Crash and Burn

Luke Skywalker felt his eyes burning with tears that were and had been threatening to build up for he wasn't even sure how long. He felt the muscles in his face twitching as he forced himself not to give into the bodily desire of his lip trembling and his chin quivering. There was no way in the galaxy that he could force himself to smile, that was an impossibility, but it was taking everything he had in him not to break down sobbing either. He stood as tall as he could manage, high on a platform on display in front of thousands of people of all species, all of them watching his every move, he felt like nothing more than some chained animal being shown off for a spectacle to amuse the masses. He wasn't even sure what kept him upright. His feet felt welded to the platform but he felt like all the strength had been sapped from his legs.

He gradually turned his head one way and another, every direction he looked, thousands of people, human and otherwise, men, women, even little children, all watching him, gawking, pointing, whispering, talking through the side of their mouths. He felt bright lights blinding his eyes but he felt like he couldn't close them, he wasn't sure he was even blinking. He felt like he'd lost the strength for that too.

This was a nightmare. A nightmare that he was stuck in but he knew he wouldn't wake up, nobody was going to save him from this horror. This couldn't be happening, but it was.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, not fast, but hard, his breathing felt shallow. Against his best efforts, he could feel his top lip starting to tremble. If people could see it, he didn't know, but he bit his bottom teeth up into the inside of his upper lip in an attempt to steady it. The lights continued flashing, he could hear the people murmuring and talking though he couldn't make out exact words. He finally closed his eyes in a slow blink, and they burned with the tears that had already fallen, and the ones trying to start again. Luke would swear he could feel it burning clear into his eyelashes.

To make everything worse, as if he wasn't enough of a spectacle, he had a wreath of flowers draped around his neck and shoulders like the prize winner in a tauntaun derby. It taunted him, it mocked him, the petals and leaves brushed against his neck like the initial irritation of a rash or a welt. He wanted nothing more than to rip it off and hurl it onto the ground, but he knew that wouldn't do any good.

This couldn't be happening. He shouldn't be here. He wanted to leave, he wanted to go...nowhere, he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

He hadn't felt the tears well up but he felt something warm and wet run through his bottom eyelashes and felt it trail down his cheek, feeling like it was marking him for everyone standing around to see.

There was a weight around his neck like a stone, old parables from his childhood played in his head and he wished there was a river nearby he could plummet into and drown. That would be better than this, anything had to be better than this.

He wanted to turn away, to scream at the people to stop looking at him, he wanted to run away and never stop. But he couldn't.

The muscles in his cheeks twitched as he felt himself losing the battle with himself, to not screw his face up into a large grimace before he broke down sobbing.

A hand reached over and touched his arm. Luke was both aware of it, and almost numbed to it, despite the physical contact nearly making him want to jump out of his skin.

Wedge stood beside him, a foot shorter than usual, but an expression on his face very similar to Luke's own, and he told the blonde man, "It's over, Luke, let's go."

Luke inhaled and felt it ripple through his chest. He looked up and the crowd was still there, but it was starting to thin out.

Running the back of his hand across his mouth, Luke removed the wreath from over his shoulders and dropped it by his feet, then stepped down from the platform reserved for first place winner, and he, Wedge, and Zev stepped off the platform and onto the ground and made their way through the crowd, the occasional laser camera still flashing, capturing their images as they left the arena. Luke was able to decipher what the crowd was saying now, he heard his name being called, chanted, heard the applause and the roar for the newest champion of the Intergalactic 3000.

As they left the arena where the champions were announced, awarded, decorated, revered, they headed over to the bay where their ships had been docked once the race was over.

Luke was hardly even aware where he was going, he was more in his head than aware of anything going on around him. Still he heard Zev's voice from beside him, "I'm sorry, Luke."

"Me too," Wedge added. "It was awful."

Luke couldn't respond even if he wanted to, and he didn't want to.

"You want to join us for a drink, Luke?" Zev asked.

He shook his head. He couldn't trust himself to even make a sound, let alone try to speak.

