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Chapter Text

Vader did not need therapy. 

The idea was absolutely preposterous, and he said as much to his Master. 

“I am a Sith!” He fumed. He didn’t care that he hadn’t been ordered to rise from the kneeling position he’d taken up in front of his Master’s throne. He was standing now, fists clenched at his sides, teeth grinding so painfully, his entire jaw hurt. “Sith do not go to therapy!” 

Sidious frowned, his eyes narrowing, but he didn’t punish him. He didn’t say anything about his insubordination. He just said, “I understand, Lord Vader. The fact is, your mission over Ryloth was a complete PR disaster. My Empire is terrified of you.” 

“That is the point--” 

“They are calling for action to remove you, Lord Vader.” The Emperor stood and began to head down the steps towards him. “This is not a few, like that of the Rebellion. We can crush those. If I start murdering every citizen in my galaxy, I won’t have a Empire to rule over.” 

He stopped in front of him, looking up to meet his eyes. “The Imperial Court has offered you going to therapy as a way to keep the peace. People have tentatively accepted it as it is.”

“You know just as well as I do there is nothing wrong with what I did. You ordered--” 

“I know. I did not anticipate this response.” He said it like he’d tasted something sour. “So if a hundred and fifty--”

“A hundred and fifty?!” 

“--A hundred and fifty days passes and the citizens have forgotten the issue, which the vast majority of them will, you can shove the therapist out an airlock for all I care.” The Emperor brushed past him and his red guards hurried to flank him. “Expect to welcome your new therapist aboard the Executor in two days' time.” 

Vader wanted to argue. He wanted to rip the entire palace apart, brick by brick. He wanted to roar his rage. 

But his Master’s will was done. He would have to actually comply with the Imperial Court system. He’d have to deal with some self-important therapist for far longer than was desirable. 

If anything, he was pretty sure he’d need a therapist from his therapist by the end of all this. 

Luke Lars (or Skywalker, though that wasn’t his legal name), bounced on the balls of his feet, watching through the cockpit port windows as the Executor-Class Star Dreadnought, and flagship of Darth Vader’s fleet, came closer and closer. 

This was it. His first client. His first real job. He’d only just barely graduated from the Academy. Sure, the Academy was known mainly for it’s excellent Navy program (his first choice), but it also had a little-known but excellent counselling program designed specifically for military personnel. It was a small program--and by small, he had five others in his graduating class. The Empire wasn’t exactly...known for its emphasis on mental health. 

But maybe he could change that. 

Still, he did have quite the intimidating first client. 

Darth Vader. 

The guy who’d apparently led a massacre of the innocent civilians on Ryloth, which had prompted massive public outcry, which had prompted the Imperial Court to mandate therapy. 

Normally, he wouldn’t take on someone with so much baggage. But when his superior had come to him, literally begging because every single therapist had turned the job down...he couldn’t say no. 

Or, he could have. But for some reason, he found himself saying yes, and...well. Here he was. 

The shuttle landed in a massive hangar, and Luke gathered his things, made sure his uniform (a plain officer’s uniform) was immaculate, and headed out. 

There, he found none other than the Admiral of the ship waiting for him. 

He paused mid-stride down the ramp, wondering why an Admiral was bothering to greet a lowly therapist. Surely the man had other things to do. They were still in the middle of a civil war, after all. Certain there must be a mistake, Luke glanced behind him to see if there was anyone else of note that could be on board.

No. Just him and the pilots. 

Maybe one of the pilots was related to the Admiral…? 

“Luke Lars?” 

Luke turned back to the Admiral, and resigning himself to the odd greeting party, completed walking down the ramp. 

And found himself staring at a middle aged human male with so many bags under his eyes, Luke immediately began to grow concerned. 

Did this man ever sleep? 

“Uh, hi.” He greeted, and winced. That wasn’t a very professional greeting. His inner Tatooine farm boy was showing. 

But the Admiral didn’t look offended. “Whatever you do, do not greet Lord Vader like that.” 

He didn’t say it unkindly, but Luke flushed anyway. “Sorry.” 

The Admiral shrugged. “We are getting the mistakes out now, I suppose.” He held out a hand. “I am Admiral Firmus Piett.” 

Luke took his hand. The Admiral’s grip was like iron, and he wondered if there was more energy in this man than he initially thought. “Luke Lars, though you can call me--” 

Admiral Piett held up a hand. “Please. I do not do nicknames, Mr. Lars.” He frowned, looking him over. “How...old are you, exactly?” 

Luke straightened to his full height. He no longer was embarrassed by his small stature, but he still had the habit of trying to make himself look taller anyway. “I’m twenty three, sir.” 

“That’s...young.” The Admiral frowned. “Too young.” 

Luke’s brows knitted together in confusion. 

What was that supposed to mean? 

But before he could ask, the older man shook his head. “Well. Best be getting you to your quarters and your new office.” 

Again, Luke couldn’t help but feel the thrill of excitement flow through him as he followed the Admiral. Sure, being a therapist hadn’t been his first choice, but...well, it was the safe choice, and the only way his Uncle Owen would let him leave Tatooine. But now he had his own office, on board the greatest vessel in the entire galaxy! That was still pretty exciting. 

But he didn’t get to admire the ship for long. As they began walking through corridors that all looked the same, the Admiral began to speak. 

“I must confess, I personally wanted to speak with you before you meet Lord Vader.” 

Luke frowned, his excitement draining. Not five minutes, and he was already on the job. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss other patients--” 

“No, I’m not asking you to talk to me about Lord Vader.” The Admiral interrupted. “I’m here to tell you how you can survive him.” 

Luke stumbled, then hurried to catch up. 

“I’m sorry,” he asked, staring at the Admiral incredulously. “How I can what?” 

Admiral Piett glanced at him. “Surely you’ve heard rumors of Lord Vader and his...exploits.” 

“I don’t live under a rock, but he’s one of the most powerful men in the entire galaxy. There are bound to be rumors.” 

And some obviously not, if the massacre on Ryloth was anything to go by… 

“There are rumors. And then there are many that are...not.” Admiral Piett winced. “Always address him as Lord Vader. Do not talk back. If you have to counter, say, with all due respect, before you do it. If you mess up...well, first of all, don’t. But if you do, fix it. Do not make him get involved in something he doesn’t have to be involved in. Do not make excuses. Do not get in his way.” 

By then, they’d reached a set of double doors, and Admiral Piett opened the doors. 

“Just. Keep your head down as much as possible. I know you currently have a court order protecting you...but don’t assume it will be that much protection.” He stopped in the middle of a waiting area and turned to face him. “Got it?” 

Luke just stared at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to set up an appointment with me?” 

Admiral Piett just smiled. “I think you should just focus on Lord Vader for right now. If...well. Let’s talk in a week or so.” 

He got the message loud and clear: he apparently wasn’t expected to survive the week. 

Well. He was starting to understand why none of the other therapists were willing to take this job on. 

“This is your waiting room.” Admiral Piett pointed to the door straight ahead of them. “That is your office.” He pointed to the right. “And that is your quarters.” He turned to Luke. “I hope this will work?” 

Luke nodded. “I’ll make it work, Admiral.” 

“Good.” He straightened. “Well. Good luck, Mr. Lars. Please remember what I told you.” 

“I’m pretty sure I won’t forget.” It was honestly the strangest, and most terrifying greeting Luke had ever received. But he remained in his calm, happy place. 

He’d need to, if he had hope of helping someone who apparently scared his Admiral enough to come warn the new resident therapist about his boss. 

The living quarters were small, barely bigger than a closet. His bed barely fit in it. 

Translation: He wasn’t wanted. 

Still, the waiting room and office were decent enough, and his office had a huge port window looking out over the stars. He knew what he’d be doing when he wanted a mental break from work. 

He only had twenty four hours to prepare for his first and only patient. He arranged the waiting room the way he wanted it. He added a few motivational posters to the walls. He rearranged his office so it was a little less...military standard. 

Ideally, he’d have more things to somehow make the overly sterile military environment feel more...homey. But he’d only had a few paychecks, so he didn’t have much to use. 

And apparently, according to the Admiral, he may never get to that point. 

He decided not to think about that. 

That night before bed, he read up on his new patient. 

Darth Vader, the file read, 

Age: Unknown

Sex: Identifies as male

Romantic Interests: Unknown

Occupation: Commander of the Imperial Navy

Weight: Unknown

Health: More info to come 

Reasons for Therapy: Court mandate for 150 days. Massacred half the population of Ryloth. 

It...was pretty bare bones. But, unlike other patients, there was plenty of information about his patient through news sources. Still, those didn’t help much either. They were all Imperial propaganda. Even the Ryloth incident had been scrubbed from the holonet. 

Well. He’d just have to ask then, wouldn’t he? 

The day came. It was a morning appointment, and Luke was waiting in the waiting room at 08 hundred sharp, trying to contain the nervous excitement coursing through him. Despite what the Admiral said, Luke had to believe he could maybe get through to him…

Even if he had killed a bunch of innocent people. 

The doors swished open, and in came Darth Vader. 

Luke had seen Vader’s image on the holonet. There had even been a picture of him in his file. But nothing could fully prepare him for the real deal.

First of all, he was...tall. Much taller than he expected. He was glad therapy was mostly done sitting down or he’d get a crick in his neck from having to look up at him for an hour each session. 

Then there was the atmosphere. It was like the man was a walking air conditioning unit. He immediately wanted to go grab his jacket from his closet-room. 

And...well. Of course there was the rather interesting suit and cape to match. But Luke already knew to expect that. He didn’t expect the respirator to be so loud, though. He wished he’d been sent the medical files for this man, because just looking at him, he had no doubt physical health issues probably played into his mental health.

“Good morning, Lord Vader.” He greeted, offering a smile. 

And that’s where he apparently went wrong. 

Though the mask never changed expression, he had the distinct impression he was being glared at. Then Vader stormed up until he was towering over him, shoving a finger in his face. 

“Let’s get one thing straight, Therapist,” 

Luke’s brows shot up. 

“I do not like you. You are not necessary on board my ship. This is purely a sham to get the citizens of the galaxy to calm down over the Ryloth incident!” 

He wasn’t sure he’d call what happened on Ryloth a mere incident-- 

“If you know what is good for you, you will mark that I’ve shown up for all of your stupid, idiotic sessions, and that I am cleared for duty!” The finger pointed closer into his face. It was an effort to ignore it and keep his eyes on the mask. “Have I made myself clear?” 

Well. 

This was certainly an introduction. 

Already Luke’s mind was whirling with information...perhaps too much information, none of which he could work on and solve out in the waiting room. 

It seemed Vader most certainly was a complicated case. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Vader.” He replied, his voice reflecting a calm he definitely didn’t feel at the moment. “I’m afraid it isn’t ethical to say you’ve appeared at your required appointments when you haven’t, and I cannot clear you for duty unless I’ve at least had a chance to assess the situation.” 

“ Assess--? Did I not make myself clear?!” Vader stepped closer. The gesture was somehow extremely threatening, but Luke managed to hold his ground. 

“Perfectly, My Lord.” He gestured towards his office door. “Let’s discuss further in my office, shall we?” 

The moment Vader stepped into the stupid therapist’s office, he snarled, “If you do not write that report, you will not live to write any reports!” 

He watched the boy (a literal child) walk calmly around his desk and sit down. Once he had, he simply looked at Vader with what appeared to be little concern for his own wellbeing. “Would you be more comfortable if you sat down, My Lord?” 

Vader hissed furiously. What was wrong with this kid?! Didn’t he know who he was?! Hadn’t he heard the rumors?! Perhaps he needed to show him--

No. He couldn’t lose it just yet. He had to maintain the stupid appearance his Master wished to show the galaxy, and killing his therapist on the first day didn’t seem to exactly fit that image. 

“I will stand.” He crossed his arms and glared as though to challenge the boy into making him do anything else. 

But the boy appeared unconcerned. He merely pulled out a datapad and straightened in his seat. “Very well. Whatever makes you comfortable.” 

What would make me comfortable is if I was allowed to strangle you! 

He bit his tongue. 

He was Darth Vader. He could handle this. 

“I think we need to try our introductions again. I am Lu--” 

“Your name could be Idiot for all I care.” 

The boy stared at him...and set his datapad down. 

“Normally the first session is just to get to know each other a bit more and help me understand some of your needs.” 

“That sounds utterly ridiculous. We will not be getting to know each other, not while I still draw breath!” He again pointed at the boy, hoping that somehow, his intimidating presence would get him to cave. It worked on everyone else, after all. “You are an insignificant pawn in the Emperor’s scheme of Imperial stability. Nothing more!” 

The boy’s expression didn’t change. “Yes, but you are here for an hour--” 

“An hour?!” 

“Yes, My Lord.” The boy tilted his head. “Unless you’d like to schedule longer sessions?” 

Vader snarled. “Maybe your name is Idiot. I have said absolutely nothing to indicate that I want to spend more time with you!” 

The boy raised one eyebrow. “So you have said.” Before Vader could demand what he was implying, he continued. “Why are you so averse to knowing my name?” 

Vader rolled his eyes. “You are nothing but a waste of my time.” 

“Why do you view me as a waste of your time?” 

“Because there is nothing wrong with me! I have the perfect temperament for my position, and a mere child could never even begin to understand what it is I deal with!” 

“So there are things you deal with that you find frustrating?” 

“You are currently one of those frustrating issues I am dealing with!” 

“I am an issue you cannot currently get rid of without causing more trouble for yourself.” He pointed out so casually, it was like he’d chosen to ignore the death threat he’d delivered earlier. “While I am young, I assure you, I am a qualified therapist who at the very least can point you to the right resources to get what you need to heal.” 

He sneered at the boy. “I do not need healing.” He didn’t say that what injuries he did have, couldn’t heal more than they already had. “If I wanted assistance, I already have every resource at my disposal. I am Darth Vader, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy, heir to the entire Empire! I can have whatever I want!” 

The boy nodded as though he’d said something important. “So, you take your job very seriously, then?” 

“Obviously.” 

“Then because the results of our time together impact your job, I would ask that you at least try to take our time together seriously.” 

Vader snorted. This showed just how little the boy knew. “This does not impact my job.” 

“Doesn’t it?” He learned back in his chair. “The citizens of the galaxy are upset about the...Ryloth incident, as you called it. This prompted the Imperial Court to make a ruling to send you to therapy for a required amount of time, and the Emperor approved of the ruling.” 

“It is a formality. The Emperor could care less whether you pass me for duty or not!” 

He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Probably so. However, has the Emperor expressed concerns over your actions in the past?” 

He was about to confidently reply that he hadn’t...but he stopped. 

Technically, the Emperor didn’t approve of his actions frequently. He’d received multiple punishments for killing servants of the Empire Sidious deemed useful. He also knew the Emperor didn’t like that he’d failed so deeply in his fight against Kenobi that he’d been reduced to this suit. He had no doubt that he’d be replaced if the Emperor ever found anyone more able-bodied and powerful than him. 

“There are consequences to our actions.” The boy continued. “While you might get away with it this time, you might not forever. If I’m not mistaken, you seem to like your job a lot. It would be unfortunate if your actions lost you your job.” 

He...had a point. In a roundabout way. 

Vader hated it. 

“Fine.” Vader snarled. “But I will never stop hating you!” 

And the moment he was no longer useful…

“Fair enough.” The boy replied with that same calmness. 

He glared. Then, “I suppose I cannot continue to call you Idiot, though you are one.” Even if he had made a somewhat valid point, “What should I call you?” 

The boy seemed pleased with his response, and he again rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to strangle the boy for his idiocy. 

“My name is Luke Lars, but I like to be called Luke Sk--” 

“I will not call you a ridiculous nickname.” Vader held up a hand to stop him. “If I am feeling generous, I will call you by your given name.” 

The boy, Luke Lars, made a face, but nodded. “Alright. Good. Now. Let’s talk…”

Chapter Text

“You are an interesting case, Lord Vader.” Luke admitted, looking through the information he’d collected on his datapad. 

“What did you call me?!” 

It was a struggle to keep a neutral expression. He’d never met anyone quite so...touchy. “You are well known enough that I can answer some of the standard questions I’m supposed to go through in this initial session. That’s all I meant.” 

Vader crossed his arms over his chest. With the mask, he couldn’t tell if he’d successfully placated him or not. “Good. Then we will not waste any further time.” 

Luke tried to ignore the simmering anger in Vader’s voice. Was that even his voice? It sounded like there was some kind of vococorder in the helmet. Perhaps it was part of his medical condition? 

“For example.” He continued. “I know you started your job about the same time as when the Empire was formed. But I don’t know where you were born, or where you are from. Let’s start with that. Where are you from?” 

There. An easy question to begin with. It could be answered in less than five words, if he so wished. 

Apparently, Luke was very wrong. 

“You do not need information like that!” Vader snarled, taking a threatening step towards him, shoving a pointed finger his direction. “You do not need any of my personal information!” 

Luke took a long, silent, deep breath to steady himself. 

“Often even simple personal details like where we come from can be major factors in not only our mental health, but also our decision making.” 

“I assure you, where I am from has no bearing on my actions!” 

Luke lifted a brow. “Then it shouldn’t be an issue telling me.” 

Vader was silent, save for the respirator, and Luke got the distinct impression he was being glared at. 

“If it helps, anything you say in our session is confidential.” 

“Good.” 

There was no further elaboration. Luke decided to write To be determined next to that question. 

“How old are you?” Surely, that was simple enough. Age wasn’t a secret for most people...except his aunt who refused to say she was over the age of twenty eight every single year on her birthday. 

“Why do you need to know that?!” 

 Yet again. He was way wrong. This was small talk conversation and already Vader was acting like he’d started digging at his deepest secrets. 

Maybe he was.

“Challenges and priorities change as we move into different age groups.” 

“I have defeated every challenge, and the ones I have not yet defeated I am well on my way to doing so!” 

Luke was pretty sure he was only focusing on the military challenges.  

“Lord Vader.” Luke leaned forward, placing the datapad on his desk. “You indicated that you would be willing to give this a try--” 

“Willing is a generous word.” 

“...I am aware. Still, you did indicate that. And if we’re going to have any chance of anything being effective, you need to at least try to answer some basic questions.” 

“The questions are stupid.” 

“Regardless, there is a reason for it. Do you berate your doctors when you go see them?” 

“I use droids. Besides, physical health is not the same as your ridiculous, useless job.” 

Oh boy. Vader was one of those people. Luke wasn’t surprised. 

“Mental health is just as vital as physical health.” Vader made a noise that sounded like a scoff. “If you’ll give me a chance, I can prove it to you.” 

“I would like to see you try.” Vader spat. 

“Great. So, how old are you?” 

Luke half expected him to not answer, or if he did, start yelling at him again. Or...potentially worse. But Vader finally growled, “Forty five. Happy?!” 

“Thank you.” He entered the information into his intake form, still wondering why that was such top secret information. But as he finished, suddenly, the datapad was ripped from his hands by some unknown, unseeing force. He sucked in a surprised breath, quickly scrambling for it, worried he’d somehow done something to make it do that...but no. He watched as it flew across the room and into Vader’s outstretched hand. 

For a moment, he just stared, dumbfounded as Vader started scrolling through the intake form. “All of these questions are stupid and useless.” 

So. Apparently, the rumor that Vader had...supernatural abilities wasn’t just a rumor after all. 

He...honestly wasn’t sure what to do with that information. The Academy definitely hadn’t prepared him for that. 

“Nevertheless. It will be faster if I just answer the information for you.” And sure enough, he began to enter his intake information on his own. 

Well. At least he was cooperating? 

Luke watched, hand still outstretched towards the datapad, resting on the cool metal surface of his desk. Finally, Vader finished, and floated the pad back to him, setting it down in front of him. 

“...So.” Luke said, reluctantly leaning back in his chair, the intake information momentarily forgotten. “I think we need to have a discussion on boundaries.” 

“Like how you have violated all of my boundaries by being assigned as my therapist?” Vader suggested. 

“That’s...not exactly what I had in mind. I do think it will be mutually beneficial to discuss them, however.” Luke moved the datapad out of the way. He didn’t even want to think about that right now. That would involve thinking about Vader’s apparent magic powers and he was not in a position to start unpacking that. “Boundaries are a healthy foundation of any relationship, so I think it would be good to set them realistically.”

“I assume that means that I cannot elect to tell you nothing about myself or strangle you?” 

“...Yes. That does tend to lead to unhealthy patterns in a relationship.” Vader made an unhappy, noncommittal noise. “In fact, let’s start there. The key to setting good boundaries is communication.” 

“I can tell you exactly what will not happen!” 

“So I’ve noticed. The point is, I think the first thing we need to set is limits. For example, I don’t like having my work pulled out of my hands without permission.” Especially with magic, but he didn’t add that. “This is your file, so you are privy to your own information, but I would appreciate it if you asked me first.” 

“This is my ship. Everything on it is mine. If I want to look at what nonsense you are writing, I will do it!” 

“While you are certainly in charge of this ship, and most of it is indeed yours, you cannot completely control others and their needs. Trying to do so only ends in unhealthy expectations for both parties. My request is reasonable enough, and I would ask you to respect that boundary.” He gestured to him. “How can I better respect your boundaries, Lord Vader?” 

“By not asking me anything about my past.” 

That...wasn’t exactly possible, considering Vader’s court-mandated situation. But instead of arguing, Luke asked, “Why are you so protective of your past?” 

“My past is dead.” 

Luke frowned. There was a lot to unpack in that statement. Did that mean literally, as in the people in his past had died? Was it metaphorical? Both? 

“Everyone struggles with various aspects of their past. Including myself.” 

Vader snorted. “You know nothing of suffering.” 

“Maybe not. But I do have things I’m not proud of. It’s a natural part of life, unfortunately. What’s important is that we reconcile with our past so that we can grow.” 

“I am a Sith. My past does not matter!” 

A Sith...Luke hadn’t heard the term before. He thought to write that down, but he was afraid that if he touched his datapad again, Vader would use his magic on him again. 

Wait. Did being a Sith have something to do with magic? Was it the name for whatever kind of magician Vader was? 

Don’t ask. This doesn’t seem safe to ask. Don’t…

“What’s a Sith?” 

For the first time the entire session, Vader...didn’t put up a fight. In fact, it was the only question he seemed pleased to answer. 

“A Sith is what you’d call a religion dedicated to the Dark side of the Force.” 

That...clarified absolutely nothing. Dark side? As opposed to what other sides? Force? Was that...what he called his magic? Luke had studied various religions but he’d never heard of any of this. He hadn’t thought any of it was real. 

But there Vader was, ripping his datapad out of his hand from the other side of the room. 

He didn’t get a chance to ask, though. “Nevermind. It is far too complicated for someone the likes of you.” 

He debated bringing up condescending behavior as another boundary...but one step at a time, he supposed. Besides, he didn’t have such a fragile ego that he couldn’t handle it for now. 

For now. 

“How about we make a deal.” 

Vader crossed his arms. “I am listening.” 

“Unfortunately, asking personal questions is the core of my job--”

“Then you should find a new, less useless job.” 

Internally, Luke added Work on limiting interruptions to the new Eventual Boundaries list that was rapidly growing in his head. 

“If I leave, then the court will just send another therapist and you’ll have to keep going through this same discussion again and again. Seems like a waste of time to me.” 

He waited for Vader to find some flaw or loophole (and half feared what it might be), but Vader just stared at him, waiting for him to continue. 

Success. Small success, but...success. 

“I propose that you at least attempt to tell me what you feel comfortable sharing with me when I ask you questions. If you are completely uncomfortable with a question, you can pass. In return, if you would like to see my notes or anything else I have that I can reasonably show you, you will ask and respect my response.” 

He held his breath, waiting for Vader’s response. He still stared at him with that ever-unchanging helmet. Then, finally, Vader tilted his head. “I will agree to these terms. Though I still maintain that you are a waste of air aboard my ship.” 

Well. At least he’d agreed. 

“I think that’s a great start.” He smiled, ignoring the sound of disgust Vader made in response as he stood. “That is the end of our time, so--”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. Without another word, Vader turned and stormed out of the room. The last Luke saw of him was his cape swishing behind him as the doors to his office closed. 

Luke stood there staring at the door for a long while, breath held...then let it out in a sigh. 

He was starting to see why the other therapists were reluctant to take this job. Did they know about Vader’s magic powers too? Or that he apparently followed some kind of religion called the Sith? Or was it just Vader’s hostile behavior towards anything remotely resembling a normal conversation? 

Luke was starting to suspect it might be all of those reasons...and possibly more. 

He sat back down in his chair, finally pulling the datapad back to him to take a look at what Vader had written down. 

The responses were...interesting. 

Name: Darth Vader

Age: 45

Date of Birth: Unknown (Did that mean he actually didn’t know his date of birth or was he messing with him? Luke wasn’t sure) 

Relationship Status: NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS (Had Vader actually put on the caps lock? He didn’t seem the type of guy to do that) 

Comm number : 11111 (This was obviously a fake comm number...Luke made a note to ask him who he should contact if he needed to get in touch with him)

Email: I get enough mail without you adding to it (Honestly, Luke couldn’t even disagree with that) 

Mailing Address: Executor. Just ask Admiral Piett (Didn’t Admirals have better things to do than be asked questions by a therapist? Was Vader saying he was giving Admiral Piett consent to discuss his medical information? Luke would definitely need to circle back to this one) 

Emergency Contact: Admiral Piett (Really, what was the story here? Did the Admiral know Vader had listed him as an emergency contact?) 

Behavior (Circle): Vader hadn’t circled anything except Work Too Hard . Luke was pretty sure, based on their conversation thus far, that Aggressive Behavior at the very least applied...but it wasn’t his intake form. 

Feelings (Circle): Vader had circled Annoyed and then in the Other space wrote “I feel this is a total waste of my time.” At least he’d phrased it in a somewhat productive manner. 

Physical (Circle): He hadn’t circled anything and instead wrote, “Never ask me this question again if you value your life.” That...was less productive. 

Reason for Therapy: “Because the galaxy is stupid and thinks I need it.” 

Well. Luke thought, going to his own files to write his notes about the session, I think you’re the person most in need of therapy, that’s for sure. 

Vader stopped outside the office, debating on turning around to murder the kid anyway. Yes, he’d made a few valid points, about how the Emperor could try to get rid of him in favor of a younger, more powerful Sith, and how the Imperial Court would just send another stupid therapist for him to start over with. 

Maybe I could just kill every single one they send, he considered, turning to look at the closed office door. 

But...no. That could potentially speed up his master’s displeasure. 

He’d have to deal with the boy and his stupid questions. For now. 

It helped that the boy had given him a loophole in their little deal they’d made. Vader planned on using it to the full extent. 

Vader turned to leave the waiting room...and paused, his eye catching on a poster. 

“Pain is real. But so is Hope” one said over a sunset. Vader made a face and turned to survey the rest of the room. 

There were more posters. 

“Strength doesn’t come from what you can do. It comes from overcoming the things you once thought you couldn’t.” 

Disgusting . 

“Watch your thoughts, for they become words. Watch your words, for they become actions. Watch your actions, for they become habits. Watch your habits, for they become character. Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.” 

Vader rolled his eyes. What did that boy know about destiny? Absolutely nothing. 

There were a few medical-related posters, but the final supposed motivational poster read in colorful letters: “5 Steps to Manage Emotions.” 

Vader moved closer to read the below text. 

1. Remind myself it’s never okay to hurt others. 

Huh. Well. He violated that rule every day. He didn’t feel bad about it. 

     2. Take 3 deep breaths and count to 10

What was he, five? Besides, he couldn’t control the pacing of his breathing anyway. Useless. 

     3. Use my words to say how I feel and what I wish would happen

He was a Sith, not a politician. Words were useless, especially when words were only used to manipulate and lie. 

     4. Ask for help from a trusted friend

The last time he’d attempted that, he’d burned on the shores of Mustafar after his limbs were cut off and his wife and children died. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again. 

     5. Take time to calm down and do another activity I enjoy. 

Vader...actually did do that. Either in the form of working on his ships or flying. He didn’t need a therapist to tell him to do that. 

Further proof he didn’t need this stupid therapist and his dumb motivational posters. 

He was half tempted to rip them down...but his comm beeped, reminding him of another meeting he had to get to. 

Later, he decided, finally sweeping from the room. 

Later. 

Chapter Text

Since he didn’t have another appointment with Vader for another few days, Luke decided to do some exploring. 

He told himself it was for professional reasons. He even brought little business cards with him. If he was going to be here, he was determined to help as many people that needed it. Considering his interactions with the commanding officer thus far, he had a strong suspicion that there were plenty of people who needed his help. 

But if he was honest with himself, it was really because he wanted to see the famed Executor up close and personal. 

If he’d had the opportunity to choose, he would have joined the navy. Ships were his fascination. He often liked to say flying was in his blood. It was an instinct that he’d picked up immediately at a young age. It was like breathing. 

Maybe one day, when he’d saved up enough, he could retire and own his own ship. He’d go out and see the galaxy...the thought made him sigh with envy. That day was a long way away though. 

At least there was plenty to look at on the Lady Executor. Too much, in fact. It became obvious within the first fifteen minutes that this ship was way too large to tour in a single day. He’d probably leave the ship without having seen everything. But it also didn’t help that he stopped to quietly observe and piece together functions every once in a while. 

After a while, his stomach started to rumble, and he realized he didn’t actually know where the mess hall was. He’d thus far had his food delivered, since there was a delivery service on board, but if he wanted to find potential clients, he needed to get social and make his presence known. 

He wandered, but every hallway looked the same. There weren’t any maps or signs that pointed the way, so he took his best guess based on what looked like it might be something a mess hall was nearby. Except that was a stupid way to look for something, and he only made himself hopelessly lost. 

“Excuse me,” He tried to stop a patrolling trooper, “Where might I find the mess hall?” 

“Over by the crew's quarters.” Was the brisk reply. 

Luke...had no idea where that was. “Oh...uh, where--?” 

But the stormtrooper had already marched off. 

So much for being helpful, Luke thought. It wasn’t like the Rebellion was going to show up in the hallways of Darth Vader’s flagship. What else did he even have to do, anyway? 

Except that none of the troopers he tried to stop were very helpful. 

“You’re on the wrong side of the ship, kid.” 

“Okay, but what side--aaaannnd you’re gone.” Luke frowned before picking the opposite direction of where he’d been going and headed that way. 

Which was useless. 

“Excuse me--” He tried with another trooper, only to be flat out ignored. 

Was rudeness a required trait to work on Vader’s flagship? Was it some kind of defense mechanism to protect themselves from a harsh boss? 

By the time he gave up, his feet were sore and his stomach was practically gnawing on itself. He leaned against the wall, head pressed into his arm, groaning as he stared down at the floor. Where even was he? This is what he got for being too curious. Uncle Owen always said his curiosity would get him killed one day. He just hadn’t assumed it would be by starving to death while lost on a Super Star Destroyer. 

Something bumped against his boot. His gaze shifted, and he found a little black mouse droid. It squeaked inquisitively, and he smiled, breaking away from the wall to kneel down before it. “Hey there little one.” He reached out and gently patted the top of the droid. It gave a pleased squeak and he chuckled. “Sorry to interrupt your routine.” 

It continued to squeak at him, making him wish he’d had time to read that holobook on understanding binary. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where the mess hall is, would you?” 

The droid beeped happily, then turned around and began to roll away. With no other options, Luke decided he had nothing to lose by following the droid. 

Every once in a while, the little droid would stop, turn, make sure he was still following, before squeaking and leading on once more. “You know,” Luke said after a while, “You’re far more helpful than the stormtroopers I’ve asked.” 

The droid made a noise that Luke interpreted as Of course I am. 

“My name’s Luke, by the way.” He considered for a moment. “Luke Lars is my legal name. Though I wish I’d changed it to my father’s last name. No one let’s me tell them I’d prefer to be called by it on this ship.” 

He wasn’t sure why he was telling this to a droid. He was unintentionally venting like the thing was his own personal therapist. “Sorry. I just need to find the time to change my name legally and that’ll solve the problem.” 

The droid made a beep that sort of sounded like You are good, but he wasn’t sure. 

Finally, they reached the mess hall. “Thanks!” Luke smiled. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

The little droid made a happy noise before bumping his boot in what Luke hoped was affection before it rolled off. He watched it until it was out of sight before continuing into the hall to order his food. 

The Executor had some decent selections. More so than many other starships, he knew. He supposed it was a benefit of working under the second most powerful man in the galaxy. He managed, therefore, to order a bantha steak and potatoes, though the steak looked a bit rubbery when he got it. Still, it wouldn’t be the worst he’d ever eaten, he was sure. 

All that was left was to choose somewhere to sit. Somewhere he could start getting his name out there. 

In the end, he ended up choosing the table with the largest amount of stormtroopers. Here in the mess hall, their helmets were off and placed in the center of the table. It was the only place they were allowed to take their helmets off while on duty, if he remembered regulations correctly. So he could see all of their faces when he sat down at the edge of their group, turned to them, smiled and greeted, “Hi! I’m Luke. I just got assigned here.” 

They looked at him like he was crazy. 

“What?” Luke’s smile faded. 

A few glanced at each other before finally one, a man with close-cropped blonde hair, said, “You’re new to the military, aren’t you? Officers don’t usually mix with us stormtroopers.”

Oh. 

He was wearing a basic officers uniform. There was no rank plaque; it was mainly to blend into the aesthetic of a star destroyer crew. But that probably didn’t mean that much to people who were technically lower on the hierarchy than uniformed officers...though Luke was certain that was debatable. 

“I’m not an officer.” Luke clarified, maintaining a polite smile. “I’m a therapist. This is just what they gave me to wear while on board.” 

That got their attention. 

“You mean you’re not dead yet?!” One blurted incredulously. 

He hadn’t expected to be greeted this way, and it took him a moment to recover. “Uh. Yes? Why would I be?” 

The troopers exchanged looks before one cleared his throat. “Well. I mean. You’re--Lord Vader... damn a lot of people are going to owe some money...unless you haven’t met with him yet?!” 

Luke frowned. “I can’t divulge patient information--” 

“So you have!” 

“As I said. I will not be speaking about my patients.” 

“Oh, so many people bet that you wouldn’t live through your first session!” 

Well. Considering the multiple threats Vader made against him in just one session, he wasn’t completely surprised. But he was surprised how open the troops were about Vader’s apparent hobby of killing people for minor infractions. 

“Well I’m not dead.” Luke said, and he pulled out multiple business cards and began passing them out. “And I don’t plan to be in the near future. So, if you or someone you know would like to set up an appointment with me, I’m currently open for clients.” 

The troopers took the cards and began passing them out among themselves...to his pleasure. He was expecting to have to do more convincing, but apparently they either really needed therapy or they were impressed that he’d lived this long and were curious. Maybe both. 

“Aren’t you a bit young to be a therapist?” Another trooper asked, eyeing him. 

“I’m older than I look.” 

“How old?” 

He sighed. “Twenty three.” 

“Still seems to be young for a therapist.” 

“Yes, well, the Empire only requires four years of schooling.” He didn’t mention that if they truly valued mental health, they’d make therapists get a masters, but the Empire was...slow to care. It was a miracle there was a program at all. “I assure you, I am qualified to assist.” 

“Sure, kid. It’s just weird, is all.” 

“I’d appreciate it if you referred to me as Luke--” 

He again had plans to give them the name he wished to go by when he was interrupted by a new voice. 

“Ah, Mr. Lars.” 

Luke sighed. Maybe he should just give up on making his last name Skywalker. His aunt and uncle had raised him anyway… 

He turned and gave Admiral Piett a strained smile. “Good afternoon, Admiral. Care to join us?” There were a few mutters from the stormtroopers behind him, and he remembered what they’d said about officers eating separately from the troopers. That probably especially went for the Admiral of the Executor. 

“Oh, no. I just stopped by for a brief bite to eat and saw you were here. I thought I’d say hello and ask how things are going?” 

Luke opened his mouth to answer...and realized the entire table was staring at their food in an attempt to pretend like they weren’t listening for any detail they could use to spread juicy rumors through the ranks. 

He cleared his throat and stood. “Perhaps we should speak alone on such matters.” 

The Admiral glanced at the troopers and gave a brief shake of his head before he and Luke wandered away. 

They stopped just outside the mess hall. “I apologize for disturbing your meal.” 

“Oh, it’s fine. I’ll go back for it.” Luke smiled. “Anyway. Apparently your ship is betting against my odds at survival.” 

Piett appeared to be unsurprised. “I may have heard something about it.” At a look from Luke, he added, “Not that I participated, I assure you.” 

“Well...thanks, I guess. But I suppose I’m doing fine. As fine as I can be.” Given that his one and only patient made it pretty clear he wanted him dead…

The Admiral seemed to read between the lines. “It is an honor to serve under Lord Vader in any capacity. He is strict, but a brilliant commanding officer. He has the respect of many, including myself. I’m...not sure if that helps.” 

It certainly gave Luke further questions. But...he’d hold off for now. 

“Thank you, Admiral. You’ve been most kind. And your ship is impressive. I...attempted to do some exploring and got a bit lost.” 

Piett smiled, and it seemed to be the most genuine smile he’d seen since coming aboard. “She is a beautiful ship...and yes, easy to get lost in, as well. You’ll find your way soon enough.” He straightened. “Well, if you don’t need anything else, I really must get back to the bridge--” 

“Well...there is something.” Luke pulled out more business cards. “While I’m here, I’d like to help as many people as I can, not just Lord Vader. You don’t have to pass these out of course, but if you think someone might need my services…” 

Piett took the cards, raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen physical business cards in years.” 

Luke flushed. He knew they were old school, but... “I just thought they looked professional, is all.” 

“They do.” He assured him. “I’ll hold onto them. If anyone asks, I’ll be sure to pass one along.” 

He smiled. However stressed the Admiral appeared, Luke was starting to like the man. He seemed to genuinely care about the wellbeing of those he served...and that was a rare trait among the Imperial elite. “Thanks, Admiral.” 

“Of course.” Piett turned, calling over his shoulder as he left, “Anything for our new resident therapist.” 

Vader initially thought the hundred and fifty days started from the moment the first appointment began and ended five months later exactly. But then he read the terms of the court order and was seriously displeased to find out it meant each appointment counted as one day. 

So he’d end up visiting with the stupid therapist exactly a hundred and fifty times. 

That changed his initial plan to spread out his appointments until the days were up. With that new understanding of the rule, he was tempted to force the therapist to work with him a hundred and fifty hours straight to get it over with. He doubted that would work though, so he’d need to come up with a new plan. 

He was Darth Vader. Therapy was useless. 

He was mulling over the predicament when he attended his next session two days after the first. 

“Ah. Welcome Lord Vader.” The therapist greeted with far too much enthusiasm at eight in the morning. Weren’t children his age supposed to want to sleep in? Then again, as much as he hated therapy, he didn’t want his time wasted because the boy decided to sleep in, either. The boy stepped aside to allow him to enter the office. “How have you been since I last saw you?” 

Vader rolled his eyes. “Spare me the pleasantries, boy.” He said as he stormed inside. He took up a spot at the view port, crossing his arms as he stared out at the stars. If he had his wish, he’d be out flying right now before any of his meetings. “Let us get this over with.” 

He listened to the door close and footsteps crossed the room to the desk at the end of it. “Alright. That’s fine.” 

“Of course it is.” What a stupid, idiotic-- “What nonsense questions do you plan on asking me today?” 

“Well. I thought I’d start with your emergency contact.” 

That made him turn his head to look at the boy. He hadn’t been expecting that. He’d expected more personal, prying questions about his past. “What about it?” He snapped. 

The boy had that stupid datapad in his hands again. “I just wondered if Admiral Piett knows that he’s your emergency contact.” 

“Of course he does.” He replied automatically, defensively. But now that he thought about it, it had just been an immediate response. The Admiral was one of the few people he somewhat trusted. It was either him or the Emperor, and he didn’t really want the Emperor to find out more about him than was necessary. 

Not that he wanted Piett to, either, but...if he had to have one… 

“I just wanted to make sure.” The therapist said, making a note on his datapad. Vader tried to remember his name. Something that started with an L… “With that out of way, let’s move on.” 

“Yes…” He was still considering the fact that he’d only been able to think of one person to list as his emergency contact. 

“I thought today it would be good to identify core values.” He lowered the datapad, his gaze fixing on him. 

Those eyes...they were light enough that he thought they might have been blue...they pierced him as they observed. In fact, despite the boy’s unruly blonde hair and boyish charm, there was something unnerving about him…

Vader decided to write it off as the boy’s unfortunate occupation making him appear more than he really was. 

“I am not a company. I do not need to define core values and post it for the galaxy to see.” He replied, glaring at the boy behind his mask. 

“That isn’t what I meant.” The boy had the audacity to sound amused. “I am fully aware that you are not a company...you are technically one of the main faces of the Empire, but you are still an individual who has values.” 

Vader couldn’t help but snort. “Values are pathetic and useless.” 

“Regardless, you do have values. Everyone does.” 

“Not me.” Values was something a Jedi would have, not a Sith. 

“Care to put that to a challenge then?” 

“You dare challenge me?” Vader turned to face the boy fully, a move that would have frightened his entire crew. 

But it seemed to have no effect on the boy. He simply smiled and held up his datapad. “I have a list of values here. It’s a bit lengthy, but I’d like to go through all of it with you, mark which you think you value. Once we have a list, we can narrow it down to two or three values that drive you.” 

Vader stared at him for a moment. Then, “This sounds stupid.” 

“According to you, everything I do is stupid.” The boy pointed out. 

“That might be the smartest observation you have made yet.” Vader crossed his arms. “What is the point of this exercise?” 

“It’s important to identify what our core values are.” He said. “They not only help us make decisions that’s best for ourselves, but determine why we react to things the way we do.” 

“I have no values, I assure you.” 

The boy lifted a brow. “Then I guess we’ll find out for sure, then, won’t we?” 

Vader rolled his eyes. The boy was persistent, he’d give him that. “Proceed with your ridiculous exercise.” 

That seemed to please the boy. He smiled wide, so wide it completely lit up his whole face, and Vader was left wondering when the last time he’d seen anyone look like that around him. “Alright. I’ll list them out, you tell me if you value it.” 

He already knew the answer to all of them, but he waved the boy on. 

“Acceptance.” 

Vader glowered. Oh, that word had too many memories associated with it. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all... “Absolutely not.” 

The boy react to the bitterness in his voice. 

“Accuracy.” 

Vader was about to say no...but he stopped. Technically, if he really thought about it, he did expect such things from those working under him...and he knew he was always accurate. 

“Perhaps.” He acknowledged. 

