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Chapter Text

Han Solo was having a very bad day. 

Of course, considering he had just been released from a not so pleasant stay in carbonite, he apparently had been having a very bad six months.  

When he had first come back to awareness, he had been unsettled to realize that he didn’t know where he was, why he felt so ill, and who his mysterious rescuer was. When an unfamiliar voice had morphed into that of the Princess of Alderaan, Han knew that he was in safe hands. 

At least, he was until his old friend slash enemy decided to crash their reunion. 

Next thing he knew, he was being shoved into a rank smelling cell and was promptly wrapped in the hairy arms of Chewie. Apparently, Luke had put together some sort of elaborate plot to retrieve him from what he now knew was Jabba’s palace. 

Han couldn’t help but have his doubts about the kid’s ability to pull off something of this scale. According to Chewie, Luke had officially done what he had set out to do since Han had first met him and finally became a true Jedi Knight. 

That especially was a hard, bantha-sized pill for Han to swallow. 

How had the naive, reckless, and impatient kid the smuggler had rescued from Hoth become a wise and calculated adult in only just a few months? The maturing that the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Rebellion pilot underwent must have been astronomical.

Time passed excruciatingly slowly, in the damp, smelly cell. The roars of the rancor echoed throughout the small room from down the hallway, and Han wondered what poor soul was destined to be the creature’s snack of the day. He did not have to wonder for long, however, for as soon as quiet fell once again, Gamorrean guards appeared to collect both himself and Chewie. Despite the wookie’s loud protests, they dragged them none-too-gently through the hallways until the dim light of Jabba’s audience chamber shone up ahead. Then finally, he heard the voice of the man who had consumed his thoughts for most of the day. 

“Han!” And the voice sang with the same sunshine quality Han had remembered. Except in some ways, it sounded almost weary, like the kid had aged six years instead of six months. He cursed his poor eyesight. He couldn’t get a proper look to gauge if the same age and exhaustion reflected on his young friend’s face. All he saw was a short dark blur. It seemed Luke had ditched his signature light clothing for a more somber color palette.

“Luke!”

“Are you alright?” Luke spoke again and he sounded even closer this time. A shoulder brushed his bicep as they were marched forward side by side. 

Of course, the kid would be more worried about Han than himself even though Han had a hunch, that Luke was the one who had just been in a scuffle with the rancor due to the angry murmuring beginning to fill the room. Han didn’t know where the ex-farm boy got his luck. It seemed like his every other step placed him in a death trap.

“Fine,” Han replied, and he couldn’t help but slip into their usual banter despite their current situation ,“Together again, huh?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” the blonde boy shot back easily. Han could imagine that familiar lopsided grin on his face as he was prodded in the back with the spear of one of the Gamorreans yanking him forward. 

“How are we doing?”

“Same as always.”

“That bad, huh?” Han played it off as a light remark, but he knew Luke could read the serious undertone to his words. He was genuinely wondering what degree of awful they had gotten themselves into this time. Was this part of the plan? All four of them being bound and restrained did not seem like a good sign to show that things were on the right track. The guards stopped their insistent pulling on his arms as they finally reached their destination, and he could feel the kid’s elbow brush his own as they were herded closer together. 

“Where’s Leia?” 

“I’m here,” the breathless reply confirmed for Han that they were all together, but maybe not for long. Worry for her filled him, but he knew that the princess could take care of herself for the time being. All of the angry chatter instantly quieted as Jabba’s unmistakable voice rang through the chamber. 

A shiny blob of gold at the outer edge of Han’s limited vision signaled that somehow even the droids had been roped into this mess. The goldenrod translated that Luke, Chewbacca, and himself were to be terminated immediately, and Han balked.

“Good. I hate long waits,” Han said with more confidence than he felt. As he spoke, he shifted his weight in the general direction of where he had brushed limbs with Luke. It's not that he didn’t think the kid was capable of defending himself but all past evidence had proven otherwise. Newly knighted Jedi or not, a part of the smuggler couldn’t help but feel like he needed some sort of protection. 

As his weight shifted, so did Jabba’s attention.

The reptilian eyes of the Hutt that had been sweeping back and forth between the prisoners, now fully settled on Luke as Han felt more then saw the crime boss’s unnerving stare leave him completely in a flash. 

Jabba’s cruel, deep laughter filled the room, and Luke too began to shift uneasily at Han’s side.

Han tried to ignore the bubbling of his growing anxiety.

All too soon for Han’s spiraling mind, the sounds of the slug’s amusement abated, and Luke was suddenly being wretched away from where he stood relatively safe at Han’s side. A grunt and the sound of a body roughly hitting stone reached his ears. 

His panic nearly boiled over as he stepped forward to reach where Luke’s black blur now sat in front of him. The grips of the guards holding him turned into vices at the movement, and so Han did the next best thing and opened his mouth. 

“Hey look, Jabba, it’s getting real late and the immediate part of this agreement seems to be coming to an end, so we should probably get going,” Han said with his usual charm thrown in to disguise his growing unease. To his dismay, silence reigned as if the slug made no acknowledgement he had heard Han at all, and instead another humanoid shaped blur entered into Han’s limited line of sight.

Multiple things happened at once: Leia made a strange choking noise, the new figure moved from the left side of Han’s vision towards Luke, an angry roar from Chewie let him know that the figure was none other than Boba Fett, and Han began to fight against the multiple hands that held him in place.

A scream.  

And then any facade of composure Han was trying to hang onto in order to ease their way through this confrontation with sly talking alone evaporated as he shouted Luke’s name.

Long forgotten curses and promises of death flew out of his mouth at rapid speed as he shouted mindlessly at Jabba and the bounty hunter as he listened to Luke’s yell of pure agony. Chewie’s accompanying roars did nothing to drown out the magnitude of his fury, and his clouded vision did not eclipse the image of him wrapping his hands around Fett’s armored neck.

A warm and distinctly human-like hand rested warningly on his shoulder. 

Lando. 

With great will power, his struggling ceased. It was a reminder that there was a lot more at stake than just Luke’s safety. A stream of curse words still found its way out of his mouth, but that too immediately stopped when a soft and confused voice reached Han’s ringing ears. 

“Han?” Luke asked weakly, in a way that suggested he had no idea about his current surroundings. Han could have sworn his heart split in two. Jabba and the crowd chortled merrily at the question.

“Yeah, I’m here kid. Don’t worry,” he said, quick to reassure despite current company. His voice wavered threateningly midway through his response. He blamed the lapse in volume on his previous cursing and not on the fact that he was overcome with the sudden urge to cry. Han was thankful that his damaged eyes seemed incapable of forming tears.

“What did you do?” he asked, over the jeering and whooping of the crowd. The suffering of a proclaimed Jedi Knight provided them no better entertainment. He was sure the source of Luke’s pain was obvious to everyone in the chamber but him, and he cursed his vision for what seemed like the hundredth time. 

“ Something to keep the Jedi from performing any of his usual tricks, ” Jabba answered and Han, who had seen many things in his short lifetime, had an aching suspicion that he knew what the slug was talking about... 

Thirteen-year-old Han Solo, skidded around the corner of a Corellian alleyway and flattened himself against the brick wall, heart thumping wildly. He let out a large breath as the two stormtroopers who had previously been hot on his tail continued past his hiding spot and instead turned right ahead. 

The Empire had been born out of the ashes of the destroyed Republic three days earlier. Troops  had been sent to start their takeover of Corellia only hours after its formation. Since then, the underground smuggling businesses spread throughout the planet stopped almost all of its dealings in case the Empire found out about their more illegal sides. Han had been doing his normal routine on a docking district street as he skillfully pickpocketed unsuspecting individuals when a nearby patrol had, unfortunately, spotted him. This led to his mad dash through the backways of the spaceport as he tried to outrun his pursuers. 

Confident that the troopers had lost him and would not be coming back this way, Han relaxed from his stiff position against the warehouse wall, and made sure that he had successfully stolen his cut for the day. If not, Lady Proxima would skin him for sure this time.  

Focused as he was on making sure all his reapings were accounted for, he was thoroughly startled by the gentle hand that fell on his shoulder. Instantaneously, he whirled around, blaster in hand, and aimed it at his unknown assailant. What he saw, however, made him pause. 

The woman was dressed like no one he had ever seen on Corellia, or no one he had seen ever for that matter. She wore a light, worn looking cotton shirt along with a loose-fitting hooded outer garment. Something in her eyes spoke of wisdom and ancient knowledge even though she couldn’t have been more than fifty. Assured that it was not one of his “buddies” looking to collect their owed money, Han slowly lowered the blaster but did not flick on the safety. 

“Who are you?” Han asked with suspicion clear in his voice. The strange woman’s smile tightened but did not fall from her face. 

“You are my friend who will help me get passage off of this planet,” she said with a dominating clarity and the tone nearly compelled Han to agree. 

Nearly.

“Lady,” Han said brashly as all his manners had been forgotten long ago, “I don’t know who you are, but no one tells Han Solo what to do, and why in the nine-kriffing hells would I help you?” he asked with clear disbelief over her strange boldness.

Something akin to shock lighted up in the woman’s eyes for a moment before it quickly went away and returned to the same serene calmness. Her smile once again relaxed.

“I’m on the run from the new Empire. I arrived at this planet only days ago hoping to find refuge from Imperial activity, but I was foolish to pick a planet this close to the core worlds,” She finished with a paranoid glance around the area.

And then it clicked. 

“You’re a jedi!!” Han shrieked. He recognized her dress from the holos, and the woman’s earlier tone suddenly made sense to him. Moments later his earlier pursuers came sprinting around the corner, blasters drawn as they were alerted to his shout. 

“Blast her!” One of them shouted and the woman froze in panic at their sudden appearance. A thousand parsec stare told Han that she wasn’t quite there. A blaster bolt sailed over his head to land solidly in the woman’s arm, and she went down with a muffled yelp. That yelp quickly morphed into a full fledged scream moments later when the stormtroopers ran to her fallen position and placed a contraption of steel around the jedi’s neck. 

Han took his chances in their distraction and ran back the way he came, but he still caught the stormtrooper’s next words. 

“There, that should subdue the Jedi scum before Vader gets the chance to finish her off.”

And their cold laughter followed Han all the way back to base. 

Han squinted through throbbing eyes to try to get a clearer look at the young Jedi on the ground. Fett forced Luke’s crumpled form back onto his knees and the movement caused light to reflect briefly off of something metallic near the kid’s neck. A chill unrelated to his hibernation sickness swept through him as his horrible suspicion was confirmed.

Something animalistic and primal snarled inside of Han’s head. He dimly noticed that the hand on his shoulder squeezed tightly once again as if sensing the man’s rising temper. Then, Luke was being hauled bodily to his feet by the unforgiving grip that Fett had on him. 

Han disconcertedly remembered that the notorious hitman had some sort of vendetta against Jedi. Another smuggler had told him that the tally’s on the side of the bounty hunter’s helmet marked each Jedi that that the man had hunted down and killed. Mercilessly.

A hiss escaped from Luke as he was yanked upwards, and there was a responding dark chuckle from Fett’s vocoder which did nothing to ease his rising fear. 

‘I ’ve got a bad feeling about this,’ Han thought as he braced himself for what was to befall his friend.

So much for a plan.

Chapter Text

Luke should have expected that his Skywalker luck would help as much as it usually did. 

At this point, he figured that he was cursed. 

After slaying the rancor, Luke had been left feeling breathless from adrenaline yet giddy from the thrill of his victory. A part of the Jedi mourned the loss of life that he caused as the creature was obviously starved and tormented for Jabba’s entertainment, but he had a greater goal in mind. 

Escape. 

The rancor could not have known that his meal was a fully trained Jedi. 

Well, almost fully trained. His heart gave a sudden throb when he thought of Master Yoda. 

He had left Dagobah without so much as a goodbye when he rushed to Cloud City. Six months later, and he was still trying to rescue one part of the duo he had attempted to save during that fateful confrontation. Han had managed to slip through Luke’s fingers right into Jabba the Hutt's waiting hands. 

But in this moment, as the plan began to unfold to rescue his friend, Luke found himself being thoroughly thrown off by Jabba’s interest in him . 

After gently prodding Han’s mind with the Force, he was dissatisfied with his less than favorable physical state after his long bout in hibernation. Luke knew, when devising this plan, he would have to resign himself to what would come for the smuggler’s sake. It was only expected that the crime lord would seek some retribution. As predicted, there was an intense and utter rage rolling off of Jabba as the duo drew nearer to his dias. 

It would be death by the Sarlacc. Luke had heard tales in his childhood about the infamous monster. It was Jabba’s favorite and most drawn out way of execution, carried out on only his most despised enemies. Unsurprisingly, himself, Han and Chewie now fell into the category as it seemed they had plucked on Jabba’s last nerve, and Luke had counted on it.

And then, Han had to be Han. 

He too had seen the almost unnoticeable movement from the older man. Luke had thought nothing of it. It was the same overprotective nature that Han often displayed when it came to Luke. The member of Luke’s squadron teased him for the smuggler’s instincts that were not all that dissimilar to a mother Nexu’s. 

But then, Jabba’s fat began to roll sickeningly as his body struggled to double over from the power of his laughter. 

That Luke thought something of, and alarm bells began to chime in the Force.

His stomach sank as all traces of the Hutt’s earlier anger made way for unrestrained glee. Glossy reptilian eyes locked directly onto the Jedi, and a sense of foreboding overcame him. From their different positions in the room, he could feel Han’s growing unease, Leia’s slowly building dread, and Lando’s fluttering anxiety. 