"If there's anything we can do," Wedge said, "comm us."

Luke nodded, feeling himself very close to the breaking point.

"I mean it, Luke, anytime."

Luke nodded again, closing his eyes, feeling the corners of his mouth scrunch up, pushing against his cheeks.

The three men went their separate ways, Luke found himself alone, wandering towards his ship that he had won the race in. His feet felt heavy and his whole body felt like it was dragging.

"Luke."

He took a couple more steps before the deep modulated voice actually registered in his brain. He stopped, and stood there looking straight ahead feeling completely lost for a moment. Then he turned to the side and he saw his father standing about 100 yards from him.

Luke felt the tears building up in his eyes, somehow they were a welcome weight. They could blur the image of the man in the black life support suit, but Luke knew it was him.

To the rest of the galaxy, Darth Vader was a very mysterious and threatening figure, but to Luke, it was his father who had raised him his whole life.

The hot tears spilled down from Luke's eyes as he broke into a run.

"Father!"

Luke's heart was pounding so hard he thought it was going to explode out of his chest. He just about slammed into his father as he abruptly stopped and threw his arms around Vader, just as a gut-wrenching sob was wracked out of his body. The dam he had been struggling to uphold for hours had finally burst.

He felt the strength of his father's durasteel arms locked around him, it was small comfort but right now he felt it was the only thing holding his soul to his body.

Luke sucked in a sharp breath that made his chest hurt and it was ripped right back out of him in half coherent sobs.

"Biggs...Biggs is dead!"

"I know," Vader responded, the vocoder making his answer sound almost apathetic, dismissive, but Luke had spent a lifetime being able to hear what wasn't carried through the modulator. He felt the prosthetic arms tighten around him as his father added, "I came as soon as I heard. Were you injured?"

Luke shook his head, his breathing both shallow and labored.

He felt something press against him and he remembered. He pulled back from his father and looked down at the winning medal that had been draped around his neck after the race was over. Luke felt like something inside of him had broken as he threw his head back and let out a howling sob at the memory of what had happened just a couple hours ago.

He was pulled back into his father's durasteel grip with enough force his head flopped against Vader's armored shoulder.

"I am heartily sorry for your friend," his father told him. "But I am just relieved that it was not you."

There was something about that statement that made Luke cry even harder, he hadn't even thought that possible.

He wasn't sure how long the two of them stood there like that, time didn't seem to exist anymore. After what felt like a few minutes he heard his father say, "Let's go home."

Luke turned towards his ship, but Vader's hold on his son didn't loosen any.

"The Executor is this way, you can come back and get your ship later," Vader told him.

Luke felt like he didn't have any strength left in his body. He allowed his father to lead him away from the docking bay and towards the flagship. He wasn't aware of much between that point and once they'd made the jump to hyperspace.

As soon as it was announced one of the contestants in the Inter 3000 had been killed during the race, Vader had ordered the Executor's crew to alter their course. With the bond he and Luke shared through the Force he knew that it hadn't been Luke but his mind wouldn't be at ease until he found out what had happened. In theory he could've made better time merely taking his private shuttle, but halfway to their new destination the identity of the pilot who'd been killed had been released. Then Vader knew that Luke needed him, the boy wouldn't be in any condition to fly back by himself, and he had a strong suspicion he would need to devote all his attention and focus on helping Luke get through this ordeal. Now he was thankful he'd made the decision he had and someone else was at the controls. He guided Luke towards his private chambers, his mind reeling with everything he'd found out.