He half expected the boy to do some kind of gloating, but he merely marked it and moved on. 

“Achievement.” 

He answered without thinking. “Yes.” 

Damn. 

He was proving the boy right. 

At least, partly. Most of the list was completely useless. Things like “cooperation” “helpfulness” and “galactic peace” were utterly ridiculous and of no use to anyone smart. And, true to the boys word, there were many values listed, to the point where he actually reacted strongly to a few. 

“Family.” The boy listed. 

Rage boiled to the surface, and he was stabbing his pointer finger at the boy. “There is no use of that value! It does nothing but hold you back!” 

The boy blinked in surprise. “We can move--” 

“Family is the galaxy’s greatest lie! In the end you are better off alone, less reason to be betrayed by those who claim to love you!” 

He began to write something down on his datapad--

“I said it wasn’t a value!” Vader reached out, attempting to summon the pad to his hand like he had the first time they’d met, but the boy seemed to have learned that trick, because instead of letting go he gripped the device harder. He ended up half-pulling him out of his chair and across the desk, and he shouted as it happened. 

“Boundaries, Lord Vader, boundaries!!!” 

Reluctantly, he let go, his lip curled into a snarl. “It is not a value!” 

“Yeah, I got that, I was just writing notes for my own personal use!” He’d settled back into his seat, straightening his uniform. He was outright scowling, and Vader noted that this was the first time he’d seen such an expression on the boy’s face. Good to know he wasn’t all sunshine and flowers. “If you wanted to see, you just needed to ask.” 

Vader would not stoop to asking, though he technically sort of agreed to the ridiculous boundary. “I don’t appreciate secret notes.” 

“I don’t appreciate being dragged out of my chair by some mystical power.” 

“That is not my problem.” 

He let out a sharp breath. “That isn’t the point. The point is respecting others boundaries and having empathy.” 

“That will not get us anywhere.” 

The boy looked at him for a while before saying, “Perhaps we should move on for now.” 

Vader didn’t miss the for now part, but he had no desire to talk about family, so he conceded.

The other word that gave him a strong reaction, though he didn’t express it as vocally, was “Freedom.” 

He was silent long enough that the boy looked up. His arms were folded again, and his fists had clenched. 

Freedom. 

That was a loaded word. 

“Once.” He finally said. 

The boy frowned, looking down at the list. “I guess we could leave it off for now?” When he didn’t confirm or deny, he moved on.  

In the end, he came up with a longer list than he expected: “Accuracy, Achievement, Authority, Challenge, Commitment, Duty, Intelligence (“Which you are not,” he immediately pointed out to the dumb therapist), Mastery, Power, and Risk.” 

“Ten values.” The boy grinned. Force, what was the boy’s name again? Larry? Lucas? Lucas sounded more right than Larry… “See? I told you everyone has values.” 

“I was expecting weak values, not strong ones.” Vader admitted. The boy seemed like the weak type of person a Jedi would like, and the Jedi were full of values that ultimately led to their downfall. 

“Yes, well, our next goal will be to take those values and narrow them down to two or three.” 

“Then why did you let me pick so many values?” 

“Well if you look at the list…” He held out the datapad, actually inviting him to look at what he’d written down. Vader didn’t make a move simply out of spite. He ended up settling for placing it on the desk. “You’ll find you can group a lot of these values together into different categories or themes.” 

Vader reviewed the list in his head, looking for a pattern. “...group achievement and power with Mastery.” He began. “Commitment and duty with Authority. And intelligence and risk with Challenge.” 

The boy made some notes. “And accuracy?” 

“I am naturally accurate, though I suppose you could group it with intelligence.” 

He made more notes. “That was quick.” 

“I am intelligent, unlike you.” 

The boy gave him an exasperated look before elaborating, “I am aware, My Lord, but I was just wondering why you chose the words you did...Mastery, Authority, and Challenge?” 

“Easy.” Vader replied confidently. “I will be a Master of the Sith, one day. That requires achievement and power to obtain. If I am committed and dutiful, I will maintain Authority, and you cannot succeed in a challenge without intelligence and risk.” 

The boy nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. Vader doubted he could be thinking anything of importance, but he found himself...curious, anyway. 

Not enough to waste time on it. 

“You know.” The boy said, leaning back in his seat. “There were other words you seemed to have a strong reaction to.” 

“We will not talk about those!” He pointed threateningly at the boy. As was becoming oddly usual with this boy, he didn’t seem too concerned. 

“Not today, no, our time is about up.” Really? Vader...hadn’t even noticed the time. Strange. The first session had felt like pulling teeth. “But I think I’d like to circle back to these core values in the future.” 

“I am certain I gave you what you needed.” 

The boy shrugged. “Maybe so. Maybe after a few sessions...you may feel differently.” 

“I assure you, I will not.” Vader rolled his eyes. What an idiot. 

The boy had that odd look on his face again, and Vader wondered once more what was going on in that empty brain of his… but the boy stood. “We can talk about it later. For now, that’s our time--” 

He didn’t wait. He whirled and stormed out of the room without another word. 

From behind him, he was pretty sure he heard the boy call, “See you next week Lord Vader!” 

Urg. 

Larry, Lucas, whatever his name was, really needed to find a new occupation and stop torturing him. 

The thought made him pause. Perhaps that’s what he’d do next time he had a prisoner to interrogate: let the therapist bore them into telling him what he needed to know. 

Now that was an idea he liked.

Chapter Text

Luke thought his clientele would slowly build over time. That’s what he’d been told to expect. In fact, the Dean of his department repeatedly told them that especially in the Empire where mental health was seen as a weakness, they’d be lucky to pay back their student loans. 

But Luke found that his schedule was growing almost too quickly. 

It all started the same afternoon as Vader’s second appointment. Luke was in his office studying up on literally any manual he could find that might help him with his particularly difficult client, when his door comm chimed. Without looking up, he turned it on. “Yes, how may I help you?” 

“Uh.” Came a nervous voice on the other end, prompting Luke to finally look at the image. He’d been expecting food delivery, or maybe a cleaning droid--but no. It was an officer. A captain, by the rank plate he wore. “Hi, uh...Mr. Lars...Lord Vader sent me to see you.” 

Luke frowned, unsure he heard right. “Lord Vader sent you? To me?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“...Are you sure it was me he was sending you to? Could you possibly have misheard?” 

“No, he was very specific. He told me to go ‘see the idiot therapist.’” 

Luke straightened up, turning off his databook and pushing it to the side. This was...most unexpected. Despite the insult, he’d still sent someone in need to him. Perhaps he was getting to Vader after all--?

“He sent me here because I messed up.” The man was squirming uncomfortably.

Ah. 

Maybe not. 

“He does realize therapy isn’t a punishment, doesn’t he?” Luke asked dryly. 

“I don’t believe so, no, sir.” 

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Alright. Well, let’s see what we can do together, shall we?” And he pressed the button to open the door. 

Though he was annoyed to be used for punishment purposes, he decided to make the best of it. It turned out, the poor captain was under significant work-related stress. 

And it all had to do with his primary client. 

“You have no idea what it’s like,” the captain shuddered, “When he’s not on the bridge, we all function just fine. But the moment he steps in, everyone’s tense. If we make a single mistake, we’re bound to get strangled! I stopped bothering to learn people's names!!! I swear I’m good at my job, I just get so nervous when he’s around I make mistakes I don’t normally make!!!” 

The captain’s voice rose with every listed stress factor until he was practically yelling. Luke wrote notes as he talked, but there were so many issues the man listed, his notes ended up looking like: 

“Afraid of Vader’s breathing?”

“Edge of nervous breakdown?”

“At least two deaths by invisible strangulation on a good month?” (This last one he circled numerous times and wrote in the margins “How is this even a thing??? Surely he’s imagining things??? Or is this part of his magic???”)

He ended up suggesting some basic calming exercises, and the captain set up another appointment to continue working on his anxiety and stress management. 

The next day, when he opened up for business, he found another officer waiting for him. 

“Uh hi,” He kicked at the floor nervously, not meeting his eyes. “Captain Riss recommended you...said you were great to talk to about…” he looked around nervously as though Lord Vader would suddenly appear out of thin air and start strangling him. “Work.” 

Well. At least this was a legitimate recommendation. “Sure, come right on in…” 

Throughout the entire day, he had a steady stream of either walk-ins, or people looking to set up an appointment. It was mostly officers, though there were a few stormtroopers as well. 

It was all either issues stemming directly from Lord Vader himself, or the ship’s policies. 

Several times, he had officers break down sobbing. Though he’d learned to suspect most military officers were hiding feelings behind a wall of trained indifference, to see men who’d survived countless battles sobbing because of their own superior officer…And on such a regular occurrence… 

He spent his lunch break stocking up on all of the tissues the med center would let him have. Then, a few days later, when half of them were used up, he made arrangements to have a regular shipment sent to him. 

One day, Luke received a shipment from one of his friends from college, Digby. He saved the box until lunch when he’d be guaranteed to have time to open it, and when he did, he found a massive fluffy purple duck shoved into the tiny space. He pulled it out with one hand, and with the other found the note: “Figured you could use this with any children clients you might have!”

“I’m literally never going to use this on a star destroyer,” he muttered to himself, then realized he’d been assigned the position on the Executor so quickly, he hadn’t had a chance to tell his friends where he’d been assigned. Last they’d heard, he’d planned to eventually get a masters that specialized in family services.  

Well. He’d save it for later, he decided. For now, he’d need somewhere to put it that was out of the way-- 

But right at that moment, another panicked stormtrooper burst in, gasping as he tossed his helmet off. His face was bright red, and his hand was up at his throat, eyes wild as they met his. 

“You gotta help me!” 

It was then that Luke noticed the bruises on his neck. 

“Um, I think you need a medic--” 

“No!” The trooper stormed over, and before Luke could say anything, grabbed the purple duck from the desk and held it in his arms. “I can’t handle this anymore!!!” 

“Uh, okay, we can talk…” Luke pushed his lunch to the side, hardly touched. “But that stuffed duck is for children--” 

“I don’t care I NEED it!” 

Luke held up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay, you can hold it while we talk…” 

After that confirmation where he got first-hand confirmation that yes, indeed, Vader strangled his staff regularly, he kept the purple duck on a chair in the corner in case anyone else decided they wanted to use it while they talked. 

Surprisingly, there were a few others. 

By the time he was preparing for Vader’s next session, he found he’d unintentionally gathered a lot more info on his client. 

Vader was, apparently, not only dealing with some serious anger management issues, but...well. The list was growing. He was a perfectionist. He apparently didn’t know how to communicate those expectations. He reacted violently if he thought someone didn’t meet those standards. He apparently didn’t respect personal space (considering he’d almost pulled him over his desk with his weird magic, Luke wasn’t surprised). He never offered any praise. 

There was probably more. 

Luke stared at the list the night before, a cup of caff on his desk, the purple duck in his lap, and sighed. 

Where to even begin? Especially when the man reacted explosively to any mention of his past? 

“You took him on, Skywalker,” he muttered to himself in an attempt to talk himself up. “You’re trained. You worked hard and got your degree. You got this. Beru always said you could melt the heart of the Emperor himself, so why not Darth Vader? You got this.” 

Feeling marginally better, he dug into his work, prepping for his next interaction with the most feared man on the ship. 

The idea to punish Captain Riss by sending him to the therapist was brilliant. One of Vader’s best ideas, he was sure of it. When the man returned to the bridge the next day, he seemed...well, not significantly more efficient, but better. There was still room to improve. He was no Piett, after all. 

But over the next few days, he started noticing multiple people around him acting...off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but they seemed...calmer, somehow. Just marginally. For a Sith who fed off of fear, it was noticeable. 

What has changed? He mused, taking time to pay more attention to his surroundings. Everything looked the same. Procedures hadn’t changed. There was still a Rebellion to crush. 

So. What was it? 

“Admiral.” He finally asked the day before his next dreaded torture session with the therapist, “Have you noticed a change in the officers?” And a few stormtroopers, though the behavior seemed to particularly affect the bridge crew. 

Piett looked up from his datapad, casting a look over the bridge. “Yes, they do seem...calmer.” 

“Why?” 

He considered for a moment. “I’m not sure. Would you like me to ask around?” 

Maybe it was nothing. It had only been a few days. He was likely overreacting, but… “Do so and report to me as soon as you find out.” 

Later, while heading back to his quarters, he got his answer in the form of a message from the Admiral. 

Much of the bridge crew has taken up therapy with Mr. Lars. 

Vader stopped in his tracks, staring at the message on his comm. At first, he was confused--why would anyone willingly put themselves through that torture? Then, when he realized the boy had likely changed his tactics to sucker his staff in, he grew angry. 

Angry enough that he began accidentally strangling a nearby stormtrooper. 

It’s not the stormtroopers fault my therapist is a hack, he thought furiously, pulling his power away from the man who dropped to the ground, gasping for air. If the therapist likes his boundaries so much, it is time that I establish the boundaries of my ship during our appointment tomorrow! 

The next day, he entered his appointment with this thought in mind. He couldn’t yet kill the boy, not without causing another one to take his place and he’d have to go through the torture all over again, but he was intimidating. He was Darth Vader. He’d make the boy fear him. 

“You!” He snarled the moment the blast doors opened, pointing at the seated therapist. This time, he felt a flash of fear from the boy, before it was suddenly controlled. He took satisfaction in that brief slip, though the boy’s expression didn’t change. 

Perhaps the boy should have taken up Sabacc. 

“Good morning, Lord Vader.” He greeted smoothly. “What have I done this time to incur your wrath?” 

“Besides exist?!” He strode to his spot next to the port window, pointing at him to make his point. “You are ruining my bridge crew!” 

That caused the boy’s brows to shoot up in surprise. “Oh? How so?” 

“By giving them therapy that is actually helpful instead of torturing them like you do me!” 

“I see.” He frowned. “While I can’t reveal confidential information about my other patients, I can say that I haven’t changed my methods.” 

“Then why are they acting like...like... hippies?!” A terrible thought occurred to him, and he took a threatening step forward. “If I find out that you are doing this to get back at me, Lars, I swear I’ll--” 

“I am helping my patients, Lord Vader.” The boy had the audacity to interrupt. There was fire in those blue eyes as he met his gaze, unflinching. “If that makes them better people, I will not apologize. I am doing my job.”

“Your job was to teach Captain Riss a lesson in failure!” 

“I will not disclose any information about our session, but I am not a tool for punishment--” 

“You are for me!” 

“Because a court ordered me to help you--” 

“Ridiculous! I need no help!” 

The boy gave him a long stare. Then, “So then why does it matter if anyone on your ship makes a mistake?” 

“That is a stupid question.” 

“Humor me.” 

“I do not humor anyone!” But the boy just waited, expecting him to say it anyway. He considered refusing to respond completely, but then he’d be stuck in a glaring contest with the stupid therapist. If his time was going to be wasted anyway… “The Executor must be in top shape if we are to succeed against the Rebellion! Happy?!” 

The boy didn’t respond to that. Instead, he said, “It would seem that you do need help.” 

“I did not mean physically, I obviously cannot fly a star destroyer on my own!” 

“Most creatures in the universe need social interaction to survive. Positive social interaction. You are no different, Lord Vader.” 

“I am so!” The boy knew nothing. 

“And why is that?” 

“Because I am a Sith. We do not need anyone except ourselves and the power at our disposal!” 

“And this is your...magic?” The boy asked curiously. 

Vader scoffed. “There is no such thing as magic. There is only the Force!” 

“And that’s...what you used to pull the datapad out of my hands?” As if fearing he’d try it again, the boy’s hands tightened on his current datapad. 

“Yes, though that is child’s play compared to the true power of the Force.” 

The boy wrote some notes down as though he’d said something particularly interesting. “And what, exactly, is the Force?” 

Vader’s anger...simmered. “Finally. You ask an important question.” 

“I look forward to the answer.” 

“Do not get smart with me, boy!” He pointed at him. Still, it wouldn’t stop him from giving the answer. “I am sure you have heard of the traitorous Jedi.” 

“Sort of.” The boy replied. “At least, I’ve heard rumors of them.” 

“They are traitors, but they used a weak form of the Force.” When the boy just looked at him blankly, he added, “Jedi mind tricks? Lightsabers? Levitation? Surely you have heard these common stories.” 

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I didn’t get to hear many rumors on Tatooine.” 

Vader scowled. “That would explain your lack of intelligence.” 

“Because I’m from the Outer Rim or Tatooine specifically?” 

“Tatooine. That planet is hell.” It continued to be the bane of his existence, too. He lost those droids there before the Death Star was blown up, after all… 

“I can’t disagree with you there.” 

Well. At least they could agree on something. “The Force is the energy field that binds all life together in the universe. There are other names for it. Magic is...crude, but technically not incorrect. There are individuals, such as myself, who are born with the ability to control it. The Jedi used a weaker form of it, while I, as a Sith, use it as it should be.” 

He tried to read the boy’s expression, but it was as carefully neutral as ever. Though he did think he seemed a bit more interested than usual. “And how should it be used?” 

“To obtain power and control so that the galaxy may be secure.” 

“I’m...afraid I’m not sure that explains it.” 

Vader rolled his eyes. “Power is fueled by anger and hate. That is the only way to obtain true power.” 

Understanding lit in the boy’s blue eyes. Eye’s that were somehow familiar to him, though he couldn’t place why… 

“So is that why you chose to combine achievement and power with mastery?” 

Vader recalled their last session, and despite himself, was cautiously pleased that he’d made the connection. Perhaps there was some intelligence in the boy after all. “Yes.” 

“And you said you have a goal to be a master of the Sith?” 

“At least you have a decent memory.” 

“That, and good note taking skills.” He tried for a smile, but when Vader didn’t laugh, it faded. “How do you become a master of the Sith?” 

“By killing my master.” 

“I...see.” Vader didn’t miss the hesitation. “And who is your master?” 

Vader realized then, that he’d given away too much. He couldn’t exactly tell the therapist that his master was the Emperor, and that he’d basically said he’d have to eventually plan on killing the Emperor to achieve his goal. That was treason...though he didn’t necessarily have any plans to kill the Emperor any time soon, anyway. 

“We are done with this subject. We were discussing how you are ruining the atmosphere on my ship.” 

He thought the therapist would push, but he didn’t. Instead he replied, “I am helping people improve their lives so they make less mistakes. Which, per our conversation last time, was also something important to you. Intelligence and accuracy, right?” 

Vader was...loathe to admit he was right. So instead he said nothing, only glared. 

“The words you chose last time...Mastery, Authority and Challenge. Those are all very important values to have. And I can see how they’re currently influencing your life. I’d like to examine a few other words, though.” 

“Not interested. Those are all I need.” He crossed his arms. 

“Yes, but you had some rather strong reactions to a few other words that I think are important to address.” 

“I had a strong reaction because I do not wish to discuss them further.” He warned. Naturally, it went unheard. 

“I understand. But I think they might feed into how you...interact with your subordinates.” 

“They do not.” 

“...You reacted strongly to words that related to companionship of any type. Very strongly, in fact.” 

“They are not needed.” 

“But you yourself even mentioned you have a master you don’t want to discuss that is a form of companionship.” 

“I assure you, it is not.” He’d once thought so, but Palpatine had made it clear that was a ruse not long after he’d failed on Mustafar… 

“And why is that?” 

Vader opened his mouth...and shut it. The words wouldn’t come. How could he even begin to unravel that? More than that, he wasn’t supposed to. What would this therapist know about it?! 

He turned away. “We are done with this conversation.” 

“Our time isn’t--”

“I said, we are done. I have other things to attend to.” 

“I’ll have to mark our session as incomplete--” 

“I will deal with it later.” 

“We can discuss something else if you wish--” 

He began walking out of the room...then stopped. Turned, and reached out a hand towards the monstrosity sitting in a chair in the corner of the office, summoning it to his hand. 

It was...a giant, fluffy, stuffed duck. Colored some color he couldn’t identify, but he doubted was normal duck colors. 

“What...is this?” 

“Oh. It’s...technically it’s meant for children, but it’s actually seen some use here so I’m keeping it out in case anyone wants to hold something while they talk--”

He looked away from the duck to stare at the boy incredulously. “They are grown men.” 

The boy looked almost defensive. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to hold something as a grown man.” 

He waited a few breaths, trying to find the words. “I beg to differ.” 

“...Maybe you should--” 

“Do not finish that sentence.” He tossed the stuffed duck at him, and he managed to catch it before it smacked him in the face. “It is ridiculous and unfit to be aboard my ship.” 

He frowned. “With all due respect, Lord Vader, I will run my therapy the way I wish.” 

“It’s a stupid way.” 

“So you’ve said. Repeatedly.” 

Vader stared at the boy, then at the duck in his hands, and shook his head. “I will not send people to you for punishment. But you will not turn my crew into hippies.” 

An odd look came over his face. “...Hippies?” 

“Yes. The military is no place for them, am I understood?” 

“Ah...I think so?” His confusion radiated in the Force, telling him otherwise. 

Well. If he turned his crew into hippies, it just gave him a good excuse to kill him. “Good.” He said, then turned and stormed out.

Chapter Text

Luke never imagined his clientele would grow so much so quickly, but he completely understood why. It was as if the entire ship needed some kind of therapy. 99% of them needed therapy because of the immense stress put upon them not only by the Empire, but by Lord Vader specifically. Even without having to deal with the Dark Lord, he was basically having to deal with him in some form or another. 

It was becoming...difficult to manage his own emotions. With each session that focused solely on stress caused by Darth Vader, Luke’s own stress escalated. 

One afternoon, one of the officers who’d signed up for an appointment never showed. Luke attempted to call the officer’s comm, but found it to be disconnected. He later found out, from another new client who happened to be the officer’s best friend, that Lord Vader had killed the officer for reporting the wrong coordinates of a Rebel base. 

Hearing that news suddenly made his task seem far more important, not just for Vader’s health, but for his own. 

He knew he needed to do something for his own mental health when a stormtrooper came in sobbing and when he told him that he’d just received news that his mother had died of old age, Luke accidentally let out a sigh of relief and said, “Thank the stars, something normal--”    

The stormtrooper gave him an odd look through his tears. “E-excuse me?” 

Luke immediately flushed bright red, realizing what he’d just done and cursing himself for being so immensely out of control. “I’m so, so sorry, that’s not what I meant at all--” 

Thankfully, the stormtrooper seemed to know what he meant without him explaining. Not that he could without violating patient confidentiality, but, well...the man worked on the Executor under the same guy as everyone else. They were able to finish their session and set up another one, but that didn’t mean Luke didn’t feel like a horrible person for his slip. 

It was time to take control of the situation. 

Luke blocked out two hours on his schedule to dedicate time to figuring out the problem. It was far more difficult to do, considering he was managing everything by himself. People kept asking him for sessions, and he had to move his private hours at least twice before it actually happened. When the time came, he worried he’d be interrupted by an emergency anyway, and he turned out the lights in his office, deciding to work by the light of his datapads alone. 

The most important thing to do when handling a difficult situation was to focus on what he had the power to control instead of focusing on the overwhelming parts he couldn’t do anything about. He couldn’t force Vader to want to change his ways, and even if Vader did decide to do so, it would take time, time Luke’s nerves didn’t have. He couldn’t change the fact that Vader had a court order for a specific number of sessions...but perhaps he could change his role in that order. 

So he called his boss. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lars.” Greeted a mini-holo of an older graying man. He had a kind expression, and his voice was calm, the perfect sound of an experienced therapist. 

“Hey Mr. Aldel.” 

“How is your first post?” Even though there was no change in Mr. Aldel’s expression or tone, Luke suspected he’d almost been expecting this call. 

“Well...I have a busy schedule…” Luke began, unsure of how to start. He didn’t want to leave, per se. He enjoyed helping others, and for the most part it seemed he was making a difference in the lives of the officers working aboard the ship. Vader was just...difficult. Perhaps more so than he could handle. 

“But?” 

He sighed. “I don’t know if I’m experienced enough to help Lord Vader. I was thinking...there’s enough business on this ship that two therapists could work here. Maybe a more experienced therapist can focus on Lord Vader while I handle other less complicated clients. I could use the experience to learn from the more experienced therapist so that maybe one day, in the future, I could again attempt to handle someone so...complicated.” 

Mr. Aldel visibly hesitated, obviously searching for the right words. “Luke...I’m going to be honest, here. You know the other therapists already said no to taking him on.” 

Luke was afraid of this. “I know.” 

“Their answer won’t change. Believe it or not, I’ve tried...but the only way they’ll take it is if Lord Vader fires you, or--” he cut himself off, looking highly uncomfortable. 

Luke didn’t need to ask why. 

“I could possibly try to get another therapist to handle your other clientele, but I doubt Lord Vader will approve that assignment. He...left us some rather nasty threats when we sent your file to him to approve.” 

Of course he did. 

“Would you like me to attempt it?” 

Luke let out a sigh. “No. I don’t want anyone to get in trouble.” or hurt, he mentally added, “But...maybe you could send me some material that might help me with this?” 

“Of course. Anything you need.” Luke didn’t fail to notice Mr. Aldel’s smile looked more relieved than anything else. 

Luke got off the call, staring at his schedule. Admittedly, it...was starting to get difficult to put a positive spin on the whole situation. He wondered what Mr. Aldel would say if he called him back and asked him if he’d expected him to be dead by now. 

He already knew the answer to that. 

At least I’ll get some pointers on what to do and where to go? He thought as he began attempting to re-organize his schedule...then paused. Squinted at the screen. 

And got up to go find Piett. 

He had to move quickly. It was starting to become common where he’d be stopped in the hall by someone wanting to talk to him about scheduling a session. While he again wanted to help, he couldn’t truly help if he was overwhelmed. And Piett was the answer to solving at least a large chunk of the problem. 

He found him where he expected him to be--on the bridge. Not that Luke entered it himself. He wasn’t authorized, and he was certain that if Lord Vader found out, there’d be hell to pay. He might have some insurance against getting killed, but he could still be punished. 

And he really didn’t want to find out what Lord Vader considered to be adequate punishment first hand. 

But thankfully Captain Riss spotted him, and when he explained he needed to talk to the Admiral, agreed to help. Soon Piett was exiting the bridge with a steaming cup of caff in one hand, looking a bit surprised to see him. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lars. What brings you to this side of the ship?” 

Luke didn’t miss the apprehension in that gaze, as though the Admiral expected him to deliver terrible news that likely had to do with everyone’s favorite commanding officer. 

“It’s nothing bad--” 

“Then why send Captain Riss to interrupt me?” But the Admiral didn’t look mad, but instead relieved that he hadn’t come with ill tidings. 

Not yet, anyway. Luke thought with a grimace. 

“Well...you’re in charge of the functions on this ship, right?” 

Piett’s expression began to turn amused, though the answering smile was a bit...twitchy. Luke couldn’t help but notice just how exhausted he looked… “Last I checked, yes.” 

“Well. I’m...getting a bit overwhelmed with both delivering therapy sessions and keeping track of the administrative parts of running an office...I was wondering if I could get a droid I could use as a secretary?” 

For some reason, Piett just looked even more amused, as though he’d said something funny. “Mr. Lars. You do realize you could have placed a formal request in my inbox for approval?” 

Oh. 

“And if you absolutely needed to talk to me about this, you could have called me. I’m sure you have my comm number somewhere.” 

Oh. 

Even though he’d spent time at a military school, it always seemed as though he couldn’t ever get rid of his farm boy nature. It was like it was ingrained in his blood, somehow. Piett already thought he was too young. Perhaps now he’d also add hillbilly to that list--

“Be that as it may, I am pleased you came to see me anyway.” Piett finished, surprising Luke. 

“Wait, really?” 

“Yes.” He nodded towards the bridge door. “Your work has had positive results so far...maybe not with Lord Vader, but with the rest of the crew. I just received the newest productivity report and there’s been quite a dramatic increase.” 

Luke’s jaw dropped. 

“Surely you expected those results?” Piett asked, smiling that twitchy smile. 

“I expected people to be happier but...I mean I guess it makes sense...that’s awesome news!” Luke finally broke out into a grin. Just that one bit of news seemed to lift a weight off the situation. “Has Lord Vader seen it?” 

“I sent it to him, though I’m not sure if he’s looked at it or made the connection.” Piett shrugged. “Either way, since results have been moving in a positive direction, I’m sure I can spare one of our droids for your needs...though it might need some reprograming.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I can handle it.” He’d need to get up earlier than usual to make that work, but he was getting what he needed and it had been a while since he’d had a chance to do anything mechanical. Something like this was easy, and the results would be better if he just did it himself. 

Piett nodded. “Well if you need anything else...perhaps try to follow correct protocol?” 

“Yeah, I’ll try.” Luke winked before growing serious. “Though if you ever wish to...you know...drop by and talk...I’ll make room on my schedule for you, Admiral.” 

The Admiral sighed, lifted his caff cup...and took a really long time to drink from it. To the point where Luke wondered if it was safe to gulp down that much hot caff in one go. When he finished, he simply said, “I’m quite fine, Mr. Lars. But thank you for the offer.” 

Luke was still staring at the now empty caff cup, his lips pinching together in concern. But the only person he could force into therapy was Lord Vader, and he liked the Admiral so… 

“You know where I’m at if you change your mind.” Was all he said. 

Vader stared in utter disbelief at the officer, certain he’d misheard him. He still had Lieutenant Commander Kal struggling for air in his grip. He barely noticed the man trying to free himself. 

“Repeat that again, Captain?” He said, his voice low and dangerous, promising violence if the man dared to repeat…

The captain gulped nervously, but his mouth was set in a hard, determined line. “I said, your feelings over what Commander Lieutenant Kal’s failure are valid, but I’d appreciate it if you communicated those feelings in a more productive manner. Strangling someone while I’m trying to work is triggering and may affect my productivity.” 

Vader felt his fury rise to a boiling point. He was seconds away from exploding. And yet he could only stare at the captain. The entire bridge was dead silent, and he was aware that every eye was on them. People had stopped breathing, waiting for his reaction. Piett stood frozen in the pit, staring at the captain like he was insane. 

Because he was. 

And yet Vader didn’t make a move to kill him. 

Not because he didn’t want to. Oh, he definitely did. But because, in the back of his mind, he remembered that he’d sent this captain to a certain boy as punishment…

“Did the therapist put you up to this?!” He seethed. By this point, the Lieutenant Commander was dead, hanging limply in his grasp. He paid the body no mind, even as the captain’s eyes kept darting to it. 

“This is my decision, My Lord. Mr. Lars didn’t ask me to do anything.” 

“But those words sound exactly like something that idiot would say!” Vader tossed the body aside. It landed against the wall with a crash, but no one moved to clean it up. They were too transfixed on the utter insubordination unfolding before them. 

Instead of being afraid...no, despite being terrified, the captain’s expression hardened. “Mr. Lars has nothing to do with this. I’m simply speaking up for creating a productive environment for me and my crewmates.” 

Kill him. 

He normally would. And yet, even though he was looking straight at the captain, it was the stupid therapist’s face he was seeing. 

He whirled, and without another word, strode off, anger building with each step. 

That was it. He was done. He’d deal with whatever therapist got sent afterwards, but he couldn’t handle this boy any longer--

He didn’t make it far before Piett was at his side, datapad in hand. “My Lord, did you happen to see--?” 

“I am not in the mood, Admiral.” Vader snarled. With each step, he imagined exactly how he was going to kill this boy--

“I really think you should look at the most recent productivity report, My Lord.” 

Vader stopped abruptly, resisting the urge to lash out at his best employee. Part of the reason he liked Piett so much was that he didn’t get in his way over trivial things, so if he was pushing a report he rarely looked at while he was on his way to murder the therapist, it was likely for good reason. What that reason could be, he couldn’t imagine, but he snatched the datapad from the Admiral’s hands anyway. 

He scanned through it once. Twice. On the third, he looked back at Piett. “This must be incorrect.” 

“I had it triple checked, My Lord.” Piett replied with that same calm, no-nonsense demeanor that he’d grown to rely on. 

“Then someone fudged it.” 

“On the third time, I ran the report myself. The numbers are accurate.” 

Vader looked back at the productivity report. The report was always adequate, but this was well above average. Possibly the highest numbers he’d ever had aboard his ship. “You are not about to suggest the therapist had anything to do with this, are you?” 

“I’m not.” Vader was about to relax and resume his objective when Piett tapped the screen and a survey popped up. “The crew is.” 

He’d always assumed the survey report was stupid--it still was. Every month, the crew was surveyed for their opinion on top contributing factors to why the reports came out the way they did. There were a bunch of the standard reasons available to choose from, and he assumed there was a write in option, but no one, to his knowledge, had ever used it. 

The overwhelming majority wrote in some variation of “Therapy helped manage stress” or “looking forward to seeing a therapist” on this month's survey. 

That...was a problem. At least, if he wanted to kill the boy. If this was how the majority of his crew felt, killing him would likely cause a mutiny. He could of course deal with that, but if the incident on Ryloth had forced him to deal with a therapist, he could only imagine how Darth Vader Kills His Crew After Murdering His Therapist would look on the holonet. 

He could end up in therapy for the rest of his life. 

He scowled, suddenly no longer in the mood to see anyone, as he handed the datapad back to Piett. “I will be in my chambers. See that no one disturbs me.”   

He was aware that he likely looked to be sulking, but he didn’t care. He’d fix his damaged reputation later. Right now, he needed to channel his rage into the Dark Side of the Force to avoid killing his ship's favorite person. 

Stupid therapist. Stupid crew. Stupid galaxy. He thought all the way to his meditation pod. 

Unfortunately, the next morning he was obligated to meet with the very boy who’d become his least favorite person. This time, he showed up slightly early, hoping to get it over with so he could continue trying to forget about the effect the boy was having on his crew. He didn’t bother to wait in the waiting room. He used the Force to open the blast doors and step into the boy’s office. 

Where the boy was working on a droid. 

He stopped, the furious words he’d practiced all night flying out of his head. Out of all the things he’d expected the boy to do, this wasn’t one of them. 

The boy, upon him entering, muttered a curse in surprise, the hydrospanner falling out of his hand, off the table and onto the floor. “Sorry,” The boy was flushing red. It only made him look younger. “I didn’t mean--I didn’t realize you’d be here so early…” 

Vader stared at the boy, the anger...seeping into something dull, replaced instead by longing and...and…

Regret? 

“I did not realize you had mechanical skills.” 

The boy had come around the desk to pick up the fallen tool. “Yeah, I used to work on machines all the time. Then I went to school and, well, here I am.” He straightened, turning the tool over in his hands. Hand that, now that Vader looked, were calloused and scarred. Nothing like the hands of someone who’d grown up sheltered. 

“And you are programming the droid to do what, exactly?” Vader narrowed his eyes. “You had better not be making it into a therapy droid--” 

The boy laughed. “No, just a receptionist droid.” 

Oh. Well, that didn’t sound so bad. “Perhaps you could program it to leave me alone when I am forced to come.” 

That got another laugh out of the boy as he moved the droid from his desk. For some reason, that laugh only pushed him further into the strange, melancholy mood. 

But why? 

He frowned, watching the boy as he cleaned his workspace. “I’ll see what I can do. Droids sometimes have a mind of their own.” 

“I know.” The words were out before he could stop them, and they didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Yeah?” He’d finished cleaning his space and was sitting down, pulling the datapad out. “Do you like mechanics?” 

He shouldn’t answer. He was probably playing right into the boy’s conspiratorial hands. He was his enemy, he didn’t deserve--

“I do. I built my first droid from scratch by the time I was nine.” 

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Really? What kind of droid?” 

He should keep his mouth shut. And yet...he so rarely got to talk mechanics with anyone these days. It was one of the few subjects that, had anyone bothered to bring it up with him, he’d start and never stop. 

“It was a protocol droid. I named him C-3PO.” 

“Huh. Why a protocol droid?” 

Vader hesitated. 

“Because I wanted companionship.” 

The words were ashes in his mouth, and he immediately hated himself for saying it. What had possessed him like this?! He’d come in here ready to give the therapist a piece of his mind for what he’d done to his crew, and instead he was talking about his past all because the boy had been working on a droid. But there was something about seeing the boy work that had struck him as familiar, and even though he knew he shouldn’t talk about his past, that it would do no good to do so, for some reason he felt like he was edging closer to some hidden truth by doing so. 

“Were you a particularly lonely child?” 

“I had friends.” The words were harsh, defensive. 

“I didn’t assume you didn’t.” The boy, as always, was calm, though he was attempting to hide the obvious curiosity that had been sparked by the droid discussion. He wasn’t very successful. “You can have friends and still be lonely. Believe me, I know.” 

“What could you possibly know?!” Vader snapped. 

He shrugged. “Well I lived on a moisture farm on Tatooine growing up. My closest friend was half a day’s speeder ride away.” 

Tatooine. 

Vader frowned, that melancholy feeling strengthening. He wasn’t sure why. Tatooine might have been a hellhole, but there were plenty of people who lived there or at least visited. The boy being from there shouldn’t have had any significance. In fact, he’d known that. The boy told him as much last session, but for whatever reason, the information felt different somehow.  

“I had friends.” Vader repeated, less harshly this time. “They were…” Slaves, like me. “Busy.” 

The boy frowned. “Did you live on a planet that gives children more responsibility?” 

Vader crossed his arms to hide his clenched fists. “You could say that.” 

The boy nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “So do you still work on mechanics?” 

They were back to an easy topic. Vader thanked the Force for it. “Yes, though I rarely have time to do it.” 

“What do you like to work on?” 

If therapy was more like this, he thought he might sort of grow to like it. Sort of. “Ships, mostly.” 

The boy’s expression brightened further, his presence in the Force...mysteriously shining along with it. “What kinds of ships?” There was genuine interest in his voice. 

“Usually I work on improvements to my TIE Advanced. If it gets damaged, I fix it.” He paused. “But if I am back on Mustafar and have time, I have a private collection I work on.” 

“Is that where your home is?” 

He...hadn’t realized he’d dropped another personal detail. But, he supposed it wasn’t that private. There were plenty in the military who were aware he owned a castle there. “Yes.” 

“Isn’t that a volcanic world?” He was doing something on his datapad. Confirming it, likely. “Wow. A heavily active volcanic world. Are you from there?” 

Vader clenched his teeth. The melancholy feeling was disappearing. “In a sense.” 

“What do you mean?” 

He should stop answering. 

He answered. “I was not physically born there. I was...remade there.” 

The boy frowned. “Remade? What does that--?” 

“I will not speak more of it!” He snapped, pointing at him. “You will not ask me again!” 

The curiosity faded, the boy’s presence dimming again. “Okay. We don’t have to talk about anything you’re not comfortable with.” He wrote something down on his datapad and then asked, “What happened to C-3PO?” 

Vader frowned. He’d...wondered, of course. Not as much as he wondered about where Artoo had gone after...after. He assumed they were still together somewhere. Perhaps with Kenobi. Perhaps in the care of someone else, their memories wiped…

“I lost them.” He replied. 

“Them?” 

For some reason, he didn’t want to talk about Artoo. Threepio had been his friend, but Artoo had been one of his closest companions. He’d had to be, given that they’d gone into battle together countless times. 

So he only replied, “Yes.” 

“...Okay, then.” 

As the boy wrote something down, probably about his vagueness over having multiple important droids in his life, Vader decided now was the best time to talk about what he’d originally come to say. “You have turned my entire crew into hippies and I do not appreciate it.” 

The same odd look from before passed over his face. “I’m...afraid I don’t know what that means, Lord Vader.” 

Of course he didn’t. 

Vader rolled his eyes. “Tatooine did you no favors in terms of education.” Before the boy could respond, he continued, “Hippies are like…They’re like you.” 

“Like me?” The boy frowned. 

“Yes, except they usually dress far less professional. They’re all about peace and love and harmony.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever brought any of that up in our sessions--” 

“Not mine, because obviously I would not let you.” 

“Obviously.” 

“But you do it in your other sessions with my crew, and they are starting to act on it.” 

The boy stared. “They’re...dressing less professionally…?” 

“No.” At least, not that he’d seen. “They are preaching about feelings. Yesterday I had a captain try to stop me from dealing punishment because he felt triggered.” 

“Oh.” The boy looked like he was trying to find the right words to say. “Lord Vader...I don’t think that’s him being a hippie. I think that’s just them expressing that they’d like a safe workplace environment--” 

“This is the military, nothing about it is safe!” 

“I...understand that. But it sounds like the captain…” another hesitation. “It sounds like the captain trusts you enough to express his feelings.” 

“You and I both know that is not the case!” 

The boy blew out a breath. “Maybe, maybe not. I’m simply offering an alternative explanation for his behavior. As his commanding officer, how does it make you feel when he expresses...concern over how you’ve handled a problem?” 

“This is the military. I shouldn’t have to feel anything! I have no reason to worry about anyone’s feelings!” 

“Maybe not...but if your subordinates feel valued, perhaps their morale will improve, which will help them perform up to your satisfaction.” 

Vader glowered at the boy, wishing he could see his expression beyond the mask. If he could, the boy would certainly feel more fear than what he currently felt. Because yes, there was some fear there. Buried deep. But it had no effect on his demanor or on the idiotic words leaving his mouth. 

And he didn’t stop there. “Lord Vader, I’m going to send you a handout on a skill I’d like for us to work on.” 

“What skill?” Vader demanded. “I need to skills from you!” 

“Maybe not. But I’d like us to try anyway.” 

The urge to strangle the boy was back. But...again, that survey and report floating to the forefront of his mind, taunting him. If he killed the boy, he’d only cause bigger problems… “What is it?!” 

“It’s a confrontation skill.” 

“My confrontation skills are optimal and effective.” 

He didn’t miss that the boy didn’t comment on that. 

“It’s called FAST.” 

Vader frowned. “FAST?” He was fast. That was the point of why he punished people the way he did. It got him the fastest results. 

“Yes. It represents four different values to employ when you’re confronting someone about something that’s displeased you.” 

This was ridiculous. But…

He glanced to the side where the boy had placed the droid. It sat in the corner next to the hideous giant duck, deactivated. 

He’d...humor him. 

When he didn’t stop him, the boy explained, ticking his fingers with each value he listed. “It stands for being Fair, making no Apologies, Sticking to your values, and being Truthful.”

Vader ran it in his mind. “That is a terrible acronym.” 

The boy smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, well, I didn’t make it up. But it does work. And to prove it, between now and our next session, I’d like for you to just focus on the first value.” 

He snorted. “Fairness?” 

“Yes. That includes being fair to others and yourself. I want you to try to focus on validating feelings and perspectives on both sides.” 

“Life is not fair. It is therefore a stupid value.” 