Uncle Owen had continually warned Luke about the power of the Hutts when he was a child. He knew of Luke’s urge to run off during their rare visits to the larger spaceports of Tatooine. The energetic blonde would have innocently slipped away to get a closer look at the different ship models if his uncle had not drilled the risks into him. Aunt Beru had cemented his trepidation by telling him horror stories about unsuspecting children being sold into slavery or unlucky farmers who were unable to repay their debts. Even in adulthood, Luke maintained a high alertness for the Hutts activities in any spaceport he visited.

He was regretting not listening to his aunt and uncle as his kneecaps roughly slammed into the ground, forced to kneel in front of his childhood boogeyman. 

He heard Han yell nonsense about getting a move on, and he could feel the franticness emitting from the smuggler-turned-general. Luke, however, had no reassurances to offer him as the situation was quickly spiraling out of control. 

A sadistic intent seeped threateningly into the slug’s mind. His eyes found Jabba’s, and he held the contact with a cool confidence. If he was going to be on his knees, he would not cow under the weight of a stare as the Hutt hoped he would. Despite this mindset, a powerless feeling began to grip him, and Luke’s right wrist began to ache inside the binders as he was reminded of a similar situation. 

The shadows cloaking the corners of the chamber seemed to morph and twist into visages of Vader, and the dark anticipation rolling off of nearly every individual in the room only increased the echoes of a respirator in his head. His hands twitched restlessly, and he struggled to push away the painful images forming in his mind.

Bespin was in the past. 

But, not in the past, a clump of his hair was grabbed roughly and without care as his head was ripped slightly backwards in order for something to be clasped around his exposed neck.  

All thoughts of the past, present, and future left Luke as his very essence seemed to explode into pure pain-

And on the other side of the galaxy, Darth Vader froze in his tracks. 

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\O/////////////////////

As Luke would describe it to Leia later, it was the equivalent of his soul being torn physically from his body while every inch of his skin was lit aflame by a heat so intense that it did not even leave ashes of himself behind. The hot flash of agony only lasted seconds, but even then, Luke could briefly feel his sanity leave him in tandem with the loss of the Force. 

Colors flashed in front of Luke’s eyes as the sound of a struggle nearby registered in his detached mind. Instinctively, Luke reached out in the Force in order to discover the cause of the person’s stress, but started when not even a hint of his metaphorical fingers could be found. Cold metal secured uncomfortably tight around his throat and wrists made him all the more perplexed. 

Where was he? Why was he restrained? Was there an attack on the base? Was he captured by Imperials for Vader’s bounty? 

Luke shivered. 

As his brain slipped out of its state of shock, the situation came back to him in waves. 

Rancor. Jabba’s Palace. Leia, Lando, Chewie… Han…

Had they successfully retrieved their friend? He couldn’t remember. Was he still encased in carbonite? Luke’s decided to voice his concerns as his brain struggled to catch up.

“Han?” He said loudly. The word was sloppy as his loose tongue slipped out of its proper position. 

“Yeah, I’m here kid. Don’t worry,”

The smuggler’s reply came from somewhere behind Luke, and the last bit of his fuzzy memory returned. The sensation of sand against his cheek and Boba Fett’s hand still buried in his hair told him he was still in the same predicament. 

A couple more unclear minutes passed where Luke simply focused on calming his racing heart, and then he heard Han speak once again.

“What did you do?”

‘ Something to keep the Jedi from performing any of his usual tricks,” the Hutt responded with delight clear in his tone, but it did not ring in the Force. In fact, to Luke’s alarm, he couldn’t sense the Force at all. It's comforting, soothing presence was completely gone leaving him only with a hollow emptiness that seemed to consume his entire being. 

Luke’s heart rate, which had finally dialed back down to its normal pace, skyrocketed once again as he was overcome with a feeling of pure wrongness . How was this possible?

As far as Luke had experienced, there was one thing that could block a Jedi’s connection to the force and that was the ysalamiri, the tiny lizards which were known to create a force-neutral bubble. He had unfortunately come across some while scouting possible bases for the rebellion, and hoped to never encounter them again. However, they didn't cause pain. 

Nausea flashed through him briefly as he recalled the sensation.  

Luke distantly recalled Ben telling him a tale about how Jedi were rounded up during the forging of the Empire. Some were recruited for the Inquisitourious Program and others were dispatched by the Emperor's fist. In all cases, a form of Force suppression was used. 

“At the very beginning of the Empire,” Ben began while the wind blowing through the landspeeder whipped his hair around wildly, “Most of the members of the Jedi Order were killed in the Jedi Purges. Those who managed to escape were hunted down by troops and were later brought to and executed by Darth Vader,”

Luke furrowed his eyebrows in confusion but made sure to keep his eyes directed ahead where Mos Eisley was just beginning to appear over the horizon.

“But how did stormtroopers manage to take down trained Jedi Knights?”

“The Jedi were either overwhelmed with large numbers in planned attacks, or on a more rare basis, they were cut off from the Force entirely in order to curb their abilities,”

“Cut off from the Force!?” Luke shouted before he could stop himself. The speeder swerved slightly before correcting its course. With a slight blush on his cheeks, he continued on with a quieter, “But how, Ben? How did they manage to control something that is intangible to them?”

The old Jedi stayed silent for a minute. 

“Various devices have been invented to control individuals with a strong connection to the Force. They are referred to as ‘Force suppressors’. Thankfully, they are no longer being produced. Those that were salvageable after the death of the Order were all destroyed. Even among troopers, they were seen as barbaric and inhumane due to the intent to cause harm and weaken the wearer,” 

And then Ben got that haunted, far-away look in his eye and Luke decided to drop the subject and focus on their approaching task.

But where would Fett find one of those things if they were all mostly destroyed? His mind immediately drifted to Vader, his father , but he knew that that suspicion couldn’t be right. If Vader wanted him that desperately, he could simply come collect him himself, Force suppression or not. There must be a third party involved in this situation. 

The bounty hunter had no care for his speculative thinking, and Luke suddenly found himself being pulled bodily off the floor by the gloved hand in his hair. He winced in pain as most of it was removed brutally from his scalp.

“Back with us Jedi ?” Fett hissed through his vocoder as he jostled Luke harshly, and the mechanical quality of it reminded him uncomfortably of Vader’s own speech modifier. The tone spoke to an unpleasant death. 

But… Luke wanted answers. 

If someone out there besides his father was hunting him for his Force abilities, he had to know. Not only for his sake, but for the safety of all the Force sensitives of the galaxy. He needed to get Fett talking, so he would be more likely to get an identity to slip. 

Han and Leia were going to kill him after all of this.

Fett’s strong grip migrated to the uncovered curve of Luke’s throat as he grew impatient for him to answer.

“I said, are you back with us?”

Luke braced himself.

“Nope, I’m taking a quick stroll on Naboo,” he responded. It was said with the same tone that would have had him scrubbing the vaporators until his fingers locked in place.

There was a moment of silence where the hitman went completely still. C-3PO muttered that he couldn’t bear to watch, and then an armored knee was slamming into his gut.

Bile briefly shot up his throat at the force of the blow, and his abused knees once again made bruising contact with the stone floor. The tight binders cut into his wrists as his body folded in half.

Metal to the stomach hurt.

He could practically feel Obi-Wan’s disapproving stare for his atrocious self-preservation skills as he struggled to regain his breath.

“I would drop the cheek if you know what’s good for you, Jedi scum” the bounty hunter said, and there was a dangerous edge to the words, clearly warning Luke to shut up. But also there, Luke was smug to realize,was annoyance as well. 

The tooka was already out of the bag. 

“Are you going to go run to daddy?” Luke asked hoarsely, a mocking lilt forming at the corner of his lips. Han audibly groaned from behind him.

He choked as the collar was yanked . 

His comment seemed to cross some kind of unspoken line with Fett. The bounty hunter's steel-toed boot hit his exposed side, and his ribs creaked and promptly cracked under the assault. The pain of the sensation was only outweighed by the new agony of his head being slammed against the chamber floor. Whiteness filled his vision after his skull connected with the ground for a second time, and Luke floated for a moment, lost in a sea of dunes and clouds. 

When he came back to himself he was sprawled out on the ground. His left elbow radiated pain and he knew that the limited movement of his wrists as he fell had forced it out of its socket. Shouting nearby drew his attention, and the better part of his brain processed that it was Leia. Luke’s mouth parted, to reassure her perhaps, but a dry cough was the only sound that emerged from him. An uncomfortable mixture of sand and blood coated the right side of his face, and his cheekbone was throbbing from where it had partially cushioned his fall. 

Fett was going to kill him.

The collar dug groves into his neck, chafing the delicate skin there, and the weight of the device only pained him further. He rolled slowly onto his side, determined to at least return to his knees, but Fett’s boot returned, aiming for the unprotected contour of his spine. The next pant for air lodged itself in Luke’s throat as it made contact. Cheers and whooping filled the chamber at each solid hit. A frenzy had broken out in the crowd, and it called for the Jedi’s blood. 

One final kick aimed at the offending collar around his neck left him gasping as it collided with  his trachea. Instinctively, he coughed. Red splattered the sandy floor in front of him. 

“You’ll regret mocking my father, boy,” 

An alarming numbness was creeping in on him. His eyes, either swollen or being invaded by blood, struggled to focus on anything in particular, but Luke saw perfectly polished leather boots quickly walk into view. 

When no new attack came, Luke painstakingly lifted his head to see Lando in disguise restraining Fett’s hand in mid motion. The bounty hunter had moved to use the vibroblade from his belt. His friend had narrowly stopped his murder. He dropped his head back to the ground in relief.

As he laid there, he vaguely heard sniffling somewhere to his right. Leia. He immediately felt guilt for causing her more distress in their already horrible situation. An angry Chewie had been removed from the room long ago, and from the distinct lack of Correlian curses being thrown Fett’s way, Han must be gone with him. They could be anywhere inside of Jabba’s labyrinth, and it was Luke’s job to find them. .

The Jedi tested his restraints experimentally as Jabba spoke to the bounty hunter, and he had to grit his teeth to hold back a yell as his elbow shifted. No daring escape attempts from him. 

As Fett reluctantly reupholstered his knife and stepped off to join the rest of the crowd in the chamber, Lando’s wide eyes met his. 

Luke was never the best at following plans anyway.

Chapter Text

Darth Vader was bored out of his mind. 

He, for once, was thankful for the existence of his infernal suit and helmet as it disguised his listless expression and ensured that he was incapable of slouching in his seat as he would have been otherwise, without the heavy armor limiting him from performing such an action. 

Even though the Sith Lord no longer associated himself with the weak fool who used to be Anakin Skywalker, it didn’t mean that the man now known as Darth Vader liked tactical meetings any more than his previous self. As he had been his entire life, Vader was a man of action, and listening to spineless, unqualified individuals who had never seen a day of battle in their life spout political nonsense and attempt to pinpoint military targets was not his idea of productivity. Having to sit through the conferences was just another curse of being the Emperor’s right-hand.

As always, their disagreement originated from a “discussion” about the Rebellion. Usually Vader was fiercely interested in any movement or devising performed by the group in question, but the scoffable-sized alliance was not worthy of his concern at the moment due to a certain member no longer being present among its ranks. 

His son.

Even though it had been almost four years since Vader had learned that his child had survived, the ramifications that came with such a discovery were still surreal to the Sith. A part of himself lived in another living, breathing, human being, one who experienced emotions, felt pain, and made their own decisions. 

‘ Misguided as they may be, ’ thought Vader as he reflected on his son’s chosen career path. No matter, that would soon be remedied. 

Another smaller, neglected part of his subconsciousness whispered to him that a part of her lived inside him too… and the dark-hearted man shoved that unwelcome notion back where it belonged. Despite himself, what little information he gathered during his confrontation with the boy sprang to the forefront of his mind and he found himself comparing Luke to both of his long-dead parents. 

Blonde hair, his. 

Petite figure, hers. 

Overconfidence, his. 

A flash of an upturned smile, hers.

Quickly as the comparisons came, Vader angrily shut all intruding memories of his past life away and focused on the young man in question during the current day. Not that he had much to go off of in that aspect.

Vader had received a report from an officer monitoring rebel activity about three months ago stating that they had compiled intel suggesting that both Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa had branched away from the rest of the Rebellion. He knew that they were still loyal to the cause and eventually would be returning to help the hopeless organization once they completed what other side-quest they had gone off on as they still believed in the doomed endeavor.

Usually, there was just enough information coming in from investigating personnel to satisfy Vader as he knew of the rebels’ general whereabouts and therefore his son’s location in turn, but now, his offspring had run off on his own and was, hence, untraceable. His only indication that his child did not simply vanish was the constant softly glowing light of his force presence just out of Vader’s reach along with their strained bond the boy had still yet to fully recognize. This did not sit well with him.

It was not that the dark lord of the Sith was concerned about his child, per say, or overprotective by any means. Although, Vader was doing a poor job of even convincing himself that was the truth.

He just knew that the boy somehow found his way into trouble-filled situations, and he did not want his heir damaged before he could take his proper place at his father’s side. 

‘ Any more damaged, ’ Vader amended with what was most definitely not a stirring of guilt as he remembered his more regrettable piece of swordwork on Bespin. He covered up the foreign feeling with irritation as he assured himself that it was necessary as the barely trained Jedi refused to come quietly so he was faced with no other option than to disarm Skywalker to stop the child’s foolishness. 