Darth Vader knew better than most how dangerous racing through the galaxy could be, so many unforeseen obstacles that even seasoned pilots might not catch until it was too late, especially ones who were not Force sensitive. When Luke had announced that was what he wanted to do with his life, Vader struggled to suppress every worst case parental instinct coursing through his body, both flesh and machine alike; he was nothing if not supportive of whatever his son wanted to do, but he'd spent a lifetime making sure Luke knew all the ins and outs and all the possibilities of what could happen, what to expect, and he'd had to resign himself to knowing he sent his son out into the galaxy as well rounded on the subject as was possible. Still his heart rose into his throat every time there was another race, and he dreaded the moment where he would actually feel Luke's life energy explode and disappear from the Force, and that inevitable comm call he knew would come. There had been no comm, just the announcement of a young pilot's tragic death halfway through the race. Not just any pilot, Biggs Darklighter, Luke's best friend since he was five years old, a boy Luke had always aspired to be exactly like, the young man who, though Vader had never voiced those particular thoughts, was to blame for Luke deciding to enter the space races, merely because Biggs had gone on first and done it a year sooner, and Luke wanted nothing more than to be just like his best friend, the story of his life.

Luke didn't even have the strength to cling to his father anymore, he just leaned against the dark lord and cried his eyes out as Vader walked his son over to the bed that was specifically kept in the room for when Luke traveled with him. As a father he'd had to help Luke get through several difficult and heartbreaking experiences, none of which could compare with this. There was no way to fix this situation, there were no words that would help soothe his son's pain. The death of his best friend was an open gaping wound that would never fully close, and he would carry the pain of this wound with him for the rest of his life. These were the moments when being a father was most difficult, when there was nothing you could do to stop or even to minimize the hurt your child was going through.

"They," Luke's voice was low as his breaths were shaky and thick with tears, "they said he hit a black hole."

Vader said nothing and just held his son tight, feeling an icy sensation running through his upper torso as he realized just how easily it could've been Luke instead.

Luke sucked in a sharp breath and choked it back out, "W...why Biggs? How could it happen to him?"

Vader held Luke against him tight with one arm and with his other gloved hand, consolingly and a bit possessively, patted Luke on the top of his head and absently grabbed a handful of the boy's blonde curls, to feel his presence, to know it was real, to remind himself that his son was still alive, and here, safe with him.

"It has happened before," Vader told him, knowing it wasn't going to comfort his son any, but also knowing nothing could give Luke any comfort right now, but knowing his son needed something, a live voice, an open communication, whatever they talked about, it couldn't be anywhere near as damaging as silence. "Even to some of the best pilots."

"But why Biggs?" Luke sobbed, "this wasn't supposed to happen! We...grew up together, we did everything together...we were still going to do everything together."

Luke's words broke off as he started hyperventilating. Vader held his son and talked him through slowing down his breathing so he could calm down. It took several minutes to actually work, but it finally happened, and when it did, Luke seemed to finally calm down somewhat.

Vader raised one hand to calmly stroke over the boy's hair and suggested, in as low of a voice as was possible with the vocoder, "Why don't we get you out of this suit?"

Luke pulled back and shook his head, his gaze looking towards the floor. Vader suspected this was some deep set form of denial, as if shedding his flight suit would somehow make Biggs Darklighter's death all the more real for Luke to deal with.

"It isn't right," Luke said in a small voice still thick with tears, "I didn't even know what had happened until we landed. I was out there having the time of my life, while my best friend was being killed!"

Ah, an extra piece to the puzzle.

"Luke, there wasn't anything you could've done, even if you had known," Vader assured his son.

"But it's wrong...I'd heard over the comm system that something had happened, but we entered an asteroid field and I had to focus on that so I didn't get wiped out, and all my attention was on just saving my own life."

"What happened to your friend is not your fault, Luke. Unfortunately, sometimes these things just happen, and there is nothing anyone can do."

"But he was my best friend," Luke choked on a hiccuping sob, "w-what am I going to do now?"

Vader felt a weight behind his chest plate. This was a question he had also struggled with for most of his life.

"I understand what you are going through, Luke," Vader told him, "I was about your age when my friend and mentor, Obi-Wan, died. Trust me, I know it doesn't feel like it now, but you will get through today."

Luke shook his head.

"I don't think I can," he wept in response, "I wish I was dead instead of Biggs."

"Don't say that!" his father warned him.