The therapist let out a small but just barely noticeable sigh. Perhaps he got to the boy more than he let on. The thought made him grin. Good. 

“Could you at least try to give it an honest effort?” 

He scoffed, about to say no...when again, his eyes caught the droid in the corner, and the words died on his lips. 

Why? Why had the boy and his droid affected him this way? 

“...I will consider it.” 

The boy answered with a grin that could light up a sun. And that, too, made him feel…

Longing. 

Regret. 

And he spent the rest of his day wondering why.

Chapter Text

Fairness. Darth Vader was anything but fair, because life had never been fair to him. Or anyone else, for that matter. It seemed everyone was miserable on some level because of the hand life dealt them, and sometimes he wondered what the point of it all was. And if there was no point to life, then perhaps he was giving people a mercy when he ended their pathetic lives. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. 

Still. When he thought about ignoring the boy’s request, his mind brought up the memory of the boy and his droid. He had no idea why. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen plenty of mechanics work on droids before. But there was something about the boy...the way he looked when he did it. It...stirred something, something he’d wanted to forget about but couldn’t…

There was something about him--something he’d failed to see before in his rush to attempt to control the therapy situation. Was it his abnormally calm demeanor? The way he refused to flinch or outwardly react when he was threatened? 

Well. That was strange enough, but he doubted that was the reason why he was bothered so much. 

After more hours of contemplation than Vader would care to admit, the answer came to him in the middle of the night cycle. 

It was the boy’s appearance. 

The color of his hair. Vader knew it to be blonde just like billions of other people in the galaxy, but it was the way it fell across his forehead, the way it curled just barely at the ends. 

His eyes. Again, Vader couldn’t actually see the color, but the boy’s military profile said they were blue. But it was the shape of them that struck him as familiar, especially when his brow furrowed over them. 

The angles of his face. The cleft in his chin. The shape of his nose...the damn innocent smile. 

And the way he’d been focusing on that droid, the way his hands moved that spoke of years of experience, perhaps even natural talent…

And yet knowing it was the boy’s appearance that was bothering him so much didn’t explain why. 

It made him curious enough to pull out the boy’s military profile (where he confirmed the color of his eyes) and look into it. 

And for whatever reason, the boy’s name caught his attention. 

Luke Lars. 

It wasn’t unfamiliar, though he didn’t care to bother remembering it. And yet now…

Lars. 

Why was that name familiar? 

It was on the very edge of his mind, as if he were close to the answer but something were blocking it. He attempted to meditate past whatever block was there, but to no avail. 

He couldn’t find the answer himself. 

But he knew how to get the answer. 

Luke frowned at the completed droid. C-Y-L-2 was the manufactured name. It was humanoid, and he’d programmed everything correctly, and yet when he turned it on, there was something...off about the personality. At least, off for a droid that was meant to be a therapist receptionist, because when it looked at the schedule for the upcoming day, it shook its head, made a concerned noise, and said, “Darth Vader is our first appointment today? Really? Are you sure? I could pretend we closed for the day if that would make him go away.” 

Luke honestly wasn’t sure if he’d messed up on the personality, or if accessing the holonet information on Darth Vader just scared the droid anyway. He pulled up his schematics, looking for where he might have gone wrong as he answered. “No, Lord Vader is our primary patient. You should have access to the court order in your files.” 

“I do, but I believe you should attempt to convince the court to change their minds or we will both be dead by the end of this.” 

Luke...couldn’t completely disagree. “I already tried to switch assignments. It’s not going to happen, Cyl.” 

Cyl made another noise that sounded like a humph before asking, “Are all of our other patients murderers too? Should I keep a weapon in case one of them tries to kill us?” 

Everything looked correct...perhaps it was displeasure at finding out Darth Vader was a patient that was making the droid react the way it did. Perhaps he should put up a sign that read “DROID IN TRAINING, please excuse and report any odd behaviors.” 

“No, as far as I know they’re no more killers than most soldiers.” And even then, most of his clientele were in positions where it was technically possible that they’d only been trained to kill, and hadn’t yet had the opportunity. “Besides, I’m a therapist. How would it look if my receptionist had a gun at the front desk?” 

Cyl considered the question, likely searching the protocols he’d installed for an appropriate answer. “I suppose that would not do. But don’t blame me if you get chopped into little pieces, Mr. Lars.” 

Luke almost corrected the droid...it was his, after all. If anyone would call him Luke Skywalker on this ship, it would be his own droid. But before he could, the doors swished open and in walked Darth Vader. 

“Right on time.” Cyl said, wheeling over to Darth Vader with a datapad. “You are even five minutes early. Congratulations.” 

Lord Vader stared at the droid, then looked to him. “You finished.” 

“Yeah...not sure how I feel about its personality, though.” 

“My personality is perfect.” Cyl objected, then handed Vader the datapad. “Sign in, please.” 

“I do not need to sign in. You are well aware of who I am.” 

“Yes, but it is protocol--”

“It’s fine, Cyl.” Luke interrupted. “Lord Vader can be the exception to the rule.” 

“Rule breaking already.” Cyl shook its head, but nonetheless took the datapad back and rolled back to the reception desk. “Might as well cancel all of your appointments today and go on holiday.” 

“That won’t be necessary.” Luke frowned, but shook his head. Perhaps he’d need to attempt to redo the personality circuits from scratch. “Anyway. Come in. Sorry for the awkward greeting.” 

“I am not awkward.” Cyl muttered, and this time both Luke and Lord Vader ignored it as they headed into the office. 

The moment the doors were closed, Vader announced, “Surprisingly, I am quite eager to speak with you, Mr. Lars.” 

Luke paused on his way to his desk. “That is a surprise.” He said, somewhat suspiciously, “As is you calling me by my name.” 

My legal name for now, he added in his head. He’d planned to submit the name change application tonight when he’d finished for the day, but it had taken him weeks to get Vader to call him by his name, he couldn’t imagine how long it would take him to get him to change it again. Maybe he’d hold off. 

“I have my reasons.” Was Vader’s cryptic answer. 

Well. He could revisit that in a moment. He sat down, pulling out his datapad. He knew better by this point than to offer Vader the seat in front of him. “So are you eager to see me because you practiced FAST and had success?” 

“Oh, no, that did not last more than one conversation. I killed an officer just yesterday for his idiocy.” 

Luke withheld a sigh. 

“Okay, so why did you wish to speak to me?” 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but “Because there is something familiar about you, Lars.” Was not it. 

He raised his brows. “I’m certain we haven’t run across each other before I took a job here.” There was no way he’d forget meeting someone like Darth Vader, that was for sure. He was in every way unforgettable. 

“Yes, but for some reason you are familiar and I do not know why.” 

That was...odd. “Maybe I look like someone else you know?” 

“I considered that, but no.” 

“Is...this a Force thing?” 

Somehow, he could practically feel Vader’s annoyance. “I assure you, it is not.” 

Luke still didn’t quite know what to do with the magic powers aspect of Vader’s profile, so he was pleased to hear that. “Well...why now? What triggered this reaction?” 

Vader stared at him, like he usually did when he thought he’d asked a stupid question. Luke was therefore fully prepared to not get an answer, but suddenly Vader pointed at him. “I will entertain your idiotic questioning for now. Your...familiarity is bothering me and interrupting my work, so if it means that we figure out why, I will deal with it. But do not take it too far.” 

Another surprise. Luke struggled to keep the emotion off his face. “Duly noted.” 

Satisfied, Vader continued. “It was initially seeing you working on that droid.” 

“Why?” 

Wrong question. When Vader answered, the modulated voice was dripping with sarcasm. “If I knew that, I would not be entertaining twenty questions.” 

“But if we’re to figure this out, I need more than that to go off of.” Luke frowned. “Perhaps it might have something to do with our shared interest in droids?” 

“I...considered that.” Vader said. 

“Then perhaps that’s where we should start.” Luke leaned forward. “You said you built your droid from scratch so that you wouldn’t feel lonely. When I questioned you about it, you said you had friends.” 

The room suddenly felt cold enough that Luke wished he’d brought a jacket in. Vader didn’t answer for a long time. His hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly. 

“Everything is...confidential, correct?” 

“Yes.” 

“....You will not write this information down.” 

A weird request, but if it got the man to finally talk… “Okay.” 

Still, Vader hesitated. 

Then, finally… 

“I was born a slave on Tatooine.” 

 The words were strangled and imbued with anger. For a moment, Luke stopped breathing. 

That...that was quite the revelation. He didn’t even know where to begin with a statement like that. Already, that one statement alone explained a lot of Vader’s reactions to things, and probably influenced quite a bit of who he was as a person. 

A slave… 

Thankfully his voice remained calm as he asked, “How long?” 

“Nine years. I...lived with my mother.” 

“Were you--” 

“I do not wish to discuss my slavery!” Vader pointed at him, and there was definitely a threat in his voice. 

It was such a major traumatic life event, Luke knew it needed to be addressed...but something in him told him this was a dangerous topic and he needed to back off. So, reluctantly, he instead said, “Well you’re from Tatooine. Perhaps you feel a shared connection because we’re from the same planet?” 

Truth be told, it was also hard to imagine someone like Vader being from the same planet as him. He tried to imagine bumping into him at Tosche Station and the image was so weird he immediately dispelled it. 

“That...may be possible.” From the tone of his voice, Luke was certain that wasn’t a good familiarity. 

“Where on Tatooine are you from?” 

“Mos Espa.” 

Luke’s interest perked further, but he was cautious as he said, “Where the podraces are held?” 

“They are no longer supposed to be.” 

He smiled sheepishly. “The key words there are supposed to.” 

Vader crossed his arms. “I have a hard time picturing you at a pod race. You are too...your personality does not match.” 

“I’ve never been exactly because of that.” Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to… “I’ve never even been to Mos Espa, though my grandmother was from there.” 

“I do not care.” Vader waved it off, but Luke had made another connection…

“Actually, my grandmother was a slave, too.” 

“As I said, I do not care.” 

He could again somehow feel Vader’s annoyance, but his mind wouldn’t leave the woman whose headstone he’d often looked at when he was bored and had nothing to do. It was the only physical connection he’d had with his father. His uncle, after all, was only his uncle by adoption, not by blood. The only person who’d been related to his father was the woman who was buried next to Uncle Owen’s father near the main house. 

“Tell me about your mother.” 

Again, the temperature plunged, and Luke shivered. But after a long pause, Vader haltingly said, “She...was perfect. She was beautiful. She did not deserve the life of a slave, but she was perhaps foolishly kind anyway. She did her best to give me a life resembling something normal. Sometimes she was successful. I...I was taken from her to study to become...I was freed and taken from her.” 

Yet again, Luke was struck by how much trauma there was to unpack in those sentences, but before he could circle back, Vader continued, “She was later bought and freed by someone who had fallen in love with her. They married, but he failed to protect her. The last time I saw her, she…” He trailed off. And this time, he didn’t continue. 

Luke considered the story. It was a similar one to the romance his grandmother shared with Uncle Owen’s father. Maybe it was more common on Tatooine to fall in love with a slave than he thought. There were unfortunately way too many slaves, especially in the larger cities…

“What was her name? Maybe I know...well, at least her family.” 

“I doubt it.” Vader paused, as if thinking about something. “I do not even remember the family she married into.” 

“I guess she didn’t take their last name?” 

There was a hesitation. “I do not believe so. When...when she died, she was buried as Shmi Skywalker still…” 

Luke’s entire body tensed, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe.

“What did you say her name was?” 

“I will not repeat myself.” 

Shmi Skywalker. 

The name he’d grown up staring at on a daily basis. The name who received nothing but high opinions from his aunt and uncle. The name of the woman who’d given birth to his father…

Skywalker. 

His father. 

“Did...do you have siblings?” 

Surely, she had to have had more children--

“No. Not that I am related to.” 

It was a struggle to keep his face neutral. Everything he’d learned about staying impartial and calm was being used in that moment just to keep it up. It would not be professional to--

But then again, when did most therapists find out in the middle of a therapy session that their client was none other than their supposed dead father? 

And that their father was none other than Darth Vader?! 

He...didn’t even know what to think. He didn’t know what to feel except complete shock and confusion. How he maintained his composure, he didn’t know, but glancing at the holo clock, he found that they were nearing end of time anyway. It was still a bit early, but… 

He could say nothing. He could...process this by himself first before telling Vader. But the man had come here because he’d somehow seen a familiarity that was probably a literal family resemblance that Luke, with no reference other than the suit, still did not see. He’d come and finally opened up to him. If he didn’t give him the answer...

“So.” He began, laying the datapad flat on the desk. He didn’t know how he sounded so calm. Perhaps he was going into shock? That was completely possible given the magnitude of this revelation. “I regret to inform you that I’m about to add onto your troubles.”

Somehow, he felt Vader’s utter confusion. 

Wait. 

He’d been feeling Vader’s feelings all session. 

He’d thought it was just his imagination but what if he’d somehow inherited his fat--Lord Vader’s weird magic?! 

He could not deal with that right then. So, he continued. 

“We will definitely need to work this out together, and possibly find a relationship therapist.”

Immediately Vader bristled at the mention of bringing in another therapist. He pointed at him threateningly. “If you so much as think about bringing in another one of you idiotic therapists, I will personally make sure to eradicate everyone in your profession by the end of the year!” 

Luke just stared at him. 

This. This was his father. 

“Everyone I know just adds onto my troubles, you most especially.” Vader continued, beginning to pace as he ranted. 

Luke cut him off. “I assure you, I wouldn’t be suggesting this if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary.” 

Vader stopped and whirled on him, sarcastically biting out, “Why? What could possibly be wrong with you that would require me inviting another cursed therapist onto my ship?!” 

“Oh.” Luke looked down, at the datapad, resisting the urge to immediately call his supervisor for help. “I’m just your son apparently.” 

Vader froze. Stared. 

And the room dropped to the coldest temperature yet. 

“What. Did. You. Say?!” 

He was on thin ice, but he couldn’t even force himself to care. Not as he wondered if he could magically make the room feel like the inside of a refrigerator-- “My aunt and uncle are Owen and Beru Lars. Their father was Cliegg Lars. His second wife was Shmi Skywalker. Her son, my father, was Anakin Skywalker. So unless you’re just now finding out that Anakin is your long lost brother--” 

“He is not.” Vader interrupted, then continued to just. Stare at him. For once, Luke couldn’t read the man. He just. Stared. That mask completely emotionless. 

Luke wished he had a mask to rely on. Getting through this was a struggle. 

“Well. I suppose that’s why I’m familiar to you.” He said. 

Vader made a noise that Luke couldn’t quite identify. “You are remarkably calm about this, Young One!” 

Again. More pointing. His...Lord Vader’s apparent favorite intimidation move. 

“No my lord,” Luke said with far more composure than he felt, “I assure you, I am having a midlife crisis at the age of twenty two right this very second.” 

Yes. Because that’s exactly what he was going through. Already he was rethinking his entire life. Everything he’d been told, everything he’d been taught, and he definitely wanted answers but he needed a moment to process all of this. And for some insane, crazy reason, he blurted out, “This is an example of keeping your emotions in check. Please note how I do this so you can try it this week when an officer has disappointed you.” 

He was losing it. Why he thought telling Darth Vader that, the guy who killed people on a regular basis, he had no idea. His brain wasn’t functioning correctly. He needed time to stop and breathe. 

And, thankfully, when he glanced at the holo clock again, it was time to end. “Well. That’s our time--” 

“You just told me you are my dead son!” Vader roared, and Luke noted with alarm that cracks were beginning to form on the viewport. 

Not good. 

“Yes, but I am a son with other appointments and I think I’ll need to find my own therapist after this.” 

“You will cancel them!” More finger pointing. Oh, Stars, did he ever do that? Was this a habit that he’d been given and he’d never noticed? 

“Lord Vader. I am setting a boundary. I need to process this information just as much as you do.” 

“You do not look it!” 

“Because again. I am choosing to keep control over my emotions at this very moment.” Then, realizing that his...Vader might be concerned if indeed he thought he was dead that he’d disappear, Luke added, “I will clear my day tomorrow. You may return then, and we can work this out. That should give me enough time to deal with things on my end.” 

“I run this ship! I am Darth Vader and apparently, your father!” 

“And you are about to break the port windows.” He pointed at the cracks getting larger. “It’s obvious that we are not ready to continue this conversation until we have both calmed. I will see you tomorrow, Lord Vader.” And for some reason, he gave him the biggest, brightest smile he could muster. “Have a lovely day!” 

Vader stared at him. Luke thought for a moment he might ignore him anyway and continue to demand answers Luke didn’t have. But then, without another word, Vader stormed from the office, only pausing to look back at him. 

“I will be here tomorrow. Do not fail me.” 

Luke didn’t even want to know what would happen if he wasn’t there, but he nodded. Vader didn’t say another word as he yet again turned and left, leaving Luke alone in a silent office with a cracked port window. 

For a moment, he just sat there, staring after Vader, his heart pounding in his ears. Then, numbly, he reached for the comm and speed dialed his new droid. 

“Are you ready for your next appointment?” Cyl’s voice replied the moment the line picked up. “My, Lord Vader sure seemed like he had quite the session.” 

More than you know. Luke rubbed his face. “Cancel all of my appointments today and tomorrow.” 

Cyl made a clicking noise. “But your next appointment is already here.” 

“I know!” Luke bit his lip, trying to keep his emotions in check just a bit longer. “I know. I’m sorry. An emergency has come up. Give everyone priority rescheduling, but I need today and tomorrow for other business...actually, for tomorrow, just put that the entire day is Lord Vader’s time.” 

His father’s time…

“If you say so.” Cyl sounded unenthused. “I will make it work, Mr. Lars.” 

Lars. 

Skywalker. 

He groaned. 

The moment Cyl hung up, Luke reached over, grabbed the fluffy duck, buried his face in it…

And started screaming into it.

Chapter Text

He had a son. 

Every single step he took, that galaxy-shattering sentence repeated over and over again. He had no idea why he was listening to the boy and giving him the space he requested. The entire galaxy seemed to flip on its head, and he was left trying to make sense of the pieces. If he was thinking rationally, he’d turn around, bust the door down and refuse to let the boy out of his sight. 

The boy…

Luke. 

Luke Skywalker. 

He was a father. 

By the time he made it back to his meditation pod, he was shaking. Vader. Dark Lord of the Sith. Shaking. But he couldn’t stop. 

His son was alive, and was currently a therapist. 

The pod closed, and before he took his helmet off, he commed Piett. The small image appeared before him. 

“Yes, my lord?” Piett asked, standing at perfect attention. 

“I am not to be disturbed for the next few days. If I require anything, I will contact you.” He hesitated, remembering that he didn’t technically answer to himself. “The only exception is if the Emperor calls.” 

Force. The Emperor. If he found out...but what if he already knew and that was why he’d upheld the stupid court’s decision? 

No. No, the Emperor would be threatened by his children. He’d been his apprentice for twenty two years. That was long enough to understand that the Emperor would never allow it. 

In fact, Luke could be killed if he were to be found out…

He resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. 

“It will be done, my lord.” Piett replied. There was only the slightest concern in his voice to indicate that he was confused. It wasn’t often that he made such orders, but Vader knew Piett could handle anything that might come up. So he cut the call connection, and flipped the helmet release switch. 

When the helmet was off, he sucked in air, then summoned a datapad to his hands, pulling up Luke Skywalker-- no, Luke Lars’ profile. 

It was the same profile he’d reviewed before. It was black and white, giving only the bare essentials needed to perform Imperial service, and yet the details were suddenly incredibly important. 

Name: Luke Lars 

Why was his name listed as Lars? Then again, had it been listed as Skywalker, the chances of the Emperor finding him before he ever had were much higher. Then, with a start, Vader remembered something from their first meeting…

  “My name is Luke Lars, but I like to be called Luke Sk--” 

“I will not call you a ridiculous nickname.” Vader held up a hand to stop him. “If I am feeling generous, I will call you by your given name.” 

The boy had tried to give it to him and he’d stupidly stopped him. He’d spent the last few weeks calling the boy an idiot when it was he who’d been one. If he’d just let the boy finish his sentence…

He couldn’t change the past, though, so he continued reading. 

Age: 22 years 

Force, he had to have been born the same day he’d lost his…

He let that thought go cold and skimmed over the physical description. Nothing there that he couldn’t see himself, besides the specific color of his eyes. 

Blue eyes. Like his had once been. And the shape... they were the same.  

Home Planet: Tatooine 

How? How had he ended up there? He had a suspicion, of course, but that didn’t make sense. If Kenobi had stolen him away, Luke wouldn’t have grown up to become a therapist. He’d be a Jedi, and therefore his enemy. Nevermind that Kenobi would never have allowed Luke to be assigned to his ship. 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure that being a therapist was that much worse than being a Jedi. The boy was incredibly calm and bright--he would have been too good at being a Jedi. 

That was a serious problem he’d have to remedy, but for now he moved on to medical history. 

There was nothing of note. From all appearances, the boy was healthy. He let out a sigh of relief even as his eyes drifted to the medical lab results section. 

All galactic citizens were required to receive certain labs. One of which was a midichlorian lab...though no one was told that’s what it was. It was there specifically to root out Force sensitive children and deal with them appropriately early on. 

Luke’s was negative. 

An uneasy feeling settled in his gut. That didn’t feel right...it was not often that Force sensitives produced their own children, especially if they were Jedi, but when they did there was naturally a higher change that the child would also inherit the abilities. It was still possible to be born totally normal, but whenever he’d ever dared to wonder about what life would have been like had his wife and child survived, he’d always assumed his child would have been Force sensitive too. He was, after all, the most powerful to ever be born. It seemed natural that Luke should be sensitive too. 

But the test…

Perhaps it was faked? That would be incredibly difficult, considering swapping blood samples would show a duplicate in the system, but there could potentially be other ways to sabotage the results. 

Unless Luke truly was non-sensitive? 

No. His child would inherit his powers. He knew this. 

What if...what if Luke had lied…? 

Black rage rippled through him even as the Force rejected the idea. If the boy had lied...but no, even beyond the fact that the Force confirmed the impossible truth of Luke’s declaration, he’d known far too many details. The moment he’d spoken the names of the family his mother had married into, his mind had recalled the names itself, along with their faces. It was a fuzzy memory, but it was there, and it was not information that would be available to even the most skilled imposter. 

No. Luke was his son. But, after some thought, he decided it would be good to do a blood test anyway, not only to confirm the boy’s parentage, but also determine the actual midichlorian count. 

He just hoped the boy would be true to his word and be there tomorrow. He still itched to get up and storm back to confront him, but he remembered the last time he’d attempted to ignore his boundaries. Luke had clutched his datapad so tightly, he’d been dragged halfway across the desk before Vader stopped trying to take it from him. What stubborn insanity would the boy do if he tried to cross this new boundary? 

He’d already destroyed his previous wife. He didn’t need to immediately ruin what he had left of her.

So, though it pained him, Vader reluctantly complied. 

Perhaps this therapy was paying off in some way after all. 

Luke was not prepared for this. 

After he spent far too long screaming into his duck, the first thing he did was pull out his personal comm and call his aunt and uncle. 

His aunt picked up. “Oh, Luke, I wasn’t expecting your call until the weekend.” She smiled, her weathered face wrinkling with laugh lines. 

It was such a normal interaction, it almost threw him off. He let out a shaky breath. “My father wasn’t a spice navigator, was he?” 

The smile disappeared from her face. “I...I should get Owen, he’s out on the farm--” 

“He wasn’t, was he?” Emotion clawed at his throat and his voice broke. Tears threatened to spill...and he let them. Crying was a healthy way to express emotion, after all. 

Yet Beru appeared alarmed, and stayed with the comm. “No. No, Luke, he wasn’t.” 

He closed his eyes, more tears falling down his face. Did he tell her he knew his father was alive? And that apparently he was Darth Vader? Who knew how much she knew? “Tell me everything. The truth this time.” 

She hesitated, still probably wondering if she should go get his uncle. He kind of hoped she didn’t--it was always an argument with him when it came to getting information on his father, and he wasn’t emotionally ready to deal with that. 

Finally, she sighed and began. 

“You were brought to us as a baby by a Jedi named Obi-Wan Kenobi. He told us that your father, Anakin Skywalker, who was also a Jedi, had died, and that you would be in danger if anyone found out you survived. He said your mother had died giving birth to you, but he didn’t say who she was. We weren’t lying about that.” 

Well. At least something was the truth. Then, he realized that all these years of not knowing who his mother had been could finally come to an end. He could just ask Vader…

But given how he responded to literally anything about his personal life, he thought that might be dangerous. 

“We wanted to protect you, so we tried to steer away from the topic of your father as much as we could. We thought that if you knew your father was a Jedi, the Empire might find you and…” she trailed off. 

The Jedi. He didn’t know much about them other than that they were enemies of the Empire. And according to Vader, they used a weak form of the Force. Were they the ones who had liberated Vader from slavery? And if his father had stopped using the name Anakin, then it was completely possible that his aunt and uncle had no idea that this Obi-Wan Kenobi had lied to them about his father being dead. 

“Who is Obi-Wan Kenobi?” He asked. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place why. 

“He was the Jedi who trained your father. They were apparently close, so when your parents died, you were entrusted to him to bring to us. He wanted to protect you, but your uncle blamed him for bringing danger upon our family and he wanted to spare you from suffering the same fate as your father. So, he banished Obi-Wan from the property, but you’ve met him before anyway.” 

Then, he remembered. 

“Ben Kenobi? The crazy wizard in the Jundland Wastes?” 

Beru nodded. “After you went to school, he left. I suppose you can take care of yourself now.” She tried for a smile, but there was still concern in her eyes. 

Could he take care of himself? He was starting to doubt that with every session he had with Vader. 

When he didn’t continue, Beru said, “Your uncle should really be involved in this conversation, but he’s out working on the vaporators. Maybe we could talk more about it this weekend?” 

He...supposed he had enough information, and he did have other things he needed to take care of to even begin processing this enormous revelation. “Yeah. I’ll call you then.” 

Beru searched his face, her eyes seeing more than he probably knew. She was always like that. It’s why he got along with her more than his uncle. “I love you, Luke. You know that, right?” 

He reached up and wiped tears from his face. “I know. I love you too. Thanks for telling me.” 

When they cut connection, he took a moment to clean up his face and do a few breathing exercises before calling his boss. 

The moment Mr. Aldel picked up, Luke blurted, “I know you said their answer isn’t going to change, but it’s going to have to now.” 

Mr. Aldel blinked in surprise. “Are you alright? Have you been harmed?” 

Just my sanity. “The relationship between me and Lord Vader has become unethical.” 

“How?” 

Luke opened his mouth...then closed it, unsure how to come out and say, “Guess what, Darth Vader has a kid and he’s me!” It would definitely illustrate why he needed to change clients, but not only was it completely wild and unbelievable, he suddenly realized it was dangerous. If his aunt and uncle had lied to him about his father to try to protect him from the Empire…

But they didn’t know his father was still alive and the Emperor’s right hand. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal because his father wasn’t a traitor and he had no desire to even touch his possible powers? 

He didn’t know, but that seemed like something he should know before he started telling people he was Darth Vader’s son. 

“...It just has been. I can’t discuss the details.” 

Mr. Aldel raised a brow. “I’m your boss. If something truly unethical is going on, you can at least give me the basics.” 

Luke knew this would doom his chances of getting Vader a new therapist, but he said, “I’m sorry...but I can’t go into detail at this time. Can’t you just trust me?” 

His boss sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry Luke. If I could find anyone else willing to take Lord Vader on, I would, but everyone is...well, they’re terrified of him.” 

Considering that Vader had no issue with strangling people he didn’t like, Luke could understand why, even if it left him with no way out of the situation. At least, until he could confirm how safe he actually was. 

Luke ran his hands up and down his face. “Then I’m going to need a therapist of my own.” 

Mr. Aldel nodded, and Luke didn’t miss the relief on his face. A pang of bitterness hit him, but he filed it away for later. He’d deal with the emotions surrounding his job situation at a more appropriate time. 

The moment he was off the call, Luke again buried his face in his duck and started screaming into it. 

His father was Darth Vader. 

Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader. 

His priority client was his father. 

And there were so many, many issues, he didn’t even know where to begin with him as his therapist let alone his son. 

That alone made him start deep breathing exercises to keep from going into a panic attack. But later, when he finally managed to force himself to order food, he began to consider other pressing problems. 

For example. The possibility that he had inherited Vader’s mysterious powers was strong. 

The thought made him sick enough that he decided not to touch it. There was no way he was going to work through that problem before tomorrow. 

So instead, when his food arrived and he managed to force food down, he contemplated how he felt about the whole situation. 

There was shock, naturally. What were the chances that his father was not only still alive, but his client? There literally hadn’t been anything about how to deal with this in school, but he’d reached out to find his own therapist so perhaps he could figure out a way to handle that without revealing the nature of the situation. 

Luke’s fork stilled on his plate. 

There was, if he was honest, horror. He had always known his father had been in some kind of shady business...a spice navigator wasn’t innocent at all. But it was adventurous, and though he recognized as an adult that his father’s supposed job had hurt others, he’d still admired the idea of him. 

Now? 

He was the most powerful man in the galaxy, save for the Emperor. He’d killed innocents. He did that on an almost daily basis while doing his job. It was this habit that had sent him to therapy in the first place. Luke couldn’t ignore the enormity of what Vader was or what he could do. 

And now this man was his father. 

But from what little he knew about Vader’s past, there was enormous trauma there. He had little doubt it had gone so unresolved, it had warped him into...this. He wasn’t even fully sure yet the full extent of what Vader was. Already he knew that as a therapist, he needed to at least give him the chance to change to a healthier lifestyle. 

Except only Vader could decide that. He could provide all of the help in the universe, but only Vader could make the change. 

And he’d been pretty clear on what he thought about that. 

It was all so complicated. Even when he thought a negative, he found something else to give him hope that maybe he could somehow salvage this mess, but then he’d find another negative thing to counteract that. It lasted hours, hours which he spent reviewing the court order for any loopholes, and then there were none, he pressed his face into the duck and screamed. 

He was starting to see why the duck was so popular with some of his clients. 

Before he attempted to sleep, he began to shut down his work station. Normally he left at least his datapad on, but he’d already stared at the screen for so long, he knew having it on would only tempt him to leave bed to continue searching for a solution to his client-father crisis. But as he shut apps down, he came across the document he’d had open that very morning, a document he’d filled out in the hopeful, innocent desire to solidify a connection to his father. 

The Name Change document. 

He stared at it. He stared at his name, the name that had made everything more complicated than he’d ever desired...and deleted it. 

It was just too confusing. Perhaps when he’d managed to get control over his life, then he’d talk to Vader about his desire to take on the name of Skywalker. 

And, part of him thought, it would depend on what that name will mean to you after this is over. 

Despite his best efforts, he lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts and emotions continued to tumble. 

Vader was always on time to his appointments, even his therapy sessions. 

Today, he was a half an hour early. 

“You are here.” Luke’s droid greeted when he stormed in. There was a skeptical tone to it. “Well. I won’t ask you to sign in, because apparently you’re the exception to the rules, but I will tell you you’re too early. Mr. Lars only just barely entered his office.” 

Lars. That cursed name again. Vader’s teeth set on edge as his hands curled into fists. 

“I will see him now.” He stormed past the desk, and the droid made a disapproving tsking noise. But it did not stop him, so using the Force, he opened the door and stormed right in. 

To find Luke, hair disheveled, uniform not fully buttoned, downing a large cup of what appeared to be caff. 

“Why am I not surprised that you’re here early?” Luke said hoarsely when he set the cup down, rubbing his eyes that, to Vader’s alarm, had circles under his eyes. 

He wanted to immediately begin demanding answers to his many, many questions. It’s what he’d normally do. In fact, if everything was normal, he would have gotten his answers yesterday. 

But apparently, when it came to Luke, nothing was ever normal. 

“Are you ill?” Was his first question. It tasted strange on his tongue. When was the last time he’d ever bothered to notice anyone sick, let alone asked about it? 

Luke stopped rubbing his eyes to stare unblinkingly at him for a long, long moment. Then, he sighed. “Something like that.” 

He sounded as terrible as he looked. A foreign feeling began to swell in his chest and Vader was about to ask...well, he wasn’t sure what, but before he could, Luke continued. 

"So. On to business.” 

Business? Normally he preferred to skip the pleasantries and go straight to the matter at hand, but Luke was his son. Shouldn’t there at least be some? 

“I tried to find you another therapist because, in light of our relationship, our meeting together breaks about a million ethical codes of conduct, but the reaction I received made clear that won't happen, so I suppose we will have to continue."

Well. Vader wouldn’t deny that was immensely satisfactory. He didn’t want to deal with an idiotic therapist. He didn’t want to deal with any of them, but he supposed the stupid court order had brought him Luke so...for now, he would cease complaining about it. 

“Is this a session?” He asked, crossing his arms. 

Luke tilted his head, considering. “I guess it depends on the nature of our discussion, but I think it’s imperative that we establish boundaries.” 

There was that word again. Boundaries. 

“Not necessary. I never had boundaries and it works fine for me. Perhaps it is you who needs to learn to live without them.” 

Luke gave him another long, unblinking stare. 

“Yeah...no. That’s not how that works.” He finally said. 

Vader pointed at him furiously. “That is precisely how this works, Young One!” 

Luke’s face twisted in...disgust? Dismay? Tentatively, Vader reached into the Force to ascertain the answer…

And came back with so many wild emotions from the boy, he immediately retreated. 

Apparently, he wasn’t as calm as he looked. 

 “Young One?” He repeated, “I’m in my twenties, Lord Vader. I have a degree and a full time job. And believe me, it’s full time. I am not a child anymore.” 

“Lord Vader?” It was Vader’s turn to repeat. “I am your father, not--” 

“And how safe is it, exactly, to be calling you father?” 

Vader opened his mouth to object...and stilled. 

“Apparently, my entire life is a lie because my aunt and uncle were told by someone that if I were ever found, I’d be killed like my father before me.” 

“I am not dead yet.” Vader immediately replied. “Though many have tried.”

“Well now I know that.” 

But something else had caught his attention. “Who took you?!” He demanded. “Who stole you from me?!” 

He already suspected, but when Luke replied, “Some guy named Obi-Wan Kenobi--” He roared in rage. Quickly, Luke pointed at the port window that was still cracked from the previous day and added, “Please, Lord Vader, control your anger before you send us hurtling into space--” 

“I will do as I wish, especially when my son was taken from me by the very same man who left me in this suit!”

There was a stunned silence. Then, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

“Of course you didn’t.” Vader snarled, his fists clenching. Oh, how he wanted to find Kenobi and destroy him...but Kenobi had disappeared shortly after he’d blown up the first Death Star. He’d searched everywhere to no avail. “Do you know where he is?! Has he contacted you in any way? Did he ever train you?!” 

He reached into the Force, monitoring Luke’s stunned presence as he replied, “I’ve only said maybe five words to the guy my entire life. My uncle...apparently he blamed old Ben Kenobi for your death and banned him from our farm. I don’t know anything about him.” 

The rage was still there, but it simmered as he determined that Luke was, in fact, telling the truth. 

But to know that his son had been kidnapped by his most hated enemy...

Luke sighed and took a long sip from his caff. “Point is, I figured there might be some dangers to being related, so unless I’m wrong…?” 

He wanted to insist that Luke was totally safe, because, he realized at that moment, he’d ensure the boy’s safety. Anyone who tried to threaten him or even look at him the wrong way would be dead. 

But then he remembered the Emperor...and grudgingly he replied, “Lord Vader will do for now.”

Luke nodded knowingly, and Vader hated that this was the case. 

He’d need to figure out a way to deal with the Emperor, and soon. 

“So. I reviewed the court documents and they are completely air tight. No loopholes to be found. You have to go to therapy.” 

Vader rolled his eyes. “I already tried that. Had you asked, I could have saved you some time.” 

“Yes, well, for my own peace of mind…” Luke trailed off, then shook his head. “Point is, I can’t get you another therapist--” 

“Because everyone is terrified of me?” For some reason, the thought made him smirk, especially as Luke squirmed in his chair uncomfortably. 

“N-no, I’m sure it’s not--” 

“I am fully aware and okay with this. It means no further hippie therapists will invade my ship.” 

Luke made a face. “Again, we’re not hippies.” 

“My crew acting like they’ve lost their minds since meeting you would say otherwise.” 

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s...that’s not the point I’m trying to make here.” 

“Yes, you are still trying to set a ridiculous boundary.” 

“I am. Though it’s not ridiculous, it’s perfectly healthy.” 

“Then what do you propose?” 

“If you’d stop interrupting me I could get there!” And there was just a slight edge of annoyance in the boy’s normally perfectly masked facade. “When we are scheduled to meet, you and I will be nothing but therapist and client.” 

“But we’re not--”

“Oh look, more interrupting.” Luke gave him a look, and he debated on pushing him further just to see what would happen (and what power might manifest from it), but he decided against it. For now. “Family relationships normally shouldn’t exist between a therapist and their client. It becomes messy quick because the professional boundaries are often blurred. My concern is your mental and emotional health and I do not wish to damage it. So, when we meet, we are not related. When the session is over, we can go back to being father and son...though obviously privately as we’ve established before.” 

“But you also said you have a full time job.” Vader pointed at him, “I will not have you using that job to excuse yourself!” 

“That wasn’t what I was saying.” Luke sighed. “You are not the only one who has desired a familial connection.” 

Vader...had nothing to say to that. Or rather, it was difficult to respond on account of it suddenly being difficult to speak. 

Luke...desired a connection with him? 

Technically, he’d said familial connection, he hadn’t been specific but…

Hope bloomed in his chest.It was an unfamiliar feeling...but it was encouraging. 

“I propose we set aside two hours. One for therapy, and one to just...get to know one another.” 

“I do not like the idea of scheduling time with my own son.” Vader crossed his arms over his chest, glaring. 

“I didn’t say it was ideal, but ideally we wouldn’t have met while in the middle of a therapy session. I’m trying to keep those two things separate and this is my best idea. Do you have a better one?” 

“No more therapy. Problem solved.” He replied immediately. 

“Except we both know that’s not possible.” Luke pointed out. 

“You can get rid of your other clients.” 

“That’s not professional or possible. Besides, I want to help those people.” 

“I do not.” 

“You don’t have a say in my choice in career.” 

“I do so, you are my son and you and I both know that with that comes responsibility.” 

Luke’s expression hardened. It was the coldest he’d ever seen from the boy. 

“I think it’s important to establish another important boundary.” 

“You did not inherit this love of boundaries from me, that is clear.” 

Luke ignored his comment. 

“You have already made your position on what you think about my job clear enough. However, this is the job I chose. I went to four years of school and went into a bunch of debt to earn this. If I decide to leave it, it will be my decision, not yours. Besides, we established already that we’re keeping this relationship on the down low until it’s safer, so it might be weird if your therapist suddenly takes on whatever responsibilities come with being your son.” 

Dealing with the Emperor was becoming higher on his priority list with every passing moment. 

“I was not referring to public job responsibilities. I was referring to your powers.” 

Luke’s expression went white. 

“You are my son. I am certain you inherited my powers, and I suspect you might know this too. You need training.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Vader sneered. “Now who is in denial?” 

“It’s a good thing I’m getting my own therapist then.” 

Vader rolled his eyes. Why was the boy’s solutions always boundaries and therapy? 

“Regardless, you must learn to control your powers. You have a destiny Luke.” 

“I’m good, thanks. Besides, like I said, I have student loans to pay off.” 

Vader held out his hand and before Luke could protest, summoned his datapad from the desk to his hand and began working on it. 

“Lord Vader, you were supposed to ask--” 

“I will pay off your loans. It is of no consequence. Then you will not have any excuses.” 

“Did you ask me if I needed that--?” 

“I do not care. I have missed out on twenty two years of your life. You can consider it a very late birthday….” He trailed off as he found the boy’s loan amount. “Ohhhh….oh no…. You know what? I’m not going to pay this off. I’m going to take a lightsaber to whoever’s charging this much.” 

Luke actually snorted. “I should be discouraging that behavior, but honestly, be my guest.” Then when Vader began making a mental note to track down who was the idiot who charged this much for a degree that ended in a crack pot profession, Luke added, “Just to be clear, I was kidding. That was a joke. Please do not actually take a lightsaber to anyone because they charge an insane amount of money for school.” 

He made a mental note to secretly take a lightsaber to whoever charged this much. 

“If you want to give me something,” Luke added, “Please. Just. Try to work with me? Try to respect my boundaries? Please?” 

Vader opened his mouth to deny it...but there was so much pleading and desperation in his voice that the words wouldn’t come. 

In that moment, he had a sinking suspicion that the boy was about to change his life far more than he’d ever imagined. 

“I will attempt to do so,” And as Luke’s shoulders slumped, he added, “Under one condition.” 

Luke’s gaze narrowed. “Depends on the condition.” 

“You will train with me at least one hour per week. I will show you how to control your power.” 

Immediately he felt...apprehension? Dismay? He wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t the positive feeling he would have expected from someone who’d just discovered they had the ability to use the most powerful force in the galaxy on a whim. 

“You’d...teach me just to use it, right? No trying to get me to quit my job?” He clarified. 

“One of your boundaries includes me not making you quit your job, so yes.” Not that he liked it…

His son. A therapist. If his Master only knew… 

Luke thought about it for a moment, then, finally, he nodded. “As long as you uphold your end of the deal, I’ll uphold mine.” 

Satisfaction bloomed in his chest. 

Finally. 

He’d never attempted to imagine what having a child would be like, not since he thought his child dead...but now, with his son sitting right there, so innocent and naive due to his ridiculous profession…

He could make this work. He’d show Luke just how great being a Sith truly was. Then he could convince him to mark all of his therapy as being done, and they’d focus on his rightful position at his right hand, they’d take down the Emperor together…

The list of possibilities were endless. He and his son would be unstoppable. 

“So, what’s first?” Luke asked. 

Vader smirked. 

“A blood test.”

Chapter Text

The blood results, of course, came back positive. Luke for some reason hadn’t had any doubts about his relation to Darth Vader, but that would have erased any that lingered. 

It had taken him longer to get Lord Vader to leave his office...it wasn’t because he didn’t want to know his father. Technically, finding out his father was alive was a dream come true. But given who his father was, it made things rather difficult to spend more than an hour or two in his presence before wanting to tear his own hair out. 

Still, before bed that night, Cyl entered his broom closet of a room carrying something in his hand. 

“You have a present.” He announced, his tone disapproving. “Accepting presents. How unprofessional.” 

“From who?”

“From Lord Vader. I did not expect him to be the gift-giving type.” 

