner. He took his place next to his father, taking his napkin and politely placing it on his lap. Beru and Owen have taught him well, he thought. But –

Luke interrupted his thoughts, "What's for dinner?" The boy asked enthusiastically. He was obviously hungry.

"Aren't we hungry," Anakin said chuckled, wanting to overlook their previous conversation. He smirked, and watched Luke frown upon this. "I was only joking," he told his son, feeling the embarrassment emanating in small waves from the Mini Me.

"Aren't you?" Luke inquired.

Anakin nodded. "I'm always hungry, though," he confirmed. "I have a stomach like a bantha."

Luke stifled a laugh.

He had never heard him laugh before. It was a magnificent sound, he decided quickly. Anakin smiled. "To answer you question, Algerian cuscus," he answered. "With a side of Banzon." He wasn't too pleased with the food choices of the night, but he hoped – maybe Luke would be. "Not my favorite, actually."

"Oh?" Luke asked. "Somehow, I'm surprised."

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know," he answered. "It is your ship, after all."

Anakin cleared his throat. "Actually," he answered. "The Emperor orders everything that I consume to be healthy," Anakin grunted, "So he can keep me in the finest condition."

"Why?"

He didn't feel like telling his boy that he needed to be buff, lean to kill the remaining Jedi, or the remaining Senators that were traitors. Not me. Vader is not me, he kept repeating to himself. "I don't really know," he lied, and said with a smile, "It's important to him that I always look my best."

Luke looked thoughtful, "So you've never had any cookies in like what? A decade?"

It was Anakin's turn to laugh. In the short time he had known Luke, he had come to know that cookies were a must. "No, Luke, no cookies. The most I've had was some whole-wheat flour in my morning toast."

They both looked down at their plates, going into one of their ongoing silences. Anakin tapped his foot on the cold ground the sound ringing out into the equally cold walls, ran his fingers through his hair, and looked up to see Luke staring at him. How long had he been looking at him? Anakin cleared his throat.

The boy cleared his throat also, touching his neckline while still locking eyes with Anakin. "I don't know why I never noticed it before," he told Anakin, "We look so much alike."

Anakin muffled a nervous smile. "Well, you are my son."

Luke cringed at the thought. Luckily, Anakin hardly noticed. "We do the same things, too," he thought about this for a moment, and realized he would never, ever turn to the dark side, "I mean," he corrected, "I mean we walk the same way, we sit the same way. And we both have very large stomachs," he smiled at his wit.

"Really?" Anakin wasn't surprised to hear this, that his son had inquired his genes, after all, the blood test results had said this would happen, but acted like it anyway. He wanted to know about his life. "So tell me: if you had a choice between fruit or meat, which would you pick?" Anakin grinned and picked up a piece of dry bread, it was a trick question. He was testing Luke to see how a like they really were.

Luke looked puzzled. He frowned quizzically. "Hmm," he said after a long moment, "I'd have to say both."

"Both?" Anakin swallowed his bread quickly; it was uncanny how alike they were.

Luke nodded anxiously. "Yup," he said matter-of-factly, "Meat is good and all, but it fills you up so much. And fruit is just – fresh. Good."

Padmé liked fruit, he thought back to that morning in the dining room, where he had shown off his Jedi powers. So long ago… "You do have a large stomach, son," Anakin said, forcing a watery smile. "But you're like your mother in so many ways, too. You've got this – thing about you. You never back down," he stated. Luke seemed intrigued to hear someone talking about him in such high manner, "Like your mother."

Luke nodded, although he would never really know. The thought alone sent a shudder through Anakin.

As almost completely unaware of the newly lighthearted conversation, a droid popped through the door to the kitchen, "Dinner," it said, "Is served."

Anakin smiled. "Shall we?"

A/N: Thanks everyone for the feedback again! It means so much to me!