"I wish I was with him," Luke tearfully added. He heaved in a few ragged breaths and found the strength to explain, "We grew up together our whole lives, we had plans for the future, we were going to get married, have kids and raise them together like we were. What am I going to do, Father?"

Vader's heart went out to his son.

"That's not something you need to focus on right now," he told Luke, "you need time to process this."

Luke's body slumped against his father and he continued to cry inconsolably for over an hour, during which time Vader could do nothing except hold his son, let the boy feel his presence, and let him know he was not alone.

Eventually Luke started to quiet down and Vader could tell the boy had exhausted himself with his grief. He gently patted Luke's back and suggested, "Why don't you lie down and try to sleep?"

Luke shook his head, "I can't sleep."

"It will be easier than you think, you need to rest," Vader told him as he lightly nudged Luke down onto the bed.

Luke fell back against the pillows but sleep would not win over just yet. As his father lifted his feet onto the bed and got his legs straightened, Luke started dry sobbing as he said, "He was my best friend."

"I know," Vader said, the empathy in his voice evident even through the vocoder.

Luke closed his eyes and threw his head back, "I loved him."

"I know," Vader felt his heart breaking for his son.

"What do I do now?"

Vader stood over his son and reached one hand down and lightly stroked the tips of his gloved fingers over Luke's face.

"You will get through this, Luke, I promise you."

Luke was softly crying again as Vader draped the blanket over him.

"I'm right here, my son," Vader assured him as he sat down beside the bed, "I'm right here. You are not alone."

It was another half hour before Luke finally fell asleep, even then an occasional whimpering sob would work its way loose as he breathed.

Darth Vader watched his son while he slept, soon they would return home, it wouldn't make the grieving process any easier for Luke, but the dark lord hoped he would at least benefit from being able to mourn his friend in the privacy of his own home, where the galaxy wasn't watching. He'd seen the crowning ceremony, saw Luke trying with every fiber of his being not to break down then and there, struggling so much to hold himself together until he could get away from the prying eyes. To the rest of the galaxy, what happened today was merely another tragic outcome of ship racing, something that had happened hundreds of times before and would again, all they saw was a young pilot had been horribly killed, but no one watching the disaster as it unfolded would make the connection to Luke and what all of this meant for him.

Luke felt his head turn to the side and felt his cheek brush against the pillow, and something grabbed his attention. He opened one eye and saw he was no longer in his father's chamber onboard the Executor, but laying on his own bed, in his own room back at the Imperial palace. He turned over on his back and looked around the room, just the same as when he'd left home. Everything was quiet, still...he knew his father was somewhere close by.

Sitting up in his bed he noted the time on the chrono, he'd been asleep for hours even with the time change between star systems. His head hurt slightly. He tried to think, and all he could feel was an overbearing sense of flight.

Throwing back the blanket, he got to his feet, feeling a little wobbly but he was fine, and left his room. He marched down the hall to his father's chambers and palmed the door open. His luck, his father was there going over some Imperial reports.

"Father," he said, his voice the strongest it had been since Vader had come to get him, "I need to get some air, I'm going out for a while."

Vader looked at him, and slowly nodded.

"Very well, Luke, be careful."

"I will," Luke said as he turned for the door.

I love you, Luke."

That made him stop in his steps and he felt his eyes burning again. He blinked a few times and turned back and told his father, "I love you too. Thanks for coming to get me."

"You don't need to thank me, my child."

Luke felt kind of okay as he walked through the streets but the further he got from home, the worse he started to feel again as everything started weighing on him again. He made it as far as the first cantina from the palace. It was a dimly lit place that was half full, nobody paid him any mind. He got a drink and found himself a seat at a table at the far back of the room, not quite literally crying into his beer, but very close.

There were low mumbles of people talking and music playing, he barely even heard the footsteps coming his way.

"Can I buy the winner a drink?"

Luke turned and looked up and saw a human man, maybe a few years older than him, maybe a dozen years older, he wasn't sure, a few inches taller than Luke with darker hair, dressed in a long sleeved shirt, black vest, blue pants with Corellian bloodstripes on them, black boots and a blaster holster that had been customized for easier access.