Luke didn’t know why he bothered asking. 

“Okay. Well, what is it?” He half dreaded what kind of “present” Vader would think appropriate to give anyone, let alone his son. 

Cyl held out his hand. In it, was a bottle of medication. 

“For your illness.” 

Oh. His fib. It had been easier to let his father/boss/client think he was under the weather when he’d walked in on him looking like he’d been run over repeatedly by a bantha. He’d honestly forgotten and had expected Vader to do the same. But here he was, being handed medication for said illness. 

It was oddly thoughtful. Maybe he had broken through in some tinie tiny way. 

He thanked Cyl and placed the bottle on his bedside table. 

When he woke the next morning after a fitful night of sleep, he opened his door to find Piett standing in his lobby, waiting with his hands clasped behind his back. 

Luke let out a long groan. He wasn’t even dressed yet. “Why do I have a feeling Lord Vader sent you?” 

“Great instincts, Mr. Lars.” Piett smiled tiredly. Luke was really starting to understand why Piett looked like he survived solely off caff. 

“What now?” He realized he wasn’t exactly being respectful, but he hadn’t even made it to the fresher yet. He was still in his pajamas. 

Piett paused, an odd look passing over his expression. “He wishes for you to move to your own bedroom suite, separate from your office.” 

Luke blinked in surprise even as Cyl, who’d just powered on from a night of recharging, muttered, “Unprofessional gifts.” Luke hoped Piett wouldn’t ask the droid if there had been more from Lord Vader. 

“I...that’s great, but did he say why?” 

“No, I’m afraid he didn’t.” Piett replied, lifting a brow. “I was hoping you might know more?” 

Because I’m his son and he’s decided that he probably shouldn’t have his son living in what amounts to little more than a broom closet? 

Aloud he replied, “No clue whatsoever.” 

He wasn’t sure if Piett believed him, but he didn’t push. Maybe he was used to his boss making cryptic decisions. 

“In any case, he’d like for you to move first thing today.” 

“Can’t. I’ve got appointments and I’ve already had to cancel the last few days.” 

“Oh. Yes. Because you were ill?” 

Jeez, how many people had Vader told? 

“Yeah...I’m much better now, though. Ready to get to work.” He plastered an overly bright smile on his face to convince the older man. 

“Hm. Well, Lord Vader was very specific.” Luke opened his mouth to protest, making a mental note to add this to his list of boundaries, when Piett added, “But I can get some people to move things for you. Unless you’d like to rearrange your schedule?” 

Luke sighed. Technically, he didn’t have many possessions in the first place, and he definitely didn’t have anything to hide from anyone (except his name, but that wasn’t in his room), so he relented. “Just make sure they don’t disturb my patients.” 

“Of course, Mr. Lars.” 

And for the most part, the men Piett chose to pack and move his stuff were discreet. A few of his clients who happened to be there during the move asked about it, to which he simply replied, “Turns out a more suitable living quarters opened up.” 

He thought it wouldn’t be a big deal. There were thousands of living quarters on a ship the size of the Executor. Lord Vader, in remembering their agreement to keep things on the down low, had probably given him a typical room, maybe even given him a roommate. When he went to check before he headed to lunch, he found he was very wrong. 

The room was literally bigger than his home on Tatooine. It had its own living room, dining area, a walk in fresher, and a huge bedroom. Both the bedroom and the living area had a floor-to-floor viewport looking out into space. 

This. This was not subtle. He was fairly certain this was the kind of room reserved for grand moffs and other incredibly important people. Not some farm boy-turned-therapist who didn’t even have enough possessions to make his bedroom look occupied. 

Except, technically, he was someone important. Technically, he was a prince. 

He quickly left the room before he could start panicking at the thought. 

He made his way into the cafeteria, hoping that he looked normal as he ordered his food paired with a giant cup of caff. He wasn’t normally a caff drinker--he was even less so of an alcoholic, but the entire situation was definitely making him want to take a bunch of personal time to chill. Caff would at least keep him awake for the rest of his appointments that day. Maybe that evening he’d wind down with a fancy cup of hot cocoa. 

Yes. That actually sounded divine. 

Once he got his collection, he turned and went to sit with the usual group of troopers he liked to sit with. 

“Hey Luke.” Tylo, one of the troopers, greeted when he sat down, “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“Yeah. I was feeling under the weather. I’m much better now, though.” Luke flashed a smile. 

Tylo glanced at the other troopers. Being in the mess hall, helmets weren’t required, so Luke didn’t miss the pointed expressions on their faces before he said, “Well, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.” 

Why did he have a sneaking suspicion that they’d placed bets on his fate? 

“So you gunna tell us why you just got upgraded to a moff’s suite?” Orron, another trooper friend (and client) he’d made, asked, and Luke’s heart sank. 

So his room was a suite made for a moff.

Great. 

He focused on his food as he shrugged. “Dunno. Lord Vader just put me there.” 

There was a silence. “Maybe you got through to him?” Tylo asked. 

“Nah. There’s no getting through to Lord Vader.” Another trooper said. 

“Maybe he--oh kriff.” 

Luke looked up, frowning when he saw that the trooper’s had gone still. In fact, the entire mess hall had gone silent. 

Except for the sound of steady mechanical breathing coming closer. 

His entire body went rigid. 

Stars, no...why is he here? 

Slowly, he turned. 

There was Vader, looking weirdly out of place, coming towards them. 

Coming towards him. 

Luke’s mind raced with possibilities as the man stopped, completely looming over him, his shoulders tilted so that he could look down at him. 

“Lord Vader.” Luke greeted awkwardly after a silence. “I don’t have you on my schedule today; is there something I can do to help you?” 

Somehow, he felt the room grow colder. 

“I have decided to spend lunch with you.” Vader finally said, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of finality. 

Luke blinked at him. Suddenly he’d lost his appetite. 

This was not subtle at all. 

“I’m...sort of eating with...I mean I guess you could join us…” 

“Your friends already left.” 

Luke whirled back around. Sure enough, the troopers were gone, and he was pretty sure he’d spotted them with another group on the far end of the room, watching from a distance. 

Like everyone else. 

What was he supposed to do? Say no? In front of everyone? That would make Vader look bad, and might just cause more drama than it was worth. And...and maybe he actually wanted to spend time with his son. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, and in fact if his son had been anyone else, Luke would have suggested such a seemingly normal father-son interaction. 

But Lord Vader wasn’t normal, and Luke wasn’t supposed to exist, according to the Emperor. 

“Maybe we could eat--oh. Okay.” Vader didn’t wait for his response. He walked around the table and sat where Orron had been sitting moments earlier, directly across from him. Luke didn’t miss how the chair Vader sat in creaked ominously under his weight. 

“This is my ship. I will go where I please.” Vader told him ominously by way of explanation. 

“Do you...often come here?” Luke asked. Maybe if Vader occasionally ate here, it wouldn’t be as weird? 

“No.” 

Oh. Well. It was definitely awkward, then. 

They stared at one another for a long moment. Around them, troops attempted to go back to eating like normal, but Luke could still feel their stares. He could only guess what everyone’s speculations were. 

He wanted to start talking to Vader about his idea of keeping things on the down low, but he didn’t dare. Not when they were the center of attention. So, awkwardly, Luke forced himself to shove food into his mouth, chew, swallow, then say, “Nice weather we’re having.” 

He immediately cursed himself. They were in space. There was no weather, at least not in the traditional sense. 

Vader didn’t bother commenting on it. He probably thought it wasn’t worth the breath, and this time Luke couldn’t completely disagree with him. “I assume the quarters were to your liking.” 

Yet another thing that wasn’t subtle at all but he couldn’t confront Vader about in the moment. Numbly, Luke nodded, shoving more food into his mouth to keep from having to talk. That, and he figured that as soon as he’d finished his food, the sooner he could make an excuse to leave. “Thank you.” 

“Do not thank me. It is below you.” Vader immediately admonished. 

Luke’s fork stilled on his plate. “Lord Vader.” He said, lifting a brow. “I was raised to be polite, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. So thank you for the consideration in giving me my own room.” 

Vader bristled, probably about to go on some rant about how Luke needed to live up to whatever vision he had for him that somehow included not thanking people, but this time he seemed to remember where he was. 

At least, that’s what Luke thought, until he heard his voice in his head. 

“Sith do not thank anyone. It is a weakness to be indebted to anyone. They will use it against--what is wrong with you?” 

Luke had taken a bite out of his food, and when he’d heard the voice and realized that somehow Lord Vader was speaking to him in his mind, he’d accidentally gasped, sucking the food down his throat. Now he was coughing and sputtering, his eyes watering as he tried to dislodge the wayward food from his throat. 

When he’d managed to swallow it, he wheezed, “How-- Why?!” 

For some reason, he had the distinct impression that Vader was amused. “It is a simple ability, especially between those who have a bond.” 

More of that talking in his head. It was too loud, too personal. Luke reached up and rubbed his temples, as if that would make the voice leave his head. 

“Did you come here because….because of our deal?” The hour a week of Force training Vader wanted to do with him. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it certainly hadn’t been this. 

“No. I came to eat with you.” 

Except Lord Vader didn’t even have food with him. It was all totally one-sided. 

Luke couldn’t not say something. He didn’t know how it was possible that someone as high up and experienced as Lord Vader was so terrible at subtlety. “You aren’t very good at keeping things on the down low, are you?” 

Vader crossed his arms, the chair creaking ominously yet again beneath him. How heavy was he? “I am excellent at all things military.” 

“Uh huh.” Luke busied himself with drinking some caff. “Well, you’re welcome to join, but don’t...you know.” He pointed to his head. 

“I don’t see why not. It is a useful way to discuss things when you obviously do not wish for others to overhear.” 

Luke refrained from groaning. “It’s a violation of privacy.” 

“I am not reading your mind, though your mental shields are weak enough that I could--” 

“Okay!” Luke abruptly stood up. His food was half eaten, but he was not comfortable with finding out that apparently Vader was a mind reader in the middle of a busy mess hall. “Well, look at the time, I’ve got another appointment coming up. This has been just...lovely, and--” 

“You are running from the conversation. I thought you wanted a connection.” 

He did but there was a time and a place and Vader was apparently horrible at picking them. “And I’ll see you bright and early for your appointment, my lord.” He gave him a look that he hoped said, drop it, and grabbed his tray, all but rushing to the garbage chute. 

He half feared Lord Vader would follow him. Maybe he did and Luke was just too quick to duck out of the room, but he managed to get to his office, slam the door, and let out a long, painful groan. 

Being the son of Darth Vader evidently would take some getting used to. The man was quite clingy and he didn’t seem to realize it. 

Still, Luke thought as he went to his desk to begin preparing for his next appointment, he couldn’t help but think, with the right circumstances and appropriate audience, a lunch appointment with his father would actually be...maybe…

Nice.

Chapter Text

Apparently, getting to know his son would be more difficult than Vader had anticipated. 

He absolutely hated that he’d just found his long lost son and yet circumstances made it impossible to be with him as much as he’d liked. He’d had some extra time during the time he knew Luke usually went to lunch, so he’d thought, despite their arrangement, he could drop by and spend time with his son. 

He was fairly certain Luke hadn’t enjoyed it at all, making him more frustrated than usual. 

“Admiral.” Vader said later that night on the bridge. He’d glared out at the stars for hours, stewing over the boy he could feel even with the many life forms and levels between them. The boy was a supernova in the Force--how had he missed that? 

“Yes, Lord Vader?” Piett replied, looking up from his datapad. 

Vader said nothing for a moment, wondering if perhaps it would be wiser not to say anything, but... “Do you have children?” 

Piett was his most trusted officer. His work was always excellently done. Surely, if this man was a father, he’d excel at that, too. Maybe he could get...well. He wouldn’t ask for help, but maybe he could observe him…

“I do not.” 

Hm. He’d have to figure out a good approach to his Luke problem on his own, then. It wouldn’t be a problem, of course--he was Darth Vader. He could do anything he set his mind to. 

The next morning, he was yet again early to his appointment. 

“Ah. It’s the gift giver himself.” Luke’s droid said by way of greeting. 

“It was not a gift.” He growled at it. “I simply wished to ensure my therapist does not die of illness. I will not be starting this stupid process over again.” 

Even as he said it, he couldn’t help but be pleased with himself. He was excellent at keeping things on the ‘down low,’ as his son so eloquently put it. 

The droid had the audacity to look him up and down. “Uh huh. Well. Since you refuse to sign in, I guess you may go in.” 

Vader rolled his eyes. “It is my ship. I will go where I please, droid, I do not need your permission.” 

He marched into the office. This time, he found Luke ready and waiting, sitting behind his desk as though everything were totally normal. 

“You’re early again.” Luke commented as the door swished shut behind him. 

“We have much to deal with, son.” Vader made a point of emphasizing the boy’s new title. “I have cleared these two hours as planned. One for your idiotic therapy, and the other so we can be productive in our relationship.” 

Luke stared at him for a long moment. Drew a deep breath, and leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “For this first hour, I am not your son. I am your therapist. I will do my job. That was our agreement.” 

“It is a stupid agreement, but I will humor you.” 

Luke’s eyes narrowed, then he leaned back in his seat, pulling up his precious datapad. “In honor of that agreement, I think it would be most productive to pretend during this first hour that I am not your son.” 

“That is the opposite of productivity!” Vader pointed at him accusingly. “You just do not wish to accept--”

“Oh, I’ve accepted that you’re my father, believe me, that’s...that’s not at all left my mind over the last few days. But for the sake of our therapist-client relationship, it needs to be this way.” Vader made a furious noise, but Luke pushed on. “So! Lord Vader. Why don’t you tell me how the last few days has been for you?” 

Now it was Vader’s turn to stare at the boy. He did not understand why he was so insistent that their first hour together needed to be so formal. He was sure even the boy’s overly professional mother hadn’t been so stubborn! He had no idea where this was coming from. 

He was probably brainwashed by his therapy school. It was the only answer. He’d need to pay the school a visit at some point. 

Still, if Luke wanted to play this game, he could play this game. 

“I found out that my dead son is actually alive and was kidnapped and raised on the worst planet in the galaxy by a adopted brother I have only spoken to once in my entire life for five minutes.” 

Luke made a note in his datapad. “Wow. That’s quite a traumatic revelation.” 

Vader growled, “No, I am...I am…” He unexpectedly hesitated, not sure how to define the feelings that he felt at finding out that his son was alive. “I am pleased.” 

Luke’s eyes flashed up to meet his. “Lord Vader, I think that’s the first positive expression you’ve made since we’ve met. Why don’t we elaborate on that more? I’m sure you don’t mean that you’re pleased that your son was kidnapped.” 

“No, I do not mean that, especially considering it was Kenobi who stole him from me!” Vader’s hands curled into tight fists. “While I was recovering from the wounds he inflicted on me, he stole you from me!” 

“Clearly, that’s something we’ll need to circle back to.” 

“I do not believe so!” 

Luke pointed to something to his right. “You smushed that metal art piece into a ball with your powers as you said that.” 

Vader looked to where he was pointing. Sure enough, one of the Executor-provided office decorations was sitting on an end table in a crumbled ball. 

“It was a stupid decoration anyway.” 

“You’re right, I can decorate better than that.” 

Vader glanced at the stuffed duck sitting in the corner and remembered the ridiculous ‘motivational’ posters outside in his lobby. He considered refusing to allow Luke to decorate any other parts of the ship. 

“Anyway, I would still like to focus for a moment on the positivity you expressed. What about your description of the past few days made you pleased?” 

The answer was obvious, and he didn’t know why Luke was making him say it aloud. But he had a suspicion that the boy wouldn’t let it go until he said it, and he didn’t wish to endanger their second hour time by refusing to cooperate. “I am pleased that my son lives.” 

Luke nodded. “That would be a shock to anyone who’s thought their child dead. But in one of our previous sessions, when we were going over Core Values, I mentioned Family as one of the options. You specifically and forcefully told me, and I’m quoting here, ‘There is no use of that value! It does nothing but hold you back! Family is the galaxy’s greatest lie! In the end you are better off alone, less reason to be betrayed by those who claim to love you!’ Then when I went to make a note of it, you tried to rip my datapad from my hands and ended up dragging me halfway over the desk just to ensure that I didn’t accidentally write it down as one of your values.” 

Vader, for the first time in...in he didn’t know how long, was embarrassed by his own behavior. He really hadn’t had a good first start with his long-lost son. “Had you let go of the datapad I would not have dragged you halfway over your desk.” He chose to say instead. 

“That is not my point in bringing it up.” Luke gave him a half smile. “I do so because being pleased that your son is alive doesn’t sound like the reaction that someone who is totally against having family as a core value would be pleased about.” 

Vader crossed his arms over his chest. “I am the exception to the rule.” 

“Are you?” There was a tense silence as they stared each other down. “Alright. Lord Vader, tell me about your day yesterday.” 

Vader wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. 

“I had plenty of meetings tracking Rebel movements. They are not relevant to this discussion unless a certain someone wishes to take his rightful place at my side--” 

“You don’t need to get into the specifics of your war meetings.” Luke assured him, much to his displeasure. “Was there anything else that happened?” 

This boy… he knew full well what happened. 

“You ditched our lunch meeting.” He finally spat. 

“Oh, I didn’t ditch anything, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Vader growled. “My son ditched our lunch meeting.” 

“That makes more sense.” Luke nodded. “Why don’t you tell me about that?” 

With anyone else, he’d strangle them for wasting his time repeating what they already knew. But this was his son and if he ever wished to persuade the boy to his side, he’d need to cooperate. “I had extra time. I dropped by the mess hall to eat with my son. I thought, considering that he’d said he wanted a connection with me, that he’d be pleased. Instead he made it quite clear that he was embarrassed to be seen being with me in public!” 

A strange look passed over Luke’s face, and he thought he might have finally gotten the boy to crack and drop the ‘therapist-client’ charade, but instead Luke said, “And how did that make you feel?” 

“Feelings are irrelevant. The message was clear.” 

“How did that message make you feel?” Luke pushed. 

“It frustrates me that he wants so little to do with me and his destiny!” Vader finally exploded, roaring the answer at the boy. 

Luke’s expression remained neutral, though Vader didn’t miss his grip tightening on the pen. The only indication that he was more afraid of that outburst than he let on. “And what, exactly, is this destiny?” 

“He is my son. He is not only heir to this Empire, but he has a power that he is terrified of and wants nothing to do with it!” 

Luke didn’t deny it. Then again, Vader wasn’t sure he would, given his little game. “That is something that’s really important that we should definitely unpack. But again, I still want to focus on this particular event, this...lunch meeting. What was the purpose of your lunch meeting?” 

“I wished to eat with my son, I told you that!” He snapped. 

“Yes, you did, but why?” 

“Is it your job to ask obvious questions?!” 

“It may seem obvious to you, but to others, it may not be so. Maybe to your son, there are numerous reasons you could have shown up to eat lunch with him, especially since he really doesn’t know you yet. It’s important, therefore, to answer those seemingly obvious questions to more deeply discover the motivations behind your thoughts, actions and feelings.” 

Vader glared. 

He didn’t agree with the last point, but in regards to how Luke might have interpreted his actions...maybe he had a point. 

He wasn’t about to admit that aloud. 

Instead, he said, “I wished to spend time with my son. I know nothing about him. It bothers me that he’s on the same ship as me, and I cannot spend the time I would like to in order to get to know him.”

Luke nodded in understanding. “That would be very frustrating. That makes a lot of sense. I notice that your statement of how you felt about yesterday has nothing to do with how you feel your son should be spending his life, but more about what you feel your son’s reaction means for your personal relationship with him.” 

“There is no difference.” 

“You yourself may treat your work as being the same as your personal life, especially considering how busy you must be, but in most people’s lives, work and personal life should ideally be separated. And, from what you just told me, it sounds like at least emotionally, there is a difference for you.” Luke waited for him to object, and when he didn’t immediately, he added, “You’re free to disagree with me. It’s your life, that’s just my interpretation on what you just said.” 

Vader wanted to disagree with him. It’s what Sidious would have wanted him to do. It’s what was required of him as a Sith Lord. 

And yet…

He couldn’t. 

When it was apparent that he wouldn’t disagree, Luke continued. “Again, this is just my observation, so feel free to disagree. But it sounds like your son, your family, is really important to you. Enough so that you’d take time out of your extremely busy schedule to see him. Perhaps, when thinking about your core values, one of them includes family--” 

Vader bristled, an automatic reaction, and words rose to his lips to vehemently deny it…

But his son was sitting right in front of him. 

Alive. 

And there was so much of himself and his long-dead wife in him, plain to see in the boy. And...and maybe, if he looked hard enough, there were echoes of his own mother there. 

“I would venture so far as to say that there are a lot of negative associations with that core value. Core values aren’t always going to have positive associations. Core values are just...things we value to the point that they may motivate us to make certain decisions or say certain things or react certain ways to protect or pursue those values. Already, in the few days you’ve known your son, it seems like you’ve made a lot of decisions to pursue that familial relationship. Maybe your son being alive is your first positive association with that core value in a while, and your feelings about what happened yesterday is you trying to protect that newly formed bond. That sounds an awful lot like you value family more than you’d like to admit.” 

“What is your point?” 

“My point, Lord Vader, is that I think between now and when we meet again, you should consider whether or not what I said is true. And if it is true, then perhaps you can think of ways you might pursue that relationship with your son that would make you both comfortable.”

“My son is a mystery to me. How would I even do that?” 

Luke carefully placed the datapad aside and stood. “Well. Your therapy session time is up...so maybe you can try communicating with him.” He grinned. “We have another hour to do whatever we want, don’t we?” 

It was wild the difference between before Vader knew he was his son and after he knew. Before he could barely get anything from the man. Now...well, it was still extremely touchy. There were a few times his reactions had made Luke nervous (especially when he’d crumpled metal like it was a piece of flimsi paper without touching it), but overall the information...while still fragmented, offered far more to work off of than he ever did before. 

Professionally, Luke felt bad about it. It almost felt like he was taking advantage of his relationship with his father to get him to open up. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to fix that. He’d gotten a very firm no from his boss to change therapists. So...he’d just need to make it work and try not to wallow in guilt when he went to bed at night. 

“I wish to know everything about your life.” Vader immediately said the moment it was clear that their therapy time was done. 

“I mean, there’s twenty two years of things that happened. Most of which are pretty boring since, you know, Tatooine is the most boring planet in the galaxy.” 

“There is nothing boring when it concerns you.” 

Luke let out a breath. The entire situation was odd beyond belief, and he’d never in a million years imagined it would happen this way, but to hear his father say that...after dreaming of it…

He felt terrible that his father’s first attempt to have a...somewhat normal outing with him had been so awkward. It definitely hadn’t been the right setting, and he would have preferred at least some warning. But then, he could fix that. He could do it without crossing his professional boundaries, too. 

“Why don’t we talk about it while we do something together?” He asked, coming around the desk to approach his father. 

Stars. Vader was tall. He definitely didn’t inherit his height. 

“Like what?” Vader asked. 

“Well...what do you like to do? I mean, besides work and your powers stuff.” 

Vader made a noise. “Powers stuff...the Force is not merely powers stuff.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Vader’s helmet tilted. For a moment, Luke wondered what his father looked like. Did he look at all like him? Or did he favor his mother? 

Who was his mother? 

“No one has asked me what I ‘like to do’ in years.” Vader finally mused. He didn’t sound angry or frustrated or annoyed like he usually did. Just...pondering a simple question as though it were the most important question in the galaxy. “You...like to fix things, I noticed.” 

For a moment, he couldn’t remember why Vader would know something like that, but then he remembered Cyl. “Oh. I mean, I like working on electronics, sure.”

“Does that extend to ships?” 

Luke brightened immediately. “Those are my favorite to work on.” 

Vader looked at him. Then, without warning, he turned on his heel and strode for the door. “Come with me.” 

Luke blinked, then rushed after him. He’d technically left some time between the end of the hour and his next appointment, but… “Where are we going?” 

They entered his lobby and he noted Cyl giving him a look that meant he was sure to hear about abandoning his post or something from the droid later. “You will see.” Was Vader’s answer. 

“Is it far?” 

“No. Coincidentally, it’s actually close enough that we will both make our respective meetings on time.” 

Well. As long as he was on time to his next appointment… 

He followed Vader through brightly lit corridors. He was well aware that any officer or stormtrooper they passed turned to look at them once they had. He could feel their stares into his back…

But he wasn’t embarrassed. Worried about how they might interpret it, sure. If his existence was really dangerous, he wasn’t keen on the Emperor ordering him killed. Or worse. 

The worried erased from his mind the moment Vader reached the door he was looking for, inputted a code, and it opened to reveal a spacecraft hangar. A giddy rush of excitement filled him, and he couldn’t help but grin. 

He was in a hangar full of ships. And, running a cursory eye over the vehicles in the hangar, they were top of the line ships. Most were Imperial made, which wasn’t a surprise given that they were on a navy ship, but there were prototypes Luke had either only seen in news bulletins sent to the military’s holomail as a distant possibility, or he didn’t recognize at all. Then there was the TIE Advanced that was famously Lord Vader’s personal fighter resting in the prime launching position, ready to be taken into battle. 

“Leave us.” Vader snapped at a few technicians who were in the room. They saluted, and as they rushed out, Luke didn’t miss the curious look they threw him. 

Once the doors had swished shut behind him, Vader gestured to the room around them. “This is my personal hangar.” 

He’d started to gather that. He doubted those prototypes would just be sitting around where some random low level soldiers might accidentally break one of them.

“How’d you get access to some of these ships?” He asked. He himself was almost worried to approach, as if just looking at them might break one. 

Not that he couldn’t fix it. He could fix anything. 

“The manufacturer knows I have an interest in ships. At my home on Mustafar I have non-military vessels that are often gifts from others wishing to say they have ships flown by Darth Vader.” 

To Luke’s surprise, there was some amusement in Vader’s voice. 

“Most never make it to production. Some I like to modify and keep. Some I modify and if I think it’s worthy to be mass produced for military use, I send it back so they can reproduce.” 

He’d heard so many rumors about Vader and his legendary piloting skills. He had no idea that extended to modifying ships. 

Vader led him to a model that was half in pieces and motioned to it. “I am currently working on this one. It’s an old model that was never picked up by the Empire. The Emperor favored funding the Death Star over this.” 

Luke took a closer look, peering into the insides of the ship. “It’s really fine craftsmanship already.” He said, then did a double take as he realized what he was looking at. “Is that...is that a hyperdrive and deflectors?” 

“Yes.” 

The Rebellion’s X-Wings had those, which was why even in small numbers they could take out much of the standard TIEs. Standard ties didn’t have either of those and relied solely on speed and the skill of the pilot. But if everyone was equipped with something like this… “Why not fund the expansion of this project? This could seriously turn the tide in this war!” 

“The Emperor chose to make a gamble that paid off poorly.” From the open disdain in his voice, Luke could tell Vader hadn’t agreed with that decision. Which was odd, considering that it was Vader who had defended the Death Star before it had been blown to pieces. “I think there are some further modifications that could be done. Technology has improved since this project was last presented as a funding option, so if we could upgrade…” 

“Then maybe we could get it funded.” Luke finished. It was a good plan...a really good plan. He had no doubt Vader was pursuing it merely to gain the upper hand in battle, but the idea of less people dying...at least, on the Empire’s side of the war. 

Truthfully, he didn’t care for either side. He just wished the war was over with. Less death, less people full of heartbreak and trauma. That’s all he wanted.

And as a therapist, he fully planned to help those affected from either side once it was all done with. 

He doubted Vader would be understanding of that. 

Vader lifted his hand, and Luke had to suppress a shudder as a box of tools floated from a workbench on the other side of the room over to where they stood. When it reached them, Vader reached into the box and pulled out a tool, handing it over. “I have already assembled the parts to improve the hyperdrive. Show me what you can do to put it together.” 

Luke accepted the tool from him with a grin. “Challenge accepted.” 

They got to work. Though the ship itself was unfamiliar to him, one look at the parts Vader had pulled together and Luke understood exactly what he was going for. He launched right in, only occasionally needing Vader to offer further direction. 

And as he worked, he told Vader exactly what he wanted to know. All about his life. As boring as it seemed to him, Vader didn’t seem bored in the slightest. Rather, he often asked clarifying questions, about Luke’s friends, about his aunt and uncle. He especially seemed satisfied that he and his uncle didn’t see eye to eye. 

“You are a Skywalker.” Vader said in response to him telling him about their many arguments about him leaving the planet to become a pilot. “You cannot keep a Skywalker out of the sky.” 

Luke grinned, tightening a bolt. “I told him that was the literal definition of my last name. Then he’d remind me legally my name is Lars, and Lars’ farm.” 

Vader made a noise that told Luke he’d probably have terrifying words with his uncle if he ever saw him. He made a mental note to keep them away from each other...at least until Vader had managed his anger better. 

“I almost ran away, you know. Actually, multiple times I tried.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah.” Luke shrugged, suddenly embarrassed by the childish behavior. “I had every intention of becoming a pilot like my...like you. Though he told me you were a pilot on a spice runner.” 

“He told you I what?” 

“Yeah. I think he just told me that so I’d stop wanting to be like you and get myself killed. It did the opposite, actually. Once he caught up to me right before I signed up to join a spice smuggling operation as a pilot.” 

Should he tell Darth Vader, the guy who commanded the military that was in charge of stamping out such lawlessness, that he’d almost become a smuggler just to spite his uncle? It wasn’t like he’d joined and Vader had wanted to know everything, but it was still really weird. 

“You would not have thrived in such an environment. I have met enough smugglers to know this.” Vader said darkly, and at first Luke worried that maybe he’d said too much, but then Vader added, almost under his breath, “A spice smuggler. What an idiotic thing to fill your head with…”

Yeah. He’d definitely need to keep Vader and his uncle away from each other. 

“Well, it didn’t work since I became, as you call it, a hippie therapist, and now we know each other!” Luke grinned at him before finishing the last piece of the hyperdrive. “I mean really, at least I didn’t become a smuggler.” 

Vader looked at him for a long moment, and suddenly Luke had the horrible realization that the man was deciding whether or not that was truly a worse profession. “Oh, come on. Being a therapist has to be more preferable than being a spice smuggler.” 

To his exasperation, Vader seemed to suddenly be very interested in his new completed hyperdrive. “Yes. Yes, you did very well on this. Perhaps you should have become a mechanic.” 

Truthfully, he’d considered it, but his uncle had worried such a high demand profession would somehow get him pulled into the war effort. And yet now here he was...with Darth Vader, working on a ship that could very well turn the tide of war in the hangar of the biggest star destroyer in the navy. 

That hadn’t exactly worked out as his uncle had planned, had it? 

Luke glanced at his chrono watch and stood. “I have to get going. I need to be ready for my next appointment.” He paused, looking down at his father who still studied the completed hyperdrive. “This...I enjoyed this. We should do it again sometime...even if you do think my profession is just as bad as spice smuggling.” 

“I did not technically say that…” Vader set the hyperdrive down then stood, facing him. 

Luke lifted his brows. “Yeah, but you still haven’t said it’s better, so...you know. I guess it’s not too late to change professions. Spice smuggling here I come, my father says it’s okay!” 

Vader crossed his arms over his chest. “I did not say that either.” 

“But you still haven’t made your opinion conclusive.” Luke grinned, then turned and started for the doors. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

The only sound he heard as he headed for the door was the sound of Vader’s breathing. But as he reached it, as he leaned over to touch the button that would open them, he heard Vader reply. 

“I will see you, my son.”

Chapter Text

Working aboard the Executor was never boring, Luke had to admit. The problem was, he didn’t always immediately catch on that something was amiss because...well, Vader’s work environment was such that from Luke’s perspective, everything was amiss. All the time. As far as he could tell, the only person Vader liked outside of himself was Piett, and Luke couldn’t tell if Piett returned those feelings or if he simply endured. 

“Isn’t that...below your rank?” Luke asked one day when he happened to pass by and notice that Piett was working on collecting data himself. Not analyzing data. Not planning naval fleet battle strategies. Pulling data. Something a data entry position would do--something Luke could do, if he had the time. 

“Lord Vader does not trust the data that was pulled.” Piett said, and his expression was almost as perfectly calm as Luke thought his was during therapy sessions. “If the data is wrong, Princess Organa and her Rebellion may slip through our fingers again.” 

Luke frowned. He was always so wrapped up in his own job that he only knew the general basics of the war against the Rebellion, plus whatever else the officers complained about in their therapy sessions. But he did know Princess Leia Organa. She was princess to Alderaan, which...had been destroyed by the Empire while he was a sophomore in college. She’d managed to escape the Empire, and blew up the Death Star (Luke would never admit it out loud, but the only remorse he felt for the whole situation was the people on both sides who’d died and been hurt by the loss of loved ones. As far as he was concerned, the Death Star was an abomination). Now, she supposedly led a significant portion of the Rebellion, and it was rumored she had powers that aided her in battle. 

Now that he’d met Vader, he supposed that was possible. 

“So why are you doing it?” Luke asked, noting that Piett hadn’t exactly answered the question. 

Piett paused and gave Luke a long look before sucking in a breath and replying, “Because it is an honor to serve Lord Vader.” 

That...still didn’t answer the question, but he got the feeling that he shouldn’t push, so he dropped it and made a mental note to discourage Vader from pushing tasks that could be delegated to the appropriate people onto him. 

As for the rest of the officers he served, he began to notice some shifts in the conversations they had during their sessions. But...not the shifts he would have expected. 

“How are you?” One officer asked when he sat down to begin his session. 

“I’m doing wonderful, how are you?” Luke asked, offering an easy-going smile. 

“Good, but,” The officer leaned forward in his seat, his eyes narrowing in what Luke thought might have been concern. “How are you? Really?” 

Luke blinked in surprise, then began wondering if he’d gotten enough sleep the night before. No...he’d had eight hours. That wasn’t always the case though, so perhaps he looked tired? 

“I’m doing just fine, I assure you. Now, let’s pick back up from our last--” 

“If you ever need anything...just let me know.” 

Again, Luke was stunned momentarily speechless. “Ah...thanks?” Was all he could think to answer. 

Thankfully, the officer dropped it, and the moment the session finished and Luke was alone, he quickly took out a compact mirror and looked himself over. 

He didn’t think he looked any different than usual…

He brushed it off as a one time thing. Maybe he was just really nice and cared about others. 

But then, other officers began acting strangely, too. 

“I want you to have my comm number.” One officer slid a piece of flimsy paper over his desk. A number was scrawled on it. 

“...I already have your comm…” Luke pointed at his datapad. 

“Yes, but I want to make sure you have it. You know. Just in case.” 

Luke was afraid to ask. “In case of what?” 

The officer gave him an intense stare. “You know. You know. Just in case.” 

Luke had zero idea what he was talking about and opted to just continue with the session. 

“I just really wanted you to know how good of a job you’re doing.” Said another officer, and bizarrely, he gave him a hand-painted painting of a duck in an Imperial officer uniform with the words I believe in you! Scrawled on the bottom of it. 

“I’m...I’m not supposed to accept gifts--” Luke started. At this point he was truly at a loss. 

“Then think of it as a donation. You could hang it outside on your waiting room wall!” And the officer brightened so much, Luke had a feeling he just wanted his hard work lovingly displayed. 

“Well.” Luke said, looking at the painting. It was very well done, he had to admit--the duck even had a little officers cap on its head. “I suppose it’s motivational. I’ll ask Cyl to hang it.” 

Later, as he handed the painting to Cyl, he asked, “Is there something wrong with me?” 

The droid looked him over, and Luke was certain that a scan was being performed. “Your stress levels are elevated, but not overly so. You appear to be as in good health as a human your age can be. Why?” 

“I don’t look...tired? Stressed? Concerning at all?” 

“I cannot comment. All of you humans and your facial expressions look the same to me.” 

“I see...and there’s nothing special happening?” 

Cyl tilted his head. “I do not have any Imperial or local holidays scheduled, though on Lothal it is Loth Cat day. Would you like to celebrate with holos of cute and or funny cats?” 

“That won’t be necessary.” Luke assured him. “Just...if anyone mentions anything weird to you, like...like weirder than usual, could you let me know?” 

“Of course.” 

And yet the comments continued. By the time Captain Riss told him that he could talk to them if he needed it, he had to ask. “Why are you telling me that? I mean I appreciate it, but I’m your therapist. It’s my job to help you. It’s what’s professional. So what gives?” 

If he thought Captain Riss would give him a straight answer, he was wrong. He simply placed both hands on his desk and stared into his eyes with the most intense stare Luke swore he’d ever received. He was pretty sure it rivaled Vader’s. 

“If anyone...you know...makes you feel unsafe or threatened...you just let us know.” 

A sinking feeling began to settle in Luke’s gut as he finally started to get an idea of what was going on. “Us?” 

“Yeah. Just...you know. If you come ask us for help...or even if for...you know, even if you can’t, just scream. We’ll come and do everything we can to help you.” 

Luke’s lips pressed together as he struggled not to start groaning. He knew this would happen. Vader really wasn’t subtle at all, except apparently, everyone interpreted Vader’s fatherly gestures as further threats upon his life. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that, but at least the Emperor probably wouldn’t notice anything amiss if he were to order an internal investigation of Vader’s troops. 

“Thank you, Captain Riss.” He did not miss the satisfaction on the man’s face as he leaned back. Now, let’s discuss…” 

Veers was certain he’d gone crazy--but then again, if he’d gone crazy, then he definitely needed a visit to the ship’s resident shrink. Still, his father had drilled it into him that real men handled their own problems silently and on their own, and if he were alive to see him approaching a therapist's office after visiting hours, he knew the raging lecture his father would have given him. 

But he’d tried to deal with this issue on his own. He couldn’t...or he could, but it was tearing him apart from the inside. He’d heard his troopers and officers speaking highly of the new therapist, but it wasn’t until Piett had quietly praised the work he was doing that Veers decided that he’d ask for help. 

He refused to do it during opening hours, though. So the moment the last patient left the office, Veers took the moment to quickly and quietly duck in. 

“Can I help you?” A C-Y-L model droid asked. “You know we’re closed.” 

Veers gritted his teeth. He hadn’t considered that the therapist might have a secretary, and he really didn’t want anyone to know he was there… “It’s...it’s an emergency appointment.” 

He’d read online somewhere that therapists often did emergency consults. He hoped it would work. 

The droid stared at him for a moment, computing, then, “Wait here. I will check to see if Mr. Lars has time for an emergency appointment. Your name?” 

“I’d...like to be quiet about it.” 

“I can see from your uniform that you are a General.” 

He sighed. There were just enough Generals that it wouldn’t take long for someone to figure out who’d come, and he’d have to give his name anyway… “General Maximillian Veers.” 

The droid turned abruptly and entered what he assumed was the therapist's office. 

Veers waited for a moment, feeling rather exposed standing there. What if someone walked in and saw him? Worse, what if Lord Vader walked in and saw him? The therapist was, after all, specifically assigned to work with the Dark Lord, as ridiculous as that was. But Piett said Lord Vader had morning appointments with the therapist, so maybe--

The droid returned. “Mr. Lars will see you, General Veers. Quietly.” 

Veers let out a breath and nodded curtly before heading into the office. 

The door closed behind him, and he found himself staring at...at…

A boy. 

“Good evening.” The boy greeted with a smile. Was he even old enough to be a therapist?? “Cyl tells me you are in need of an emergency session?” 

Veers struggled to reign in his surprise. He was a general. He commanded Lord Vader’s troops. He’d stared the enemy in the face and survived--triumphed. He would not be unprofessional towards this boy. 

Even if he did look to be his own son’s age. 

“I am here because I am in need of your assistance.” 

The boy nodded and gestured to a seat in front of his desk. “Please. Sit. You said your name was General Veers?” 

“Yes.” He took a seat, still marveling at how young he looked, especially from up close. He couldn’t have been more than twenty…

“I’m Luke Lars. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The boy smiled, and Veers had to wonder how he hadn’t died by Vader’s hand yet. He seemed...too nice. “How can I help you?” 

Veers opened his mouth to respond...and closed it. 

Suddenly, it was difficult to speak. 

“I’m...sorry. I...I’ve never spoken to a therapist...anyone, really, about this.” 

“We don’t live in a society that values therapy. You’re not alone in that.” A look passed over the boy’s face, but it was gone before Veers could identify it. 

“...My son…” The words burned his mouth. “I...he joined the Rebellion.” 

“Oh.” Luke nodded, as though he understood what that was like. “I understand. When did he join?” 

“He...ran away when he was sixteen.” 

“That’s really young...and have you seen him since then?” 

“No.” He hesitated again. “I...wanted to pretend that he’d died. It would have been easier than to explain to others that I had a traitor for a son.” 

Luke’s lips tightened. “This war...it’s torn many families apart. You are by no means the only officer who’s had family defect.” 

He knew that. But he was Darth Vader’s General… 

“How does it make you feel to have cut your son off?” 

He didn’t answer for a few moments. It was...difficult, to put his feelings into words and then speak them aloud. 

“I...I had hoped that when he saw that I was serious, he’d return. I was disappointed when he didn’t want to follow the same career path as me...but now if he were to return, I’d be happy to just let him do whatever he wanted. I’d…” He glanced around as if he could see Vader ready to pop out of the shadows and start throttling him. “I’d even help him get amnesty for his crimes. He was brainwashed. He’s not a bad person. He’s not a terrorist. Not really.” 

There was sympathy in the boy’s eyes. “Do you know if he’s alive?” 

Veers closed his eyes. “I believe so. I haven’t spoken to him in so long...I can’t be sure. I would assume that if he died, I’d receive some kind of notification of it. I’m still his next of kin, but the Rebels may not have even that much dignity to tell me.” 

Luke nodded in understanding. “This sounds like something that you may want to talk about in more detail. There’s a lot to unpack...but the goal of an emergency session is to handle what currently has brought you into my office. So, why now? Why come see me so late?” 

Veers considered telling the therapist that his father had told him that all shrinks were crackpots who just wanted to steal his time and money, but he thought that would be unprofessional. 

“It’s...his birthday today. Every year I stare at my comm for hours, knowing I should call and wish him a happy birthday but...but I can’t. I don’t know what to say. And...I’m ashamed to admit, I’m afraid to. I know that my lack of communication and attention to him was what probably allowed the Rebellion to sink their claws into him, but I…” he thought of his own father. “Let’s just say I haven’t had a good role model when it comes to proper communication.” 

He was half afraid that the boy would say he couldn’t help. He knew that was ridiculous...from the way his troops talked about Luke, it was as if they’d adopted him as their unofficial mascot. It seemed like Luke could do no wrong, and though Veers was a bit off put by his age, he wondered if Luke would understand how to speak to his son more than anyone. 