“...concludes our meeting for today, gentlemen,” said the annoyed voice of Admiral Piett as the last report was finally finished. At least he wasn’t the only one who hated these consultations. There was a very noticeable release of tension as the members quickly exited the boardroom, and Vader realized that this was the first military meeting in almost a year where he had not killed someone for their baffling degree of incompetence as his mind was distracted with thoughts of Luke. His son really was making him soft. 

Ignoring the pain that raced up what was left of his legs when he stood up from his unmoving position at the large table, Vader purposefully made his way towards the doorway, eager to leave the tedious meeting behind him.

“My Lord,” A brave technician addressed him, panting slightly as he struggled to keep with the Sith’s long strides as they arrived at the deck of the Executor , “A report was just commed in that the-”

Snip. The bond Vader had with his son was cut.

The technician’s windpipe snapped. 

‘ No, no, no, ’ Vader chanted internally in utter disbelief. He felt rooted to the spot in pure shock.

Where the calming light had once been there was nothing as he felt his son’s very essence disappear from the force. Their bond too was cruelly silenced as the boy became completely unresponsive. It could only mean one thing for Luke to disappear so suddenly in both manners. 

He was dead. 

Precious seconds of nothingness dragged on as Vader’s mind floated between bewilderment and confusion and then the agonizing grief came rushing in.

No member of personnel in the area was spared as his light emotions battled with the dark and morphed in complete rage as he crushed tracheas of pleading officers and cut down retreating troopers mercilessly with his lightsaber. His fury was only satiated when the life of every being on the deck, who dared to live beyond his son, was extinguished. 

It seems, in your anger, you killed her .

Had he led his son down the path which ultimately led to his demise? That night on Cloud City only pushed the two farther apart rather than closer together than Vader had hoped. His son had fled from in horror right into the events that had ended his life. The durasteel in his prosthetic fists creaked.

Ani,... I’m pregnant. 

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Was the force so cruel as to keep both oblivious of the other’s existence for twenty years and then after one horrific confrontation it would just simply give no chance for reconciliation? With a sinking heart Vader bitterly realized that it could be so cruel. 

‘ But not without reason,’ Vader confusedly thought as he strongly pushed back against the waves of sorrow threatening to lighten his black soul.

Still something did not add up. 

Vader was not one to fall into denial as there was no room for that in his line of work. No, this was something different. Suspicion. 

There was no whisper of ‘Danger’ to alert the Sith that his son was in trouble, and his Luke’s lifeforce did not fade gradually into nothingness, the snuff of his light was swift and final in all aspects. The only explanation that Vader could think to justify those ends was that his son was sniped unsuspectingly. In any event, however, Luke would have been able to sense the danger and act accordingly before the fatal shot could have been taken.

Still, The brutal imagery of his son lying dead in a random street after being shot cleanly in the head from behind like common hunting game made something dark and predatory stir inside of Vader that he did not know existed. 

The only being capable of performing such a barbaric act would be a bounty hunter, and the last time Vader checked (two days ago) Luke only had ‘alive only’ bounties and had no orders instructed to kill the young Jedi on sight. Vader’s own bounty was set with very strict directions to bring in the youth unharmed, and he was confident they would comply. No one wanted to anger the notorious Sith lord. 

So why would his son be killed? Some personal vendetta? 

‘ No, that’s not it, ’ Vader thought sharply as he started to become increasingly frustrated. His son had plenty of enemies, he was sure, it was a natural Skywalker tendency, but none with the means or motivation to hire someone else to do their dirty work for them. 

Had the rebellion found out about his parentage and decided to get rid of who they thought was a traitor? 

Vader paused on that thought with uncertainty but quickly marked it as invalid. He was convinced that his son had not divulged that particular bit of information to anyone, not even Organa, due to the shame and denial Skywalker still felt himself. That thought made Vader uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t let himself dwell on why.

So what happened to his son?... Was he not actually dead?

Despite the Sith’s best attempts he couldn’t squash the hope that was unwillingly starting to build inside of him. All evidence to the contrary, Darth Vader was determined to discover if his son was really alive. 

“My Lord…” A hesitant voice to his left spoke to him and the only thing that stopped Vader from killing that man for interrupting his musings was the fact that he was one of the only competent members of staff he had. 

“Yes, Admiral Piett,” Vader answered, venom in his tone, as he struggled to reign in his still blazing temper.

“The report that the technician brought to you, sir, it was a lead on the whereabouts of the Millennium Falcon,” the officer answered calmly hoping that some good news would help dispel the rest of the cyborg’s obvious rage. It worked.

“What system, Captain?” The hope grudgingly rose again. 

“Tatooine.”

The dark armored man froze. ‘Tatooine,’ Vader thought moodily, ‘ Why does it always come back to Tatooine?’

Looks like Vader was going back to the planet he swore to leave behind forever. Again. He could see Kenobi laughing at him now.

‘ Kriff, the force,’ he brooded regardless of the consequences. It looked like it was going to be an even longer day.

“Set course for Tatooine,” he barked at the newly promoted crew, looking pale as they glanced around at their fallen predecessors. Not to be told twice, the technicians scrambled to do what they were told as Vader looked on smugly. 

At least some things never change.

Chapter Text

Han stumbled as he was roughly pushed back inside of his dingy cell. 

Shaking slightly he lowered himself carefully to the ground, though he wasn’t entirely sure the rising nausea was due to his hibernation sickness or just an overwhelming feeling of shock over the events that had just gone down. One thought prevailed in Han’s mind, echoing his disbelief at his young friend’s actions.

What was wrong with Luke. 

The smuggler knew the kid could keep a cool head and even be somewhat of a genius when it came to being put under pressure, but what the kid pulled on Boba Fett was just stupidity at the young man’s finest. 

Han couldn’t help but sympathize a little bit with Fett at first when Luke pulled his first remark out of a bantha and let it ring through the chamber for all to hear. The Rebellion general kinda wanted to throw in a hit of his own for the Jedi’s utter disregard for his own safety. 

And then Luke had to go and mention the bounty hunter’s worshiped father. Han cringed in remembrance. 

Almost immediately after the kid’s statement he internally winced and waited for the reaction that the hot-tempered hitman was sure to deliver to the laserbrain who dared to utter a word about dear old dad. He wasn’t disappointed.

Instantly, chaos erupted inside of the chamber. Fett screamed obscenities, jeers and cheering originated from the blood-thirsty audience, and Han’s own hollering was mixed into the fray as all of the noise was tied together by the sound of something hard being slammed over and over again into flesh as Luke was pummeled relentlessly by the pissed off Kaminoian. 

When someone mercifully stopped Fett from finishing the job and simply killing the young man where the black, blurry figure laid lifelessly on the floor Han was thankful, but for three heart-stopping seconds he had already feared the kid was dead, and then he coughed and Han unclenched his tightly bound hands as he realized that the kid wasn’t going to give up that easily. 

Han didn’t know if that thought made him feel relieved or just brought him more dread. 

Jabba had a long history of being inhumane and cruel to all of his prisoners, especially those who were, in his mind, high profile or valuable. Han himself had fallen into that unfortunate category and had ended up as a tasteful wall decoration for the last six months. Now Luke waltzes effortlessly into the Hutt’s fortified palace, claims to be a mythicized Jedi Knight, kills Jabba’s favorite death machine, and somehow stays level-headed even when being beaten half-to-death. That definitely got him on Jabba’s hit list. 

Han doesn’t know much about Luke’s father aside from the fact that he was also a Jedi Knight  and he showed up in the halos frequently during the smuggler’s younger years due to his large involvement in the Clone Wars, but Han would bet that a part of the kid’s rebellious streak comes from him, “The Hero with No Fear”. Years ago when Han had originally heard that title he had scoffed and thought ‘ Yeah right ’, but meeting the man’s son… he couldn’t help but reconsider that that title might have been on the mark.

He really wished the kid would have more trepidation going into things and not follow in his father’s footsteps as it would probably stop him from getting himself into situations like his current one. Han’s shaking which had died down due to his relaxed position once again resumed as he remembered the slug’s parting words before he had been ever so graciously escorted back to his cell. 

“ You’ve grown soft, Solo. Your emotions betray you. Your execution has been pushed out one week, but I think I shall keep the Jedi for myself. He could be useful. Consider it my last favor to an old friend for keeping him alive,” The look on Jabba’s face and booming laugh told him everything he needed to know and he knew Luke’s “use” for the slug would simply be to entertain him and his guests by seeing a mighty Jedi Knight tamed by the all-powerful Hutt, causing the kid even more pain and humiliation.

Han didn’t know it was possible for him to feel as much dread as he was feeling now and not having it be in self-interest. Jabba was right, he was becoming soft and, alarmingly, that fact didn’t frighten him at all. What would his old employers think of him now as they saw the notorious Han Solo, who had no attachments, stuck in such a situation because of love. His love for Leia is what got him into this mess, but he would do it again in a heartbeat if it guaranteed her safety in getting her off that frozen hell-hole.

 Speaking of Leia, Han wondered where she had ended up as she was present for their “conversation” with Jabba and nothing further had been said about her in terms of execution. He hoped she was alright. Impossibly, even more worry reared its ugly head in Han, and the pirate was really starting to get sick of not knowing what was going on. 

He didn’t have much time to dwell on his frustrations because only a moment later he heard the tell-tale sign of footsteps coming from down the hall along with the shouts of an angry wookie. At first, Han just thought Chewie was angry at the way he was being handled, but then he started to make out what his companion was actually saying and he immediately scrambled up from his semi-comfortable position on the floor as the door slid open and the guards’ load was deposited roughly on the floor. The huff of breath he heard as the door closed and the feel of a scratchy cotton vest under his grasping fingers confirmed who Han heard his co-pilot bellowing about. 

Luke.

The figure groaned as the floor jolted his injuries and immediately Han was fumbling to find the kid’s armpits in order to help the younger man into a sitting position and to drag him slowly to the nearest wall. Once he was settled upright against the damp surface, Han gave him a half-blind glance over and winced. Even dim lighting and his less than optimal vision did nothing to help downplay the blossoming bruises, forming black-eye, and painful-looking split lip the kid’s blurry face now seemed to sport. 

“Hey, Han” the kid’s hoarse voice said as it cut through the rising tension in the cramped space and the older man would have hit him if the young Jedi wasn’t already covered head-to-toe in injuries. 

“Hey, Han?!” Han practically shouted in Luke’s face as his anger from earlier came rushing back, “All you have to say is ‘Hey, Han’ after you needlessly got yourself beaten to a pulp?!” 

Luke seemed to shrink in on himself and guilt surged into Han as he realized now probably wasn’t the best time to yell at him and adjusted his volume when he spoke again. 

“How hurt are you?” Han started over as all irritation disappeared from his voice and genuine concern seeped in. 

“I’ve had worse,” Luke answered and there was a hint of something there that Han couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“Worse?” Han asked, disbelief sliding back into his tone despite himself, “Kid, I saw you after the Wampa attack and that was nothing compared to…” 

Han slowly trailed off as the quiet sound of sniffling reached his ears. 

“How hurt are you? Did they do anything else to you?” Han asked again but this time with a frantic tinge to his words as he wondered what could have happened when Han was no longer able to witness Jabba’s new favorite show. 

“No. I told you it’s not that bad.,” Luke replied quickly knowing his friend was panicking. Han noticed he avoided his other question, but he reluctantly let it go for now. He gave one final sniff and spoke again, “It’s just - I really missed you, Han,”

“I missed you too, kid,” Han said fondly while placing a hand gently on his cellmate’s arm, “I know it’s been a lot longer for you, but the weeks spent on Cloud City weren’t the same without- Hey, what’s wrong?” Han asked, confused when he felt Luke flinch strongly under where his hand rested on his shoulder. Luke attempted to stand in order to either pace the small length of the room or get away from the conversation, the smuggler didn’t know which, but Han grabbed his wrist to stop him so the kid didn’t injure himself further by moving. 

His right wrist. 

Harsh, rapid breathing assaulted Han’s ears as Luke violently tore his arm out of Han’s grip. Afraid that the kid had a severe injury, Han once again grabbed the limb regardless of the kid’s now obvious panic and clumsily felt with calloused fingers for a bump or swelling that would hint to a broken bone or sprain. He was surprised when not only did he find no injury, but he felt a grooved seam hinting to where a prosthetic met flesh. Stunned, Luke escaped from the now loose restraint on his hand and threw himself away from the other man despite the obvious pain it must have caused him, but Han barely noticed due to his whirlwinding thoughts. 

Why did the kid have a prosthetic ?

And more importantly when he had lost an entire limb without Han noticing? 

As he thought back to the first time he met the ex-farm boy on the dust ball that is Tatooine, Han knew that the kid had all his limbs. Even if he hadn’t, that type of technology didn’t exist that far into the Outer Rim so it would be impossible for him to get one that advanced without going to a Core world. Had he lost it on Hoth? That thought sent Han’s stomach plummeting. Was he not fast enough to save the kid’s hand from hypothermia? No, Han knew that wasn’t right either as he personally monitored the young pilot’s entire recovery (despite himself) and no way in that period did it go over Han’s head that the kid got an entire new hand installed . 

Then it suddenly hit him. 

Dark clothes, somber personality, and obvious trauma. 

Lando’s words in the cell before his submission in the carbon freeze came back to him. 

“ He’s looking for someone called, Skywalker,” 

Vader. Vader had done this. 

It made so much horrifying sense to Han why the kid changed so drastically. He and Leia were the perfect bait and he had so predictably come to save them like the monster knew he would. Luke had faced Vader and lost, badly. And Han had probably just triggered what was a flashback when he had grabbed what the murderer had severed away so cruelly in a flash of terror and pain.