For a moment Luke's mind flashed on when he was a child, his father soldering into his head not to accept anything from strangers, nor to speak to them. It had made for a few confusing childhood since Luke's literal mind had picked up on a fact his father had overlooked: that strangers were anybody you didn't know, including other kids. He'd had a very difficult time the first two years in school since he'd taken his father's instructions to mean don't speak to any of the other children, and more than once he'd gotten in trouble for not answering the teachers, even more so when he explained why he wouldn't. Biggs had been the exception since Luke had known him before they even started school.

Shaking the memory off, Luke sucked in a breath and answered, trying to clear the tears from his throat, "No thank you, I already have one."

"So you do," the other man said as he pulled out the chair next to Luke's and sat down. "How about some company?"

"No thanks," Luke meekly responded, "right now I'm not very good company myself."

"That's fine," the other man remarked, "I've never been good company, and I have several exes across the galaxy who can attest to that."

In spite of himself, Luke chuckled lightly at the man's comments.

"Allow me to introduce myself. Han Solo, captain of the Millennium Falcon, the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs."

"You're the one," Luke said in a mildly dazed tone, "I heard about that."

The older man smiled slightly, "A little before your time."

Luke extended his hand, "I'm Luke Skywalker."

"Yeah, I know," Han responded. "I'm...I'm sorry about your friend."

Luke felt his eyes get big, "You knew Biggs?"

"Not personally," Han shook his head, "but I followed the races for a while."

"How..." Luke felt his mind spinning, "How did you know?"

"I was watching the crowning ceremony on the wall screen, I could tell."

For some reason, Luke felt in awe of this.

"I don't think anybody else did."

"Most of them haven't seen what I have," Han replied.

Luke felt his eyebrows climb in morbid curiosity.

"I've been from one end of this galaxy to the other several times, kid," Han said. "I've seen a lot of things I can't explain...and I've seen a lot of things I can't forget. I've lost several friends over the years, to various means but mostly to racing accidents. Young kids so eager to get in orbit the first time don't have any idea what all's out there waiting to wipe them out."

Luke felt his mouth trying not to smile, though something in the older man's words took him back.

"Biggs and I...we grew up together our whole lives, we wanted to do everything together, he got on the racing circuit a year before I did, I couldn't wait to get out there with him. My father...he lectured me so much about being careful out there...and at the time I thought..."

"What all kids think," Han finished the thought for him, "that their parents are just too rigid, too overprotective..."

Luke nodded as he stared down at the table. "I mean I always knew it could be dangerous but...I just never thought...I figured it would never be me...never anyone I knew...that that stuff just always happened to someone else."

Han nodded. "Yep, then you get a little older and realize we're all someone else."

Luke met the other man's gaze, "I thought we'd be together our whole lives...I...I don't have any idea what I'm going to do now."

Han nodded sympathetically, "Believe me, kid, I've been there."

"How..." Luke struggled to find the words, "how do you get over it?"

Han shook his head. "You never get over it, kid, you just get through it. There's a difference."

"I...I don't know if I can," Luke confessed.

"It won't feel like it for a long time, but you will," Han told him. "Take it from someone who knows. Tomorrow is going to be just as raw as today was. And probably the day after that. And then the day after that, it'll get a little easier, not enough you can actually tell, but it will, and the next day, a little more, next day, a little more...one day you'll look up and realize you can actually get through the better part of the day without feeling like you're going to die, or wishing you would."

Luke felt his eyes brimming with tears again. "I don't understand how...how this can get better."

"Not better, just easier," Han told him, "you're always going to miss your friend, but somewhere along the way you're also going to realize he's not completely gone, because you're carrying him with you. As long as you keep his memory alive, he's never truly gone."

Luke felt the dam burst again and felt the upper half of his body double over as a sobbing fit came out of nowhere.