To his relief, Luke pulled out a datapad. “I think that’s absolutely something we can do together. If you’d like, I’ll even offer my support as you call. How does that sound?” 

Veers wanted to say he wouldn’t need help beyond coming up with what to say, but he also knew he’d likely take the cowards way out and not make the call if he was left alone. “Thank you, Mr. Lars.” 

“Please, call me Luke.” And again, something passed over the boy’s expression that he couldn’t identify before it disappeared with a smile. “Now, shall we?” 

Leia Organa was busy. She was always busy. It was difficult training to be a Jedi and leading a significant portion of the Rebellion. She would make sure Mon Mothma didn’t regret putting trust in her...more importantly, she’d make her parents proud. Even if they weren’t with her any longer. 

Though she had to admit, she really hated paperwork. She always had. 

So when a knock came to her office door, she gladly jumped at the chance for a distraction. “Come in.” 

The door swished open and in walked Zev Veers. 

“Oh hey,” Leia smiled. She knew Zev from Coruscant. He was the son of one of Vader’s top generals, and therefore one of the top generals in the entire Empire, but he couldn’t be anything less like his father. He was sweet, kind almost to a fault, and if he wasn’t giving excellent service to the Rebellion, she never would have assumed he could harm a loth kitten. “Today’s your birthday, isn’t it?” 

Zev gave her a tentative smile. She’d never seen General Veers smile, but she had to admit his son looked a lot like him. “Yeah.” 

“Happy birthday!” She grinned. “You don’t happen to be here to invite me to cake, are you? Because I’d love some cake.” And an excuse to take a break from her work…

“No...unfortunately not. We didn’t have much time to make one this year.” That was understandable, even if she couldn’t help but be disappointed. “I’m here because...well, I got a weird message.” 

She lifted a brow. So, Alliance business, then. She motioned to the seat in front of her. 

Zev quickly took it and pulled out a comm. “You know I haven’t heard from my dad since I ran away to join the Rebellion.” 

Leia nodded. Zev was by no means the only person in the Rebellion who had a similar story, but considering who his father was, it was absolutely something she remembered. 

“Well...he contacted me.” 

Leia frowned. “Well.” She began carefully, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me or anyone else what it said. We understand that you can’t control your family, and they’re still your family, so if you wanted to speak with him--” 

“Thanks, but that’s not why I’m coming to you.” 

“Oh.” Her confusion deepened. “Then why are you here?” 

Zev shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s just...the message was weird.” 

“Okay…”

“And I thought you might want to listen to it.” 

She really didn’t want to listen to Zev’s father say whatever private thing he’d meant for his son. If it wasn’t information that could help them, she thought that should stay between them. But if he thought there was something of note that she should know… 

“Okay. Go ahead and play it.” 

Zev nodded and after pressing a few buttons on the comm, an image of General Veers appeared. 

It was odd, seeing him like this. He still wore his uniform, but usually when she saw him, he was wearing a combat helmet as well. Veers was not known for sitting on the sidelines while his troops died on the battlefield, so it wasn’t like she hadn’t run into him a few times over the years. But here, even in his dress uniform, he appeared almost casual. Or as casual as he could be, she supposed. 

“Zev.” The man greeted stiffly. “I wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday.” It sounded like he was reading the message, and when she squinted, she noticed his eyes moving in a way that confirmed that he was definitely reading a pre-written message. 

“I wanted you to know that, though I wish you had not made the choices you’ve made, you are…” his voice caught. “You are still my son.” 

Oh. Yeah. She really didn’t want to be watching this. 

“I...I also wanted you to know that, despite your choices, I am still proud of you. No matter what...your...your mother…” 

He paused. She took a closer look and found there were tears falling down his cheeks. 

She didn’t have time to process it. 

“Speak from your heart. You can do this.” Someone who was definitely not Veers said in the kindest, most encouraging tone she’d ever heard. It was whispered, enough that had she not already been paying attention, she might have missed it. But it was definitely there, and it was definitely not Veers. 

Veers squared his shoulders. “I’ll admit, I was lost after your mother died. She was so good with you, and I’ve...never had a good role model when it comes to parenting. But I’d hoped that through Imperial service, you and I could spend more time together. I...I see now that you didn’t ever want that, and by forcing you into service, I forced you away. I...I’m so sorry, my son, and though I cannot force you to come back, I...I hope that one day we can speak as father and son again.” 

General Veers looked away, at something --or someone-- off camera, and that same person whispered, “You did so grea--” 

The message ended. 

And she was left staring at the comm. 

“I don’t know who that was,” Zev said, his face as serious as she’d ever seen it, “But he got my dad to call me and...look I didn’t even see my dad cry when my mom died. I’m pretty sure he considered me dead to him.” 

Leia sat back in her chair, troubled. It was such a small thing, but…

“You...don’t think that might have been Vader’s court-mandated therapist, do you?” Zev asked, looking nervous to even mention Vader’s name. Most of the Rebels tried to avoid mentioning him, knowing what he’d done to her and countless others. 

“That therapist has got to be dead by now.” Leia shook her head, but the Force...didn’t feel right when she said it. 

“What if he isn’t?” 

“Then...then that changes nothing. But again, there’s no way Vader would let a therapist fix him, let alone live. Maybe your dad just has a good friend or something.” 

Zev didn’t look convinced. “Maybe.” 

She wished she had an answer for him. The message was...intensely personal, but just bizarre enough that it bothered her. 

“If it helps, I’ll consult the Force for answers. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll talk to my Master.” 

Zev nodded and stood. “Thanks. Sorry for making you sit through that, but I didn’t know how else to describe it.” 

Leia waved it off. “It’s fine.” Then, a thought occurred to her. “You...don’t have to tell me, but I’m curious. Are you going to respond?” 

He hesitated. “I’m...not sure yet.” 

She nodded in understanding. “Take your time. Don’t force anything you don’t have to.” 

He assured her he would and left. She watched him go, and continued staring at the door in contemplation long after he’d left, replaying the whispered words in her head. 

Perhaps she should skip straight to consulting with her master for answers…

Because somehow, she had a feeling that whoever this was, they might just be more important than she realized.

Chapter Text

“What happened to your office?” Vader demanded upon entering Luke’s lobby fifteen minutes before his appointment time to find Luke putting up more of those infernal posters. Except they weren’t posters, he realized upon a second glance--they appeared to be hand-done. 

Luke glanced over his shoulder. “Oh. Hey. Do you think this looks straight?” He motioned to the...was that a painting? 

Vader didn’t answer the question. He simply approached his son, crossed his arms, and looked at the avalanche of positivity that had appeared on the walls. 

“YOU are UNIQUE, YOU are SMART, YOU are TALENTED, YOU are WORTH IT, YOU are VALUED, YOU are AMAZING, YOU are LOVED, YOU MATTER!” 

Vader felt like that one was stabbing into his brain with every other word. 

“Your mental health is a priority!” 

Was it though? He could think of multiple things he cared about more than so called mental health. 

The painting Luke was currently hanging said: “The best way to predict the future is to create it!” The words were painted over a duck pointing its wing at him. It was admittedly a well-done duck, but nauseating, all the same. 

He scowled at that one and pointed to it. “I can say from personal experience that is not true whatsoever.” 

Luke inclined his head. “I feel like it needs some additional clarification, I agree, but this is going to be my wall of donated therapy art.” 

“A wall of therapy art?” Vader hated it already. 

“Yeah. People keep giving me therapy-themed art. I figured it might be nice to show off the talents of the people who work here. I mean the rest of the ship is so drab--”

“Because it’s a military ship! It’s meant to be efficient, not...not whatever this is.” 

Luke lifted a brow. “Would you like to create something for the wall?” 

Vader sputtered. “That is the opposite of what I want!” He tried to think of what he’d even put on a ridiculous poster...a Sith mantra? One of the lessons Palpatine had given him over the years? 

Somehow, he doubted Luke would find it inspirational. 

“It doesn’t have to be therapy themed. Maybe something you make that calms you down?” 

“If you have not noticed, I am not in the habit of creating anything.”

Luke shrugged. “It could be something like schematics for...for something cool, I don’t know. I bet you’d like making that?” 

Vader opened his mouth to vehemently deny it...but he actually did enjoy making or modifying schematics. Not that he ever had time. 

He wouldn’t admit that, though. 

“This decor style had better not infiltrate other parts of my ship,” he warned instead, pointing a warning finger in Luke’s face. “Now will we get on with this session or not?”

Though Luke didn’t seem pleased to have a finger shoved into his face, he gestured towards the open office door. “After you.” 

He needed no further encouragement. He swept into the office, heading immediately for the window, staring out into the endless stars. As soon as he heard the doors swish shut, he added, “I trust that you remember that your first lesson is today?” 

Luke’s response was not immediate, and he turned, ready to push destiny and duty, but he finally spoke before he could. “I remember.” 

He was sitting down at the desk, using that opportunity to hide his expression. Vader didn’t need to see it, though. A simple glance into their bond told him all he needed to know. 

His son was apprehensive. Incredibly so. 

“You will be a natural, I have no doubt.” Vader assured him confidently. “You are my son. The Force is who you are.” 

By then, Luke had finished settling in, and his face twisted just barely. But before Vader could insist again, Luke said, “Well our session has just started, so now I’m not your son. I’m your  therapist, and we’re here to talk about you.” 

Vader scowled. If he hadn’t agreed to those stupid boundaries in the first place, he’d make it his personal mission to get Luke to slip up during their session. Maybe he could still make it happen without making Luke realize it… 

“So, over the last few times we’ve met, you’ve brought up a number of things that I think we should circle back to,” Luke began, pulling his datapad out. 

“There is nothing to circle back to.” Vader insisted. 

“On the contrary, there’s plenty. I’ll...admit it’s a bit hard to know where to start, but I thought, given your recent discovery of your son, maybe you’d like to start by talking about this Kenobi guy?” 

Vader’s fists clenched. As always, the mention of that man’s name sent white hot rage through him. Luke must have picked up on it, because he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He did not miss the way his eyes darted to the newly-repaired port window, likely checking for damage. 

“All you need to know is that he kidnapped you and destroyed my life! There is nothing more to talk about.” 

“Except that if someone has the ability to destroy your life, that person had a really important role in it to have that kind of power over you--” 

“He has no power over me!” 

He couldn’t help it. He roared it at the boy, and he was raving before he could respond. 

“Unless you know Kenobi’s whereabouts, we will not speak of him! That is part of Anakin Skywalker’s past, and we will never speak of his past!” 

Luke’s brows furrowed in confusion. He half expected to remind him that he already had accidentally said things about Anakin’s past, but instead he asked, “What do you mean, Anakin Skywalkers past? You’re Anakin Skywalker, aren’t you?” 

“Anakin Skywalker was weak. He could not protect those he loved, and he died because of it!” 

Luke stared at him unblinkingly. Then, after a silence, he briefly bit his lip, then said, “So. Your son is Luke Skywalker.” 

Vader rolled his eyes. “You know I hate it when you state the obvious.” 

“Yeah, I know, just...bear with me.” 

Vader glared at him, waiting for him to cave under the weight of it...but unlike the majority of those who worked aboard his ship, Luke didn’t flinch away or crumble. When it was evident that he wouldn’t let up, Vader growled, “Yes.” 

“And his father is Anakin Skywalker.” 

“His father is me.” 

“But Anakin Skywalker is dead.” 

“We took a blood test, if you do not remember.” 

“So you took a blood test and it was a positive match, but his father is still Anakin Skywalker?” 

Vader was not sure he liked where Luke was going with this. 

“You are my son.” Luke opened his mouth and he quickly pointed at him. “Don’t you dare--” 

“But Luke Skywalker is the son of Anakin Skywalker. Who is you.”

“If you must be simplistic about it, fine!” 

The words were out before he’d intended to say them, and he immediately cursed himself. How did Luke manage to get things from him at all? 

“So...to sum up, you were Anakin Skywalker, but for reasons we haven’t discussed--” 

“We never will--”

“--you became Darth Vader. That sounds to me like you made some drastic life decisions that gave you a new start to life. People often experience at least one life altering event that leaves them having to change significant portions of who they are, but it’s not often that people pretend the life they had before is completely dead and separate.” 

“I am not most people.” 

“I’m aware.” Luke said dryly. “It sounds to me that whatever happened to change your life, you experience feelings that make you wish to hide your past. Perhaps because you’re ashamed?” 

Vader sputtered incredulously. “I am not ashamed!” 

“It was just a guess. I’m just trying to understand why you feel so averse to your life as Anakin Skywalker that you pretend he’s dead, because that’s absolutely a coping mechanism response, possibly to trauma--”

“I am not traumatized either! I am not weak!” 

Luke gave him a long, serious stare. When he finally spoke, his voice was low but firm, unyielding. “Experiencing trauma does not make the survivors weak, Lord Vader. Trauma healing is one of the hardest things anyone can do. That includes Sith, Jedi, magicians, whatever you want to call yourselves. You don’t have to address your traumas if you aren’t ready to, but please never call those who experience trauma weak.” 

Vader opened his mouth to vehemently object...but he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the expression paired with the grave seriousness in Luke’s voice? Or perhaps, it occurred to him that kidnapping might be considered a serious trauma, and Luke had been kidnapped…

Did Luke think he was calling him weak? 

That was not his intention. He disagreed with Luke’s hippie lifestyle, but his son...well, they didn’t know each other well, but he was his son. No son of his would be weak. 

He didn’t express it though. He knew what Luke would say. “Why view yourself as weak when you just said I’m not weak from my trauma? What makes us different?” 

Oh stars. He was thinking like his hippie son. He did not like where that train of thought was going. 

But thankfully, Luke had moved on. “As I was saying. I’m trying to understand why you’re so opposed to having anything to do with your life as Anakin Skywalker, especially since you seem to want to be involved in his son’s life.” 

“That’s entirely different.” He waved it off. “But if you must know, my Master gave me the name Darth Vader.” 

Luke’s lips pinched. “Master?” 

“The Emperor.” Vader clarified. 

“I figured, but... master?” 

Vader wasn’t sure why he seemed hung up on that word. “It is what Sith apprentices call those who teach them.” He hesitated. “It...is also what Jedi call their teachers while they learn.” 

He wasn’t sure why he added that, or why he was suddenly feeling so defensive over the term. 

“Well...I mean I guess I could see that.” Luke mused. “If it’s just a term of respect…”

He wasn’t sure he’d call the Emperor Master as a term of respect. It may have started that way, but now…

Luke asked, “But your master doesn’t want you to use your old name?” 

Vader...actually paused and considered the question. 

Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth Vader. 

Those had been the Emperor’s words to him, and since that day, he’d never called him anything but Vader. And he himself never thought to object to it, especially after…

He quickly moved away from that thought. 

And yet he’d allowed Count Dooku to keep his name...but perhaps even then, there had been a purpose to that? And he got to keep his name--the whole galaxy knew him as Emperor Palpatine, not Darth Sidious. 

“I...do not think he would approve of me using my old name, no.” He answered honestly. 

Luke frowned. Squinted at him. Then suddenly asked, “When was the last time you did something that had nothing to do with being a Sith or leading a war?” 

“I fail to see how that is relevant to the conversation.” 

“It’s a good thing it’s an easy question, then.” 

More like an annoying question...but he’d play along. “You and I worked on ships together a few days ago.” 

“Spending time with your long lost son is a healthy activity, so that’s good. But what about before that? When was the last time you did something for yourself?” 

Vader thought about it. “It is...rare I have time to myself. I have a military to lead and an Empire to help run.” 

“Of course, but even the busiest people get time for themselves. Does the Emperor get time to do...whatever it is he likes to do?” 

“He...has been known to take retreats, every once in a while.” Though he doubted it was to go to a sunny vacation world… 

“Okay, so when was the last time?” 

“I...I occasionally work on my ships…” 

There was a silence as he trailed off. 

“And the last time was…?” Luke prompted. 

He tried to remember. “I...believe it was before the war with the Rebellion escalated. So, before the Death Star.” 

Luke nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Alright then. I think I know what I’d like for you to work on before you come back to see me next week. I’d like for you to take some time for yourself.” 

Vader stared at him. “You...are giving me an assignment to relax?” 

“Think of it as more of a challenge.” 

“That is hardly a worthy challenge.” 

“Well, you’re a busy guy. Is it easy to find time for yourself?” When he didn’t reply, Luke gave him a half-smile. “See? Challenge. Just...do something you enjoy. No interruptions. No one telling you what you have to do.” 

“Are you not technically telling me what to do?” 

Luke actually laughed at that. It was a clear sound, one he...actually was pleased to hear. It wasn’t often he heard the boy laugh. “You’re not wrong, though I really don’t mean it as an order. Just a challenge. I’d love to hear about it next session if you do it.” 

“That is a significant if. I am an adult. I have no time for fun.” 

“And yet even adults need time to do something they enjoy.” Luke suddenly stood, and he realized that they were at the end of their time. “So? Challenge accepted?” 

Vader stared at the hopeful face of his son. It was naïve to think he’d even find time to do something mundane in the middle of a war. He knew the Emperor wouldn’t approve, either. He should scoff and tell Luke he would one day learn the harsh realities of leadership. 

But he also couldn’t help but think about the Emperor keeping his birth name...and going on retreats. They weren’t often, but...they did happen. He’d even gone on retreat the year before, while he’d been on the front lines…

“We shall see.” He said instead, and Luke grinned. But that grin disappeared when he added, “Now it is time for your first lesson, my son.” 

Luke didn’t want anything to do with the Force or whatever Vader called his mystical powers. Perhaps had he been told that his father had that power before he knew who Vader was, he’d feel differently...no. He still liked his job. Maybe he would have been enthusiastic before he’d ever left Tatooine. 

Based on what he’d seen from Vader, his job and the Force were totally incompatible. That was confirmed the moment Luke entered what appeared to be a room specially designed for training  and was immediately handed a cylindrical object. 

“Have you seen one of these?” Vader inquired as Luke inspected it. 

“Um.” Luke turned it over. It felt foreign and wrong. “Not up close. It’s a lightsaber, right?”

“Yes.” For some reason he got the distinct impression that Vader was pleased he wasn’t completely lost. 

“You threatened to use this on the school administration board for charging so much.” Luke reminded him. “But you won’t.”

Vader made a noncommittal noise and unclipped his saber from his belt. This one was different in design. “You will one day make your own saber, but for now you can borrow that one.” 

Luke tried to relax and nodded. Perhaps the reason he didn’t like the feel of this saber was precisely for that reason, he thought. “But isn’t this a weapon?” 

Vader’s mask was as impassive as ever, but he was certain he was on the receiving end of a exasperated glare. How was he able to sense Vader’s moods so clearly? 

“Yes. It is often the difference between life and death.” 

Luke grimaced. “I’m...not exactly interested in being turned into a solider--” 

Vader’s mood instantly darkened, and Luke shivered as he pointed in his face and stated, “You are my son. Not only do you have a destiny to fulfill, but you will also forever face dangers simply because of your relation to me! I will not have you defenseless!” 

A pit began to form in his stomach, and his grip tightened on the saber. He’d once dreamed of a life of adventure...he still did, sometimes. But the idea of the completely foreign life being thrust on him without his consent…

He tried to keep his breathing even. 

“Regardless, are you sure you should be shoving this in my hands before I even know the first thing about the Force?” Luke asked, hoping his father would take the bait. 

Vader ominously breathed, that cold feeling still wrapping around Luke until finally, it released. “You will one day have to face that reality, my son. You cannot be a hippie forever. For now, keep the saber. It is yours until you make your own.” 

It took all of Luke’s training to keep a straight face. “Great...thanks.” He clipped it to his belt, where it felt impossibly heavy. 

Vader began to pace. “The Force is not magic, as you’ve so crudely referred to it.” 

“To be fair, that’s exactly what it looks like to someone who has no understanding of it.” Vader paused, and Luke cleared his throat, realizing that he was, in his anxiety over the whole situation, interrupting. “Sorry.” 

“Sith do not apologize.” Vader warned. 

Luke...couldn’t help it. Years of therapy training had him thinking over all the problems of that statement and how, as a result, it explained a lot about Vader. 

“It’s an essential healthy habit--” 

“No. We are not in a session, Young One!” 

“I know but you can’t tell me not to apologize for being rude--” 

Vader was absolutely glaring now. He just knew it. “Since you are so fond of boundaries, allow me to set my own.” 

Luke’s brows rose. 

“You will not utter apologies while in Force training. That is not the way of the Dark Side. If possible, I would never hear such words come from your mouth in my presence at all.” 

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised that Lord Vader hadn’t quite grasped the meaning of healthy boundaries. 

“I appreciate that you feel comfortable enough to set a boundary with me, but I do think we need to work on understanding the difference between healthy and unhealthy boundaries.” 

“You are cheating!” Vader growled furiously. 

“No. But we can save that for our next session.” 

Vader stared at him for so long, Luke half-thought he was already frustrated enough to give up on him. But instead, he made an odd noise and continued with his explanation of the Force. 

“The Force is an energy field that binds the galaxy together. This includes everything from sentient life down to inanimate objects.” 

Luke was actually surprised to have some familiarity with that concept. He’d actually always enjoyed learning about those religions, though there hadn’t been very much information on them. “We learned about cultural religions who had similar beliefs. That makes sense.” 

“There are many names for it, just as there are different ways to use it. The Jedi,” Vader spat the word with such venom that Luke made yet another mental note to circle back to that topic in a future session, “used it to study the Light, which is a lesser form of the Force. They were weak as a result, and their uprising against the Empire failed as a result.” 

“I see…” Luke frowned, wondering how Vader would react if he asked for elaboration on the Jedi. 

But Vader was already moving on. 

“There are creatures who have special abilities granted to them by the Force at birth. We call those Force Sensitives. That is what you and I are. It is why we are able to bend the Force to our will.” 

It still sounded a lot like magic, but Luke doubted Vader would appreciate him pointing that out. Besides, as he spoke, it was obvious he was passionate about it, and Luke knew better than to put down something he believed in so much. “And the Dark Side? You’ve said you...use that. What is it?” 

What he didn’t say was, “Why does that sound so evil?” 

He didn’t need to though. “It is only called that because it is, by its very nature, secretive, down to our very names.”

He...supposed that explained more about why his father wasn’t going by his birth name. That still didn’t give Luke any less bad vibes over it. 

But Vader wasn’t finished. “The Dark Side is the strongest form of the Force. It gives us the ability to control even the most impossible.” A hesitation. “There...is even a rumor that it could even stop death.” 

Luke bit his lip. He’d been victim to some of Vader’s impossible powers, but to stop death...that seemed far-fetched. He decided to slightly change the subject. “And how exactly do you use it?” 

He felt Vader’s approval. “The Dark Side is controlled with raw emotion. It is controlled with your passion. You pour your hatred, your anger, your fear into it, and the more you pour in, the stronger you are.” 

The pit in his stomach grew as realization dawned on him. It wasn’t a realization that had anything to do with him learning the Force, but with why Vader was the way he was. Why he resisted therapy so much. 

He must not have been keeping a good sabacc face, because Vader was again glaring at him. “If you are about to give me pathetic therapeutic excuses--” 

“I’m pretty sure the way I’m feeling about this has...I mean it does have to do with therapy but I’d feel this way even without being a therapist!” Luke shook his head. “While it’s important to address your negative feelings, there are ways to do that in a healthy manner! Using those feelings to fuel your power, which are then used to hurt people--” 

“I have used these powers to bring order to the galaxy!” There was definitely a threatening tone in Vader’s voice. Luke was on thin ice, but the idea that Vader wanted him to do something so unhealthy… 

“That’s great, except you didn’t tell me that’s what I’d have to do to learn this power!” 

Vader appeared to be trying to get it under control, but he was failing. A rack of lightsabers on the far wall had begun to shake...and this time, Luke motioned to it. “How? How is that healthy?! I can’t tell you what to do with your job, but I’m your son and you’re so mad that I have no desire to use my emotions that way that I feel like you’re about to throw one of those at me! Which is abusive behavior!” 

The shaking only marginally calmed. 

“If you are about to suggest you become a jedi--” 

“No, I’m suggesting that you allow me to choose what or what not to do with these powers! And right now I’m choosing not to use them, not if it means making myself miserable because I have to pour all of my negativity into using them!” 

“You could use them right now if you wished. You seem plenty negative enough.” 

Luke...didn’t disagree with him. And that’s what made him feel even worse. 

“The answer is no. If you’re so worried about my safety, we can discuss other self defence--” 

“You will NOT waste your potential!” 

The rack of sabers exploded, sending sabers flying. Luke was moving before he even thought to stop himself. His hand outstretched, as though to push the sabers back before they hit him…

And the sabers pushed back. 

The entire room did. 

Even Vader was knocked back, though he quickly steadied himself. 

When the room settled, everything was in shambles, and Luke was shaking violently, staring at his outstretched hand like it had personally offended him. 

“Do you see?” Vader, to Luke’s horror, suddenly sounded triumphant, as though he’d won some battle of wills. “Do you feel that power running through you?” 

He did. Stars, he did and...and…

He imagined himself losing his cool in the middle of a therapy session. What if he hurt someone he was trying to help? 

Slowly, he dropped his hand. Then he looked back at his father...who suddenly seemed to be realizing that this was not the triumphant moment he was hoping for. 

“I won’t.” Was all he said, and before Vader could react, Luke turned his heel and ran from the room. 

Chapter Text

Luke didn’t stop running. At first, he headed towards his room--his unnecessarily large room. But that place reminded him of who he was, of the apparent destiny he had being Vader’s son. Every time passing stormtroopers glanced at him as he entered or left the rooms, he was reminded of the rumors spreading throughout the star destroyer and of the actual secret he had to keep to stay safe from an Emperor who apparently would jump at the chance to kill him just for being Vader’s heir. 

Luke wanted to be anywhere but his room, so he pivoted and headed for his office. He didn’t necessarily want to be surrounded by work, but he didn’t know where else to go. 

He got a lot of worried looks as he raced by. Some people called out to him as he ran, but he didn’t stop to explain or even pretend everything was alright. It wasn’t, and he needed to breathe. 

It was a very good thing he’d expected this “training session” to be a lot, because he’d scheduled the rest of his afternoon off. When he finally reached his office, ran past Cyl (who reprimanded with, “No running in the lobby!”) and locked the doors behind him, he had a full day of trying to get himself back under control ahead of him. 

In the relative safety of his office, he finally looked down at what he still held. 

A lightsaber. 

He groaned. How many people had seen him running through the Executor with a lightsaber in his hand? Would anyone be able to tell the difference between this and Vader’s? Would they assume he just...ran off with Darth Vader’s lightsaber? 

He was sure the rumors were swirling at that very moment. He wasn’t excited to find out what they were. 

With shaking hands, he carefully made sure the lightsaber pointed away from him and turned it on. A brilliant, angry red blade of light hissed to life, and he sucked in a breath. 

It was heavier than he’d expected. 

It was weird, but somehow the saber of light felt incredibly dark. The hissing reverberated furiously in his ears and in his hands. It was as if the inanimate object had its own feelings, and all of them were incredibly negative. 

Luke swallowed thickly, turned it off, and hurried to his desk where he shoved the saber into a drawer, closing it quickly and stepping away as though it would burst into flames. He stared at it for a moment...then down at his shaking hands. 

He’d used the Force. 

He’d done it defensively, but...he’d knocked Vader back. He’d lost control and if Vader had been anyone else, he might have hurt someone. 

And Vader had been proud. Triumphant. 

His heart sank into his stomach, and he backed up until the back of his knees hit his chair and he collapsed onto it. 

He knew he had the Force. Vader had told him that repeatedly. It was why he was able to sense people’s feelings--there had been a small part of him that had hoped it was what made him a good therapist. But Vader made it clear the only available path to him using that power was through this...Dark Side, or whatever he wanted to call it. Luke thought it sounded absolutely horrid and unhealthy,the complete opposite of anything he’d ever wanted to be. 

But Vader had high expectations...and he’d made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with them. 

He half expected Vader to pry his doors open any moment now and force him to go back to the training room. He’d promised, after all, and he did feel bad about not being able to follow through on it. 

But as long as the Force meant feeding into his unhealthy negative emotions, he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t. If he lashed out again and hurt someone...

Luke closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

He couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry with his father’s actions. If anything, that training session had told him more about Vader than Vader ever had. He’d known his job would be difficult before, but this...it seemed impossible. 

No. No, he couldn’t think that way. 

A knock came to the door, and Luke groaned. He was half tempted to tell them to go away--sometimes he had emergencies too, after all. But then he thought about turning someone in need away, and he hated leaving someone in need...but what if it was Vader? 

No. It wasn’t Vader. He usually could somehow tell when Vader was near. 

“Come in.” He reluctantly called, then remembered he’d locked the door. He started to get up, but he heard the locks click and the door swished open to reveal Cyl. 

Oh. He sat back down. 

“What is it?” He asked as Cyl rolled into the room. 

Cyl stopped before his desk, looking at him blankly. “I have been receiving numerous inquiries as to the state of your emotional wellbeing.” 

For some reason, Luke’s mind jumped to Vader. “Oh?” 

“Yes. Multiple officers saw you running through the halls like a mad man and thought you might be in trouble with Lord Vader.” 

“Oh.” He tried not to sound disappointed. It had been silly to think Vader was anywhere close to being ready to worry about his or anyone’s emotional health. “I’m okay.” 

Cyl tilted his head in such a way that Luke thought it might have been doubt. “You do not appear to be fine. People who are fine do not run through the halls.” 

Luke sighed. “If anyone asks, tell them I was running late for an appointment.” 

“But you cleared your schedule.” 

“Yes, but they don’t know that unless you tell them, so don’t tell them that part.” 

Cyl tsked. “Lying is not the trait of an upstanding citizen.” 

“Then I guess I’m not upstanding.” 

Cyl tsked again. “Very well. I will lie for you. In the meantime, your boss also reached out.” 

Luke winced. Had he done something wrong? Was Mr. Aldel looking to make sure he was still breathing? 

But Cyl said, “He said he found you a therapist. Should I contact the therapist and set up an appointment?” His tone indicated that he very much thought Luke should see a therapist. 

Luke wholeheartedly agreed, especially after today. “Yes. That would be great. The sooner the better.” 

As Cyl left the room, Luke looked down at his hands. They appeared to be shaking less, but the memory of throwing Vader with the Force kept replaying over and over in his mind. 

Yes. The sooner the better. Though how was he supposed to explain any of this without revealing that he was the secret and sort of illegal son of Darth Vader with obviously illegal magic powers? 

He covered his face in his hands and made a long, strangled noise of frustration. 

How dare he?! 

Vader fumed. He had half a mind to go down to that stupid therapist office and drag Luke back. He was his son. He’d explained what that meant multiple times, and yet the boy still had foolish notions of remaining on the idiotic path of therapy and positivity. It would only get him killed and, and…

And Vader wasn’t ready to lose anyone else he cared for. 

But even as he stormed towards Luke’s office, an officer interrupted him. 

“Lord Vader, I’ve found some patterns in the Rebel’s movements.” He handed him a datapad. 

Vader’s lip curled. He was tempted to ignore the officer and continue on his objective...but he still had a job to do, and the Emperor would not be pleased if he found out he’d neglected his job to deal with the resident therapist. 

Wordlessly, he grabbed the datapad, looking the report over. 

His mood soured further. 

“None of this information is surprising.” Vader roughly shoved the datapad back at the officer. “Of course the Rebels are attacking supply outposts, they are under supplied.” He felt like he was explaining this to a child. “Order additional troops at our other outposts, you do not need me to give that authorization!” 

He didn’t bother to wait for the officer’s answer before he stormed off, his thoughts turning yet again to his wayward son. 

But another officer stepped into his path moments later. 

“Lord Vader, you are needed on the bridge. We’ve found a lead on the Rebel’s hidden base.” 

Now that was something that required his attention. He’d never hated good news so much in his life. Couldn’t the Rebels be better at hiding their bases so he could deal with his son for an hour? 

Apparently not, and now that he knew there was a potential lead, he couldn’t ignore it. He gave one last glare in the direction of Luke’s office before turning to head for the bridge. 

But when he got to the bridge, Admiral Piett seemed surprised to see him. “Lord Vader,” He greeted, “What can I help you with?” 

Immediately he thought of turning around, hunting down the officer with the obviously bad information and killing him. He wasn’t sure why he’d been lied to, but he didn’t appreciate it. “I was told you were summoning me with a lead on the Rebel base.” 

Piett blinked, some understanding dawning on his expression. Vader was about to order him to explain before Piett replied, “Oh, yes, of course. I have that information right here.” 

Vader frowned as Piett handed him the datapad. “You seem surprised I am here to collect.” He accused. 

Piett didn’t deny it. “I thought I would have more time to collect more data. I know you had prior engagements.” 

He had, but that engagement had been drastically cut short because his son apparently couldn’t be trusted to uphold his end of the deal-- 

His eyes fell on the data and he forced himself to concentrate. 

That was easier said than done. As he and Piett worked on the data, the bridge crew was in the process of a shift change. As fresh analysts arrived, he could not help but notice the atmosphere in the room sour...and this time, he had nothing to do with it. That in itself was rare, and every once in a while he’d look up to try to sense what was wrong with his employees. 

There seemed to be a general resentment reverberating in the Force. 

He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he’d killed anyone yet...in fact, when he attempted to remember the last time he’d killed a bridge officer, it had been a few weeks. It was probably a record, at this point, and he hadn’t felt any resentment until today, just the normal fear that he might turn on them if they made a mistake. 

So why…? 

Then he noticed some of the officers attempting to sneak glances at him. He reached out, attempting to sense their thoughts. 

They came easily. 

So Luke doesn’t have Lord Vader’s lightsaber. Then what was he carrying? 

Vader stared. 

Luke. 

The lightsaber. 

Of course people had seen him run off with it. They were too stupid to know the difference between his and one of his spares, but he wasn’t sure why they’d care anyway. 

He intended to find out. 

Though Piett was in the middle of saying something to him, he wordlessly shoved the datapad back into his hands and approached the officers. They sat in the pit below, so he used the significant height difference to further his intimidating presence as he deliberately came to a stop above them. 

Then he glared down at them, hands behind his back, respirator breathing loudly. 

The entire bridge had gone silent. 

The officers in question, knowing he was glaring at them before they’d even turned, faced him. He watched in satisfaction as one of them gulped. 

“L-Lord Vader,” one managed as politely as possible. Vader could feel his terror, and after the morning he’d had, he drank it in. “How may I help--?” 

“Why do you care what objects the therapist has in his possession?” 

Their faces went pale as it became evident that he’d read their minds. 

“I...we were worried about Mr. Lars.” 

Lars. Vader’s hands clenched. One day he’d eradicate that name from the galaxy. 

“I did not realize your job included worrying about an inconsequential therapist.” Or, not yet. One day he’d reveal to the entire galaxy how important Luke was, but in the meantime he had to somehow force the boy to get with the program-- 

“Even so, we are worried about him. Did you harm Mr. Lars?” 

Vader stilled. 

The officer was quaking with fear--he could see him shaking. But his voice was firm with resolve. 

“That is none of your concern.” He hissed, unclasping his hands behind his back. His fingers twitched. Evidently, he’d allowed these officers to forget who was in charge--

“Actually, my lord, I believe it is.” The other officer interjected with just as much idiotic resolve. “Mr. Lars helps many of us. Our performance numbers have jumped since he started helping. He is a valuable asset to this ship and we don’t want him hurt.” 

The room went cold as Vader’s mood plunged even further. Vader barely noticed the officers attempting to suppress shivers. 

Insubordination. Luke’s hippie ways were inspiring insubordination. He would definitely need to have a word with the boy, but first these officers had to die--

But as he reached out with the Force and grabbed their necks, the mood in the room became all the more clear. 

Almost every officer on that bridge, including ones that he knew for a fact didn’t see Luke as a client, felt the same as the two officers who’d spoken out. 

They were protective of Luke, as if he were some sort of important Imperial figure. They didn’t even know Luke was their prince and heir to the Empire, and yet they seemed ready to defend him anyway. 

He should kill the officers anyway. He had to make an example of them. Even now, he’d begun strangling them and they gasped for air, grabbing at their necks as though they could pry the Force from them, they were terrified but he sensed no regret. 

His crew had turned on him, or they were about ready to. They would fail, but if he killed every single one of them and had to put in a request for replacements…

Palpatine would want answers. 

Luke had turned them against him. 

And as rage consumed him and he imagined going back to Luke’s office to force him to see reason, another image came unwelcome to the forefront of his mind. 

“You’ve turned her against me!” 

His heavily pregnant wife lay motionless at his feet, having passed out from lack of air. 

“You have done that yourself.” 

 With a furious roar, he released the officers. They collapsed in a heap on the pit floor, and he wasn’t sure if they were dead or alive. He no longer cared, not as he could feel the glares of his entire crew on him. He didn’t bother with an explanation as he turned and stormed from the bridge, past a pale Piett still holding the datapad with the information he should have been working on. 

He needed...he needed…

He wasn’t sure. 

Instinct created from years of immersion in the Dark Side told him to go down to Luke’s office and make sure Luke knew the consequences of inspiring insubordination, let alone breaking his promises. But the image of the boy’s mother lying there because he’d been unable to control his anger was fresh in his mind, and as angry as he was at the entire situation, he did not wish to lose Luke the way he’d lost Padme. 

Besides, he was half sure he might actually trigger a mutiny if he was seen storming into Luke’s office at that moment. 

He could go to his meditation pod, but he needed to move. He needed to be doing something. He could always order Piett to send him the data to work on remotely, but…

I’d like for you to take some time for yourself.

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, hands clenching into fists. Around him, passing stormtroopers gave him a wide berth. 

As if he needed personal time, especially now, when everything was falling apart because the stupid court system had forced therapy upon his vessel and that therapist just so happened to be his own missing son. A son who, apparently, had enough stubbornness to rival his own and was consequently ignoring his expectations and causing the rest of his crew to border on mutiny. He needed to take care of things! It was his responsibility to…

And yet an image formed in his mind, and for the first time in a long time he felt an urge to do it. 

He stormed for his personal hangar. 

He’d show Luke. He’d take his stupid challenge and crush it. Then perhaps he could use it to convince Luke to reconsider his actions. If he could do his stupid challenges, then why couldn’t Luke do the same?! 

When he reached the hangar, he ignored the ship that he and Luke had worked on together. It was still needing additional work, but the idea of doing that by himself felt wrong somehow. 

So he headed straight for his workstation, found a roll of flimsy paper and slapped it on the desk. Then, taking a seat, he summoned a writing utensil to his hand and began. 

It had been years since he’d worked on blueprints. The last time had been shortly after the rise of the Empire, but then rebels and insurrectionists had become a bigger problem and he’d lost whatever free time he had. So at first, it was haphazard. He wrote and drew as things came to him between furious internal rants about his disobedient son. The writing was slanted and messy, and the drawings rudimentary. 

How dare Luke suggest the Dark Side is not healthy?! 

He scribbled engine parts down. 

How dare he reject the power he inherited! He is clearly strong in the Force but he wants nothing to do with it! 

He drew ideas for the wings. 

He’s going to get himself killed! 

He scribbled measurements. 

If he becomes a Jedi, I swear I will trap him in a cell until he comes to his senses and rejects his stupid hippie notions! 

Round and round the furious thoughts went. Sometimes they were centered on Luke’s behavior that morning, sometimes they were violent imaginings of what he’d do to anyone who tried to mutiny against him, and sometimes it was simply, I have not done any of this myself! But as he worked, his hand slowed. The writing became more organized. He stopped jumping from one part of the ship to another. 

And with it, the anger began to dissipate. 

His thoughts instead became more focused on the ship he was constructing. It had been so long since he’d had to think about putting a ship together, and as he slowed to more carefully consider what was actually doable, more plausible ideas began to flow. 

He didn’t know how long he was working for. Multiple times, his comm beeped. He ignored it until it became annoying, and with barely a thought, the device crunched and was tossed aside. He’d replace it with a new one later, he decided. 

This was his personal time. If it was an actual emergency, Piett could find him. 

But no one came, so Vader continued. By the time he finished, his back was sore from being hunched over for so long. He didn’t care. He simply sat back to admire his work. 

Yes. Not only did the blueprints look good, but they were actually doable. He’d have to convert them to a digital file, then he could hand this one to Luke to…

Luke. 

He remembered why he was there. 

But now, he was strangely calm...or at least calm enough to rethink the situation. 

Perhaps he had been...overbearing. Even admitting it internally felt wrong, and he quickly checked the shriveled bond he had with his Master to make sure it hadn’t been overheard. As far as he could tell, that bond was still fully guarded against. 

But...yes. He’d been overbearing. Luke’s life, or rather the life he should have lived, had been stolen from him by Kenobi. Therefore, Luke needed time to come to terms with things. He wasn’t ready to move on the Emperor anyway. As long as the existence of his son stayed secret, he had time to get Luke used to the idea of his destiny and the Dark Side. In the meantime, he was more than capable of protecting him. 

And...and perhaps it wasn’t so bad that the crew was fiercely protective of the boy. It was better that they were already so loyal to him; it wouldn’t take much convincing to get them and anyone else to pledge their service to Luke. On top of that, they had just shown they were willing to lay their lives down for him, so that would only make Luke safer. 

Yes. He had time to bring Luke around to his destiny, and the crew loving him so much only made the future easier. 

Vader sat there for a moment, enjoying the relative silence. The only noise was his respirator and the rumble of the ship around him. 

It was the calmest he’d felt in a very, very long time. 

Luke’s challenge was a success. Of course it was. He exceeded at everything he did. He couldn’t wait to prove his success to Luke later. 

But there still remained the problem of Luke being upset at him for earlier. 

He considered getting up and going to his office, this time to let Luke know that he would be more patient in the future...but no. Even from there, he could still sense many on the ship harboring overly sensitive feelings regarding his son. He’d wait until things calmed down, and perhaps then Luke would be more willing to listen to reason. 

Their conversation could wait. 

Chapter Text

By the time his first therapy session began, Luke hadn’t come up with a solution to the problem of talking about what he needed to talk about without revealing major, potential life-threatening secrets. Technically therapists were supposed to keep things confidential unless there was a danger to the client or others, and Luke was at least mostly sure that him being Darth Vader’s son didn’t make him a threat to himself or anyone else. Mostly sure. But that didn’t mean that his therapist, Ramirez, wouldn’t turn him into the Empire simply out of loyalty to the Emperor. 