 Great. As if he didn’t already feel guilty.

‘ At least the kid only lost his hand and not his life,’ Cold seeped down Han’s spine at that thought and he again marveled at the young man’s affinity to get into these types of situations. ‘ That means he’s alive to get into them,’ Han’s inner voice reminded him and he thanked any god that was listening that that was the case. Despite what he tried to tell convince himself of, Han cared about the kid, probably too much as the current predicament proved, and imagining the small blonde haired boy facing off against one of the most feared people in all of the galaxy, rivaled by maybe only the Emperor himself, made Han feel an emotion which he could only define as shavit.

Minutes passed and Luke’s panting finally died down to a less dangerous level and Han took his chance to approach where he thought the kid had gone off too. Sure enough he was tucked into the corner of the cell in a semi-trembling ball. Wordlessly, Han sat next to him so their shoulders were touching in a silent apology and a hesitant display of comfort. 

“So… Vader’s a nerf herder. Am I right?”

That got a soft chuckle out of the Jedi and the smuggler was grateful to know that his rash actions were already forgiven. 

“Yeah. Yeah, he really is,” 

And the two sat in a comfortable silence, happy to be back in each other's company.

Chapter Text

Lando didn’t dare to step away from Fett as the bounty hunter’s inferno-sparked rage slowly subsided. 

The ex-gambler could not stand by a moment longer when things had gone oh so terribly wrong in Jabba’s audience chamber. His confidence had soared prematurely at first when Luke had successfully defeated the rancor, and he had thought that the doomed plan may go smoothly after all. 

Until all hell broke loose.

The moment the Hutt’s intention had changed Lando knew by the look on the slug’s face and he also knew that their plan was about to go to shavit in a matter of seconds. He was reluctantly forced to stand guiltily on the sidelines as the young Jedi was singled out and roughly handled by the guards and bounty hunter. When the beating had started and then continued,  he was unable to hold up his incognito guard façade when the sound of Han’s increasingly desperate cries were heard over Chewbacca’s roars and he shoved his way roughly through the rowdy crowd to save Luke from the man who would most definitely beat him within an inch of his life without Lando’s much needed intervention. 

He swore an oath to himself to not cause his old buddy any more pain after his betrayal against Han at Bespin, and Lando knew that seeing what the smooth-talking smuggler had determined to be the pirate’s pseudo little brother being stomped into the ground qualified as unpleasant for his friend. Plus, over the past months of plotting and devising, the young man in question had started to grow on Lando too as he learned that the mysterious figure Darth Vader had obsessed over during the lord’s stay on Cloud City was actually just a shy kid who still didn’t really know his place in the galaxy. So he stepped in to save the young Jedi’s skin despite the consequences that, with Lando’s luck, would probably follow. 

Whatever gods were out there must have been with him as no one reacted to his rash, unordered move as everyone’s attention was focused on the Jedi sprawled out on the sand-coated floor. Lando, recognizing that he didn’t blow his cover, immediately snapped his attention there as well. A beat of silence where he feared he was too late and the blonde boy was dead and then he coughed and blood splattered onto the ground and, despairingly, also onto Lando’s freshly polished boots. His nose scrunched underneath his helmet in distaste at the defilement of his wardrobe, yet a part of him was just glad the kid was still alive after taking such a solid beating that the half-crazed bounty hunter had dished out to him. 

Taking a chance to look around while everyone was still stunned by the turn of events, he quickly checked on the state of his other secret companions and held back a barely concealed wince at what he saw. Han’s face nearly crushed him as he saw both relief and devastation clearly painted across it. Lando didn’t want to imagine what it would be like not being able to physically see the violence toward his friend and only being able to hear the horrible crescendo of sounds that accompanied it. The newly appointed Rebellion general’s heart ached for him. 

 A second glance towards Leia pulled on his heart strings when he saw tear tracks neatly making a path down her pale face and Lando put two and two together and realized that she also cared for Luke as an undeclared brother, and in a moment of clarity, he was sure that he was one of the only people in the universe who had ever seen the princess cry let alone twice in a matter of months. She hadn’t even cried when they put on that horrid collar that she now sported around her neck, which Lando immediately wanted to rip off upon sight.

The fact that she was crying now spoke volumes for the depth of her emotions toward Luke, and if he wasn’t convinced she saw him as family when she demanded they went back for him while escaping Bespin, then he was completely convinced now. 

Lando was also alarmed to notice that when he warily retracted his sweating hand from where it rested on Fett’s shoulder, it was shaking, mirroring his own distress that he hadn’t even registered. Apparently Luke Skywalker had a talent for getting underneath the skin of even the most hardened individuals and for turning them into a gooey mess without the person noticing it until it was shoved painfully into their face. 

Hell, if given the chance Lando was sure that he could make Darth Vader good. 

He scoffed internally at that laughable line of thinking and dismissed it without a second thought.

Panic sprung up in him as Fett started to reach for Luke’s helpless figure again as his temper once again spiked at some new burst of rage spurred by the man’s angry thoughts, and Lando began to wonder if he would have to blow his disguise after all, and then his suddenly tense shoulders sagged in relief as Jabba began to speak stopping the metal-clad man in his tracks.

“ You’ve grown soft, Solo. Your emotions betray you, ” Lando glanced over at Han and saw that the same pained expression from before was on his face and he had to agree with the slug’s words. Even when Lando had first met the seemingly hardened smuggler the gambler could tell the pirate wore his emotions on his sleeve. He had noted to himself it would come back to bite him in the butt one day. Lando just didn’t think he would be there to see it or be so hopelessly involved in the fallout.

“ Your execution has been pushed out one week, but I think I shall keep the Jedi for myself. He could be useful. Consider it my last favor to an old friend for keeping him alive, ” The Hutt finished with a quiet chuckle. 

So much for untensing his shoulders. 

Han was dragged away by guards spitting expletives the entire time and Lando took a moment to be impressed until he refocused on the terrible situation he found himself in. The only upside was that the execution of Han and Chewie had been bumped out a week which would allow them more time to think of a new plan. Well, more like give him time to think of one. No one else was really in the position to think of anything but saving their own skins. 

 Jabba barked something else and guards scrambled towards Luke as the Jedi was spotted attempting to rise from the floor. Lando, always quick on his feet, beat one of the Gamorreans to it and secured the spot at Luke’s left side. Guiltily he heaved him as gently as he could to his knees, trying to ignore the low groan that came out of the kid from that motion. 

Silence reigned in the chamber as the surrounding audience held their breath as they waited for Jabba to give his next, most likely, cruel order. A glance down at Luke told him that the bruised face was screwed up into a determined glare and he himself became anxious as he remembered that face from minutes earlier before the Jedi spouted something that he could have only learned from Han and then was almost murdered by Fett for  it. A quiet rattle of chains diagonally to his right let him know that Leia was also unsettled and he felt some sort of weird twisted comfort at the fact that he wasn’t the only one. 

Suddenly, the Gamorrean positioned on Luke’s right side pulled out a syringe looking device and plunged it ruthlessly into the soft flesh of Luke’s neck not covered by the mysterious collar, and cold dread seeped into Lando’s now icy veins as he saw what the object was. 

During his smuggling days, he had made many visits to the mines on Kessel to make runs for valuable supplies, and Kessel was well-known for one thing. 

Slavery. 

Slave transmitter chips are common practice in the Outer Rim where slavery is technically illegal but not enforced by the loose control of the Empire as it was mostly Hutt controlled space. Lando had shamefully smuggled a couple loads of the things in the old days before he developed better morals due to responsibility and leadership. He and Han had actually, ironically, been there together before when they were still frenemies (emphasize on the enemies). One of the things that he would never forget that he saw there, however, was the day he saw a slaver activate one of the chips in the neck of a runaway slave. Lando was forced to clean the brain matter off of the hull of the Falcon before he could take off. 

Blessedly, Luke didn’t make a sound when the needle was jabbed uncaringly into his throat, and Lando had to admire him for it. Jedi Knight indeed. Though, he couldn’t help but feel sick at the thought of there literally being a ticking time bomb inside of his new friend’s head. 

The guard then pulled out the accompanying tracking and detonating device and in rising horror he watched as it was handed over to none other than Boba Fett himself. The man known for his vendetta against all things Jedi and apparently against Luke personally as he was now hanging semi-limply in Lando’s grip due to the recent bout of attention shown to him by the hitman. Lando figured it had something to do with Fett’s idolized father and some other personal motive. Both were not good, but combined, Lando seriously feared for his buddy’s safety. 

Jabba’s stubby finger was suddenly pointed directly at his face and time seemed to slow down as he froze to the spot, hand tightening slowly and unconsciously on Luke’s arm as his panic soared. Had he been discovered? Did his intervention not go unnoticed after all? Lando was the only ace left in their sleeves besides the droids so what would happen to his friends? Would they all be killed due to Jabba’s paranoia of infiltration? What would happen to the Rebellion? It would be losing three of its most powerful leaders.

A hiss of air between Luke’s teeth brought Lando out of his unnaturally uncollected thoughts and he loosened his clasp on his arm as if he had been burned and gave a softer squeeze in apology. He was just in time to catch the tail end of Jabba’s demand. 

“... take him to the droidsmith to remove his collar and put him in a cell with Solo. He won’t be running now. ” Jabba ordered the still reeling Lando and the gambler wanted to punch his leering face in for taking the enslavement of his friend so lightly. Ignoring Leia’s glare in response to him agreeing to take Luke to some unknown place out of her sight, he gave a nod and quickly led both him and Luke into the hall, the “ho”-ing of the Hutt’s laughter and the jeering of the crowd following them as they went. As soon as they were out of view, Lando slung the left arm of the stumbling Jedi over his shoulders and led them to a deserted corridor far away from anyone who might benefit from listening in on their conversation. He let the young man allow gravity to take him to the floor and helped him lean against the hallway wall, careful not to jostle his most likely broken ribs. 

Now that he had nobody to hold up his façade to, Luke paled significantly as the suppressed pain hit him full force and a fine sheen of perspiration reflected off of his brow from the effort of holding it back. Lando thought he looked worse than Han, which was saying something as the old smuggler looked like hell by himself. A slight trembling in his black clothed limbs told him that he was still somehow being influenced by that-that thing around his neck and Lando was thankful that it was being taken off. It still didn’t matter as one form of slavery was being swapped for another, this time literal slavery. Lando didn’t know how to get them all out of this one. He was about to speak but then the kid beat him to it. 

“Lando, I need you to promise me you won’t tell Han,” The look on his face told him not to argue, but when did that ever stop him.

“Luke, I can’t keep something like this from him, and you know that. He would never forgive me if I just happened to leave out the fact that his best friend was enslaved to his own archenemy,” Lando said exasperated that he would even suggest such a thing. He only just started to repair the lost trust between him and the old pirate and he wasn’t going to destroy that by keeping invaluable information about the safety of his friend to himself. 

“But if you tell him, then he won’t leave without me. I know Leia will see sense and leave me behind even though it would hurt her to do so, but Han wouldn’t be able to help himself and the whole mission will be blown,” Luke argued back and Lando froze. Had Luke lost all hope already for his own escape? That didn’t sound like the kid he had grown to know. What in the kriff was going on? 

After a moment of silence he just went for it. 

“Luke,” he said as though he speaking to a toddler and not a fully grown Jedi Knight, “What’s going on,”

A soft reply. “Promise you won’t tell, Han?” 

Lando sighed. He couldn’t refuse him when he asked like that. 

“Fine, but you owe me one,” He conceded and Luke’s face lighting up into something of his old self made thinking of telling Han a whole lot of white lies a little more bearable.

“I think Boba Fett is working for another employer,” 

Lando’s face must have shown visible confusion as Luke quickly continued. 

“What I’m wearing,” he said with a gesture towards the piece of metal wrapped around his neck, “Is called a force suppressor. It stops me from connecting with and using the force which is what gives me, as you would refer to it, my “powers”. This type of technology was supposed to be wiped out a long time ago by the Empire, and I don’t think it’s something Jabba would have been able to get his hands on, especially not when he operates mainly in the Outer Rim. This had to have come from the Core Worlds which tells me Fett’s allegiance is to whoever supplied him with this,” he finished leaving Lando’s head reeling from the dump of information and the speed at which it was delivered. 

“So let me get this straight, you think Fett is working for someone else?” Luke nodded. 

“How were you planning on finding out who this supposed mysterious employer is?”

A guilty look came across the young man’s face as he looked anywhere but at Lando and suddenly his little performance earlier began to make sense. 

“Your plan was to make him spill it to you while you were unconscious,” 

The Jedi’s face flushed red from embarrassment and his shoulders shrugged as much as they could with the restriction of the collar.

“Well…when you put it like that,” he muttered under his breath but loud enough for Lando to hear.

Lando shook his head in bewilderment at the sheer stupidity of that plan. 

“So how are you going to find out who the employer is now?” 

A shaky hand moved to brush through the owner’s sandy hair in a clear display of nervousness and Lando’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

The kid murmured something else, but this time he couldn’t make it out.

“What was that?” 

“I’mgoingtoletFetttakemetowhoeveremployedhimandthenescape.”

“One more time?” Lando asked growing slightly impatient that Luke wouldn’t just spit it out.

“I’m going to let Fett take me to whoever employed him...then escape?” 