Luke had the presence of mind to be grateful that he hadn't flown to the cantina or back as he realized his reflexes were just slightly impaired after having a few more drinks. The front door to the palace slid open and he walked in to bright lights and the sight of his father standing in the foyer looking at him as he entered. He was sure he was quite a sight leaning on Han for support.

"Father," he said, hearing a slight slur in his words as he turned and gestured to the other man, "this i's Han Solo...'rom Corellia, 'e's the captain who run the Kessel Won...wait..."

"How do you do, sir?" Han nodded in greeting.

"A pleasure to meet you, captain," Darth Vader responded. "Luke, are you all right?"

"A li'le, I mean...I'm feeling a lil' better than 'efore...uh..." he craned his head back as if seeing the staircase for the first time, and with his head tipped back so he was practically seeing Han upside down, implored the captain, "help me up to my room, please?"

"Uh..." Han looked towards the dark lord for any cues, and finding none he answered somewhat uncertainly, "Sure." He steered Luke towards the steps and added, "Just tell me which one it is."

Vader watched the two young men stagger up the stairs, the inebriated laughter and talk echoing down to the first floor.

"Here's my room," Luke pointed to the door.

"Oh good," Han said, half feeling like he'd been wrangling an unruly bantha the whole way up.

The door slid open and the lights came on.

"Nice place you got here," Han said as they walked in.

"Thanks," Luke said as he finally found himself able to stand on his own feet.

Han looked at the young man and saw the tears shimmering in his eyes again.

"You okay?"

Luke nodded his head to a giant stuffed tauntaun that stood on his dresser.

"Biggs got that for me when we were kids, when I was sick...he..."

Luke felt his stomach churning and realized a day of heavy crying and a night of heavy drinking had been a very bad combination. He bolted for his private fresher and just barely made it before he threw up.

Han slowly entered the room and stood over Luke for a minute before kneeling down beside him and saying, "Yeah, been here too." He patted Luke's back and told him, "Easy, kid, breathe."

After a couple of agonizing minutes, the episode passed. Luke pulled himself to his feet and rinsed his mouth out and splashed cold water on his face, and saw his reflection in the mirror. Grim.

"If you want advice from somebody who's been here a few times," Han said, "you'd feel better if you got cleaned up before turning in."

Luke considered his options and reluctantly nodded his head. Han saw the kid looking down at his flight suit and the apparent overwhelming feeling of just how he was going to get out of it. He'd been there too a few times.

"You want some help?"

Luke raised his head to look at Han, and after blankly staring at him for a few seconds, the boy nodded helplessly.

"No problem," Han said as he got the taps running for the tub.

He helped Luke get his boots off without tripping and cracking his head open, and helped him extract himself from his flight suit. During that process he found the medal that Luke had tucked into the collar of his suit. Luke looked at the piece of metal like it was a whomp rat.

"I don't want it," he told Han. "It doesn't mean anything."

"You might hang onto it for a while before deciding that," Han advised him as he set it on the sink counter. "Your friend would be proud of you for winning it."

Luke hated to admit it, but he knew Han was right.

"He'd say you deserve it."

"Are you sure you didn't know Biggs?" Luke found himself asking.

Once Han helped Luke get undressed, then he found himself puzzling over the next step. He was sure Luke would rather bathe in private, at the same time in his current condition, Han wasn't sure he could trust the kid not to drown in the tub. Han liked to joke that he sold his dignity for three cases of Corellian brandy, but whatever remained of it took another hit as he helped Luke into the tub and helped him wash up.

"This feels very strange," Luke commented as he felt the captain's fingers lathering the soap in his hair.

"True, but it's easier with help...last time I was in this position, I drank until I threw up on myself, I wore my hair a little longer back then, it was no fun trying to clean that out," Han told him.

Luke let out a weak chuckle.

A few minutes later the two men exited the fresher, Luke wrapped in two large towels and Han helped him over to the bed.

"Think you can take it from here, junior?" the captain asked.

"Yeah...thanks, Han."

"Don't mention it, ever, I may not look like it but I still have my reputation to think of."

Luke lightly chuckled as he sat down.