No. He’d have to try to talk about what he needed without revealing that his client, Darth Vader, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Military and Right Hand of the Emperor, was his long-dead father. 

He was so screwed. 

But when he logged into his virtual session and the image of a brown skinned human man with a curly gray-streaked black beard and bald head, with kind, hazel eyes flickered to life on his comm, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Finally. A healthy individual he could talk to, at the very least. 

“Hello there, Luke. It’s good to meet you, even from afar.” 

Luke smiled. He had a kind, gentle voice, accented with a Coruscanti accent. Still, considering that most people on Coruscant were far more loyal to the Emperor than the average Galactic citizen...that definitely meant he couldn’t reveal his secret. 

“Good to meet you too. I’m glad I was able to find someone.” 

“Yes...Mr. Aldel told me you were the therapist who was assigned to Darth Vader.” 

Though his tone was light, Luke didn’t fail to miss the concerned expression cross over his face. 

“Yeah. That’s my client.” He tried to match his tone, but it sounded more detached than anything else. 

“And he’s your first client?” 

“He was. Now I have a lot more. A lot more.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well. You know how when most therapists start out, it takes them a while to build their client list?” 

“Yes.” 

“I don’t have that problem. The opposite, in fact, though I really don’t mind. I enjoy helping others.” 

Ramirez smiled. “That’s good. I’m going to be honest, while I’ve worked with other therapists in the past, I’ve never worked with one with a client with such...a reputation.” 

A reputation. That was one way to put it. 

“I don’t think anyone has.” Luke pointed out. 

“You’re not wrong. So, I’ll do my best...and if I don’t meet your needs, we can try to find someone who can better handle them.” Luke nodded. “Great. Now, let’s just get to know you a little bit. Tell me about yourself.” 

Luke opened his mouth, then quickly closed it. Where to even begin? Before, he would have easily rattled off the usual, the facts about himself he’d always known: he grew up on Tatooine, he was raised by his aunt and uncle, he wanted to join the navy but ended up letting himself be convinced to become a therapist. Those things were still true, but they seemed to pale in comparison to everything else. 

He considered his words carefully before he spoke. 

“Well. I recently found out that the father I thought was dead isn’t actually dead.” 

Ramirez’s eyebrows rose. “That sounds huge.” 

“Yeah...turns out I might have been kidnapped as a baby.” 

“Oh...that’s...that’s a lot. How do you know you were kidnapped?” 

“My father claims it’s true. And when I asked my aunt and uncle, who raised me, they said an acquaintance of my father’s claimed my parents were dead and he gave me to them to raise.” 

“You don’t think they knew?” 

“No. My aunt and uncle seemed genuine when I confronted them about it.” 

“What did your aunt and uncle tell you about your parents growing up, then?” 

“That my parents had died. They didn’t tell me much about them at all.” Telling Ramirez about his father once being a Jedi and, as a consequence, he had the same powers. 

“And you just found out all of this? While you’re just starting your therapy career?” 

“Yes. It definitely doesn’t help that my main client is Darth Vader. As you can imagine, that alone is a lot of stress.” 

It was technically true...he just wasn’t going to mention that his father was said stressful client. 

Ramirez leaned back in his seat, frowning thoughtfully. “That is quite a traumatic situation, to be sure, and you’re unable to leave the unhealthy environment that you’re in until your contract with the Empire is done, so you’re not able to take the time you need to properly process all of this.” 

“Exactly.” 

“I can see why Mr. Aldel asked me to help you.” 

“Mr. Aldel doesn’t know about my family situation. I didn’t think it would change anything about the situation that I’m in.” 

Or, rather, it would, but in all the wrong ways. 

“It’s always--” 

Ramirez was suddenly cut off by the blaring sound of alarms blasting through the ship. At first, Luke’s brain couldn’t quite comprehend what it was. Then, when he realized that this was definitely not part of his therapy session, his first initial thought was that somehow Vader had found out about the very anti-dark side activity he was engaging in and had ordered the ship’s alarms to go off to interrupt. But then as an announcement for “all hands to battle stations” was broadcasted over the ship’s intercoms, Luke realized with a sinking feeling that Vader was not doing this to intentionally ruin his therapy session. 

This was a battleship--the flagship of the Imperial navy. What did navy ships do? 

They went to war. 

They were about to be under attack, if they weren’t already. 

“Luke? Are you alright?” He could barely hear Ramirez. 

For some reason, Luke’s heart was in his throat. The palms of his hands had gone sweaty. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, and he wasn’t sure Ramirez could even hear him, “we’ll need to finish this another time, I gotta go.” Then before he could even think of another solution, he fumbled for the comm switch and turned it off before getting up and rushing from his office. 

The corridors were chaotic. Stormtroopers, Tie pilots, officers, techs, all ran to and fro, probably to their respective battlestations. Technically, Luke, being an Imperial therapist, had been trained on what to do in a situation such as this--stay in his office. Stay out of the way. But that was before he’d made friends with the officers and troopers aboard, before...before…

Before he’d found out that his father was alive and, given who he was, was probably on the front lines. 

It was irrational. He’d heard stories about Vader’s ferocity on the battlefield. He’d seen enough of the Force to know that the stories were probably true, and therefore, the only people in danger were those who opposed him. But there was still that small voice that pushed to the forefront of his thoughts and worries:

What if Vader died? 

Not only would he lose the father he’d always wanted before they’d even had any real bonding time, but things hadn’t ended well the last time they’d seen each other. If it had to end, he didn’t want it to end like that. But as he ran through the halls, he realized he had no idea where to go. What could he, a mere therapist, do? 

You could have let Vader teach you his Force powers. 

No. No, not like that. He wanted to help. But not like that. 

So then...what? What would he do? Where would he go? His position was such that, should the ship survive, he’d be the one to help soldiers come to terms with whatever they’d seen or done on the battlefield. Until then, he was useless. 

No. Not useless. He could fly. 

Luke abruptly stopped, and a stormtrooper almost crashed into him. Quickly moving out of the way, Luke considered the idea. He’d of course never flown a TIE before, but he’d studied them enough during moments of restlessness while studying at the Academy when he thought Owen isn’t here to stop me from quitting therapy and joining that he was sure he knew what to do. Strangely, as he flexed his hands, he had a feeling that if he did get an opportunity to climb into the pilot's seat of a TIE, he’d be able to fly it as if he’d been flying one his entire life. 

Was that a Force thing? 

He shook his head, then whirled and began heading in the direction of the hangars. He had no idea where Vader was, but if the stories were to be believed, he was already out there, flying with his troops. He could get a TIE, fly out there, and…

And what? 

By this point, he’d reached the hangar. The thought again stopped him cold, and he stood at the blast door, watching black-uniformed stormtroopers scramble into the remaining TIEs. 

What would he do once he was out there? Out there, it was life or death, and he was well aware that though TIEs were known for their speed, they had no shielding whatsoever. He’d have to kill to protect himself, to protect his father all while avoiding being blown up himself. 

He wasn’t a killer. He’d had a panic attack after he’d Force-pushed Vader, after all. Vader would probably be pleased if he showed up on the battlefield and started killing rebels, but it just...wasn’t him. 

But he couldn’t pull himself away. 

“Luke?” 

A familiar voice broke him from his spiraling thoughts and he turned to find Veers standing there, holding his helmet in his hand. 

“General Veers,” Luke was glad his voice still worked, “You’re...you’re in charge of ground assaults, aren’t you? Why are you here?” 

Veers’ expression was tight, but his gaze softened after a moment of looking Luke over. “I was going to ask you the same thing. I need to be aboard that shuttle in the next five minutes ready to head down to the surface and secure what’s left of the Rebel base.” 

Oh. So, they weren’t being attacked--they were the ones doing the attacking. It didn’t ease the knot in his stomach. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Veers prompted again. 

Luke cleared his throat. “I...I uh. I’m a pilot.” 

It sounded so stupid now that he’d said it aloud, but Veers’ expression softened further and he reached up and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re worried about us.” 

It wasn’t a question. “Yes.” He didn’t dare say he was mostly concerned about his father--he’d had four years to get used to the idea that some of his clients, being the soldiers they were, would likely not show up to any future appointments after a battle. It didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned but...well. None of them were his newly found long-lost father. 

Veers nodded in understanding, then gestured. “Come on. I want to show you something.” 

Luke frowned but followed. “Didn’t you say you had to--?” 

“It won’t take but a moment. Besides, the base was already mostly evacuated.” This time, there was bitterness in his voice. Despite how Veers felt about his Rebel son, it was obviously apparent that he was loyal to the Empire. 

True to his word, they didn’t go too far from the hangar. Veers stopped next to a viewport and gestured out. “Take a look and tell me what you see.” 

Luke complied, not wanting to take up too much of the General’s time. Beyond, he could see a space battle. Most of the fighting was further from the Executor, closer towards a barren-looking planet below, but a few X-wings dared to fly closer to the Executor. Technically, it was dangerous to stand next to a port window during a battle, given that they were far less reinforced than other parts of the ship, but for some reason Luke had the distinct feeling that he was safe for the moment. 

He watched as X-wings and A-wings attempted to evade the swarm of TIEs that vastly outnumbered them. Despite the Rebels being a much smaller number, they were competent pilots--they took down many a TIE just as often, if not more so, than the Empire took them down (partly because, again, TIEs had zero shields. He’d always thought it was a mistake to rely so heavily on numbers and speed rather than protecting their own people). 

But what quickly became obvious was one TIE--or rather, the one TIE Advanced in the fray--that cut through the dogfight with such precision, it was impossible to miss even to the most untrained eye. 

Vader. 

Even if Luke didn’t know what Vader flew, he would have guessed just by the way it was flying. It flew like the pilot was a mad man. It twisted and turned on a credit, performing barrel rolls and flips through space, taking out numerous Rebel fighters as it did. Luke hadn’t yet had a chance to look too deeply at the TIE Advanced, but he was pretty sure Vader was pushing it to its very limits. 

“I see Darth Vader’s TIE Advanced killing a lot of Rebels.” Luke answered. To his own ears, his voice sounded distant, but Veers didn’t say anything about it. Likely, he thought Luke was nervous about being in his first space battle. 

“He’s the best pilot in the Galaxy. He’s a one man army both in the stars and on the ground. As long as we have him on our side, we cannot fail.” 

Luke didn’t doubt it. How could he, when he was literally watching Vader perform feats he’d only dreamed of doing? It was both awe inspiring…

And terrifying. 

And the ships that he was taking down...those were people. And as Luke looked on...it almost felt like he could feel the pilot’s terror the split second before they died. 

It was his imagination, right? Or was this a side affect of the Force? 

He didn’t want to know. His fears for his father were sated, but to see Vader in action… 

Veers clapped him on the shoulder again. “You’re most useful as you are, Luke. I know many of those soldiers will want to know you’re safe and waiting for them when they return.” 

Luke attempted to smile, but it didn’t feel genuine. He appreciated the attention and comfort Veers was giving to calm him, but now that he was seeing the war first hand, he couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach. 

But he said, “Thanks General Veers. I’ll go back to my office.” 

Veers offered him another smile and headed back to the hangar. But before he disappeared from view, he turned. “My son sent a reply. I wanted to talk to you about it during my next session.” 

Now, that, Luke smiled to. “I look forward to it, General.” 

Veers smiled back, then turned and disappeared around the corner. 

But Luke did not return to his office. He turned back to stare out the viewport, reaching a hand up and placing it on the cold glass, watching as his father ruthlessly took the lives of numerous Rebels. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if this, too, was what his father wanted for his future. 

Vader was fuming when he returned his TIE to his private hangar. They may have won the battle, but it was a complete waste of time. The Rebel base had already been evacuated of anyone important and useful. The remaining Rebels were just pawns, sacrifices to their ridiculous cause. 

He’d annihilated anyone he could in retribution. General Veers was in the process of scouring the abandoned base for any information possibly left behind, but they knew it was a futile effort. If the Rebels were good at anything, it was destroying evidence of anything useful. 

He landed haphazardly, not bothering to slow down as he sped to his hangar, then abruptly yanked back on the throttle and stopped abruptly as he entered, then set the ship down harder than he probably should have. He’d fix it later, once he’d calmed enough to think about building something instead of tearing it to shreds. But when he cut the engines and made to open the hatch, he realized suddenly that he was not alone in his hangar, and it was not the technicians, either. 

Luke. Luke was there. 

His anger over the Rebel situation disappeared, replaced with confusion. Why was he there? Had something happened? He hadn’t thought of his son after he’d been informed that they were ready to begin the assault on the Rebel Base, but if he’d had to have guessed, he’d have assumed he was in his office doing whatever it was therapists did when all of their clients were at battle stations. 

But no. He was here. And, when Vader reached into the Force to try to gauge his mood, he was surprised to find Luke full of...of…

Worry? 

It had been so long since he’d sensed anything but sheer panic in his presence, and though he could sense some deeper anxiety stewing in his son’s presence, it wasn’t because of him. 

Was it...for him? 

He popped the hatch and climbed out. 

Luke sat at his tool desk. A strange expression was on his face--there was worry there, yes, but it was more than that. In his hands he fiddled with a hydrospanner, turning it over and over again absently. 

It was a gesture that a young Anakin Skywalker would have done when something was on his mind. 

The thought made him clench his teeth, and he marched over to his son. 

When he reached him, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You are in my private hangar.” 

Luke turned his blue eyes up to look at him. The fingers on the hydrospanner stilled. “You never said I wasn’t allowed.” 

He hadn’t. He hadn’t even thought to give the boy permission to enter...but he supposed it wasn’t abnormal for sons to have access to their father’s living areas. Had Luke grown up with him, he probably would have frequented the hangar quite often. 

The image of a young Luke fixing ships by his side entered his mind, and he was surprised just how much he longed for it, and how much it pained him that he’d missed out on making that image a reality. If only he could somehow use the Force to turn back time…

But he’d already tried that once, and it had failed. 

“I have completed your task.” 

He wasn’t sure why he said it. Perhaps because his unexpected longing for a past that never was had thrown him off balance. Perhaps because Luke sat at the very desk he’d used to draw up his blueprints just the day before. Or perhaps he was just eager to show off that he’d exceeded his challenge, but Luke blinked in surprise. 

“Uh. Task?” 

How could he forget? “I did something for myself.” He lifted a hand and, using the Force, pulled the rolled up flimsy papers from the top shelf and unraveled them so Luke could see. “I did this instead of confronting you over the insubordination you have inspired among my men.” 

At first, Luke’s gaze poured over the blueprints, but the moment he brought up the insubordination, he looked back up at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Of course you do not. Your hippie ways have naturally caused it!” 

Another strange look passed over Luke’s face, then he took a deep breath, and let it out. “Well. I’m glad you...ah, conquered my challenge. We’ll have to discuss it more during our next session.” 

So, he wasn’t here for a therapy reason. Vader rolled the blueprints back up and placed them on the desk. 

“Why are you here, Luke?” 

Luke’s lips pressed together, and again Vader was hit with that sense of...worry? Anxiety? But not the same way as what he felt from most people who entered his presence. 

“I was worried. About you.” 

“A Sith does not worry about others.” 

The words were out before he could think to stop them, and sure enough, Luke made a displeased face. Vader quickly added, “There is no need to worry about me. I will crush anyone who dares oppose me.” 

Somehow, that didn’t seem to help, which was only more confusing than anything else. “I’m well aware that you’re…you,” Vader considered asking what that meant, but Luke continued before he could, “but you’re not alone anymore, and I don’t want to lose you just after we found each other again. But you’re doing your job, I get it, so I thought I’d just wait for you since I’m kind of useless during these sorts of situations.” 

Vader highly doubted Luke was ‘useless’ in battle, but he didn’t have the energy to refute it just yet. Not when Luke’s words replayed in his mind. 

You’re not alone anymore. 

I don’t want to lose you. 

He should have pointed out that, by nature of who he was, he wasn’t alone. He had a Master. He had subordinates. He was constantly surrounded by people. 

And yet…

He couldn’t say he was wrong. And to hear that Luke didn’t want to lose him…

Vader stared at his son. His hippie, therapist son. How was it that in just a matter of days, the boy had made him feel things that he thought impossible for him to ever feel again? He hadn’t ever hoped that someone would want him there because they cared for his well being...at least, not after he became a Sith. And yet here Luke was, plainly telling him this was exactly what he wanted. 

He...wasn’t sure how to handle it. 

“I can assure you, if I die, it will not be because pathetic Rebels killed me.” He promised. Oddly, he hoped the words would assure his son, but Luke’s frown only deepened. 

“You’re talking about your health problems, right?” When Vader only stared, Luke added, “You put ‘none of your business’ on your medical history, and then you yelled at me later that the guy who kidnapped me also left you in that suit. I put two and two together.” 

His injuries weren’t exactly secret, not when the suit made it obvious to anyone who met him that he wasn’t totally human. Still, the idea of talking about it with anyone…

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anything obviously.” 

“Sith do not apologize.” He replied automatically, pointing at the boy. But, then… “You...are my son. And as you said...I am no longer alone.” 

The words felt strange on his tongue, and for a horrible moment he worried that he was dreaming and that if he woke up, he’d find that his son was still dead and he was once more left to mourn and rage over the loss of his family on his own. 

“You have a right to know.” Because he’d meant what he said. If anything killed him, it would be complications from his injuries...either that, or his Master deciding he wasn’t useful any longer. But he’d talk to Luke about that possibility once he was stronger in the Force. 

Vader stretched out his hand towards where he knew a datapad would be kept and used the Force to summon it. Luke followed it with his eyes, an apprehensive look on his face. 

There was still the matter of Luke being afraid of the Force, but now didn’t seem like the time to confront him over it. 

Once the datapad was in his grasp, he accessed his private files, then opened his medical history before handing it wordlessly to Luke. Vader waited with more patience than he usually exhibited as he read through the files. The entire time, he wondered what Luke would think of him--would his perception change? Would he pity him? 

His hands clenched at the very thought. 

But as Luke read, his expression seemed to mold back into his neutral therapist expression, the one he used...well, during the majority of their therapy sessions. While Vader normally hated it, in this moment he was grateful Luke’s reaction was hidden behind it. He could handle neutral. 

“You weren’t exaggerating.” 

“I never exaggerate.” Vader crossed his arms over his chest as Luke lifted a brow. 

“Right...anyway, this is...extensive. I have a lot of questions, I’m sure you know.” 

“I have never known you to ask questions,” Vader said sarcastically, and this time the corners of Luke’s lips twitched upwards. 

“Well this time I’m sure you can guess some of them, but we can talk about that when you’re comfortable. This is already a pretty big step for you.” 

Behind the mask, Vader made a face. He was such a hippie. 

“But on the topic of me being concerned for your health as your son...I’m noticing there’s like a lot of drugs constantly being pumped into you through that suit.” 

“Yes. It is necessary.” 

“Yeah, most of these drugs definitely are,” Luke agreed, “But then there’s some other drugs on here that seem...I mean I’m not a doctor, but the dosage on some of these drugs is insane. And then there’s a few drugs listed here that I’ve never even heard of.” 

“Such as?” 

Luke listed them. “I mean...again, I’m not a doctor and I don’t prescribe drugs in my particular occupation, so maybe I haven’t heard of them before, but some of these sound made up.” 

“Some of those were personally prescribed by the Emperor.” Vader explained, but that just made Luke look up at him in barely controlled concern. “It is a special medication the Sith use to lessen pain.” 

Even if he was still in agony all the time. He could only imagine what it would be like without those drugs. 

“...I didn’t realize the Emperor had a medical degree?” Luke asked carefully. 

“He does not.” 

“Huh.” Luke frowned at the list of medications. “Have you considered getting a second opinion?” 

“No, of course not, I am perfectly fine as is.” 

“But you just told me that if you died it would be because of complications stemming from your injuries.” 

“Correct.” 

“So...it might be a good idea every once in a while to seek an independent opinion.” 

“Why? I have my own medical droids.” 

“Oh, you made them yourself?” 

“No, the Emperor gave them to me, but I did modify them.” 

“Huh.” Luke bit his lip as though he were really trying to hold back his opinion. 

Vader rolled his eyes. “Speak, Young One. I do not appreciate all of this dancing around your concerns.” 

“Well...it’s just...look, again, you’re not alone anymore. We just found each other, we’re getting to know each other with...mixed results, but we’re trying. I would like to have as much time as possible to do that.”

“There are a significant number of people in the galaxy who would disagree with your desire to lengthen my life.” Vader pointed out. 

Luke shrugged. “You’re my father. It’s...different. Incredibly complicated, but different.” 

Complicated didn’t seem to begin to cover whatever their relationship was, but…

He couldn’t say no. 

“Fine. I will allow a second opinion--but droids only. I do not wish for my condition to be spread on the holonet, nor do I want to deal with the idiocy that comes with flesh and blood doctors.” 

“Sure.” Luke grinned and handed him back the datapad before standing. “I guess I should go look into that, then.” 

As Luke turned to walk away, Vader was suddenly struck by the desire to keep his son with him a little longer. 

“Or you could stay and we could work on ships for a time.” 

Luke paused, turning back around. “Don’t you have important things to do?” 

Yes. “Not for a while.” 

Luke tilted his head, thinking about it. “Well, I guess I’ve got time. All of my meetings were cancelled due to the whole Rebel Base thing.” 

Vader scowled. “Do not remind me.” 

Luke grinned. “Alright. I won’t. Now, what should we work on…?”

Chapter Text

No one told him how annoying children could be. 

He’d spent the last 23 years living a perfectly acceptable lifestyle, then one day he found his therapist son and suddenly he’s forced to doubt his entire existence. Luke, true to his word, had found an impartial medical droid and had it brought aboard his ship. Vader was tempted to ‘accidentally’ send it out an airlock, or ‘accidentally’ mistake it for one of his sparring droids, but Luke wasn’t stupid. He would have seen right through him, and Vader was sure he’d have to talk through his actions in the next therapy session. 

He decided humoring his son and getting a second medical opinion was far less annoying than discussing his perfectly acceptable decision to dismember the new medical droid. 

But then the droid came back with a list of medications that either needed to have its dosage modified, or be completely removed. He considered not telling Luke at all--it was, after all, his medical right to not tell him--but when Luke asked one morning after therapy if he’d used the droid, he couldn’t help but say, “You rigged the droid against me!” 

Luke blinked in surprise. “What?” 

“It came back and said I should change my medications, which is exactly what you wanted!” 

“Uh,” Luke set his cup of hot chocolate to the side (a very un-Sithly drink), “All I want is for you to be as healthy as possible so we have more time to spend together.” 

“Or maybe this is one of your hippie conspiracies!” Vader pointed at him. 

“I mean as a therapist I would also counsel you to make healthy decisions when it comes to your physical wellbeing, yes, but I swear, this one is even more driven by the fact that you are my father and I’d like to see you not dead.” 

“I am the healthiest being in the galaxy!” 

“...Forgetting that you literally showed me your medical history, you were the one to tell me that it wasn’t going to be a battle that killed you, it would be your physical health, so you know that isn’t true.” 

Vader growled. “I do not have to do anything I do not wish to!” 

“You’re right, you don’t. I’m only speaking as your son who is concerned for you, but again, I can’t force you to do anything you don’t wish to do. But I would be very pleased if you at least considered taking steps to take care of your physical health.” 

The words were like a knife to the chest because, as much as Vader didn’t want to admit it, he was well aware that he’d purposefully let his health decline further than it needed to, even with the burns, scars, and his respiratory issues as they were. So Vader just roared in frustration then stormed wordlessly from the room. 

He only realized later that his rash reaction caused him to cut his time short with Luke, and it only made him more furious, enough so that he again decided that he would humor his son if only to make him see that he was wrong and Vader was right. It didn’t matter whether or not he kept his current medications or if he changed them, it would not improve his health. Then maybe Luke would leave him alone about making ‘healthy life decisions.’ 

So, he summoned Luke’s medical droid, and set up a plan to adjust the drugs being injected into him daily, and sent a message to Luke’s comm. It was a simple recording: “I will again prove you wrong and show that you know nothing about improving my physical health by changing my drug regimen. When there is no difference, I expect you to drop the subject.” 

And at first, there was little to no difference. But then one day he fell asleep during a meeting. When he woke up, he found everyone had left the conference room and he was sitting alone. He later asked Piett, “Why did everyone leave the meeting early?” 

Piett blinked in surprise. “We didn’t, my lord. The meeting ended on time and we assumed you were reflecting on the information presented.” 

As if. The information was nothing more than dribble, but he wasn’t about to admit he’d fallen asleep. 

As more medications were adjusted or weaned off, he began to grow more irritable than usual. Therapy sessions became more strained. Any question Luke asked he returned with heavy sarcasm or furious retorts. 

“Maybe you should talk to your med droid…” Luke said at the end of a particularly difficult session. 

“Oh, is there something else I should be doing to improve my physical health?” 

“...You know you don’t have to change your medication if you don’t want to, right?” 

“Yes I do! I must prove you wrong!” 

“I mean...our session has finished but maybe next time we should talk about your insistence on proving me wrong. For now, why don’t we go work on ships together?” 

Ships. That’s all he could think to do with his son. The Force was still a touchy subject, and even in this state Vader knew bringing it up when he was already irritated and annoyed with everything would probably destroy any hope he had of convincing his son to give it another chance. So, for now, working on ships seemed to be the only activity he could think of that would be a good way to bond with his son. 

At least Luke seemed happy with the activity and didn’t try to run off or cut their bonding session short. 

But then, the night before he was supposed to stop taking the medication the Emperor had prescribed him, he was about to enter his meditation pod, he was struck with an irrational fear: that the Emperor had found out about Luke, and was on his way to kill him. 

He didn’t even stop to think logically. He’d already turned on his heel and marched towards where he knew Luke would be at this time of the night cycle: his room. When he reached it, he didn’t bother knocking--he didn’t have time for that. The Emperor was coming to kill Luke, and he needed to save him. 

So he stormed right in, then headed through the receiving room to the bedroom and opened that door. 

“Luke, get up!” 

Luke, who was sleeping soundly, gasped and sat up in bed--or, he tried. At the same time, his hands wildly grasped for something on the side table, but ended up losing his balance and tumbling from the bed, dragging the blankets with him. 

“What--why--? Why are you in my room?!” 

He did not sound pleased (or fully awake), as Vader turned on the lights and headed for his closet to start packing his stuff up. 

“The Emperor is coming to kill you.” 

“What?” Now Luke sounded awake, though when he tried to stand, his legs tangled in the blankets and he collapsed back to the floor. “Why?? How did he find out?” 

Vader paused. “I...he just knows, I know he does!” 

There was a pause. “How exactly did you find out this information?” 

“I just know.” 

“...Did you ever talk to your med droid about potential side effects of being taken off your drugs?” 

“Of course not.” 

Luke blew out a breath. “When you’re changing your medications, it’s not uncommon for there to be side effects, just like there’s side effects when you start a new medication. If you’d talk to your droid--” 

“I do not need to talk to the droid, I need to get you somewhere safe!” He wasn’t sure where yet, though. The Emperor had eyes everywhere, and unfortunately he knew Vader too well for his own liking…

“Father.” Vader clenched his teeth. His son was using that let’s work this out voice he used during therapy...even if it was tinged with exhaustion. “Think about it. What gave you the impression that the Emperor knows who I am? What were you doing right before you came to this conclusion.” 

It took him a moment to think about it. “I was about to meditate.” 

“Go on.” 

“And...I just realized it.” 

“Yeah. Again, I’m not a doctor, so you should really consult your med droid, but it sounds like you’re experiencing some paranoia as a side effect, and it’s pulling from your fears that you could lose me again.” 

“I am not paranoid.” But even as he said it, he realized that Luke had a point. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to admit he’d woken his son up in the middle of the night cycle over paranoia. 

“I’m not saying you are paranoid. I’m just worried. And very tired. Could you please talk to your med droid in the morning? If it helps you out and you’re still worried about the Emperor, we can make plans then, okay?” 

There was a note of pleading in his voice, and Vader didn’t need the Force to realize just how tired the boy was. 

“Fine. But do not blame me if, in the middle of the night, it is not I who is waking you up but rather a murderous Emperor.” 

“Thanks for that image. I’m sure I’m going to have pleasant dreams for the rest of the night.” 

Vader did not bother to reply. He instead stormed back to his quarters. 

He would talk to the droid after his meditation. 

Except, when the morning cycle came, and he met with his droid to stop the Emperor’s medication, he didn’t. Whether it was because he forgot (unlikely) or he was simply too stubborn to admit his son might have a point (more likely), he later wouldn’t remember. 

In fact, he later wouldn’t remember the first twenty-four hours after he stopped taking the drug. 

And the day after that, it was far too late to correct his mistake. 

It was just another morning on the Executor. Then again, Luke supposed there was no such thing as just another morning when it came to his father’s ship, but it started as any normal day would. He got up, dressed, got breakfast from the mess hall along with a hot cup of spiced hot coco, and headed to his office. He said hello to a few officers and stormtroopers he passed along the way, though his mind was running over his list of things to do for the day. 

His father was his first appointment of the day, followed by an hour of ‘bonding time’ (Luke was grateful they’d stuck to bonding instead of Force training), then he had other appointments, and at the end of the day he had his own meeting with his therapist. As long as nothing too weird happened with Vader, the day should run smoothly. 

“Good morning Cyl.” He greeted. 

“Admiral Piett hasn’t stopped calling your office.” Cyl replied as a way of greeting. 

“Did you tell him I wasn’t in yet?” 

“Yes, he said to contact him immediately once you arrived. I am surprised he didn’t try to contact you via comm.” 

Luke’s hands were full, so if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it anyway. “Thanks Cyl, I’ll handle it in my office.” 

He entered his office, the blast doors sliding closed behind him as he made his way to his desk, placed his breakfast on the table, then made himself comfortable. He took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, took a bite of his bagel, then dialed the comm number for the Admiral. 

He picked up on the first ring, and his blue image appeared on the table before him. “Good morning Admir--” 

Luke never finished. 

“You broke Lord Vader!” 

He stilled...then realized what the Admiral probably meant and laughed a bit. Vader had been acting a bit different since he’d begun changing his medications, but he’d told Luke he’d talk to his med droid to deal with the side effects. On top of that, he was supposed to stop taking the weird unknown drug the Emperor had ‘prescribed’ him, and Luke had a feeling that particular drug was a big cause of many of Vader’s negative mental health effects. Since he hadn’t shown up to shove in his face that something wasn’t right, Luke had to assume things had gone well between him and the med droid.

Perhaps the lack of that unknown drug, along with the other drugs he’d recently weaned off of, had made Vader nicer. That could technically be seen by some as Vader being ‘broken,’ though of course Luke didn’t agree. 

“Ahem. Lord Vader improved himself, Admiral. I know it will be a change, but--” 

Piett looked about ready to tear his hair out. “No, you don’t understand, he looks like he’s on drugs and the Emperor wants to speak with him immediately!!” 

Luke frowned. He wasn’t sure how to answer that, since it was the exact opposite of what was happening. Besides, Vader’s suit was such that he always looked the same, so what did looks like he’s on drugs even mean when it came to Vader? Luke quickly checked his calendar to see if maybe Vader had canceled their session on account of him still working on managing the side effects of the drugs with his med droid, but he had no notifications. Would Vader even remember that he had to do things like cancel appointments he could no longer make? 

Probably not, knowing him. He’d made progress, but he seemed oblivious when it came to little everyday things, considering that he had an entire navy full of people who could do things like that for him. 

“I haven’t seen him, Admiral, so I’m not sure what it is you mea--” 

He was interrupted by the blast doors opening, and in came Vader…

Riding a hoverboard. 

Holding a smoothie with a little umbrella sticking out at the top. 

Wearing a tie-dyed cape.

“Luke, you’re not going to believe this,” Vader said, the deep, harsh voice not at all matching the rest of whatever it was Luke was looking at, “the Executor has smoothies! With lil’ umbrellas!!” He lifted his hand up to show him. 

Normally, Luke prided himself on his ability to keep a straight face even in the strangest of circumstances. But this…

After a moment of horrified silence, he realized his mouth had dropped open and he was staring wide-eyed at the most feared man in the galaxy wearing a tie-dyed cape on a hoverboard. Distantly, he realized Piett had turned to watch Vader come into the room, and was now shooting Luke See??? SEE??? Looks as he gestured with both hands at all of what Vader currently was. 

He did break Lord Vader. 

“I’m. I’m going to have to call you back.” 

He sounded detached from reality. Was this even reality? Maybe he was having some kind of bizarre dream, or he himself was finally having a break from reality. Should he try to move up his therapy appointment? 

No. No, this was real, because Piett asked in a panicked voice, “What about the Emperor? What am I supposed to tell him? There’s no way we can let him talk to Lord Vader like this!!” 

“Oh, is that Admiral Piett?” Vader asked, then waved wildly with his free hand at Luke’s comm. “Tell him I said hello!” 

“You’re not wrong.” And Luke had zero answers for him. So he did the only thing he could think to do. 

He hung up. 

He’d probably get in trouble later, but somehow being in trouble with the Admiral seemed like a footnote in what had become the worst disaster Luke had ever had to deal with. 

Vader was zooming around his office in circles. The tie-dyed cape knocked over plants and light fixtures as he hovered by them. He kept trying to bring the straw up to the grate of his helmet but it kept bumping against it. 

And Luke just sat there. He had absolutely no idea what to do. Even when he fixed the current state Vader was in, the moment his father realized what had happened, he was dead. Sure, he’d told him he should seek help from his med droid and...and...Luke honestly had no idea if he’d done it, but if he’d had to guess, he probably hadn’t. But when Vader came back to his senses…

His father had made it obvious he was the type to blame anyone but himself, and considering Luke was the one who’d asked him to consider weaning off those unhealthy drugs, he doubted him being his son would save him from Vader’s wrath. He might actually be a dead man, especially if...especially if...stars, who exactly had seen Vader like this?! 

But he had to fix it. He couldn’t sit there and do nothing. That was far worse than fixing it and getting blamed for the whole thing. 

Slowly, Luke stood up. “So...uh...enjoying that...uh...smoothie, are you?” 

He knew from Vader’s medical history that he couldn’t eat anything solid, but he hadn’t ever pictured him to be the type to desire smoothies, much less if they had a little umbrella in it. Vader scoffed at the hot coco Luke drank every day, he doubted the smoothie was any more “Sithly” than that. 

Vader continued hoverboarding around his office, trying (and failing) to get the smoothie straw into his mask. “It’s great, you should get some!” 

“Maybe later…” He carefully approached, not wanting to get run over by the hoverboard. “Where’d you get the hoverboard?” Were those even allowed on Star Destroyers? 

“I found it.” 

“I gathered that, but where?” 

Vader waved his free hand in the general direction of the door. “Somewhere out there.” 

Luke had a sinking feeling in his gut. “You didn’t happen to raid an officer’s bunk, did you?” 

Vader suddenly stopped the hoverboard in front of him. “Yes, that’s exactly where I found it! How did you know?” 

“Um. It was a wild guess.” 

Vader put a finger up to Luke’s lips. It was extremely uncomfortable, and as his gloved hand pressed against his skin, he instantly knew he would have known the hand under the glove was prosthetic even without having read his medical file. “Sssssssh. Don’t tell. It’s a secret. Did you know hoverboards aren’t allowed onboard?” 

“I guessed.” Luke spoke, Vader’s finger still on his lips.

“You’re really good at guessing. Did anyone ever tell you that? My son’s so smart.” 

“Uh. Thanks.” He didn’t have time to savor the warmth that came from hearing those words, because it was then, with Vader being so close, that he realized there were little sparkle stickers stuck to his helmet. “You...found stickers?” 

“Yes!” Vader seemed pleased that he’d noticed. “Do you like them?” 

“They’re...sparkly.” 

“They are! I haven’t ever seen stickers, you know!” 

Luke wasn’t even sure how that was possible. Even on Tatooine he’d received stickers on his schoolwork when he’d done particularly well, but then he remembered Vader had been a slave before he’d been brought to live with the Jedi. “The Jedi weren’t too big into stickers, huh?” 

“Oh, no, or at least Obi-Wan wasn’t into them.” Before Luke could process that information, Vader suddenly pinched his cheek a bit too hard and he gasped. “You know, you look exactly like me, or how I used to look, except you’re way shorter. You got that from your mom.” 

Luke’s throat tightened and tears suddenly pricked at his eyes over the sudden drop of such personal information. Even now, he couldn’t get Vader to talk about his mother, or...well, many intimate personal things. When he did, it was usually information that made Luke horrified to realize that his father had basically never had a life to himself. 

But this...this was pure and innocent and good. Though he knew Vader’s skin would be burned and scarred now, he tried to imagine his own face looking out at him through the helmet. And to find out that he inherited his small stature from his mother, the woman whose name he didn’t even know? 

And yet though his soul cried out for more information, his years of training shuddered away. “You are not yourself right now,” Luke told Vader, carefully pulling his fingers away from his cheek. It was more difficult than he’d hoped, and he winced as he did it. There’d definitely be a bruise there later. “You can tell me this stuff after you’ve been seen by the med droid and you can consent to talking about things I know you’re rather private about.” 

“Consent?!” Vader made a noise that Luke was certain was a raspberry, “Party pooper. My son’s a party pooper.” 

“And maybe you should stop calling me your son?” 

“But you are--” 

“And where did you get the dye for your cape? Or, better yet, how did you dye your cape?” 

“The craft store.” 

Luke made a face. “The craft store?” 

“Yeah!!! I mean, this might be a military ship, but it’s a floating city! We got lots of stores! We could go shopping if you want--” 

“Maybe later,” Luke held up a hand. He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that apparently there was a craft store somewhere on the Executor. He hadn’t seen it before, which meant that it was probably in a section of the ship he’d never been to, which means Vader had been running around in this getup for a while, which meant that numerous people had seen him this way. 

Even if Vader somehow spared him later, he had no doubt there would be many others who’d end up on the chopping block. 

Luke groaned. “Give me a sec.” 

“Anything for you, my son!” Vader again tried to sip on his now melting smoothie as Luke pulled his comm out and tried to call the Admiral. 

He answered almost immediately. “I got the Emperor to give Lord Vader a few days, but I doubt he believed my excuse.” 

Piett did not sound happy. 

“That’s great--” 

“I don’t think you realize how impossible that task was. Have you fixed Lord Vader yet?” 

Luke winced at the desperate hope in his voice. 

“I’m working on it. I need you to clear the corridors between my office and Vader’s quarters.” 

“What are you planning to do?” 

“He has a med droid who should be able to fix this.” A med droid Vader should have seen before he’d gotten to this state, but Luke would never say that aloud. “And...do you happen to know who might have seen…?” 

“Too many.” Piett scowled. “I’ll handle that.” 

“But…” he glanced at Vader who was now looking at the broken straw with interest, “when this is fixed…” 

“I’ll deal with it, Luke. This is not the first time I’ve had to deal with a crisis...though it is my first time dealing with this sort of crisis.” He sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” 

“So do I.” Luke hung up and turned back to Vader.

“For you.” Luke barely had time to say no before Vader stuck the little umbrella behind his ear. “...Luke!!” 

Luke groaned. “Yeah?” 

“I just gave you my first present!!! Did you like it?!” 

“It’s...great.” He could feel melted smoothie dripping down the back of his neck. “Just what I always wanted.” 

Vader stared at him. Then, suddenly, he leaned in super close, enough that Luke backed up a step. “Luke.” Suddenly, he sounded very serious. 

Luke squeezed his eyes shut. He was definitely going to have to cancel his therapist appointment later. “Yeah?” 

“Those lil’ umbrellas cost only like half a credit. You could have purchased one literally whenever you wanted. You did not have to wait for me to give one to you, but I am pleased I fulfilled your wish nonetheless.” 

It was a good thing Piett bought them a few days before the Emperor expected a call back from his apprentice. “Thanks for letting me know. Now, uh. Come on. Why don’t you get off that hoverboard and we’ll go see your med droid?” 

Vader looked down at the hoverboard he still stood on. “...I should have paid for this.” 

“Yes, stealing is frowned upon in most systems, you are correct. If you really want the hoverboard, maybe you can buy yourself one later. I’ll make sure this one is returned to it’s owner.” 

Luke was afraid to even ask whose it was. Maybe Vader didn’t know his name. Maybe he’d broken into some random officer’s bunk and taken it...but then that would imply that he’d broken into numerous bunks, possibly while officers were still sleeping and Luke really didn’t want to think about the consequences of that later. 

With more reluctance than should have been possible, Vader stepped off the hoverboard. “Do you like my cape?” He asked as Luke led him from the room. 

“It’s...colorful.” 

“It is.” Vader sounded proud of his work. 

“Probably a little too colorful for fighting Rebels.” 

“Oh. You’re right. I didn’t think about that.” 

“Don’t worry. While you see the med droid I’ll fix it.” He had no idea how to even go about that, but he could probably find instructions on the holonet somewhere. 

As they stepped into the lobby where Cyl waited, Luke glanced at him. “Cyl, cancel my appointments for the next few days.” 

Cyl stared at Vader. “You sure you do not wish for me to cancel your appointments for the next week?” 

If Vader noticed the doubt in Cyl’s voice, he didn’t show it. In fact, he’d begun humming something way out of tune. 

“...I’ll keep you informed.” 

“Alright.” Cyl replied doubtfully. “Hope you do not perish.” 

And as Luke led Vader into the now empty corridors and started towards his quarters, he couldn’t help but hope the same for himself and anyone else caught in this mess.

Chapter Text

It was an effort to get Vader back to his chambers, an effort to get him into his personal medical bay, and a colossal effort to get Vader to sit still while the med droid worked on fixing him. 

“You look exactly like me when I was your age!!” 

Luke dodged as Vader attempted to pinch his cheek again. “Yes, you told me, fifteen times now.” He was working on unclasping the colorful cape from his shoulders. “Could you please sit still so I can get this off?” 

“But I look weird without my cape.”

Luke glanced at him. “I didn’t realize you cared so much about your looks.” 

“I care that I look terrifying. Capes are great for that.” 

He wasn’t wrong. “Well, this is a special type of terrifying, but I don’t think in the way you want it.” 

“Terror is terror.” 

“No, believe me, there are definitely different types of terror.”

Once, when he was younger, he remembered waking up early in the morning and sneaking down to the kitchen. There, he found the biggest kitchen knife his aunt had, pulled out the leftover bantha steak from the fridge, and started smacking the meat over and over again with the knife. When his aunt found him, he remembered grinning up at her with the knife in his hands and proudly asked, “Hi, Aunt Beru, want some bantha?!” 