Lando’s brain temporarily short-circuited as he registered what Luke was actually proposing. The idea was crazy. It was a suicide mission. Han would kill him if he ever found out he knew the kid’s intentions and didn’t stop him. But Lando was not known for his people skills and he doubted he would be able to talk Luke out of going through with that plan even if he tried. He might as well try to help the kid make things go as smoothly as possible instead of letting him do it alone. 

“What are you going to do about that transmitter chip?” 

Luke smiled at Lando’s understanding and then the grin dropped off his face as he remembered his recent induction into slavery. The young Jedi was taking it surprisingly in stride, but Lando knew that the insult to his humanity must be killing him.

“Well, I’m getting the collar taken off which will allow me to access the force so I may be able to deactivate it that way,” 

“May be able to?” Lando asked as he was uncomfortable with yet another plan that had so many unknown variables. It was justified as he looked back on how this one had turned out. 

“Look, all I need is for you to do is make sure no one but Fett gets their hands on that transmitter and make sure Han doesn’t do anything too stupid. I can take care of myself,” Luke said gently with a reassuring smile that did nothing to help Lando’s continually growing worries. 

“All right,” Lando started willing to trust him for now, “I just don’t see how-” 

He was cut off as four Gamorrean guards and a restrained wookie rounded the corner and he perked to attention as his brain scrambled for an excuse.

“He’s heavy,” Lando said in poor Huttese, “He no walk,” he finished lamely and the guards paused at his horrible language skills and then marched over to wrangle Luke off of the floor. A meaningful nod in his direction was the last thing Lando saw from Luke as he was hauled around the corner, and Lando stood there just absorbing what he had just signed up for. 

Good thing he knew how to keep a poker face as he was about to do a lot more lying. 

Chapter Text

The landing crew of the Mos Espa spaceport scurried away as they saw the bulky figure of Darth Vader appear at the top of the exit ramp of the Imperial shuttle. 

The Executor had arrived in the system that morning and the twin suns were shining brightly overhead signaling that it was now noon on Tatooine. 

The black armored figure paid no heed to the blistering heat, however, as his suit like prison kept a cooling system running for the current climate. Red tinted vision took in the sand covered landing pad with strong distaste, but he stopped himself from reentering the ship for the sake of his son.

“I hate sand. It’s coarse, and rough, and irritating. And it gets everywhere.”

With a long sigh that was unable to be translated by his vocoder, Vader stopped that memory in its tracks and turned sharply around to face the troops waiting uneasily for their commands. They too knew of the Dark Lord’s strong dislike for the planet and were thus rightfully fearful of their commander’s mood. 

That helped Vader feel a little bit better. 

“I want all surrounding spaceports searched for the ship called the Millennium Falcon . Failure to find its location will result in a demotion,” Vader snapped, his patience evaporating away along with any moisture that remained on the shuttle’s hull. Instantly, cold fear shot through the squad as they knew that being demoted meant death by the Sith’s standards. 

Satisfied that the troopers knew their orders were clear, he turned to the trembling port supervisor who was unable to run away with the rest of his colleagues because of his duties, though it was painfully obvious to Vader that the man dearly wanted to. 

“Have you seen or heard anything about the Millennium Falcon being harbored in Mos Espa?” The Sith snarled at the incompetent man, and the technician practically turned transparent underneath his sun-kissed skin. 

“N-no, my Lord. Not c-confirmed,” the man stuttered in broken basic and Vader was slightly impressed he was able to form a coherent sentence at all in his presence, “T-there were some f-folks at a local can-cantina talking about a-a wookie arriving with some o-other gent on an o-old smuggler ship, b-but Bossk thought they were p-pulling his leg,” 

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Vader replied and then casually snapped the man’s neck with the force. He could not have people knowing he was looking for the ship or its supposed occupants as he felt great paranoia that his son’s kidnappers (or killers) would attempt to flee him. 

Vader would not let them get away that easily.

 He left the body for the supervisor’s employees to dispose of and started on his way.

With begrudging muscle memory, he strode purposely to the cantina where rumors of the ship originated. Halfway there however, he stopped as a familiar storefront appeared in his view. 

The shop was obviously abandoned about half a decade ago as the structural integrity was falling apart and it looked as though it had been raided on multiple occasions. Almost as though possessed, Vader found himself striding over to the crumbling building and folding his enormous frame to fit inside the slightly collapsed opening. 

“Are you an angel?”

His cape flicked over a pile of useless scrap metal as he swiftly turned around and exited Watto’s store as soon as he came.

 Already memories were bubbling to the surface in this wasteland, as he knew they would, but he refused to let long forgotten memories of-of her distract his mind from his mission of finding his troublesome son and having him take a place at his side where he belonged. 

“ Will I ever see you again?”

“What does your heart tell you?”

Unbidden, more phantoms squeezed past the tightly sealed vault in Vader’s mind and emotional pain followed as now even thoughts of his mother penetrated his carefully built wall of rage. 

Thankfully, the Sith lord spotted the cantina only yards ahead, and he practically jogged to close the extra distance and get out of the familiar streets. His path was cleared immediately by terror-struck citizens and he didn’t know why the sight of them cowering in fear made him feel uncomfortable for once and not overjoyed as usual.

The rancid smell of spilled alcohol and vomit filled his helmet before it was filtered out and the unwelcome scent helped clear Vader’s jumbled head and calm his frantic heartbeat. The noise that accompanied such a loathsome establishment would have finished the job of banishing his stress if it wasn’t for the fact that the entire pub went completely silent as his unmistakable figure took up the doorframe. His respirator was the only noise that filled the stale air as he deliberately made his way slowly over to the bartender in order to have the man trembling in his boots by the time he arrived. 

“Where is Bossk? He is a regular attendee of this, what you have dared to call, an establishment,” He asked, his tone clearly conveying that it wasn’t a question as he let his vocoder drop a couple octaves lower than normal. 

The manager’s eyes began to roll into the back of his head in pure terror, but before Vader could demand an answer, movement was spotted out of the corner of his eye and there was a flash of warning from the force. The blaster aimed for his chest plate was ripped out of the owner’s hand and into his own as the owner himself was trapped by the Sith in an invisible chokehold from across the room. 

“Bossk, I’m assuming?,” Vader questioned harshly, no longer in the mood for games as the humanoid had tested his last nerve by making him relive buried reminders of his past and now, more recently, attempting to murder him in cold blood. 

Vader had wanted to do his questioning away from prying eyes after locating the man who he now collected to be a bounty hunter by his attire. Now, however, the alien left him no choice as any other movement would give him an unwanted audience and any questions he would ask would surely find their way around, which would lead to his son slipping through his fingers and the whole endeavor would be for naught. So with much frustration Vader ended the hitman’s life with a simple flick of his wrist and his victim fell into an unmoving heap on the floor. 

The patrons, now satisfied that whatever business the Emperor’s right-hand man had was over, warily went back to sipping their putrid drinks and commenced their mindless chatter. 

Mood darker than ever, Vader exited back into the sweltering heat as the twin suns now showed it was late afternoon. His temper spiked at the thought of precious hours wasted in the search for his son, and a speeder nearby creaked in displeasure as it became an outlet for his rage. Clenching his fists, he left the now dented vehicle behind as he resumed his determined walk in the direction of the shuttle wanting to regroup with his stormtroopers to discover if they yielded better results than him in their search as he was now eager to kill them if they hadn’t. 

A pair of what appeared to be drunken men were hollering and howling in glee over something in a back alleyway nearby and Vader would have continued storming onwards if it wasn’t for a firm nudge from the Force telling him to pay closer attention to the drunkards. He thought that the Force was gravely mistaken as he watched the two practically collapse under the strain of their laughter, and he prepared to continue on as they were not worth his already wasted time. 

That is until one of them spoke. 

“Did-did you see the Jedi’s f-face when Fett-?!” The taller man managed to stutter out between laughter as his voice was once again cut off by his infernal howling. 

Vader stiffened at the mention of a Jedi and he knew that that could only mean Luke. Eavesdropping complete, Vader entered the alley himself in order to confront the two people who had crossed paths with his son. 

As a dark shadow blocked out the glaring lights created by the suns, both men looked up first in confusion and then wide-eyed surprise as their alcohol soaked brains registered that it was Darth Vader. Their intoxicated legs were no match for the precise prosthetics the Sith wore and they soon found themselves cornered by the sheer bulk of Vader and the sandstone wall when they attempted to flee. The two laughed as if this was some sort of newly discovered game.

“The Jedi. Did he give a name?” Vader was tired of asking so many questions in one day and itched to just kill them for insulting his son now.

“I think it was Starkiller?” the shorter man slurred, mind not functioning properly due to the obscene amounts of alcohol he had most likely consumed. “No. Skyhopper?” He looked to his companion for help but the man simply gave him a dopey grin and a shrug in response. 

Imbeciles.

“Sky walker ?” Vader supplied for him as the man’s brain was obviously unable to come up with the correct response. 

“Yeah that’s it!” the taller man shouted far too loudly for their current quarters and the shorter man giggled despite himself at the unexpected volume. 

“Where. Did. You. See. Him?” Vader hissed out through gritted teeth as he had to physically restrain himself from killing both idiotic men lest he not find Luke.

“Jabba’s palace,” replied the two in unison as they both sobered up immediately when they finally gathered that they should be fearing for their lives. 

Vader’s force signature was doused in a bucket of cold fear of his own. 

What had his son gotten himself into now? 

Vader himself knew firsthand just how cruel and volatile the Hutts could be due to his less than pleasant childhood, and panic rose within him at the thought of his son being in one of their clutches. Not only that, but the snickering man had also mentioned something about Fett which meant that the disintegration-happy bounty hunter was somehow involved in Luke’s disappearance as well. He would bet anything that it had to do with that accursed smuggler Fett had taken and that a poorly executed rescue attempt went wrong. 

He needed to get to Luke now. 

Fortunately, his unwilling time as a child spent on Tatooine left him knowing the locations of all the desert planet’s important landmarks including the Hutt’s palace which was in the far part of the Dune Sea, so he did not have to squander any more precious moments “questioning” his next two murder victims. It was best to tie off any loose ends in case Fett decided to run.

He raised a hand to carelessly snap their tracheas when suddenly one of the men's’ faces became clear to him as the sun filtered through his lifted arm. Shocked to his core, Vader moved backwards to lean against the opposing wall of the alleyway.

It was his childhood friend Kitster Banai. 

“You don’t even know if this thing’s gonna run!” 

The faces of his mother and Qui-Gon Jinn and the joy from podracing and happier times came in waves, and he wanted to kill his grown friend now just for sparking those images. The Anakin Skywalker part of him had shown up far too much today for his liking and this simple kill would help in eradicating him from his consciousness forever. He raised a steady hand to end Banai’s life.

 Yet…

The Sith audibly growled in frustration as he was unable to proceed forward with the action and snapped Kitster’s companion’s neck instead. 

“Remember this day when you ever think of questioning your allegiance to the Empire,” Vader snarled with a finger in Banai’s face and turned on his heel to stomp away to his transport, leaving his old companion and childhood behind. 

Only once he reached the relative safety of the ship did the Dark Lord finally expel what was left of his fear for his son into the force, heal any torn open scars from his past, and replace the stinging in his heart with the more familiar feeling of  anger. One spot of intruding light would not go away, however, and it left the Sith both confused and frustrated. Until he connected the ray to its source.

Luke. 

Hope and glee reigned as relief washed over him in soft waves as he now guiltlessly touched the light which confirmed that his son was, in fact, not dead. The bond was also stronger than ever which discerned that he too was on Tatooine. The nightmare was almost over and his child would soon be where he belonged as his heir. 

And now Vader had a light to help guide him to his side. 

This completely refreshed Vader’s mood, and when the stormtroopers came back from their patrol, filled with dread because they did not locate the Falcon , he did not kill a single one of them much to their utter relief and shock. 

He tried not to think about how for the briefest moment, he had touched the light, and for once, was not burned. 

Chapter Text

Luke was startled out of a restless sleep by a womp rat scurrying across his ankles. 

Scrambling back out of both disgust and confusion, the screaming of his injuries and the feeling of the damp, rough floor beneath his fingertips reminded his drowsy, awakening brain of his newest run in with trouble. Instinctively, he checked to see if his cellmate was still present and accounted for as he tried to bring back air into his bruised lungs, and he let out an internal sigh of relief to see that Han was not only there but still blessedly asleep. 

The young Jedi had put Han in a semi-successful healing trance about a day ago knowing that the older man needed immediate medical attention due to his hibernation sickness going unattended for almost forty-eight hours, and treatment was crucial. Luke had felt slightly guilty while doing so as he knew that had his friend been aware, the ex-smuggler would have protested (probably loudly) and made Luke take care of his own more life-threatening injuries first without hearing any excuses, but Han had unknowingly slipped into the trance Luke had suggested when he gave into his desire to sleep, oblivious to what was really happening. The Jedi would have attempted to slip into meditation and heal himself as well afterwards, but even that usually effortless reach out to the Force had sapped him of all his energy before he could even consider the idea.

‘Side effects of the collar ,’ Luke thought bitterly.

He could not begin to describe his relief when the less-than-gentle blacksmith had finally pried the collar away from the raw, chafed skin of his neck. His eyes had watered from both the air hitting his newly exposed wounds and his utter relief at his reconciliation with the Force, shaky as the connection was. The lack of the familiar guiding light had left him with an empty feeling equivalent to a black hole swallowing a supernova, leaving him in a seemingly endless darkness. His very soul seemed to scream in disapproval as the rest of his body echoed its distaste as it too pulsed with agony and unease at his helplessness.