"Han...are you going to do the Kessel Run again?"

"Oh no way, kid," Han shook his head, "I'm officially retired from racing."

"You are?" Luke's eyebrows furrowed together.

"Yep, I set a record in the Kessel Run it is impossible for anybody to beat, or even to match, unless they are ready to die. That's not a challenge I'm interested in topping. These days I'm strictly a cargo hauler," Han answered. "It's not as exciting as racing, and the pay's not as good, but for the most part it's a lot safer..." he lightly smirked, "and it gives you a chance to meet some really interesting people."

Han headed down the stairs and saw Darth Vader was still standing in the foyer, he, like the rest of the galaxy, was well aware of the dark lord's reputation, and having no idea what to expect, hoped that he would merely be allowed to walk out of the palace and be on his way.

"I would like a word with you, Captain Solo."

So much for that plan. Han stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stood straight, trying to brace himself for whatever he couldn't anticipate.

"Yes sir?"

The man in black towered over him by several inches, in that moment Han felt like when he was a kid in school and the teacher was about to wail into him.

"I want to thank you for bringing Luke home."

Han absently huffed a sigh of relief. "No problem, that kid was in no condition to fly."

"I know," Vader remarked. "How long have you known my son?"

That question caught him off guard.

"I just met him tonight."

"How?"

Han shrugged. "He came into the cantina tonight...I saw the winner's ceremony earlier today at a cantina over at Mos Eisley, so I knew who he was...and what happened."

"This has been a very difficult day for Luke," Vader said.

"I kind of figured," Han said. "I've been where he is more times than I care to remember, so I get it."

"Even so," Vader replied, "I'm curious why you took such an interest in my son tonight."

"Um," Han pursed his lips together and shrugged his shoulders, "just seemed to me that he needed a friend tonight."

For a few seconds the only sound in the room was Darth Vader's respirator. The red unblinking lenses of his mask stared at the Corellian, making him feel like a bug under a microscope, before the dark lord responded, "Very astute."

Vader went up the stairs and headed to Luke's room. It had been quiet since Han Solo left, and while he wanted to believe that was a good thing, he had to make sure.

The door slid open, he took two steps in and stopped.

Luke had changed into his sleep clothes and was laying on his bed, hugging the giant stuffed tauntaun he'd had for 14 years, and Vader was not oblivious to the fact it was now wearing the medal Luke had received in the crowning ceremony.

"Luke."

The boy opened his eyes and turned just enough to see his father. He hadn't been asleep yet, and Vader could tell he'd been crying again, calmer now anyway.

"How are you feeling?"

"I just can't believe Biggs is gone," Luke said in a small but strong voice.

"I know, child."

"It's still not right, he should be here."

"I know."

Luke turned back on his side and hugged the stuffed animal tighter, pressing his head into the side of its neck. "I'm not going back to racing."

That statement was so random, Vader wasn't sure at first if he'd heard right. When he realized he had, he found himself torn between 20 years' worth of parental support and encouragement that had never allowed Luke to give up on anything, and the excruciating relief he felt at the prospect of never having to worry if the next time a young pilot got killed during a space race, that it would be his son.

He took the middle road.

"That is your decision, Luke," Vader told him, "but it's not one you have to make right now."

Luke rolled onto his back and said, "It just wouldn't be right to continue without him."

Vader reached down and took Luke's hand in his own and lightly squeezed it.

"You need to rest now, Luke. There will be time enough later to figure it out."

Luke weakly nodded and closed his eyes.

"I love you, Father."

"And I you, my child."

Luke fell asleep in a few minutes this time, quietly and peacefully. It was Vader's undying hope that he would stay asleep until morning. He sat down next to the bed and watched his son while he slept. The next few days would be extremely difficult for Luke to get through, but Vader knew he would, he was a Skywalker, it may not feel like it now, but he was strong enough.

Running his prosthetic thumb over the back of his son's hand, he looked down at Luke's face as he slept, and said, as quietly as his vocoder would allow, "You will get through this, Luke."