Years later, he’d always wondered how she’d managed to not freak out as she told him, “Wow, that’s a really cool knife you found. Can I borrow it? It looks so interesting.” 

He’d handed her the knife without a second thought. 

Please let this work, he pleaded to no one in particular as he made a show of looking over the cape. “You know, actually, I’d love to try that cape on. I bet, since it looks so great on you, it’ll look great on me.” 

Vader looked him over as the med droid managed to inject something in his arm. Then, “You’re too little.” 

Luke bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to snap at him. He’d long since grown out of being worried about his short stature, but to hear it put that way by his father… 

“That’s okay. Children are supposed to try on their parents clothing at least once in their life, you know.” 

Vader stared at him for a moment, his breathing far too loud in the echoing medical chamber. 

“Really?” 

Luke shrugged. “Sure.” 

Vader breathed loudly for a few breaths more before finally he reached up with his free hand and unclasped the cape. It dropped heavily onto the examination table. 

Luke scooped it up before he could change his mind--and found it was incredibly heavy. It was as though Vader were wearing a weighted blanket rather than a cape, but he didn’t hesitate to throw it around his shoulders, clasp it and try not to choke as he gestured to himself. “Well?” 

He waited as Vader looked him over. He knew he looked ridiculous, but his father gave an approving nod. “It is too big, but it will suffice.” 

Luke let out a relieved breath. “Well, I bet black would look better on me.” 

“You’re not wrong.” 

“So...I’ll be right back. You just. Stay here and be good for the med droid.” 

Stars, it felt like he was talking to a five year old, not a Lord of the Sith, but Vader seemed too preoccupied with his melted smoothie to notice. 

“This smoothie is gross. Can you bring another?” 

Well. At least he’d asked. In some ways, Luke kind of preferred this Vader--he was far more polite, in a very strange way. “Sure. What flavor?” 

“Mixed berries.” 

“Oh, that’s my favorite too. Maybe we can have a smoothie together.” 

When Luke left the room, he thought he could feel a strong sense of pleasure lingering behind him. 

But now he had a mission to complete. 

A few hours later, Piett ran into him while he headed back from the ship’s craft store to get more black dye. 

“How is Lord Vader?” 

“Last I saw him, he was being treated, and since you’re here asking how he is, I assume he hasn’t broken free to continue his reign of terror around the ship.” 

“You mean you think he’d leave before getting fully treated?” Piett sounded like the very idea was enough to break what little was left of his sanity. 

“I mean, it’s always possible. I’m not a fighter, after all. If Lord Vader wants to continue rampaging around the ship I don’t think anyone could stop him.” 

Piett glanced at his stained hands and the bottles of dye in the bags he carried. “But you seem to have handled the situation rather...admirably, all things considered.” 

Luke snorted. “I’d say you wouldn’t believe the day I had, but I have a feeling you got a healthy dose yourself. I had to return the hoverboard to a poor officer who still looked like he was trying not to suffer a stroke, Cyl is very displeased about the mess in my office and apparently calls for appointments have been nonstop, with many listing the reason as “I saw something I shouldn’t have seen and I’m pretty sure I’m a dead man”, and it turns out that Vader’s cape has so much material I had to go yet again to a craft store I didn’t even know existed on board until today.” 

“How else did you think officers made those motivational posters?” Piett asked. 

Luke shrugged. “I dunno, I just assumed everyone was super creative or something and brought the supplies with them on board.” 

“We may be a military ship, but the Executor especially has a recreational section for off duty officers. I apologize for not telling you about it.” 

“I doubt you thought I’d live this long to find out about it.” 

“Ah...n-no, that’s never been--” 

“It’s fine, I don’t think it was a secret that Lord Vader didn’t want me aboard.” Luke tried for a smile but instead let out a long sigh. By that point, they’d reached the janitor’s closet Luke had commandeered to use as his work station. “How is operation ‘save-half-the-crew-from-being-strangled’?” 

Piett raised a brow. “Creative name.” 

“Well.” Luke lifted up the bags with the dye, “I’m in a creative mood.” 

For a moment, Piett didn’t answer, and when he did, he didn’t answer the question. “It is amazing that you’re able to still make jokes, considering the circumstances.” 

Luke knew the older man was likely thinking that he was definitely a dead man when Vader came back to his senses. “I’m a glass half-full kind of guy.” 

“Evidently,” Piett shook his head, “As for trying to save the lives of anyone who...witnessed, I assigned anyone who wasn’t completely essential to either the other side of the ship or I approved an extended leave of absence.” 

“And essential personnel?” 

“Well. They’re essential. I had them sign a non-disclosure agreement and I have to hope that’ll be enough for Lord Vader to spare most of them.” 

“Most?” Luke winced. 

“Lord Vader does not typically like it when people see him in compromising situations.” 

Luke groaned. “Well….I think I have a solution. But he might not go for it.” 

“Oh?” 

“It’s. A therapy thing.” 

“Ah.” Piett straightened. “Anyway, keep me informed of the situation and I will do my best. And...well. Good luck, Mr. Lars.” 

Luke was pretty sure this was Piett saying his goodbyes to him. “Thanks, Admiral. I’ll keep you updated.” 

When Darth Vader came back to his senses, he was in his meditation chamber, still wearing his helmet. At first, he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there. The last thing he remembered was meeting with the med droid to adjust off Palpatine’s medication, then there were some blurry memories and then…

And then…

And then…

He sat straight up, horrible memories of a different sort slamming into him as he recalled a rampage through the Executor--but not a killing rampage, or even a rampage worthy of a Sith. 

He’d...broken into the useless craft store and stolen multiple bottles of dye. He’d dyed his cloak. He’d stolen an illegal hoverboard from an officer’s room. He’d boarded into the kitchens where stunned cooks witnessed him ordering a chef droid to make him a smoothie before he’d taken a little umbrella and stuck it in before zooming back out. 

All the while, he’d done kick flips and heel flips as he’d hovered past stunned and horrified troopers and officers. He’d asked a few bizarre questions. He’d told one of the bridge officers that he’d always liked his hair an he wished he still had hair so he could style it like they did. At some point, Piett had found him and tried numerous interventions before reminding him pointedly that he had a therapy appointment. 

Where he’d gone and made an absolute fool of himself in front of his only son. 

And though he knew he was more than angry about the whole incident, at the moment he only sat there, gripped by the horror of what had happened and by the fact that numerous officers had seen his completely inappropriate behavior. 

If this ever got back to the Emperor…

The thought was enough for him to flip the switch that turned on the claw that came down and took his helmet off his head, and he weakly gulped down sterilized air. 

If the Emperor found out, he’d have questions, and if he couldn’t answer the questions satisfactorily, he’d look deeper into what was going on, and if he looked deeper, he’d find Luke, and--

Luke. 

Part of him immediately put the blame on the boy. If he hadn’t insisted that he change his medication, this would have never happened. But even as he thought it, even as anger swelled in his chest, a small voice reminded him, He told you to talk to your med droid repeatedly and you refused. 

He could still blame him. He could. It was the Sithly thing to do. And maybe it was Luke’s fault, but...but…

He’d only asked because he wanted him to live longer so they’d have more time together. 

But how was he supposed to fix any of this? 

Murder. He could just murder everyone who’d seen it. He wasn’t sure if he remembered everyone who’d seen him, and often the stormtroopers were hard to tell apart anyway, but if he just killed everyone aboard, blamed it on the Rebels, then got a totally new crew, he’d fix the problem. 

But Palpatine would likely never believe that the Rebels managed to sneak aboard and kill his entire crew without him stopping them, and then there was the coroners who’d point out that their deaths were clearly not by weapons the Rebels used…

Except if he used his lightsaber, he could say Organa was the one who’d snuck aboard and killed them all. But then, would his master believe the former princess of a pacifist planet would massacre everyone aboard a Star Destroyer? 

Probably not. But the story might buy him some time…

But Luke would hate him. 

He groaned in frustration and fury. Why, why had he let Luke talk him into this mess? Why did the boy have to care about his health so much? Why couldn’t he just let him be and become a Sith so they could work on killing the Emperor together?! 

He paused. 

Killing the Emperor. 

Now, that seemed like a much more reasonable solution to this mess. Luke needed to be safe from the old man anyway, and once he was dead, he could reveal Luke to be the heir to the Empire. Yes...he hated the reason why he had to speed up the Emperor’s death, but it could work out better for them in the end. 

It was decided. He’d kill the Emperor and make Luke his heir. Then he could deal with anyone who’d seen the...incident. 

But first he’d have to get Luke ready for his future. 

With that decided, he flipped the switch again and his helmet returned to his head. At the same time, he used the Force to trigger the opening off the meditation pod and he stood, ready to hunt Luke down, but he stopped short. 

There, hunched over in a chair, sat a sleeping Luke covered in his newly re-dyed cape. He was relieved to see that it was back to it’s normal color, but the sight of it covering his sleeping son brought him up short. 

“Children are supposed to try on their parents' clothing at least once in their life, you know.”

It was one of the last things he remembered before the droid had put him under. Luke, he realized now, had tried a rather impressive negotiation tactic that had resulted in his...out of it self handing him the dyed cape. Then, true to his word, Luke had thrown it around his shoulders. 

Vader was certain that Luke had known exactly how ridiculous he’d looked in the tie-dyed cape that was much too big for him, but he’d shown it off anyway, and though he was certain Luke had stretched the truth when he’d said that children were supposed to try their parents’ clothing on, the image still stayed with him and he felt...he felt… 

Warmth. The memory brought warmth to his chest. 

It was such a strange feeling, he didn’t move until Luke, likely stirred from his heavy breathing, yawned and opened his eyes. 

Then froze, staring at him standing over him. 

“Um.” Luke awkwardly said, sitting up and quickly reaching up with stained hands to rub his eyes. “I, uh, fixed this for you.” Then he held up his cape. 

“Evidently.” And while it wasn’t his intention, he ended up snatching the cape back rather than simply accepting it, but he did not apologize. He swept it over his shoulders and re-fastened it. It brought a sense of relief, weirdly enough, an emotion he hadn’t felt in...in…

“Um. The med droid said that...uh...you know what, here, I have the report.” Luke reached between the cushions of the chair he was sitting in and pulled out the fallen datapad and handed it to him. This time, Vader was more careful in the manner he used to take the datapad and pulled up the report. 

It took him moments to scan through it. Apparently, irritability and paranoia were withdrawal symptoms of most of the more common albeit extreme medications, but the drug prescribed by the Emperor seemed to be the culprit. According to the report, the drug was an unknown drug that seemed to be designed to “heighten aggression”, which Vader didn’t have a problem with, and “increase pain and physical stress.” 

Which Vader absolutely had an issue with. 

A black fury took hold of him and before he’d thought of his next move, he’d shattered the datapad with the Force and thrown the remnants across the room where it collided with the wall and broke into further pieces. Luke made a noise, but Vader didn’t bother noticing. 

Palpatine had told him it helped with the pain. That was the whole reason why he’d allowed it to be injected into him in the first place! 

Another lie. Another way to control him. Another way to make him suffer. 

Sure, it fueled his anger, which in turn made him more powerful, but how dare he lie to him! And, per the report, the drug was slowly killing him on top of everything else! 

A quiet, hesitant voice interrupted his spiraling. 

“This might not be a good time,” Luke said, and though his expression was as calm as it could be on the surface, Vader did not miss the fear in his eyes. Fear of him. “But I think it might be healthier to talk through what you’re feeling? You are still, technically, in your appointment, after all.” 

“My appointment ended when--” he started to seethe, but then he stopped. How long had it been since he’d hovered into Luke’s office? “When did it start?” 

“Yesterday. It’s 2am.” 

“My sessions are an hour.” 

“I’ve technically been working with you since you came into my office--look, it’s not important, I just...want to remind you, throwing and breaking things are not healthy ways to communicate your very understandable anger.” 

“At least you have the sense to recognize that I’m understandably angry!” He couldn’t help it, he was yelling at the boy. His son. Who, he now saw, had a bruise on his cheek. 

Because he hadn’t stopped pinching it like some elderly senile grandparent. 

“I never said you shouldn’t be angry sometimes. It’s normal to feel anger when it’s justified. It’s how you handle that anger that’s--” 

“I am a Sith, anger is in my nature!” 

Luke winced, as if he were about to regret his next words. “Is it though? If that was the case, why did the Emperor give you anger drugs?” 

“You are asking ridiculous questions!” 

“Then it wouldn’t hurt to answer, would it?” 

Vader glared at his son. His son didn’t break eye contact, despite the anxiety swirling in his presence. 

Perhaps it was that anxiety that so reminded him of the boy’s mother that made him answer, but after a tense staredown, he replied. 

“I thought about killing him, you know.” 

“Who?” 

“The Emperor. After...after I woke up in this suit.” 

Luke went very still. 

“I wanted to save her. Your mother. I...I knew she was going to die in childbirth, just like I knew my mother would die before she died.”

“How?” 

Luke’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

“The Force sometimes shows us the future through visions. Most are able to avoid certain undesired outcomes. I am not. Mine always come true. I saw my mother die in visions over and over again before she died, and I saw...I saw your mother die over and over before she died. The Emperor promised to help me save her, but instead she died anyway, Kenobi left me in this suit and, unbeknownst to me, had kidnapped you, and when I found out about her death, I tried to kill the Emperor.” 

Luke said nothing. His expression this time was truly an emotionless mask. Waiting for him to continue. 

“I did not complete the job. I could not, not after everything I’d given up to save her. It would have all been for nothing had I given up, but it was shortly afterwards that the Emperor prescribed that drug. He called me friend as he did it, too! But he likely knew after I’d lashed out that even half dead, I can and will still destroy him and take his place as Master of the Sith!” 

Again, Luke initially said nothing. The only indication that he was thinking about something was the slight pursing of his lips. And finally, when he spoke, it was done carefully and deliberately. “Setting aside the treasonous aspect of this conversation…”

“It is not treasonous. It is the nature of the Sith to destroy their master.” 

“....yeah, we’ll circle back to that,” Luke said, “what I would like to point out is that if he knew you could destroy him and take his place, which given our previous conversations about being a Sith would involve quite a bit of anger, why would he give you drugs to make you more angry? Wouldn’t that encourage you to overthrow him quicker?” 

Vader opened his mouth...then snapped it shut. He didn’t want to admit it, but his son, yet again, had a point, and he wasn’t sure he knew how to respond to it. 

But Luke answered his own question. “I think, and again, I can’t tell you how you feel or what to do or anything like that, but based on your story and what I know about you...I think he knew there was still good in you, and he wanted to squash it.” 

Out of everything he was expecting Luke to say, that wasn’t it. The idea that anyone could think there was still good in him was laughable, but he was not a man who engaged in such behavior. So instead he reminded him, “The reason I am in this stupid therapy mess is because I massacred too many civilians for the public’s liking on Ryloth. I am sure my crew has told you further horror stories in their sessions with you. What good that was left in me died the day your mother died.” 

Again, Luke didn’t immediately answer, but when he did, he insisted, “I won’t pretend that you haven’t done some terrible things. The whole murder thing isn’t a point in your favor, for sure. But...as I’ve worked with you, both as your therapist and as your son, I don’t see a monster that you seem to want to believe you are. I see a man who has not had the support he needs, and more concerningly, I see a man who,” Luke gestured to the broken datapad, “is apparently such a threat to the Emperor that he would literally drug you into being what he wants you to be, which likely also had some impact on his life. So, no, I don’t think you’re a monster. I think there is good in you, and if you want to be that person again, then I’m here to help you.” 

The words echoed in Vader’s head. He didn’t know what to do with them. He’d never even dreamed that anyone would have the audacity to say such things to his face, not after...everything. He couldn’t even believe the words. 

Especially since Luke didn’t even know what he’d done to his mother. He didn’t know the circumstances around why she’d died. 

And yet...considering Luke was alive, Vader wasn’t even sure he fully knew anymore. 

So what he chose to say instead was, “You seem to be implying that I am the Emperor’s tool. His slave.” 

He hated the word, but he also hated the insinuation. If Luke had flat out called him the Emperor’s slave, he didn’t know if he could keep his fury in check. 

But Luke just met his eyes and calmly asked, “What do you think you are to the Emperor?” 

Vader didn’t have an answer. Or, rather, he didn’t want to answer. 

After a moment, Luke ran a hand over his face. He suddenly looked far older than he was. “It’s pretty late. I’m glad you seem to be back to yourself.” 

Again, words Vader did not expect anyone to say about him, but Luke seemed to excel at making statements that he didn’t know how to respond to. 

Luke continued. “Since I am tired and I want to go to bed, I’m going to say this...extended session is at its end.” 

“Could we count this as multiple sessions?” 

“No.” Before Vader could negotiate, Luke moved on. “I think, for this week, I’d like you to focus on not killing anyone.” 

Immediately, Vader knew what Luke was referring to. “You are just trying to save lives--” 

“Yes. I am. But more than that, you should actually work on the whole murder thing.” 

“I am in the military--” 

“I’m not talking about killing your enemies,” Luke paused, something passing over his expression, but before Vader could identify what it was, it was gone. “I’m talking about your own crew. You seemed interested in stickers--”

“I was out of my mind.” 

“Perhaps, but positive reinforcement isn’t a bad thing.” 

“I would beg to differ.” 

“Regardless. For each day you don’t kill anyone on the Executor, I will give you a gold star sticker--”

“I am not a child--”

“And for every five gold stars you earn, I will do non-anger-based Force training with you.” 

Vader paused. 

“You already promised to train with me.” 

“I’m a hundred percent sure being a Sith is not for me.” 

Vader gritted his teeth. Despite the unwillingness to engage in what would make him a powerful Sith...it was a better start than he was hoping for. And perhaps, if he could start with basics, Luke would eventually want to deepen his training and become more powerful. 

“Does this no killing rule pertain to the killing of the Emperor?” 

Luke made a face. “Again, we’ll need to circle back to the whole treason thing when I’m more awake, but for now, let’s just say we’re going to work on not killing people who it is not part of our job to kill.” 

“So Rebels do not count.” 

Luke hesitated. “Technically, no, but please do not go out and start killing Rebels because it is a technicality.” 

Vader rolled his eyes. Such a hippie. 

“Fine. I will agree to this ridiculous gold star system.” 

“Great.” Luke stood and stretched, yawning. “Well...good session. I’m going to bed. You should probably do the same.” 

“I do not sleep.” 

Luke paused, giving him a strange look. “Again. Something to circle back to later.” 

Vader considered going into how meditation worked...but the exhausted look on Luke’s face told him now was not the time. “Goodnight, my son.” 

He watched as Luke turned and headed to the door, but once he reached it, he paused, and looked back at him. “What was her name?” 

He didn’t need to ask to know who he meant. He had a feeling that Luke wasn’t asking as a therapist. He was asking as a son who wanted to know of his mother. 

But Vader had already spoken more about her than he had in years. 

“We will discuss this later. You need to go to bed.” 

Luke looked like he wanted to argue, but another yawn had him giving in with a nod. “Later.” 

The word was a promise. Luke would not forget this. 

He’d deal with it when it happened. 

“Later.” 

Elsewhere in the galaxy, Obi-Wan Kenobi sat in a Rebellion bunker, listening in confused shock as their Rebel spy onboard the Executor told them the most bizarre Darth Vader story he’d ever heard. 

“--I’m sleeping in my bunk, minding my own business, when suddenly the blast door flies open and in storms Darth Vader himself.” The man in the holo shuddered, and Leia, who sat next to Obi-Wan, smiled encouragingly. She out of anyone would know what that felt like, given what Vader had done to her on the Death Star. “I thought that surely he’d figured out I was a spy. I thought I was done for! Why else would he come barreling into my room at 5 am?” 

That was an excellent question. Why was their spy still alive? Obi-Wan was grateful, of course, but Vader was smart. He often rooted out spies with efficient ease. To be a spy aboard the Executor was often a suicide mission, but they’d thought they’d placed this spy far enough away from Vader’s notice while also still being in a useful position. Yet if Vader had stormed into his room, why was he still alive? 

The spy answered his question, but not in the way Obi-Wan expected. “But that’s when I noticed something was off about Vader. He...well, he didn’t look right.” 

Leia frowned. “What does that mean?” 

The spy shifted uncomfortably. “Well, he had...this is going to sound ridiculous, but I swear, it’s true. He had stickers on his helmet, and his cape had been dyed numerous colors, like...like tie dye.” 

Obi-Wan and Leia stared at the spy, stunned into silence. 

“Surely, you can’t be serious.” Obi-Wan finally managed, “Perhaps you were still half asleep?” 

“Oh, no, when Darth Vader bursts into your room, you immediately wake up.” The spy said gravely. 

“So...what did he want?” Leia asked after yet another awkward silence. 

“He...uh. Well, he stole my hoverboard.” 

Obi-Wan blinked. “He...he what?” 

The spy sheepishly nodded. “I bought it on one of our stops in the Outer Rim, it was one of a kind! I didn’t think, as long as I kept it in my room and didn’t ride it around the halls, it wouldn’t be an issue, but Vader somehow seemed to know I had it and stole it.” 

“Did...did you store information vital to the Rebellion in it?” Leia managed to ask. She sounded like she was completely lost. Obi-Wan knew the feeling. 

“No, it was just a normal hoverboard!” The spy insisted. “He stole it, got on it, and zoomed out! He even shouted, ‘It’s mine now, I’m unstoppable!’ as he rode away! So of course I went out to try to figure out what was going on, and apparently Vader was acting like he was on drugs all over the Executor! He apparently broke into the craft store--” 

“The Executor has a craft store?” Obi-Wan questioned. He couldn’t believe he was even asking that question, but Leia was the one who answered. 

“It’s basically a floating city. It has a recreational section.” But she sounded like she couldn’t quite believe the conversation that was happening, either. 

“He also apparently really likes smoothies.” The spy added. 

Obi-Wan didn’t mention that, given his injuries, he probably couldn’t eat solid food, so at least that kind of checked out. 

“Anyway, then the Admiral started assigning non-essential personnel either in different positions or to go on leave. He made the rest of us sign non-disclosure agreements, and there was an entire section of the ship, which included Vader’s living quarters, that were blocked to the rest of personnel for like the entire day.” 

“Too bad we didn’t know, we could have tried something.” Leia muttered. 

“Yeah...well I don’t think any of this is something I could have predicted, or I would have warned you.” The spy shuddered. “Then tonight, I return to my quarters and who’s there but the therapist, and he’s got my hoverboard!” 

Obi-Wan and Leia shared a look. 

The therapist. This was not the first Obi-Wan had heard of them, but he still didn’t know what to make of that information, either. In fact, he was surprised the therapist was still alive. Had the Emperor ordered Vader to keep him alive? But if so, why would the Emperor care? 

The spy continued. “He apologized for the inconvenience, complimented my taste in hoverboards, and wished me a good evening. When I asked him how he’d gotten the hoverboard back, he wouldn’t tell me.” The spy rubbed his face. “He seemed genuinely nice, though. His accent is Outer Rim, which isn’t common on this ship. I don’t know why, maybe because I was so stressed by the whole bizarre ordeal, but I asked him if he had any openings for a session and he just. Handed me his business card. But when I tried to get an appointment, his droid answered and told me they didn’t have openings for like a month ‘due to an influx of requests,’ it said. Still. I set myself up on a waiting list anyway.” 

“Are you...telling us this because you plan to use your therapy session to figure out what’s going on with the whole Vader therapy thing?” Leia asked hesitatingly. 

“Oh...uh, yeah, I guess that would be good too, but honestly the whole day was so stressful and he seemed so nice, I signed up on a whim.” 

“And what was this therapist’s name?” 

Obi-Wan leaned forward intently. They’d tried to find the therapist’s name already, but it was apparently highly classified information. 

“Oh. Uh, Luke Lars.” 

Suddenly, it all made...well, it didn’t make sense, but it did explain far too many things. It became a struggle to breathe. 

Luke. 

Luke. 

So, this was where he’d ended up...in the exact place Obi-Wan had tried to keep him from. 

“I see.” Leia nodded slowly. He was certain she’d sensed his reaction, because he felt her curiosity increase. “Well, if anything else develops, let us know right away.” 

The spy nodded, still looking a bit shell shocked from the whole ordeal, and hung up. 

Immediately, Leia turned to him. “You know this therapist?” 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. How had this happened? How could he have failed so colossally, again? “Yes.” 

“Who is it?” 

At first, he couldn’t answer her. How could he tell her he’d failed her family yet again? He’d been too late to save Alderaan. He’d barely managed to save her from the Death Star. And her brother…

Her father…

“Luke Lars was the person I was assigned to protect while I lived on Tatooine.” 

Recognition lit up her face. He’d given her the basic details of why he’d been on Tatooine, but that had been it. It had hurt too much to talk about his failure. “So...he’s Force sensitive. And he’s Darth Vader’s therapist.” He noted that she was rubbing the armrests of her chair with her thumbs, a nervous gesture she sometimes exhibited when she was deeply troubled about something. “That’s...not good news.” 

“I was supposed to train him when he came of age,” Obi-Wan said, uselessly. She knew that part. “His uncle didn’t want me anywhere near him. He was worried about what trouble Force training would bring Luke, and...well, he wasn’t wrong.” Leia gave him a bitter, knowing smile. “I figured when he came of age, I could approach him myself, let him decide what he wanted to do, but before I could, he was suddenly gone. I confronted Owen for days, trying to get him to tell me where he’d gone. I assumed he’d become some kind of pilot, and I desperately hoped he hadn’t enlisted in the Imperial Navy--he always loved to fly, you see. But Owen refused to tell me, and one day while I was arguing with him, I ran into Threepio and Artoo and...you know the story.” 

“I do.” She knew it well. “But it appears we’ve found him, and it’s...quite the situation, for sure.” She frowned. “Therapy doesn’t seem to be a Sith profession.” 

“No, it doesn’t.” Honestly, it sounded more Jedi-like than anything else...and he had to hope that was the case. More than that, there was a chance that Vader didn’t even know that his therapist was actually Luke Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker’s son. The spy had very specifically said Luke Lars…

Still, Luke was far too strong in the Force to go unnoticed at such close proximity. Perhaps that was why Vader was keeping him alive? 

He shuddered at the thought. 

“I think we should send a spy in.” He said. 

“You heard what his schedule is apparently like. If I had to guess, working under a Sith Lord is terrible for mental health.” 

“Yes, but we do know someone who is already a client.” 

Leia snorted. “I doubt Darth Vader will agree to be our spy.” 

“I was referring to Zev’s father, General Veers.” 

“I highly doubt General Veers will agree to be our spy, too.” 

“That is not what I was referring to,” Obi-Wan said, “I was actually suggesting that we have Zev do relationship therapy with his father and this therapist.”

He immediately sensed strong dislike for the idea from his apprentice. “I get that this is important to the Rebellion, but it seems really wrong to use Zev’s rocky relationship with his dad to spy on a therapist. Besides, therapist’s aren’t supposed to talk about their other clients, so he probably would refuse to talk about Vader.” 

“That’s not who I want to know information on.” He knew too much about Vader as it was. “I want to know more about this therapist.” 

Dislike turned to confusion. “I mean...I know he’s Force sensitive, but it’s not like the Empire hadn’t kidnapped Force sensitives before and used them against us. We’ll figure it out--”

“This one is different.” 

Confusion turned to concern. “Why?” Leia asked, “Who is this Luke Lars?” 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled long and slow. Regret clutched at his soul. Yet again, he’d have to reveal the depth of his failure. 

“Because Luke Lars is actually the son of Anakin Skywalker.” He met Leia’s shocked expression. “He is actually Luke Skywalker. Your brother.”

Chapter Text

Vader bowed before the Emperor, waiting for his response. He’d called the Emperor the moment he learned that the Emperor had called for him during his...mental holiday. The Emperor had picked up right before the call had gone to recording, indicating that he was angry enough to make Vader wait. 

Then he just...glared at him. He said nothing. Not even a simple “Lord Vader” as greeting. 

He really wished Luke had said something the moment he’d exited his meditation chamber, not continued his silly therapy session. 

“What do you think you are to the Emperor?” 

It was a struggle to maintain his mental shields, but it was not a struggle to sustain his rage. When his master examined him through the Force, he would feel his white hot anger. 

Luke, Vader realized, was right. The reason the Emperor had given him the drug was because he wished to fuel Vader’s anger. It was the way of the Sith, but Vader knew of no other Sith who had taken such a drug. Perhaps it was also done out of punishment over his failure on Mustafar, but if he’d wanted to inflict pain on him, he could have done so with another drugs that had such an effect. Vader had used such drugs in interrogations numerous times. 

So, the Emperor had not believed that Vader could sustain his anger enough to become the powerful Sith he now was. 

Or Luke is completely right and he did it because he saw good in you still, and wanted to control you. 

Like a slave. 

Slave. 

Slave. 

How could he be a slave when he commanded the might of the Imperial Navy? How could he be a slave when he owned so much wealth and power, more than he even knew what to do with? 

And yet he couldn’t get it out of his mind, and it only fueled his anger further. 

If it was true...if he’d allowed himself to become a slave…

He wouldn’t finish that thought. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of those golden eyes staring at him, the Emperor blew out a breath. “Lord Vader.” He finally stated. It was not a greeting. “Would you care to tell me where you’ve been?” 

His answer was immediate, the same answer Piett had given the Emperor. “I was not on board. I hunted Rebels.” 

“And?” 

Vader couldn’t tell if he bought the excuse. “I picked up their trail, but I have yet to find the hidden base.” 

It wasn’t a complete lie. He had found data that suggested he’d found their trail again, but he’d done that from the comfort of his own meditation pod, not running around the galaxy. No, he would not leave and leave Luke alone. He was certain he’d rooted out the spies the Emperor had placed on the Executor, but even then, spies were spies for a reason. He could have missed one. 

And that one could have been witness to his...escapades and told the Emperor, though Vader wasn’t sure how exactly a spy would go about explaining what they’d seen. 

But the Emperor seemed to believe his excuse...or rather, he made a show of believing it. “The Rebels are smarter than we give them credit for, but they will not prevail. I have foreseen it.” 

Keep your foresight on the Rebels, Vader thought, though he kept his shields tight, keep away from my son. 

But though he was certain he’d strengthened his shields adequately, the Emperor changed subjects. 

“How is your therapy going?” 

Vader did not move. “It is insufferable.” He used his terror and worry over his son being found out to make his tone harsh and furious--or, he supposed, how he normally sounded around anyone but Luke these days. 

“I am surprised he is still alive.” 

Vader did not allow himself to hesitate. Doing so would only cause the Emperor to look even closer. “He will not be the moment I am done with the mandated therapy. I did not wish to waste my time killing therapists only to have another one forced upon me.” 

It was a logical enough answer, and the Emperor seemed like he was about to move on, but a frown marred his wrinkled face. “Luke Lars…” Vader despised that he even knew Luke’s name, but he supposed it was easy enough to look up, “He’s from Tatooine. Did you know that?” 

“No. We do not speak of personal matters.” 

Was Luke’s home planet common enough knowledge for the Emperor to see in a basic employment file if he chose to look it up? Vader cursed himself for not looking at Luke’s file before this so he could know. 

“Well. He is from Tatooine. I would have thought that alone would have been grounds for you to murder him and insist on a new therapist.” 

“As I said. Once this charade is finished, he will be dead.” 

“Hm.” Vader couldn’t tell if the Emperor bought his lie, but he changed the subject, moving on to the topic he’d called earlier on. It was a struggle to listen and respond appropriately when his mind was immediately racing over how he could convince Luke that treason against the Emperor was in his own best interest before their court mandated therapy sessions were finished. 

For once, Vader didn’t wish to be done with the sessions, if only to give himself more time. 

Luke was going over Veers’ file when a knock rapped on his office door. At first, he didn’t respond--his brain was still trying to figure out how he was going to deal with having a therapy session with a known Rebel and his estranged father, but eventually he tore his eyes away from the file to say, “Come in.” 

The blast doors opened, and in walked Piett. 

“Admiral.” Luke greeted in surprise, standing. He was still technically a civilian, even if he worked for the military and wore a very generic uniform, but he felt like the Admiral deserved some kind of respect from him when he entered, even if it wasn’t a full salute. 

“Please, Mr. Lars, sit, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

Luke didn’t move to sit. “Is something wrong? Did...did Lord Vader…?” It had only been twenty four hours since he’d last spoken with his father, when he’d dropped more information about his past than he ever had. 

When he’d told Luke his mother’s name. 

“No, he seemed like he was trying to carry on with business as usual.” 

Business as usual often came at the price of someone’s life, but Piett didn’t mention it and neither had any of his clients that day (though plenty talked about the trauma of seeing Darth Vader running around the halls like he was on all the drugs in the galaxy), so Luke decided to choose optimism. “How can I help you, then?” 

Piett shifted nervously and checked the door that had shut behind him. “I..wanted to ask you a question.” 

Luke’s brows lifted in surprise. “Sure.” 

“It’s...not entirely appropriate.” 

“Believe me, I’ve heard worse in this room.” 

But it didn’t seem to ease Piett’s mind much. “I...don’t know how else to put it, but...Mr. Lars. How are you still alive?” 

Luke didn’t know how to respond. Out of all the things he expected to hear from the Admiral, this was not it, but he’d said it with genuine curiosity, maybe even a bit of amazement. It wasn’t done out of malice. 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s rude and highly inappropriate, but I thought--well, I thought after what happened, Lord Vader would surely not forgive you or most of us.” There was a blush on the older man’s face, and Luke was again struck by just how tired and bone-deep exhausted the Admiral looked. 

Because I’m Darth Vader’s son. 

He couldn’t tell him that, though, so he simply settled with, “I’m good at what I do.” And he did believe that, truly--but it also majorly helped that he was Vader’s son and Vader didn’t seem to want to kill him. 

“I’m sure you are good at what you do, but I’ve seen plenty of officers who have been good at their jobs lose their lives because they made a mistake Lord Vader could not tolerate. I thought for sure when I met you your first day here that you wouldn’t survive your first session, let alone be alive today and so booked that you have no available times until a month from now.” 

Luke gave him a crooked smile. “Did you check my schedule because you wanted to set up an appointment, Admiral?” 

“I...n-no, I...I mean, I was just curious--” 

“Because if, now that you know that I may be here to stay, you’d like a session, I can have Cyl work you in after my other appointments.” 

“I could never impose--” 

“You wouldn’t be. Besides Lord Vader, you’re the most overworked person on this ship. If you want someone to talk to in a confidential setting, even if it’s just to rant, I think I can make room for you.” He winked. “Just don’t tell anyone on my waiting list.” 

Piett bit his lip as though deciding...then, with one last glance at the door, he came and sat in front of him. 

“How does this thing work?” 

“Well, since it’s our first session, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?” 

Piett, unlike Vader, opened up easily. Luke barely had to ask questions--the Admiral simply talked. He talked about his home planet, Axxila, how he joined the Imperial navy and was immediately looked down upon because he was an Outer Rim nobody (which Luke could identify with). He spoke of his dealings with pirates, of how eventually he was transferred to serving on the same star ship as Lord Vader...and how Vader seemed to become increasingly interested in him. 

“I suppose it’s not technically a secret, but since I was well aware of Lord Vader’s...dislike for failure,” Luke personally thought dislike was a tame word for how Vader felt about it, “I tried to get a transfer to a division on the total opposite end of the galaxy.” 

Luke nodded, taking notes as the Admiral talked. “Understandable. Lord Vader can certainly be intimidating.” 

“Can be? Try all the time.” The Admiral rubbed his temples. “I am loyal to Lord Vader, don’t get me wrong, but that doesn’t mean the stress of working under him isn’t immense.” 

“Then why didn’t you transfer?” 

Piett stared at him in such a way, Luke had a feeling he’d seen a lot of unexplainable and disturbing things while working with Vader. “He likes my work.” 

Luke tried not to laugh bitterly. “Yeah, okay, I get it.” 

Piett frowned. “You do?” And when he realized what he’d just said, he quickly added, “Sorry. It’s just that he was raging over the court-mandated therapy before you got here. Again, I didn’t expect you to live this long.” 

It was an extremely weird feeling to be talking so casually about his almost-death. 

“Anyway, after...actually, while he was killing Admiral Ozzel, he promoted me from Captain to Admiral of the Executor. Do you know how big of a promotion jump that is?” 

Luke ran through the military positions in his head. “...Eleven promotions all at once?” 

“Yes.” 

“And it’s because he likes you?” 

“Yes! But that’s not all--because he likes me, he gives me tasks simply because he knows I’ll do a good job on them. It doesn’t matter that there are plenty of other people who could do it themselves. Do you have any idea what that’s like?” 

Luke tried not to grimace. Technically, Vader was trying the opposite with him; he was trying to give him things he was under qualified for. What would Piett say if he told him that Vader was constantly reminding him that, technically, he was the Heir to the Empire, or that he was born to become a Sith? Had Piett been qualified for the Admiral position before he’d been handed it, and he’d simply adjusted quickly? Would he ever adjust to being Darth Vader’s son, let alone anything else Vader tried to give him? 

“Again, don’t get me wrong, I am loyal to Lord Vader. He has done a great many things for this Empire. I also love the Lady Executor, probably a little too much. But oh, how my every waking hour is incredibly stressful.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Luke said kindly, “So, correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds like it may be beneficial to work on boundary setting, knowing when to delegate work not pertinent to your job, and self care.” 

Piett lifted his brows. “Mr. Lars, I’m certain that everything you just said are things Lord Vader would never allow me to do.” 

“Have you tried?” 

“I do not have a death wish.” 

“Well, I think some other officers have recently started implementing some strategies too--”

“They got away with it because Lord Vader was stunned by their audacity to even ask for boundaries.” 

“I didn’t say Lord Vader likes boundaries,” Luke said dryly, remembering the multitude of times Vader constantly pushed at the boundaries he’d set, “I just said it’s been somewhat successful.” 

“Yes, because Lord Vader was stunned.” 

“Maybe so, but it can’t be healthy to let him encroach on your boundaries and make you constantly stress.” 

Piett stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “I suppose we can try. If this is any indication of how your other sessions go, I’m even more convinced that it’s a miracle you’re still alive.” 

Luke frowned. “You’ve...seen a lot of people die by Lord Vader’s hand, haven’t you?” 

“Usually it’s an invisible Force that kills people, he usually never has to use his hand, but...yes. Yes, I’ve seen quite a lot.” 

“Uh huh.” Luke made some additional notes in Piett’s file. “I’m thinking we may need to address some of that internalized trauma, as well.” 

“Trauma? I assure you, I am not traumatized.” When Luke just looked at him, Piett winced. “I’m totally fine, I assure you, Mr. Lars.” 

“If that’s how you feel about it, we can just focus on boundaries, delegating work and self care.” 

“I still am unsure how you expect us to figure that out in my current position, but since you are still here and my entire crew seems to adore you, then I shall choose not to doubt you and give it a try.” 

At the end of the session, Luke set a time for Piett to return and bid farewell, but as the older man left, Luke sat back in his chair and mentally counted the times someone had told him they were surprised he was still alive. Or, rather, he tried to, because as he counted, he realized he’d lost count, and the strangeness of the entire situation hit him all at once and he found himself just sitting in his chair, literally staring off into space, wondering how he’d managed to get himself into this mess. 

Obi-Wan sat in Leia’s plush office chair, watching her pace back and forth. Guilt was not only written all over her face, it permeated in the Force. 

“Zev agreed to this,” Obi-Wan reminded her, “we agreed to let him edit out anything too personal that he doesn’t wish to share with us.” 

“I know,” Leia grumbled, coming to a stop at the viewport to stare out it. Despite Leia looking the spitting image of her mother, she often reminded Obi-Wan of her father, and staring out at the stars when he was agitated was a habit Leia seemed to have inherited. A pang went through his chest, and he pointedly ignored it. “It’s just...I know most of the Empire has little regard for mental health, but on Alderaan it was an important part of our healthcare infrastructure. To do this, even if it’s necessary, is such a massive violation and I can’t help but feel awful about it.” 

“I’m sorry.” And Obi-Wan meant it. He would have rather trained Luke for various reasons, but Leia was earnest about her studies in a way Anakin never had been. Now that the subject of mental health had been brought into this whole mess, Obi-Wan wondered if perhaps he should have brought Anakin to a therapist the moment he had him in his care. 

He wondered far too much about the what ifs of the past. He added it to the list. 

A knock came to the door, and Leia looked up at the ceiling and let out a big sigh before straightening out and calling, “Come in.” 

The blast door opened and in walked Zev. 

“Are you still okay with this?” Leia blurted out before the door had even closed. 

Zev nodded. “I thought about what you said, about this being a violation of privacy and all, so I edited out my father’s portions since he didn’t consent to any of this and nothing we talked about had anything to do with Imperial or Rebellion matters.” 

Obi-Wan thought that had to be an incredibly delicate situation, but he wasn’t technically a stranger to knowing many others in similar situations. Even before the Rebellion, families had been torn apart on different sides of a civil war he’d had an active part in. “Thank you for being willing to help us.” 

“Sure.” Zev shrugged. They hadn’t told him exactly why they needed him to request family therapy with his father’s therapist beyond that he also happened to be Darth Vader’s therapist, but that had seemed to be enough for him to agree to it. Still, Leia did not look any less relieved by Zev’s willingness. 

Zev took a seat across from Obi-Wan and placed his holo device on the desk before them. Leia stepped closer, intense curiosity just barely replacing any misgivings she had over the situation. Once he was sure he had their attention, Zev pressed play. 

A recorded holo bloomed to life on the desk, and Obi-Wan found himself looking at the flickering blue image of the boy he’d protected for eighteen years. But now Luke was no longer a boy--gone was the baby fat and the obvious innocence of a young Tatooine farm boy secluded from the rest of the galaxy. In his place was a man--a man who still looked younger than he was, but a man all the same. Besides the obvious aging, there was a strange sort of wisdom in his expression that Obi-Wan had only seen in fellow Jedi Knights, and there was a genuine kindness in the smile he gave to Zev and another person (General Veers) off screen. 

“Hi Zev, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Luke Lars, and I’ll be working with you and your father. Please know that you don’t have to use me--in fact, if either one of you feels like my style of therapy isn’t what works best for you, or you’re unsatisfied with my work, you can of course request a different therapist and I’ll be happy to recommend you to some other qualified therapists who may be a better fit.” 

Leia unconsciously leaned forward, her eyes riveted to the man in the holo. It occurred to Obi-Wan that this was the first time she was seeing Luke after only just finding out that he even existed. He couldn’t imagine what was going through her mind. 