Tremors and chills still shook his small frame as his fever continued to spike far past healthy levels and a skull-splitting headache pounded a hole through his sluggishly bleeding head wound. To be fair though, Luke couldn’t tell if those symptoms were related to the piece of shavit that was the hell-spawn metalwork previously around his neck or signs of infection beginning to set in along with a concussion. 

‘Probably both,’ He decided as a particularly fierce stab of pain originated from his red-rimmed transmitter sight. 

Slavery.

Luke was still unable to wrap his head around that.

The concept of slavery itself was not new to Luke as he had grown up on Tatooine, an Outer Rim planet with a strong disregard for Imperial policy. Sheltered as his childhood was, Luke could not ignore his aunt and uncle’s paranoid glances towards alleyways or a quick head turn that revealed the sight of a slave auction on the occasions he went into town. 

During one of the rare times his Aunt Beru had told him stories about his father’s family, after weeks of begging and pleading on the young farmboy’s part, Luke had been shocked to learn that his grandmother was a slave before being freed by his Grandpa Cliegg when the two fell in love and got married. Luke had never met his rumored, kind-hearted grandmother as she had died long before her grandson was even born but...

What would she think of him if she was here now?

Luke ruined her legacy and tainted her memory by recklessly getting himself trapped in the thing she had spent so long trying to escape.

She would hate him. 

Slavery.

Luke quickly shut and screwed up his unswollen eye in order to stop the tears that wanted to flow.

He felt dirty. He felt like he had just landed in the trash compactor on the Death Star and the surrounding grey water was seeping past the armour into his very bones. Because to Jabba and the others that’s what he was to them. 

Trash. 

He was no better than garbage now. Something to simply use and throw away at the first sign of weakness or breakage. 

Logically, Luke knew that wasn’t true. That he was still his own person and he was not just a means to Fett’s and Jabba’s twisted ends, but that didn’t mean that the stripping of his humanity didn’t hurt any less.

Frustrated where his thoughts had taken him, Luke lifted his right hand to run it through his sweat soaked and blood caked hair. Upon seeing the artificial limb, his already somber mood darkened even further.

The prosthetic reminded him that even his own father saw him as some sort of tool.  Vader only wanted him to help fulfill his own agenda. Beyond that, the Sith could care less if his only child lived or died. The fact that Luke’s friends were in this situation in the first place was a testament to that. It seemed Vader had a knack for exposing Luke’s weaknesses and making him feel powerless.

Luke started when the man beside him stirred before settling back into sleep and Luke looked on with tortured eyes. 

He had a burning ache to tell his best friend about his enslavement and his internal dilemma about his father, knowing that the smuggler seemed to always know what to say without making the Jedi feel stupid, but Luke had already caused his friend so much pain and did not want to imagine the look that would cross Han’s face when he told the older man that he was now property of Boba Fett and the son of Darth Vader. Both were two of the pirate’s worst enemies. He also knew Han would flat out refuse to leave without Luke in tow which would lead to all them probably getting killed in a failed escape attempt anyway. At the very least Han would be for getting in the bounty hunter’s way. 

Luke’s heart skipped a beat simply thinking about it.

The Rebellion pilot cautiously moved his head from its place on the wall to test if he would spiral back into unconsciousness at the movement, now more determined than ever to finish what he set out to do. Feeling that his headache had receded enough to a point where he felt like he would no longer drop dead where he sat, Luke grabbed his still flimsy grasp on the Force and pushed.  

White light immediately burst in front of his closed eyelids in a firework display as the pain in his head climbed to excruciating levels. Not sensing what he was looking for, he grit his teeth and stretched out even further.

‘Leia…’

The message was barely a whisper but he could sense her surprise at his unexpected appearance just before his concentration snapped like a rubber band and he collapsed back against the wall, spent. 

The cell came in and out of focus as he struggled to push back against the waves of unconsciousness that threatened to swallow him whole at any given moment. Something warm and sticky fell from his nose and mixed with the sweat now cascading down his face in rivlets, and he didn’t need to look to know it was blood. It was worth it however when a timid voice broke through his freshly renewed fevered haze. 

‘Luke?’

‘Leia’ Luke replied, relief filling their reawakened mental bond from both sides.

‘Luke! Oh force! Are you okay?!’ He could feel her deep worry as if it were his own as her overwhelming emotions practically rammed into him with their intensity.

‘I’m fine, Leia. Don’t worry about me,’ 

‘I can feel you,’ 

For a moment Luke’s face twisted, confused by what she meant by the weird phrasing of words, but then he realized he was practically broadcasting his pain across the unfiltered link. His face burned red from shame at his weakness being revealed so openly.

‘ Luke, no. Don’t you dare blame yourself for feeling pain. You’re not indestructible,’ Leia ridiculed him and her disapproval was clear in her words even without sensing her agitation. 

‘I should be’ He thought sadly, but he made sure to keep that thought to himself. 

‘Leia, I don’t have much time.’ Luke said quickly, and it was true. His breathing, already labored from his multiple broken ribs, had turned into a frantic fight for air as he forced his lungs to expand and contract. Leia was meeting his mental grasp far past halfway, but Luke still felt as though he was sinking deeper and deeper into the quicksand of the Dune Sea with every second the connection stayed open. Knowing time was running out, Luke relayed his message quickly.

‘Fett has some sort of ulterior motive linked to another top seller. Lando will be taking over in my place when the time to enact the plan comes. I need you to get Han, Lando, Chewie, and the droids and get out,’ Luke said in a rush. The blood from his nose had managed to soak through the front of his shirt. 

‘ But what about you.’ It wasn’t a question. Leia knew him too well to not expect him to pull some self-sacrificial stunt. She technically wasn’t wrong, but at least this time he had a reason. Even if she definitely wouldn’t approve of his methods. 

‘ I’ve got it handled,’ He assured her, forcing himself to feel confidence he really did not believe was warranted himself.

‘Luke… I don’t want to lose anyone else,’ 

That made him feel guilty. 

Leia was the strongest person Luke had ever met. The Princess of Alderaan had been through more hardship in a couple years than Luke had been through in his entire lifetime, yet she was still able to lead the Rebellion and stay stone faced through death and destruction at every turn. He was one of the few trusted people that Leia had allowed to see her with her guard down. She suffered many nightmares after the Death Star and Bespin. There were many times when they both couldn’t sleep due to being plagued by horrible visions, and although Luke could not talk about the root of his own fears because they were linked to his father, he was there to help Leia when she unraveled at the seams after a particularly bad dream and in the process learned that she probably harbored more demons than half of the Rebellion combined. The last thing he wanted was to put her through more grief by separating under such horrible circumstances, but this was something he knew he needed to do.

‘ You won’t’ he quietly responded knowing that  the simple declaration would mean more to her than any other pointless promises he could give. Warmth radiated across the bond and Luke knew that he had won her over even if it was reluctantly. 

Out of nowhere, a coughing fit overtook him and pure panic set in when he realized his airway was blocked when he had finished hacking up a lung. Luke desperately opened and closed his mouth, trying to drag oxygen into his unresponsive organs to no avail. Black spots began to take over his vision as Luke clawed at his throat, attempting to clear whatever decided to lodge itself in his trachea. He could feel Leia’s terror through the still open bond and he realized with a kind of detached wonder that he might actually be dying. 

It seemed ironic to Luke that this is the way he would go.

His father had suffocated countless victims during his time as Darth Vader, unbothered by the lives he was taking or the ones he was ruining in the process. Was this the Force’s way of punishing him for his father’s mistakes? How would his father react learning that his long-lost son died in a filthy dungeon choking on his own saliva if he ever discovered Luke’s whereabouts? The Sith Lord would most likely laugh in Jabba’s face. 

Suddenly, just before the encroaching darkness of death could cover him completely, something whacked Luke in the back. Hard.

Immediately, whatever was blocking Luke’s throat came out with a disgusting squelch and spattered onto the ground in front of him. 

‘Blood,’ Luke registered with half-noticed alarm. He was more focused on the fact that he regained the ability to simply breathe.

Blessed oxygen filled his lungs and the danger, danger, danger the Force was screaming at him quieted down to a gentle whisper. Luke continued to take in lungfuls of air despite his ribs obvious displeasure until the all the black spots receded, and then he finally turned his attention to who or what had saved him. 

“...id! Kid! Luke! Hey give a guy a heart attack would ya! Deep breaths, kid, there you go.” 

‘Han’ Luke’s brain finally reconnected to all of its appropriate senses and noticed that his smuggler friend was now awake. 

Talk about timing.

With a sheepish smile Luke glanced up at his friend from his folded position on the floor, but instead of a look of bewilderment on Han’s face, there was one of fear. The Jedi reflexively looked behind himself thinking there was an intruder, but saw that they were alone as they had been the entire time. Luke turned back to his friend, and the reason for Han’s discomfort dawned on him. The smuggler’s eyes were not just looking in his general direction they were looking directly at him which meant he had finally regained his eyesight.

“I look that bad, huh?” Luke joked half-heartedly, unable to handle the tense silence that had filled the small space. 

“Kid…” That was all Han managed to say before his jaw worked and he seemed unable to form any other words. 

“I’ll kill him,” Han seemed to decide on vocalizing after a long moment, and Luke was surprised by the sheer intensity packed behind that statement. Sure, Han could be hotheaded sometimes, but he acted more out of irritation than actual anger. The maniac gleam in Han’s eyes told him this was something completely different and he almost pitied Fett for what was surely coming for him. 

Slowly, so it looked casual, Luke popped up his shirt collar to hide the semi-visible needle wound. He did not need to not clue the smuggler in on his most recent piece of ill-treatment. If Han was angry now, Luke didn’t want to imagine what his reaction would be to seeing the telltale sign of enslavement . Besides, Luke had already decided that for the safety of all his friends, Han could not find out until the time was right, even if it meant he had to hide it. 

Luckily, the Force was with him, and the ex-gambler simply passed it off as a nervous gesture and nothing more. What Han did notice however was the shakiness of Luke’s limbs and the fine sheen of sweat that must have completely coated his face. In a very un-Han-like-fashion the smuggler slapped a hand on the younger man’s forehead to gage his temperature. He jerked his hand away as if burned, and with how high his fever was, Luke wouldn’t be surprised if he had been.

“Luke! You’re burning up!” At that moment Han sounded just like his Aunt Beru, but he was sure his friend would not appreciate that comparison.

“Han, it’s alright. I’m fine,” Between him and Leia, Luke was starting to feel overly coddled.

“You are not fine . You’re hotter than a nerf steak sitting out in the twin suns! How in the kriff did this happen?!” 

Luke winced under the older man’s tirade, but the once regularly heard shouting reminded him of who was usually on the receiving end. With a slightly annoyed yet fond sigh and shake of his head, Luke ignored Han completely and despite his better judgement, once again reached out towards his pseudo-sister. 

As soon as the channel reopened Leia was practically screaming in his ear. 

“ Luke! Luke! Answer me dammit! Luke-” 

“Leia I’m here,” Han was shouting somewhere in the back of his conscious awareness but Luke tuned it out assuming the smuggler-turned-general was just on his case for ignoring him.

“ Sorry I-“ 

“Luke! Listen to me right now! Imperials are storming the palace and Vader-!” 

No no no-

In disbelief, Luke severed their connection not caring if he cut Leia off. Already past his limit yet needing answers only the Force could provide, he braced himself and for a final time pushed . Another round of chest rupturing coughs escaped him from the pure stress being put on his body and mind, and a bitter taste alerted him that it was blood that had entered his mouth. Frantic with rising fear that boiled like lava in his chest, Luke ignored the roaring pain rearing inside his shredded head, desperate to locate the presence that could only belong to one man. 

A dark, cold vice suddenly wrapped almost protectively around Luke’s mind in response to his probing until the blonde boy could not take the strain a moment longer and his grasp on the Force slipped through his fingers. He snapped his eyes open in horror as he realized his father had come for him. 

Only to be met with the sight of the barrel of Boba Fett’s blaster pointing directly at his face.. 

“You’re coming with me Jedi,”

Chapter Text

Vader force pushed a squealing Gamorrean guard into the wall of the passage. 

It had taken the impatient Sith Lord a little less than a full day to gather the necessary number of troops and fly across Tatooine to the Dune Sea in order to retrieve Luke.

His alive, not dead son.

He had been monitoring his child’s weak yet reawakened Force presence like a hawk throughout the entire journey from Mos Espa to the palace. The bond, still not fully acknowledged, pulsed slightly with echoing pain and it was all Vader could do to not make a fool of himself in front of his subordinates and take control of the shuttle and fly it himself. Fifty troops had accompanied Vader on the long, tense flight and he would be exiting the craft with forty-seven at his disposal. 

Vader, always a strategist, planned on attacking at night when the Hutt’s court would be caught the most off guard, and the Sith would be assured the element of surprise, for Jabba would not be expecting to have to defend his revolting-self at such an ungodly hour. He would make sure the foolish crime lord would not survive their encounter when they finally met face-to-face. 

But then his carefully crafted plans had changed.

The light Vader had so vigilantly monitored flickered.

Panic that the Jedi-turned-Sith would later deny had swelled up inside of him like the hot lavas of Mustafar as the Force rang with impending doom, and without second guessing his now spiraling common sense, he roared at his startled stormtroopers to follow him as he sprinted full speed on protesting prosthetics in the direction of the fortress barring him from his son. 

It had taken only a dozen shots from the, fortunately, close shuttle to break through the laughably weak blast-proof door of the palace and Vader continued his march through the newly cleared entrance with purpose.

The nervous and angry noises of Gamorrean guards was the greeting he received as his silhouette appeared in the illuminated blaster hole and once they were over their initial shock of his presence they charged. 

A snap-hiss and a practiced swing took down Vader’s first skill-less adversary and a blood-red glow gleamed in the dimly lit chamber as his lightsaber sprung to life. 

A second guard quickly took the place of the first and as the swine raised his arm to strike downwards onto Vader’s chest plate, he inserted his lightsaber into the Gamorrean’s unprotected stomach.  

Vader slashed, stabbed, and pushed all of his opponents into their early graves, but irritation was quickly setting in as, even with his stormtroopers aiding him, they were cutting down the growing crowd of sentries too slowly, and news of his bold appearance and the sound of the cracked blast door had most likely already made its way to Jabba and the rest of the audience chamber.

And Fett. 

The delay would give the perfect opportunity for the bounty hunter to flee with Luke during the mad scramble that took place.

A shot from a stormtrooper on his left flank was the only thing that stopped a mace from shattering the side of his helmet as the Sith tensed and then froze, ignorant to the continued action taking place around him. 

Luke had acknowledged the bond. 

The connection between father and son was feeble, ready to snap at any moment, but to Vader’s growing anger and despair the pain of every injury suffered was made clear to him as the connection was finally made. 

Rapidly, Luke’s already strained reach was slipping, and in an act of protectiveness and desperation that surprised even Vader himself, he found the boy’s sun-like force signature and clamped onto it like a vice. 

It apparently wasn’t enough however as it seemed whatever energy his son had left was sapped, and the connection ended rather cruelly. Vader physically stumbled backwards from the force of it.

That’s when his carefully structured patience he had attempted to stabilize for days ceased to exist.

Gamorreans and stormtroopers alike were sent flying in every direction like rag dolls as his anger exploded around him and physically expelled itself into the force. 

Carelessly, like swatting flies, anyone who blocked his path immediately found themselves crashing into the hallway’s walls or with a broken neck. He was down the stairs at the entrance to the audience chamber in moments where pandemonium was already beginning to break out.

Jabba was simply sitting there, his reptilian eyes blown wide with fear, and to the Sith Lord’s surprise Organa was there as well, chained and dressed immodestly against the slug’s stomach. 

A second passed where his eyes locked with the horror-stricken princess. 

Another second ticked by where the Hutt opened his mouth to possibly plead for his life. 

And then Jabba’s head was rolling on the floor.

Any remaining sense of calm in the room was lost at the crime boss’s death as screams and shouts of panic filled the room. The members of the chamber began to sprint for the closest exit only for their hopes of escape to be shot down by the waiting wall of stormtroopers. Vader only cared about one man however, yet that one man was not seen attempting to make his own escape. 

Dread pooled in his stomach. 

He stormed over to a particularly wealthy looking ex-member of Jabba’s court and grabbed him by the front of his finely embroidered tunic.

“Where does Jabba keep his prisoners?,” the Sith growled in the man’s quickly paling face. 

A shaky hand pointed in the correct direction and Vader 

let the owner’s body fall painfully to the floor as he set off at a brisk pace to the dungeons, praying to the force to grant him the first favor he had asked for in years. 

That he wouldn’t be too late. 

\\\\\\\\\\\\\O/////////////

As the shock of Fett’s abrupt appearance wore off, Luke quickly scanned the room for Han. 

When he spotted the older man motionless on the ground terror overcame him as he blindly threw himself at the smuggler, desperate to know if Han was-

If his friend was-

If his brother was- 

Dead. 

Pure relief set in when he discovered not only was Han alive, but silently fuming where he laid sprawled on the ground, his eyes being the only thing moving or showing expression on his otherwise emotionless face. The relief sombered somewhat when the cool barrel of a blaster was set to rest against the Jedi’s skull.

“What did you do to him?” Luke asked breathlessly through the pain of his newly jostled ribs.

“Relax, Jedi. It’s just a temporary paralytic to stop him from doing anything rash. Unlike you, I don’t have him under my boot,” Fett replied as smugness practically radiated from his vocoder at the reminder of his ownership of the transmitter. 

A brief moment of eye contact with the still immobile Han showed confusion seeping through anger, but Luke knew explaining would lead to the smuggler’s eventual demise so he simply looked away ashamedly. 

“Now, like I said,” the blaster was pushed harder into Luke’s head in impatience, and he winced, “You’re coming with me,” 

Luke considered his options for a moment. He had planned on willingly letting Fett take him to whoever the bounty hunter was working for, but then his father had arrived. Luke told himself it was simply because Vader had gotten a lead and had come to claim Luke to make him take his rightful place at his side, but…

When the Jedi had opened the bond to deny the truth of Vader being inside the palace, for an instant he had been able to feel the Sith’s emotions. 

He had of course felt the familiar anger that seemed to spill off of his father like a poisonous gas, but there was something else there too. 

He had felt the stirrings of protectiveness and… fear?

At first, the Jedi was confused. Vader was practically an imperial walker in human form. What did he have to be afraid of? But then it hit him.

It wasn’t fear for himself, but fear for Luke.

Did his father actually... care ?

Hope began to rise in his chest as he considered what that meant. 

His father still had good in him.

The idea in itself was insane to Luke. Sith are incapable of love or compassion, Master Yoda had told him so on multiple occasions. 

But... his father hadn’t always been a Sith. He was once a Jedi too. He was someone who had fallen in love with his mother and a good man who had been best friends with Ben Kenobi. 

In that moment, the tides of Luke’s inner turmoil that had formed on Bespin changed, and he was determined to save his father from the Dark Side. If given the chance, he would leave the palace with his father to start the Sith’s transformation back into the light.

As if summoned by his thoughts, cold seeped into the recently humid room while the tell-tale sound of a respirator began to echo in the small space, and Luke, with a blaster pointed at his head and a slave transmitter lodged in his neck, realized the situation had just gotten a lot more complicated. 

\\\\\\\\\\\\O////////////

The sight that greeted Vader when he reached the threshold to his son’s cell would be one he would not forget for the rest of his life. 

There hunched on the ground sat his son, at least he assumed it was his son. The only features of the boy that were recognizable were his small stature and blonde hair. 

Luke’s face was a mess of blood and bruises and it was obvious he had been struck multiple times by both his black eye and bloody nose. The parts of his hair that were not it’s usual blonde were matted and blood soaked from some sort of head injury which the severity was hidden by the red liquid still sluggishly oozing from the wound, and a hand carefully cradling his left side told Vader that he was most likely harboring broken ribs as well. The boy's neck was also a collection of bruises and chaffed looking skin as if he had temporarily shared the same fate as Organa. Putting it plainly, his son looked as though he had been beaten half to death. 

Vader usually steady hands shook, and the cell door creaked.

To complete the rage-inducing picture his son’s tormentor was casually standing there with a blaster held against the young Jedi’s head.

Knowing any sudden movement would only cause further pain to his boy on the ground, he continued to stand motionless in the doorframe while internally imagining hundreds of painful ways to slowly kill the bounty hunter. 

“You’ve made one two many mistakes, Fett,” Vader said as his vocoder dropped a couple octaves lower than normal. The tone alone would send even the

bravest admiral running, but Fett simply chuckled, and shifted so he was no longer between him and Luke with the blaster now pointing at his son’s temple.

“We both know you won’t do anything… Skywalker,”

The door flew off its hinges.

Before Vader could even respond to being called by that-that name and fly at Fett to demand him who had dared made him privy to that long buried information, the bounty hunter aimed at Luke’s right thigh and fired. 

Luke let out a strangled yelp before it was cut off by his son locking his jaw in an attempt to control any further cries that wanted to escape. His right leg, unable to support itself in his crouched position any longer, collapsed from underneath him and the boy was sent sprawling onto the floor to land painfully on already broken ribs. 

Vader’s fury and concern skyrocketed at the new injury and he instinctively took a step forward before being stopped in his tracks by the blaster once again being aimed at the injured Jedi’s head. 

A stalemate occurred between the two parties where the only sounds that penetrated the silence that had taken over the room were Luke’s panting and Vader’s own distinct breathing. The Sith would have killed the bounty hunter on the spot if he wasn’t so concerned that snapping the man’s neck would take longer than it would for a blaster bolt to enter his son’s brain.

“ Where did you learn that name?” Vader instead growled at Fett, anxious to get this confrontation over with so he could get Luke to a medcenter as there was an alarmingly large puddle of blood starting to form underneath him on the floor. 

“It’s classified,” Fett simply replied and Vader could practically see the smirk that was most likely under the man’s mask. 

“Client confidentiality has never been a concern of yours before,” the Sith replied slowly through gritted teeth as he desperately tried to reign in his quickly rising temper to spare Luke from further harm.

“No, but ever since I learned what you truly are, a Jedi,” the hitman practically spat out the word and Vader’s hand itched to ignite his blade, “Not only a Jedi, but the great Anakin Skywalker, ‘The Hero with No Fear’, I was not only glad to discover your real name that you’ve now disowned, but also a lead on further leverage over you to finally get vengeance I have long waited for for my father’s murder,”

An image of stone faced Mace Windu slicing off the head of another man in the same armor as the bounty hunter in front of him flashed in front of his eyes.

“When I was then assigned with the task of capturing and retrieving Luke Skywalker , the boy who I knew was the son of the Jedi who helped destroy my life, the offer was too good to pass up,” 

Luke who had been staring at, who Vader had just recognized as, Solo immobile on the floor with something akin to panic suddenly snapped to attention at the mention of his name. 

“I will be getting enough credits to last me a lifetime and will get the pleasure of taming and taking in one of my worst enemy’s only child,” Fett finished obviously gloating, and with a flick of wrist he was holding something that Vader had not seen in almost 30 years.

A slave transmitter. 

Sharp denial swept through him as he desperately tried to find some sort of ulterior meaning to what he was seeing, but as he glanced towards Luke, the boy’s averted eyes told him all he needed to know. 

‘My name is Anakin, and I’m a person!’

With an inhuman roar, Vader finally gave into the will to attack Fett and launched himself at the smaller man.

He could not believe it.

He would not believe it.

His son, PADME’S SON , had been stripped down to be nothing more than mere caddle.

The Force sang with dark intent as the barrel of the blaster held in Fett’s hand was crushed before it could be fired at his unarmed son’s head. 

His son who had been made a slave. .

Memories from his past surfaced in tidal waves, but he just simply used it to add more fire to his complete wrath at the reminder of his childhood spent in servitude.

‘ One day, I’ll come back and free you, mom,’

He had made a solemn vow to himself no one else in his family would suffer the same fate as he and his mother had, but he had failed to save his own son.

It was just another thing that Vader would forever blame himself for.

Vader’s hand finally found its place around Fett’s neck, and he could feel surprise radiating off of the bounty hunter at his rash movement, and Vader grinned darkly. 

A mistake that would be the hitman’s last. 

The Sith reveled in the fear now starting to roll of the man as he slowly began to squeeze , and Vader was looking forward to feeling the life slowly drain out of him under his own hand. He only wished it were flesh so he could feel the warmth leaving the corpse. 

A warning from the Force prepared him for the knife sloppily aimed to swipe across his breastplate and Vader easily wrestled it out of the dying man’s hand.

He was not, however, prepared for the electro staff that swung into his back.

In absolute shock and pain, Vader dropped the sputtering bounty hunter and doubled over from the electricity sent into his suit and scar-riddled body by the stormtrooper who had somehow snuck up behind him. 

Warning flashed in the hud of his helmet and before darkness claimed him he heard one word. 

“ Father!” 

The dots all connected at once.

There was only one man who knew his true name, his relationship with the newly knighted Jedi, and who could be responsible for the treason just committed by one of his troops. 

The same man who had recently been growing impatient at his obviously distracted mind. 

And the only man who would have the resources and motivation to snatch his son away from him.

Palpatine. 

And for the first time in nineteen years, Anakin Skywalker crawled his way to the surface and screamed. 

Chapter Text

When Vader woke up, it was to the unwelcome sight of an empty cell.

His son, Fett, and even the smuggler had vanished.

Letting out a low groan of pain that was not traced by the intricacies of the vocoder, Vader shakily stood on twitching prosthetics to stumble over to the dimly illuminated doorway as a wave of raw panic set in.

No, NO!

Luke was gone.

He had come so close, so tantalizingly close, to bringing his son back to his side, and then his once loyal stormtroopers had turned on him right when his moment of victory was at hand.

Vader could not ignore the irony behind that.

And now Luke was most likely on the way to the Emperor, a man who was not only known for his unrivaled patience but his skills of puppeteering and manipulation, both traits that would be the cause of his son’s undoing. His former master was like a hungry loth cat, waiting to strike when it’s prey was most vulnerable, and at the thought of his son in his clutches, fatherly concern rolled through his force presence unbidden as the writhing tendrils of the Dark side swatted the surge of emotion away with agitation, sneering at the show of sentiment.

The once boisterous palace was uncharacteristically quiet as he traced his steps back to Jabba’s main audience chamber at a painfully slow pace, prosthetics whirring in protest as the shorted-out joints were forced to bend without their usual smooth mechanical assistance. In a small stroke of fortune, his breath support had not been damaged too horribly, the only issue being a soft barely noticeable wheeze replacing the normal rhythm of the respirator every few cycles, but it was nothing too life threatening and would not stand in his way of reaching his son. Clearly, his troops severely underestimated his level of vitality and had simply left him lying there, thinking he was either dead or would not be alive much longer.

That would be the last mistake they would ever make. They would not get away with their blatant act of betrayal, and Vader would personally see to the massacre of their entire unit.

‘They should not pay with their lives, they were simply following orders.’

The ungraceful movements down a particularly dreary hallway stopped as the unexpected voice interrupted his thoughts of the painful and slow ways the troopers would suffer at his hands.

For a half-second, the foreign feeling of hope leapt within the Sith Lord. Had Luke’s strained connection with the force improved enough that he had reached out to his father after sensing the man’s growing dark mood and ill intent? But a prod at his son’s nearly snuffed out force presence revealed that that was not the case and the boy was still quite out of touch with his powers.

Quickly he summoned up a cloak of frustration to cover the sting of disappointment that followed that realization and marched forward, using the welling anger at the situation to propel his uneven footfalls forward.

What was wrong with him.

‘Your rage and aggression will not be what helps Luke now, Anakin.’

Some of the electricity must have severely scrambled something in Vader’s brain as he could have sworn for a moment that he had heard-

‘Yes, Anakin, it’s me.’

“Kenobi”

Vader’s words were hissed, half of it coming out as pure static as it filtered through his vocoder as though it could not portray the depth of the contempt that had been poured into the words and then after a brief pause of understanding, his rage exploded.

“YOU, have no right to talk to me Kenobi dead or otherwise!!”

‘Anakin, you must listen to me. Luke-‘

“LUKE?! You mean the child you stole from me and then hid for NINETEEN YEARS?!”

‘Anakin-‘

“Do NOT lecture me!” Out of instinct, Vader pointed his finger intimidatingly in the air, only to lower it forcibly a second later when he realized he was aiming at nothing, “I do not need to listen to the man who betrayed me, sliced off my limbs, and then kidnapped my son!”

‘Anakin, please-‘

“No, Obi-Wan! You cannot win me to your treacherous side,”

After a few moments of silence where only the uneven cycles of the respirator could be heard, Vader was satisfied that the cursed apparition had finally left him and he let out an internal sigh of relief as he continued down the passage.

This was ridiculous; he did not have time for petty attempts at a truce from his ex-master. The only thing that mattered now was to shield Luke from Palpatine so he could force the boy to turn himself once he dealt with Fett and made Luke accept his role as an apprentice to the dark. He would not lose the boy the way he did his mother, but of course to admit that would be to admit he cared about his son which Vader was not about to do.

‘She did not betray you’.

The words were no more than a whisper, akin to a soft voice on a cool breeze, but the power behind them struck him with the force of a hurricane.

Every bone in his Sith Lord body told Vader to ignore the words, that Kenobi was his enemy and therefore could not be trusted, that she was truly lost to him in the end, both figuratively and physically… but the truth in them rang as clear as the bell-like laugh that haunted his dreams.

A wave of emotion that he would later deny as horrible crushing guilt overcame him in that moment and his ruined prosthetics finally collapsed underneath him and sent his knees crashing to the sand-covered floor. He hated sand.

“I-it does not matter. She’s dead” and to Vader’s horror his voice sounded weak to his own ears, a strangled whisper that he he had not heard emerge from between his lips since- since-

The harsh crackle of lightning. Glass breaking. The wind of Coruscant harsh on his bloodless cheeks. What have I done?

‘Anakin, you know deep down that you are not the creature of darkness Palpatine has twisted you to become. She is proof of that. I know you loved her, even despite the hidden nature of your relationship’

He did not love her. He worshiped her for the angelic being she was. He would have laid the whole galaxy at her feet if she had asked it of him, but now it was too late as she instead laid in a flower adorned casket in Naboo, lightyears away from his reach and gone from his life forever, bringing all of the light left in the galaxy with her.

‘I gave up on you, Anakin. Right when you needed me most. I am so unimaginably sorry, and I will carry the burden of failing you far beyond the grave.’

‘Serves the old fool right’ thought the quickly retreating cynical voice of Vader as once again the darkness within him tsunamied pushing the phantom presence of his past self down along with the unbearable regret, ready to lash out at his the utter gall of his old master mentioning both her and his past in the same sentence-

‘But I will not fail Luke,’

Luke.

Like a new star being born, the darkness that created the essence of Vader was forcibly driven out of him with the intensity of a thousand Death Stars. If he was not already on his knees, the burst of light that signaled the return of Anakin Skywalker would have driven him to them. The emotional turmoil that tortured the Sith Lord since the revelation of his son’s survival came to end as inner peace that Anakin had not felt since that day he spent at the meadow on Naboo filled him, filling him with newfound purpose and hope.

His son.

Ani, something wonderful has happened.

The darkness still lingered, ready to latch its venomous claws back into his vulnerable mind at any moment, but the utter love his heart held for his son eclipsed the
temptation of the dark side and shielded him from its greedy gaze.

It was as if a light switch had flipped on in a dark room, and everything came into clear, stark focus.

He was wrong to think that his own reason for existence ended the moment her’s - Padme’s - did because their son had survived. The child that he had whispered sweet nothings of happiness and love to in the darkness of the cool Coruscant night as they sat growing inside their mother’s sleeping womb, marveling at the light that shone brighter than a star emitting from his child even back then, still survived.

And now 23 years later, Luke’s light continued to astound him with its brilliance, blinding Anakin with its pure radiance that seemed to light up even the darkest corners of the galaxy. It was impossible to ignore. Impossible to not regard Luke as the warm, gentle man that Vader, wrapped in his twisted desires, had not seen him become.

Yet he was determined to make sure that light was not snuffed out by Palpatine's cruel hand even if it meant getting help from the one person he had spent the last 23 years despising, perhaps even more than the emperor himself.

But the newly awakened part of him whispered that things had not always been like this.

You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!

The darkest day of his life and yet behind the fiery wall of anguish and betrayal a spark of something more lingered.

A possibility.

How many times had the younger Jedi had the urge to confide in his master about his doomed marriage with Padme. How he wanted to be able to spend countless hours regaling Obi-Wan with the tales of his love for her when a burst of untamable affection rose within him that he was forced to contain. Even more so when he saw the same look that Anakin regularly aimed at Padme on his master’s face during the few occasions he saw him around Satine. Those were the times he had to physically bite his tongue against spilling everything about his secret right then and there.

The fear of his friend’s disapproval distanced them before Anakin had even had a chance to realize it, the pressure causing him to hold Obi-Wan at arms length. And only at the end, on the searing, burning banks of Mustafar, did he acknowledge the depth of their bond that he had for so long denied.

But even some things were undeniable. A strong hand resting shakily on his shoulder after a particularly dangerous mission. A gleam that appeared in the other man’s blue eyes at a thinly veiled threat aimed at Anakin by the enemy. The small curve of his lips that was reserved only for the times of friendly banter between master and ex-padawan.

Could their once complicated relationship be salvaged beyond anything but a stiff truce? Probably not, even with the return of Anakin Skywalker in consideration.

But he would try for Luke.

“Alright old man,” the deep, controlled voice that once belonged to Vader muttered as he internally took a deep breath to brace himself, “What is your idea to help save my son?”

The newly appeared blue form of Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\O/////////////////////

Han lied in the cell for what felt like hours, his swirling thoughts accelerating to a nauseating speed as he eyed the fallen form of Darth Vader in his peripheral vision as whatever paralytic Fett had so rudely shot him up with burned off with one thought echoing continually through his pounding skill.

What the kriff.

Not only did Darth Vader storm the slug’s palace with the sole purpose of dragging Luke off to force knows where, he turned out to be Luke’s father.

What the KRIFF.

How that had happened escaped the possibilities of Han’s weird occurrence trained brain, the thought so unthinkable and foreign that it left him physically reeling with disbelief.

The bright-eyed, ball-of-sunshine Jedi was the polar opposite of the menacing, cold Sith Lord, and if Han had not heard the proof with his own ears he would have tossed whoever suggested it out of the airlock of the Falcon in concern of their level of sanity.

But despite his inner denial, he knew it was true, the shame and fear in Luke’s eyes that he was able to see clearly despite his still slightly blurred vision was all the confirmation he needed (the kid was obviously telling himself some crap about Han hating him for finding out). The melancholy aura that surrounded the once infectiously happy ex-farm boy made more sense now, and Han’s usually closed off heart went out to him as he realized that the perfect picture of his father must have been shattered rather harshly during what the smuggler assumed was during the duos confrontation on Bespin.

After Vader had crashed to the ground in a flash of blue electricity with all the grace of a tipped bantha, Han had mentally strained muscles he didn’t even know he had as Fett had forced Luke to his feet, uncaring of the blaster wound he had so kindly made in the kid’s thigh, and forced his struggling form through the door, the pairs of feet dancing with each other in his limited range of vision.

“Father! Father!”

The cries drove themselves straight through the pilot’s gruff exterior, despite the utter confusion he had at the apparent franticness and, what the hell, worry that was aimed at the utter bag of shavit that had just face-planted (rather comedically in Han’s opinion) into the floor. And then as the yells grew more distant, silence finally fell in the cell, the only sound breaking it being the annoyingly consistent sound of Vader’s breathing, and Han’s own pounding heartbeat.

Too bad the bastard didn’t die.

But an image of Luke’s stressed, worn face from earlier flashed in his mind and he immediately felt guilt rise within him. The farm boy always managed to somehow get under his tough skin, and in a twisted way, he was glad that his former tormenter had survived if it meant that the kid didn’t have to undergo anymore suffering, crappy father or not.

Though as the minutes continued to tick by, dread built inside Han as Fett traveled farther and farther away from the cell, delivering the younger man to someone who most likely would cause him suffering as the fledgling Jedi just couldn’t seem to get a break.

At the thought, the added adrenaline made his fingers twitch and the rest of his appendages quickly followed in regaining some semblance of mobility.

Immediately, he was leaving the dark heap of the Sith behind in the cell, only semi-caring if he lived or survived, and struggled against the wall to retrace what he assumed were the steps that Luke and Fett had taken, the small trail of blood being the contributing factor to his morbid theory.

Whatever, Fett had shot him with must have been the good stuff as it took the entire trek to the audience chamber for the numbness in his limbs to subside and even then his fingertips still buzzed uncomfortably.

The steps leading up the main room were harder to climb then they should have been, and Han mentally reminded himself to tell Chewie to lay off on the space waffles on the next supply run.

As he stood panting on top of the last step, no sound seemed to emit from the chamber, and he figured that the Imps had fled, leaving Darth Helmethead behind to rot. Still, instincts as good as his weren’t formed over night and the room seemed almost too quiet. With trepidation the smuggler’s hand twitched towards where he usually stored his blaster, and he inched through the doorway-

Wham!

A flat metal surface making contact with his face sent him sprawling backwards, and it was by some small miracle that he wasn’t sent toppling backwards down the hard sandstone stairs.

Stars erupted in his eyes for a moment until his vision cleared, and he caught sight of a stunned looking Leia standing in the door holding a golden platter firmly in both hands. As Han made somewhat unfocused eye contact she sprung into action and the tray fell onto the floor with a clatter that made him wince as his now aching head protested against the sound.

“Oh, Han! I’m so sorry I thought you were a guard or imperial or-”

Before the princess could say another word, he kissed her, just grateful that she was relatively unharmed and in one piece. He only stopped when his lungs were screaming for air, and only then did he get a proper look at her.

“What are you wearing?” he sputtered, his face turning crimson at her lack of clothing. Leia's lips formed into a smug smile at his obvious discomfort, but he could see her cheeks had a pink tinge as well.

“Just something Jabba picked out,” she replied after a moment of letting him squirm, and Han was ready to hunt down the slime ball and end his miserable existence until Leia pointed somewhere to her right, and he saw the crime bosses severed head on the floor, fat tongue lolling freely.

“How- what-?”

“Vader,” she simply said though he could see the same confusion reflected in her as well.

She seemed to grow contemplative for a moment as they both stared at the slightly unsettling sight, until she jerked to life beneath his hands and looked at him frantically.

“Han, where's Luke? Lando dragged him off, and he hasn’t been back since, and I noticed Fett disappeared in the fighting-”

“He’s gone Leia,” the words felt dry in his throat and he swallowed heavily, “Fett took him to kriff knows where, to whoever hired him I’ll bet, and the kid was shot and I couldn’t do anything cause I was stuck there on the ground just as helpful as a pile of bantha fodder,”

Stress lines that belonged nowhere on a face as young as hers deepened at his words, but before he could continue on his self-depreciative rant she punched his arm. Hard.

“Hey! What the hell was that for!” Han yelled as he clutched his throbbing limb protectively.

“Beating yourself up won’t get us anywhere, and I know if Luke was here he would have done the same, he wouldn’t blame you for things you couldn’t control and I don’t either,” she said quite bluntly with a look on her face that told him to not even attempt to open his mouth to argue, and Han loved her for it.

“Alright,” Han said slowly, slightly cowed by her words, “So what do we do now?” he asked as if that wasn’t the million credit question.

The look of intensity that he’s usually only seen on a rebel base appeared on the princess’s face before she responded.

“We find Lando and Chewie somewhere inside of this junk pile before we head towards the Falcon and reach out to some contacts to find out who Fett is employed by before alerting the rebellion to get some sort of backup,” she responded, carefully weighing her words as her brow furrowed at the obvious flaws in her less than ideal plan.

“I believe I could be of some assistance in both those areas,”

Both of their heads spun impossibly fast to the left to see Darth Vader standing slightly hunched over in the vacated doorway and Han mentally rechecked his knowledge on the effects of carbonation sickness to make sure his ears weren’t deceiving him and that Vader didn’t just offer to help.

“What the kriff?!”

Leia summed it up perfectly.