He, on the other hand, took the time to look for any signs that Vader had turned Luke to the Dark Side. On the surface, Luke appeared to be well, if a bit tired, and the look in his eyes didn’t fit his image of a up and coming Sith Apprentice, but he’d never suspected Palpatine of being a formidable Sith Lord, so maybe his judgement was skewed by his hope that Luke was safe. 

Most of the footage was centered around Luke. Very few of the responses Zev gave were included, and nothing was included regarding General Veers’ responses, but from what Obi-Wan could gather, Luke spent the first portion going over ground rules regarding family therapy, then going over goals that they could work towards. From what Luke was saying, it actually sounded like a rather productive conversation. 

Obi-Wan tried to imagine Luke saying these things to Darth Vader...and failed. How was he still alive? Did Vader know who Luke really was? He was going by his last name, so maybe there was a chance he didn’t, but if he didn’t, how did Luke keep himself breathing? It was possible Vader knew Luke was Force sensitive and just cared about that, but Luke wasn’t exhibiting...and yet Palpatine…

He was quickly growing a headache. 

Overall, though, it was pretty typical therapist stuff...at least, Obi-Wan thought so. He’d never actually been to a therapist himself. But just before the end of the call, Zev must have brought up something about boundaries, because Luke expounded. 

“Boundaries can be a difficult thing between any family member, most especially parents and their children. It’s even more difficult when there’s completely opposite ideologies on either side. Sometimes people view boundaries as an excuse to use when someone just wants to avoid taking responsibility for something, but healthy boundaries are the key to any strong relationship. It doesn’t fix the differences between two parties, but it makes it so each can enjoy the things they love about the other, it makes it so that you can build one another up rather than tear down and belittle. That doesn’t mean it won’t be difficult--there will be plenty of trial and error, and there may be times when you wonder if it’s even worth it. But if you want to pursue a relationship, and from what you’ve both expressed, it sounds to me like you do, the effort is well worth it.” 

Was Luke thinking about someone else as he said this? No, Obi-Wan thought, he was reading too much into it. Luke might not even know about Vader being his father. He could be talking about Owen--stars only knew how often Luke argued with his uncle, to the point where Obi-Wan had to fetch Luke before he could make it to a spaceport to run away. 

And yet...what if? And what did that even mean if he was referencing his father? Or maybe he was just saying something he was trained to say? 

His headache had turned to throbbing at the front of his temple. 

The recording ended up with follow up exercises that both Zev and General Veers were to work on, and then the holo disappeared. There was a silence in the room as they all stared at the spot where the holo of Luke had been. 

“What were your impressions of this therapist?” Leia finally asked quietly. 

Zev shrugged. “I’m not going to lie, I expected this therapist to be cold and impersonal like most Imperials...or rather, like the Imperial counselors at the Academy. But he seemed genuine and surprisingly warm, if a bit tired.” 

“Understandable,” Leia muttered under her breath before she sighed. “Thank you, Zeb. You’ve been a very great help.” 

Zev nodded and stood, picking up his device. “I’ll keep you informed, your highness.” Obi-Wan and Leia said not another word as they watched him go. 

The moment the door closed, Leia said, “We need to get him out of there.” 

“Zev?” 

“No, you know who I mean.” She gave him an unapproving look. 

Obi-Wan sighed. “You’re not wrong, but it will take time.” 

“Naturally. Our spy couldn’t even get an appointment until a month from now.” She paused. “Why doesn’t he go by Skywalker?” 

“He’s smart not to.” 

“Do you think he’s publicly going by that but Vader knows that he’s Anakin Skywalker’s son?” 

Obi-Wan reached up to rub his temples. “I’ve been trying to work that out since the recording started.” 

Leia was silent for a moment. Then, “I know I’m supposed to let go, and if it comes to losing the only family I have left, I will, but I’d really rather not lose my brother. I may not have met him yet, but the idea of Vader killing him like he did my... our father…”

It was an effort to keep a straight face. He...hadn’t told her the full truth. Not yet. He kept meaning to, but how could he tell Leia that the man who’d tortured her was her own father? How could he tell her that the man who hunted and killed Rebels like it was some sport was the same man from all of the stories of Anakin Skywalker, hero of the Clone Wars? 

And, perhaps the real reason for his hesitation in telling the truth--how was he supposed to admit aloud that the friend--no, the brother-- he loved so much was also the monster he’d created? 

He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. When she was done training to be a Jedi, perhaps...yes, perhaps then. 

“We’ll need to come up with a plan,” Obi-Wan said, “Vader will not take kindly to us taking what he views to be his.” 

“You think he views Luke as his?” 

No. Yes. Maybe. It depended on what Vader knew about the boy. He almost didn’t want to find out. 

“We will prepare for the worst regardless, and if we rescue him and Vader doesn’t care more than usual...well, even better.” 

Obi-Wan prayed for the latter.

Chapter Text

Vader was running late for therapy, and it was taking everything he had not to murder the people responsible for it.

“Does this meeting have a point?” He interrupted for about the millionth time. The rest of the officers, all high ranking, shifted uncomfortably in their seats. He pointedly ignored Piett’s attempt to hide his grimace.

“We are simply trying to finish our strategy against the Rebellion fleet,” A commander started irritably, “if you’d stop interrupting we would be finished, my lord.”

Now Piett did grimace as Vader stilled, his hand curling on instinct…but he did not draw upon the Force and start strangling the man. Instead, he took long, slow, deliberate steps towards the commander until he was standing well into his personal space, forcing the man to lean backwards to stare up in horror into his mask. Vader watched him gulp, as though savoring the last gulp of air he’d ever breathe.

He said nothing, allowing the man to imagine all sorts of terrible ends to his miserable life. Then, he lifted a finger and with each word he spoke, jabbed it into the man’s chest.

“You will take care of your wording, Commander—if you are the reason I do not obtain my fifth gold star, I will ensure there is nothing left of your body to send back to your family.”

The man had paled, even as his eyes darted to his fellow officers as if to ask, what does he mean by gold star? How do I make sure he doesn’t lose those stars? Help???

No one answered. In fact, he sensed confusion from everyone except Piett, who rubbed his temples. Vader hadn’t told the man anything about his deal with Luke, but Piett was smart. He’d probably at least figured out this was something to do with Luke’s silly therapy.

“Y-you know, Lord Vader, I think we’ve gone over everything we need to—”

“Yes. And if you all do not understand the plan, you are all fools who are lucky you are still alive.” He stepped out of the commander’s personal space and turned, leaving without another word.

When he reached Luke’s office, Cyl, Luke’s droid, tsked. “You are late.”

“I am never late.”

“Uh huh. Tell that to the chrono.”

Vader glanced at the chrono on the wall. “It is only by two minutes and you are not helping.” Did murder count with droids? Luke could just repair it, but he doubted Luke would be happy and there was a small chance that he’d count it against his stars so he decided not to push it.

Cyl made a noise as Vader stormed past. “You are lucky I am not allowed to charge you a late fee.”
He rolled his eyes and entered Luke’s office. He didn’t even give Luke a chance to look up from his datapad before he announced, “I have sent you a list of personnel onboard. You will notice that there have been no deaths in the last five days.”

Luke looked up, blinked at him, then looked back at his datapad. “…So it seems. That’s awesome!” He smiled brightly, and Vader paused. It was rare that he ever saw Luke smile beyond a courteous professional greeting, and this one was practically blinding. Was he truly that pleased that he hadn’t murdered someone for their idiocy?

But Luke wasn’t done. He pulled out a flimsy pad—some kind of tracker, from the looks of it?—and a pad of gold star stickers and deliberately began placing give stars onto the tracker.

Vader approached, leaning over to watch. “I thought the stars were metaphorical.”

“Nope. They’re literal.”

“Where did you even find such stickers?”

“The craft store.”

Ah. Yes. The craft store he’d raided during his…episode. “You did not tell them you were using them for me, did you?”

“No. Though I don’t think you have to be ashamed of it.”

Though he was weirdly pleased to see five stars on the tracker, he didn’t want the rest of the crew to find out about his star acquisition…even if he’d already sort of implied it not fifteen minutes earlier. “I am an adult.” He said by way of explanation.

“Sure, but adults need positive reinforcement sometimes too, you know.” Luke finished with the stars and put the sticker sheet and tracker away.

“Positive reinforcement is useless.”

“Is it? You didn’t kill anyone in the last five days.”

“Yes, because I want to train you.”

“Yes. Exactly. Positive reinforcement.”

Vader tried to remember when the last time positive reinforcement had worked for him. “I…suppose I can see your point. I once trained a padawan—”

“A what?”

He forgot how little Luke knew about the Jedi, the Sith, and the Force. “A padawan was a Jedi apprentice. I had one once. Ahsoka Tano. She…” she was my friend. “I used what you would probably call positive reinforcement to train her. She left the Order before it fell, but she is skilled in the Force. Far more so than most Jedi.”

Luke looked at him curiously. “Is?”

“I fought her a few years ago. She disappeared into thin air. I did not kill her, so I assume she is still alive somewhere.”

“Ah…disappeared into…thin air? That’s…literal?”

Vader waved the question off. “There are many mysteries in the Force. I assume the Force saved her from my wrath.”

“Uh huh…and why were you trying to kill each other if she isn’t a Jedi?”

His fists clenched as he recalled the way she’d looked at him. “She still supported the Rebellion and refused to join me. She left. Again.”

“I see…” Luke glanced at his datapad, as if re-reviewing old notes. “Maybe we should focus on your problems with letting people go—”

“No.” Luke opened his mouth to yet again remind him that the point of therapy was to try to open up and talk about feelings, but Vader continued before he could. “I wished to discuss something else.”

He sensed Luke’s surprise even as he managed to keep his expression neutral. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…actually really good progress.” Luke set the datapad aside and leaned forward, “What did you want to speak about?”

Vader did not answer immediately. Instead, he looked out the viewport, watching the stars. Even now, all these years later, the view of the stars still managed to calm his racing mind.

“I am not a slave.”

The words were out before he could think better of them, and yet he did not attempt to take them back. He would not, not when he’d spent the last few days constantly thinking about what Luke had implied about his relationship with the Emperor.

Luke immediately picked up on what he was referring to. “I never said you were. In fact, some would argue that you have more power than anyone, even the Emperor.”

“I do have more power than him. I could destroy him if I wished.”

“…Please do not take this as me telling you to commit treason, but I have to ask—if you could destroy him if you wished, and you said it’s part of the Sith way to destroy their master, why haven’t you destroyed him? Is it normal for Sith to wait over twenty years to try to kill their masters?”

Vader wanted to lie and say yes, but instead he said, “No.”

“Then why wait?”

“Because…” He paused. Before, it had been because he’d had no reason to overthrow Palpatine, but now he was talking to the reason. He should kill Palpatine and make the galaxy safe for his son.

And yet…

“I do not know.” He said, honestly. He didn’t know why he hadn’t found a way to return to the Emperor’s side so that he could kill the man. The moment he found out about Luke, he should have done that, before the Emperor could find out about Luke himself and either kill him or try to use him against him. Even now, he knew the Emperor was far too interested in his therapist than he wanted him to be, so why hadn’t he made his move?

“When I think about overthrowing him, I know I need to if I want to protect you, but…I cannot. It is like there is something holding me back.”

Luke nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then, “I think it might be useful to look at your relationship with the Emperor in more depth.” He waited, as if expecting Vader to object.

He did not. Normally, he might have, but he’d come to realize Luke’s safety mattered more to him than anything else, and if something was preventing him from making Luke safe, he needed to know why.

But Luke seemed pleased that he didn’t object, and he continued. “Tell me about your relationship with the Emperor. How did it start?”

Of course that meant digging into the portion of his past he hated. Still…if it meant he could get over his issues with killing the Emperor, he’d suck it up. For now. “I met him shortly after I was freed from slavery. We had just freed Naboo from the Trade Federation’s occupation. I had played a role in blowing up their space station—”

“How old were you?”

“Nine.” Vader did not know why that mattered, but there was a funny look on Luke’s face.

“I’m sorry, but you were nine and you blew up a space station?”

“It was an accident.”

“An accident…I see…”

“Yes.” Vader continued, still not really getting where Luke was going with this, “I blew it up, and the Jedi Council had finally agreed to train me as a Jedi.”

“They didn’t agree before?”

He growled, “I was apparently too old and full of too much fear and anger.”

Luke looked even more perplexed. “Yeah, you’d just spent your first nine years as a slave and your mother was still in it. How else were you supposed to feel?”

Vader pointed at him. “Exactly!” Oh, was he pleased this smart boy was his son. Even if he disagreed with his career choice, he was pleased that he’d received a good education in the first place. It was moments like this when it showed, and he was so proud. “Anyway, I met him on Naboo and he praised me and told me he saw big things in my future.”

“And how did the Jedi react to your blowing up of the space station?”

Vader paused. “Qui Gon had just been killed, Kenobi had just been knighted and made my teacher, so if they reacted, they did not react to me. Kenobi seemed to assume I’d piloted that ship on purpose against orders, but he never talked about it.”

“And Qui Gon was…?”

“The man who freed me from slavery.”

“So, you were freed from slavery, almost rejected by the Jedi, blew up a space station, and lost the man who’d freed you from slavery in the course of…what, a few days?”

“Essentially.”

“That’s…a lot. And you were nine?”

“Yes.”

“That…must have been traumatic.” Luke seemed to be choosing words with care. “Did Kenobi or anyone in the Jedi give you any additional support?”

“They gave me more support in learning the Force, though I caught on quickly.”

“That’s good, but I meant in terms of like…emotional stability.”

“I did not need such things.”

Luke just stared at him. “Lord Vader, what you just described to me…a therapist was exactly what was needed during such a significant change in your life. Remember, asking for help does not make you weak.”

Vader wanted to point out that it did if one was a Sith, which he was, but he knew how Luke would respond so he didn’t bother. “The Jedi probably assumed their idiotic ideology would be enough to deal with any of my problems.”

“Again, I’m not super familiar with the religion, so I could very well be wrong, but while certain principles could potentially help someone regain control of their life, sometimes it just isn’t enough and additional professional help is needed. You were nine. You were on an unfamiliar planet, with unfamiliar people, and not only were you initially judged unfairly and rejected, you hadn’t even had a chance to learn how to be your own independent person. That would be extremely difficult for anyone to go through with professional help, let alone without it.”

He…hadn’t ever thought about it that way. He’d been so caught up in the whirlwind of everything that had happened, he never thought for a moment that he needed a break. In fact, if he was honest with himself (which he so rarely was these days), he’d been afraid to ask for time to himself. If he asked, he was afraid he’d be doubted or rejected all over again, so he’d never entertained the idea of it.

“It didn’t stop there. My training was abnormal because of the age I started, but the scheduling was the same. I trained constantly, usually only with Kenobi, though if he was busy, I trained with other teachers.”

“And what was Kenobi like?”

Fury flashed through him, so quickly that somewhere in the room, something shattered. Luke glanced at it, but it must not have been super important, because he said nothing as he turned his attention back to him.

“I was never good enough. Even when I excelled, there was always something wrong. If I ever did anything or said anything that wasn’t Jedi enough, he would give holier-than-thou lectures, and yet at the same time, he kept telling me I was the chosen one, but how could I be a chosen one when nothing I ever did was good enough for them?!”

Luke nodded thoughtfully. “So, his style of teaching was very much ‘there could always be something to improve.’”

“That is putting it lightly.”

“There is some credit to such a teaching style, but I…ah, don’t get the impression you’re the type of person who excels under that method.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that I think you excel when you’re given positive reinforcement. You said yourself, you used such methods to train your own padawan, and you worked hard to earn gold stars this week so that we could train together later. If I had to guess, you probably projected the teaching style you wish Kenobi had used with your own padawan to make up for it. Am I wrong?”

He did not bother to confirm or deny, though Luke had a point. Again, something else he’d never considered.

“The only person who’d ever encouraged me was the Emperor, then the Chancellor.”

“How so?”

“He always seemed to know when I was…struggling…” It was difficult to admit he’d ever struggled with anything, “And would request to spend time with me to mentor me.”

Luke suddenly tensed, his expression growing as serious as he’d ever seen it. “And…someone was with you, right? Like Kenobi?”

“No. It is my understanding that he used his position to spend the time alone with me.”

“You were alone?”

“Yes.”

Luke said nothing for a long moment. “You…understand that’s grooming, right?”

Vader’s initial response was to reject such an idea. “I was not groomed. He just gave me advice and told me I was doing well when no one else did. He was my friend. I looked at him like a father.”

“He was not your guardian. He used his position to get you alone. Why would the Chancellor, the guy who was the most important man in the galaxy, stop everything he was doing to give you advice on a regular basis? Why not any of the other Jedi?”
Vader responded without thinking. “He saw my potential. He knew I would grow up to be great.”

“Yeah…he wanted something from you. And he wanted that potential to be loyal to him.” Luke raised his brows pointedly. “You were a child. He separated you from your legal guardians and fed you what he knew you wanted. That’s grooming.”

No. He…he was too…that was something that happened to other people. Not to him.

And yet…

Luke’s description…

It fit.

“He did this to you for how long?”

“Until I pledged my loyalty to him and joined the Sith to save your mother.”

“And he didn’t save her. He didn’t do as he promised, and yet he took your loyalty anyway.”

“I…” if the suit would let him, he’d have had trouble breathing at that moment, “I’d already made the decision, I gave up everything to save her, I couldn’t go back…”

“Couldn’t you?” Vader said nothing. After a moment, Luke asked quietly, “If you decided to leave…retire, or just do something else that you wanted to do with your life, would the Emperor let you leave?”

“He’s the Emperor.”

“But he was supposedly your friend, right? Your mentor? Your father figure? Shouldn’t someone like that want what’s best for you?”

“I’m a Sith…”

“But your padawan left the Jedi. You said so yourself. So why could she leave? What would happen if you left being a Sith?”

“I…I could not.”

“And, according to you, part of being a Sith is overthrowing your master by killing them. You can’t kill the Emperor because you feel like something is holding you back. Based on what you told me, I would think that even if the Emperor no longer treats you how you wish to be treated, there is some part of you that cannot go against the one person who spent all those hours giving you a fraction of the positive feedback you needed at a difficult time in your life.”

Every word was a punch to the gut. He wanted to deny it, if only to avoid the conclusion he already knew, but he couldn’t. He tried to think of anything else, tried to concentrate on anything that would make him angry so that he could avoid the truth.
But his thoughts kept returning to what had been right in front of his face the whole time.

“I am his slave.”

The words were strangled. He felt as though he were again burning in the fires of Mustafar. The realization should have made him angry—and in some deep part of him, he was beyond fury, but in that moment, as he said the words, he felt…

Empty.

He felt as if he were being pulled into a black hole, and at the end of that hole would be the Emperor, waiting to use his powers to manipulate him back under his control. No matter what he did, the Emperor would always be there.

“You don’t have to be.” Luke said quietly. “You can choose to leave.”

“I cannot.” The words were automatic.

“Why?”

“Luke, after the Emperor, I am the most recognizable person in the galaxy. There is nowhere I could go that someone would not recognize me. The Emperor would hunt me down—hunt us down, and he would either kill one or both of us.”

“You do have a bit of a unique situation, but I don’t believe it would be impossible if you took the right steps.”

“You sound like a Rebel.”

“No, I sound like a therapist who is offering to help you figure out a way out of an extremely abusive relationship. Clearly the idea of being his or anyone else’s slave deeply bothers you, as it would most people, so why wouldn’t you at least try to get out?”
“Because I deserve it.” Luke opened his mouth, and Vader pointed at him in warning. “Do not deny it. You literally have to bribe me to not kill someone on a daily basis.”

“I…will admit it’s a circumstance I never thought I’d be in, but positive reinforcement is a good first step towards helping you choose healthier coping methods to deal with your anger issues.”

“Are you suggesting murder is my coping method?” But even as he said it, he knew Luke was right. “Never mind. Do not answer. I already know.”

Luke blew out a breath. “I’m not saying it will be easy. Breaking anyone out of an abusive relationship is a difficult thing to do, let alone when the other party is the literal Emperor.”

“I could just kill him.”

“Again, I’m legally required to state that I am not encouraging treason, but we established that isn’t a viable option for you at the moment. You’ll need to first work on breaking free of the many years of deeply rooted manipulation he’s used on you to even consider a clean break, let alone murder.”

“He deserves it.”

“Maybe so. But…consider, what if by killing him, you’re just playing further into his hands by continuing the abusive cycle he taught you to perpetuate?”

Sith aren’t abusive.

Those were the words that immediately sprang to his lips…but…no. That wasn’t true. Everything Palpatine had taught him, everything he’d done in the name of the Sith…all of it was abusive. He told himself it was for power, for control, but he didn’t even have control over his own life, and even the control he had over others was a mere sham. The moment the Emperor commanded him to stop, even if he didn’t want to, he had to.

Sith were abusive.

“I feel like everything I have done has been for nothing.”

Luke nodded in understanding, though Vader doubted he truly understood what it was like to look at his entire life and realize he’d chased after the wrong goals. Luke, despite his ridiculous profession, had made good choices that led him to a stable position in a job that Vader was mostly sure was the opposite of abusive. Though the amount his schooling had charged certainly was abusive, he was sure.

“It’s good to express your feelings, even if they’re negative. I think it would be worthwhile to circle back to that and explore that more, but our time is running out and considering that what we’ve talked about today was really heavy, I think we need to discuss how to put away these thoughts and feelings for later examination so that it doesn’t negatively affect you when you leave today.”

“It would not affect me more than it usually does.” Vader half-heartedly said, though the dark, roiling emotions running through him said otherwise.

“Sessions like this, while they’re good for you to better understand yourself and your situation, can leave patients emotionally drained or on edge. To try to address that in a healthy manner, it’s good to develop a sort of mental safe space for you to place those emotions until you can look at them again in the appropriate circumstance.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Well…I usually suggest a sort of mental container. Some clients will choose a box that they own in real life, such as a jewelry box or a piggy bank or a wardrobe. Others will make up their ideal box. This isn’t something you’d avoid, because you don’t want to suppress those emotions, so it wouldn’t be something you’d never want to open again like a prison or a cage. Choose something that wouldn’t be threatening to open when you next feel ready to re-examine those emotions.”

“Everything I own is threatening.”

“Well…you may want to choose something you no longer own, or you could make up your ideal container.”

“I do not have an ideal container. I do not think I am exaggerating when I say literally no one has an ideal container.”

“Maybe so. So maybe something from your past?”

His immediate thought was the jewelry box Padme used to keep in their bedroom. It was where she stored things that were most precious to her…including the japor snippet he’d carved for her when she wasn’t wearing it.

But…no. If he stored his emotions there, he’d never want to open that box again just for fear of what other emotions would come out just due to who it belonged to. Other than that, he couldn’t think of—no. When he’d been a Jedi, he’d owned a small box just big enough to hold his lightsaber. He rarely used it, considering he’d always been in situations that called for the use of his saber, but when he returned home to Padme, he sometimes put the saber in the cushioned box.

“My old lightsaber box. I used it on nights I wished to spend alone time with your mother.”

He sensed Luke perk up when he mentioned his mother, but he didn’t ask. Not yet—Vader knew it was coming, and he’d need to prepare for the day he’d need to tell him. Luke deserved it…but he wasn’t ready.

“Describe it.” Luke said.

“It was simple—the Jedi rarely had anything fancy unless it had something to do with the Force.” He rolled his eyes. “It had a latch, but no lock. Inside was a brown cushion for where the lightsaber would go.”

Luke nodded. “That should work perfectly.”

Good. If it hadn’t, he wouldn’t know what else to pick. “Now what?”

“Close your eyes.”

Already, Vader didn’t like this, but he did as he was instructed. After a moment, Luke must have assumed he’d followed instructions, because he continued, “Imagine the box. You unlatch the lid, and you take all of what we talked about, all of your feelings over what we discussed, and place it gently on the cushion.”

Vader felt weird doing this, but Luke had yet to do him wrong, so he reluctantly did as suggested. He imagined everything—his apparent slavery to Palpatine, the realization that he’d been manipulated and…and groomed to become a Sith, and that everything he’d done had been for naught, and placed it all on the imagined cushion. He could almost feel the softness of the cushion, though he had not felt anything on his fingertips in over twenty years.

“Now close the lid and latch it. Notice that it isn’t locked—those thoughts and feelings can still be examined and addressed when you’re ready, but when you’re not ready or you need to focus on something else, you can put them back safe in the box.”
He did as he was asked, and when he’d latched the mental box he felt…well, not necessarily better, but he did feel as though a weight had been lifted from his chest.

“It also helps if you have a support person. Again, you don’t have to actually talk to them about anything you don’t want to, but if you feel angry or upset or overwhelmed, sometimes imagining talking to that person helps.”

“I don’t need an imaginary friend. I am an adult.” Vader said, annoyed.

“I meant someone who is in some way part of your life. Some people will use a close family member, a friend, a spouse, or if they’re religious, they sometimes use their deity….the Force doesn’t have a god, does it?”

“No.”

“Well, then a deity being your support person may not work for you.”

“It is not as if I have a significant amount of people to pick from.” He pointed out.

“I know. And you don’t have to tell me or even decide now.”

But Vader’s mind was already turning, going through the list of people he somewhat trusted enough to even consider. The Emperor was definitely out. Piett was competent, but the idea of telling Piett any of his personal problems didn’t seem to sit right. Then everyone else he’d been close to either hated him and wanted him dead, or hated him and were dead, probably at his hand. There was his mother—she hadn’t died hating him. But she’d died so long ago, and he thought that anything he told her of what he’d done…

No. He couldn’t bear to stand her disappointment.

“You are the only person I know.” He finally said.

Luke frowned. “It’s not really supposed to be your therapist—”

“No. I mean, my son.” Vader rolled his eyes. He hated it when Luke stayed so professional.

But then Luke’s brows rose and he said, “Oh. Well. Yeah, okay, your son could work, especially if it’s an imagined conversation when he’s not available….though again, that’s still complicated given that he’s also me. But we already made an exception once, so might as well I guess.”

“What do I do now that I’ve identified you as my support person?”

“When you’re struggling, maybe when you’re struggling not to kill an innocent bystander or you’re just struggling in general, you can have a mental conversation with your support person, or if you wouldn’t want to necessarily talk, just imagining that person there with you may help.” Luke smiled. “I think you know me enough to have a decent idea of how I’d respond to whatever it is you have to tell me.”

“Hm. You are a bit of a hippy. Perhaps I will avoid thinking about you while I have to deal with Rebels. You would likely not approve.”

Luke laughed, though there was a nervous edge to it. “Probably not, though I think I’d enjoy hearing your version of one of my ‘hippie’ lectures.”

Vader made a face, though of course Luke couldn’t see it. “Is that the end of our session?”

Luke nodded and stood. “Yes. And we have the next hour together. Do you still feel up to teaching me something about the Force? That isn’t something the Sith would do?”

Vader opened his mouth to say yes, but then closed it. He might have put his thoughts and feelings into that mental box, but he still felt strangely exhausted, as though he’d just gone through a particularly difficult lightsaber duel. Though he desperately wanted to teach Luke…

“I will save it for another time.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that, but it was for the best. He wanted to be fully present when he taught Luke such important lessons. “Perhaps you and I could work on a ship?”

Yes. That seemed like a safe enough activity. It would give him a chance to unwind, and he could spend time with his son. Force training had waited over twenty years—it could wait another day or two.

Luke smiled. “Sure, father. That sounds fun.”

And…though Luke could not see it, Vader found himself smiling back. Something else welled in his chest, something that had nothing to do with hatred or anger or self-blaming.

Love. It was love and pride for the boy who, despite all the trouble Vader gave him, was the only support and beacon of light he’d had in so many years—a beacon of light that, for once, he didn’t want to shy away from.

“Come, my son. I have just the ship…”

Chapter Text

Luke had never been so proud of his father. Sure, his father wasn’t exactly the nicest guy in the galaxy--in fact, he had many, many problems that would make a normal person run away screaming. Sometimes Luke even thought, in his most desperate moments, that he couldn’t handle it anymore. But then they’d have a breakthrough, and in that moment he could see the goodness somewhere deep inside, goodness that was wrapped in layers of darkness, and he thought maybe he could keep peeling back those layers if only to see that light for just a split second. And maybe, if they kept working at it, he’d be able to unwrap it fully and Vader could truly start healing and taking control of his life. 

That last session had been one of those sessions, even if he’d learned some truly, deeply disturbing details about his father’s life. Vader had taken charge instead of Luke having to push and prod to get him to open up. He’d expressed feelings. He’d answered questions. He’d done the exercises. It was almost a normal session, if he ignored the way his mood swings made the entire room chill. 

And then he’d again given him just a small glimpse into the mysterious woman that had been his mother. 

More than anything, Luke wanted to learn more about her, but Vader hadn’t even given him a name. He’d always referred to her as his mother, and he wasn’t even sure Vader realized he hadn’t given a name. He was half tempted to start randomly searching “Lord Vader Wife” into the holonet, or even “Anakin Skywalker Wife” just to see if anything would come up, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew full well that the censorship department would probably pick that up and report it to someone who would report it to someone else who would report it to someone else until it reached someone who would report it to either Vader (not ideal, considering he doubted Vader would like him snooping, but he could probably manage) or worse, the Emperor himself. 

Then his father really would be angry with him for endangering his life. 

No, he’d just have to be patient. Instead, he used his free time to look up Darth Vader’s career since it’s official start until most recently. When he’d initially been assigned to Vader’s case, he’d done some research, but now he wanted to look at his career and try to find things that were positive. If he could find examples, in their next session, perhaps they could address his negative belief that everything he’d done had been for nothing. Surely, there had to be something. No one could actually spend over twenty years in a job and not do something worthwhile, right? 

Well. The tabloid reporting and official Imperial profile on Vader was either propaganda, or it was actual deeds that were pretty dark and part of the abusive cycle his father had been pushed into. Vader didn’t seem like he’d appreciate that his only worthwhile deeds came from propaganda, and he didn’t think he’d buy it if Luke tried to spin one of the obviously abusive deeds as something good...especially since he couldn’t even think of how to do that. 

By the end of it, he was certain he should never work in the propaganda department. 

Perhaps some of the troops would have an interesting perspective, he decided. Despite his methods, he wasn’t the type of leader to let the troops do the dirty work. He was usually on the front lines with them. He knew General Veers probably had good things to say about Vader that would be legitimate, so perhaps if he started with him and then asked for recommendations, he could get enough feedback before their next session. 

But before he could start, he had another person to help. 

“Hello Admiral,” Luke greeted, standing. In his head, he was already making a mental note to ask Piett where Veers would be after the session had concluded. 

“Luke.” Piett gave him a tired smile and took a seat in front of him. “You don’t have to stand when I come in, you know.” 

“I know, but I do it because I respect you.” Luke sat back down, pulling out his datapad. “So, last time we discussed the stress you were under because Lord Vader likes to assign you extra tasks on top of your normal tasks simply because he likes you.” 

Piett made a frustrated noise. “I have a lengthy list of things he ordered me to do since we last spoke. Do you want to hear them?” 

Luke, weirdly, found that he was rather interested to know what sorts of mundane tasks Vader gave, but he managed to keep his voice as neutrally professional as possible as he nodded. “Please.” 

The Admiral began counting them out on his fingers. It reminded Luke of someone much younger than the man complaining to a friend or trusted relative. “He broke his own datapad. Made me go get him a new one.” 

“Why didn’t he just fix it himself?” Luke asked, frowning. 

“Well he broke it in half. I don’t think that’s fixable.” 

“Ah.” 

“Someone threw up on the bridge. He made me clean it up. I offered to get a janitor, and he insisted that it would take too long for them to get there and he didn’t want to look at it.” 

“Is...is the officer who threw up okay…?” He knew Vader hadn’t killed anyone recently, and he doubted he’d get murderous over something as normal as someone getting sick, but Luke couldn’t help but worry. 

“Yes, he’s fine.” Piett frowned. “Weirdly, Lord Vader was the one who told the officer to go get some rest.” 

“Oh, that’s good, right?” 

“Sure...but very out of character for Lord Vader.” Luke personally thought that was an improvement in character, but he didn't say it.  “He had me take inventory of our munitions. We have droids that can do that, and then their report is supposed to go to Accounting, which then is supposed to compile a report for me to approve. Nope. He wanted me to do it.” 

“And did you remind him that there is a perfectly suitable process already in place?” 

“No. Lord Vader may have weirdly calmed down, but I do not have a death wish.” 

It wasn’t surprising, though Luke personally thought that Vader was probably more likely to handle it better now more than ever. “Perhaps it would be a good idea to start working on setting healthy boundaries.” 

“I still think you are far too optimistic.” 

“Perhaps. But even if you don’t feel comfortable doing it with Lord Vader, maybe you could learn to use it with others so that you don’t have those pressures on top of the other pressures you have with Lord Vader.” 

Piett considered it for a moment. “Yes, I think that might be a good place to start, then.” 

Good. If Piett could get comfortable with setting boundaries with others, perhaps they could work up to setting boundaries with Vader. 

“Now, let’s start with--” 

He was interrupted by the door opening. Both he and Piett turned to face whoever had interrupted their meeting. 

At first, Luke didn’t recognize him. He was just a low-ranking officer, if his uniform was anything to go by. But then he looked at his face--a face that wasn’t especially interesting, and he distantly recognized him as the officer who Vader had stolen the hoverboard from. But he didn’t have a session with him for another few weeks, and it was technically after business hours...why was he here? 

“Oh. Uh.” The officer looked flushed and embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company…” 

Luke didn’t really want to disclose that he was giving the Admiral special sessions after hours. It wasn’t on his normal schedule, but Cyl should have stopped the man from coming in anyway since he would have known he was busy. Had the officer ignored Cyl? 

“Yes...I’m afraid I’m a bit busy at the moment, I apologize. Perhaps you can talk to my receptionist and we could set you up for another time?” Though again, he already had an appointment… “If it’s an emergency, just tell Cyl and he’ll work something out.” 

“Yeah. Sorry. Wow, this is embarrassing...I’ll just talk to your droid then…” The man laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand before starting to turn around. 

You’re in danger. 

The feeling hit Luke like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t sure why, or where it even came from, but the feeling was so strong it made it difficult to breathe. Where was it coming--? 

Oh. 

The Force. 

It had to be. His father had made some vague references that seemed to line up with this feeling, but why…? 

Instinctively, his hand was reaching for one of his desk drawers. He didn’t immediately remember why, but then he remembered the lightsaber he’d taken from his father. He’d never given it back--it was still there. 

As Luke’s fingers grasped the cool metal handle, the officer at the door suddenly whirled. Luke had enough time to see a blaster in his hand before he fired. 

Not at Luke. 

At Piett. 

Piett tried to stand, to get out of the way, yelping out, “Luke!” before the bolt hit him and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious. By this point, Luke had the drawer open, and his hand was closing around the cool, angry, heavy weapon sitting in it before the officer turned the gun on him and fired. 

He was down before he pulled the saber out, his entire world going black. 

“You kidnapped both the therapist and Darth Vader's Admiral?!” Leia exclaimed in disbelief the moment Obi-Wan shut the cell door. Leia didn’t love putting her new-found brother in a prison cell, but even if he was her brother and a therapist, they didn’t know the situation yet. The moment they were sure Luke understood and accepted the truth, they’d let him out. 

They had not counted for Admiral Piett, Vader’s favorite Admiral (and possibly his favorite Imperial), being captured too. 

Their spy shifted nervously under Leia’s furious gaze. She might have been a Jedi, but she definitely had her father’s fire in her. It caused him no small amount of worry. 

“I spliced into the system and downloaded his schedule. It said that time was prep time!! He wasn’t supposed to have any clients, let alone the Admiral!” 

“You could have left the Admiral where he was!” 

“I panicked, okay?!” 

Leia groaned and rubbed her temples in frustration. “I can’t believe we sent the jumpiest spy onto the Executor…” 

“Hey, I wasn’t jumpy until Darth Freakin’ Vader broke into my room and stole my hoverboard!” 

“Let’s put a pin in this conversation and save it for later,” Obi-Wan interrupted, raising his hands in a placating manner, “I’m sure we can find some use for such an important Imperial Admiral. In fact, you probably did the Rebellion an even greater service.” 

The spy gestured at Obi-Wan. “Thank you!” 

Obi-Wan tried not to grimace as Leia shot him a look. “Yes, well, Leia and I need to discuss strategy…”

“Oh! I almost forgot.” The spy reached into his pack and pulled out, to Obi-Wan’s surprise, a lightsaber. Instinctively, he recoiled as he sensed a wave of cold darkness emanating from it. “The therapist was reaching for this when I stunned him.” 

Obi-Wan’s heart sank, and it was Leia who reached out and took the weapon from the spy. “We’ll keep it somewhere safe.” She promised gravely. The spy nodded and with one last salute, turned and walked out of the cell block. 

As soon as they were both sure he was gone, Leia whirled on Obi-Wan. “You know what this is, right?” She held the saber out between them. He could sense the kyber krystal screaming within it, and he knew she could, too. 

“I am well aware.” 

“So does this mean…?” 

“It would seem so.” His worst fears were coming true. “Leia...if Luke has already turned…” 

“Don’t.” Leia closed her eyes and clipped the saber on her belt, next to her own… or rather, Anakin’s. “He’s the only family I have left. I know...I know you feel that I shouldn’t care so much about those relationships, but I’m not you, Obi-Wan. I wasn’t raised like the rest of your Jedi. I have to believe I can reach my brother if he’s already begun his training. I mean, he hasn’t even been on the Executor that long...a few months, maybe? Maybe he only recently started his training and it’s still reversible.” 

Obi-Wan wished she was right, if only so that he wouldn’t feel like he’d failed more than he already had. “I know. I’m not saying give up hope. I’m just warning you that if it comes down to it…” 

He trailed off, and Leia closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

“If it comes down to it, I’ll have to end him.” 

Obi-Wan hoped it wouldn’t. Leia was incredibly strong, but to kill her own twin… after she’d already lost so much…

They’d do everything they could to save Luke before that happened. 

“They should be waking up soon, if they haven’t already.” Leia said, changing the subject. “I think we should pull Luke into an interrogation room and just tell him the truth one-on-one.” 

Obi-Wan didn’t love bringing Luke to an interrogation room to tell him these things, but he knew for a fact that interrogation room mean something totally different on an Imperial ship than it did a Rebellion one. Rebellion ships only had a room with a simple metal table and chairs in it, not a torture chamber. Maybe, if Luke knew what an Imperial version looked like, he’d not feel as threatened in comparison. 

“Alright. Let’s wake him up.” He did not mention just how worried he was for Luke, for what Vader might have done to him already. He just had to hope that whatever it was, he could somehow reverse it. 

Maybe he wasn’t too late this time. 

“Luke, wake up!” 

The voice was panicked and distant. At first, Luke didn’t even recognize it. He was swimming in his own mind, unable to grasp complete thoughts or images. He knew he needed to wake up, but he couldn’t remember why. 

“Oh stars, please wake up Luke!” 

Piett. That was Piett’s voice. Why was Piett trying to wake him up? His father had woken him up once, and it had been one of the most terrifying ways he’d ever woken up, but why was Piett doing it? Had something happened to his father? 

The thought had him forcing his eyes open. His vision was blurry at first, but then after blinking rapidly, he managed to clear it. 

He was not in his office, or even his bedroom. In fact, he was slumped on his side on an uncomfortable permacrete slab in what appeared to be some sort of prison cell, his hands cuffed in binders in front of him. 

He groaned, remembering the officer who’d attacked them just before he’d blacked out. So, a spy, then. But a spy for who? Rebels? Pirates? 

No. More likely, it was the Emperor. Who else could have planted a spy on the Executor and gotten away with it? 

His father was going to be pissed. 

No. Pissed was a tame word for what his father would be. 

“Oh, thank the stars you’re finally awake,” Piett sounded relieved, though there was definitely an edge of panic there. 

Luke struggled to sit up. The binders made everything uncomfortable, especially when he reached up to rub the grogginess from his eyes. Next to him, Piett sat, looking a bit ruffled but unharmed otherwise, also wearing binders on his wrists. 

“Why are you here?” He asked, his voice slurring a bit. He understood why the Emperor might want to kidnap him, but why Piett? Piett had no idea who he really was, and he already worked for the Emperor, so why take him? 

“I assume the Rebels wished to interrogate the both of us.” Piett said, glancing at the closed (and likely locked) door. “You because you are Darth Vader’s favorite therapist, and me because I am his Admiral.” 

Luke’s brows furrowed as he struggled to wrap his head around the situation. “I’m...I’m Vader’s only therapist, I assure you.” 

“Really Luke? A joke? At a time like this?” 

He hadn’t exactly meant to crack a joke. “Sorry. My brain is still foggy...I mean, how do you know it’s the Rebels who took us?” 

“Who else would it be?” 

Oh, Piett...poor, poor Piett. He had no idea who he was, had no idea why the Emperor would want him. Instantly, Luke felt bad for the situation he’d put his superior in, and was half tempted to just tell him to save him from finding out when the Emperor came to interrogate them. 

Or...no, he wouldn’t come himself. He’d send cronies to do that for him, right? But then again, he’d personally groomed his father for years. Maybe the Emperor was a lot more hands on than one would think? 

“You know, when I came to therapy today, I did not expect to get kidnapped from my own ship, let alone get kidnapped with the entire ship’s favorite therapist. This is not helping with my stress at all.” Piett muttered. Luke didn’t think he was necessarily saying it to him, but rather to himself, as if to curse his own luck. 

Still, Luke was hit with a terrible sense of guilt. “I’m so sorry--I swear, this was never my intention.” 

“Oh, you mean you don’t get captured with your clients every session?” Piett sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m just...trying not to have a break down right now. Lord Vader is going to murder me for losing you.” 

Luke opened his mouth to assure Piett that he wouldn’t, but he realized...actually, Vader might, but not for the reasons Piett thought. Again, the need to tell Piett the truth was growing stronger. “I’ll talk to him. Maybe I can convince him to calm down. You said it yourself that he values you.” 

“I suppose we will find out just how much he values me if we manage to survive this.” 

Oh. Luke...hadn’t considered that possibility. His heart began to beat faster, and it was an effort to keep himself calm. 

Though he was the therapist for the scariest man in the galaxy, somehow he felt more afraid now than he ever had on the Executor. 

Suddenly, the door opened, and Luke tensed, expecting to see Imperial troopers, or an interrogation officer, or worse, the Emperor himself walk through the door. Instead, two people he least expected walked in. 

Princess Leia, one of the most iconic Rebellion leaders that he’d only seen in news holos…

And Ben Kenobi, looking much the same as he did when he’d known him on Tatooine, albeit cleaned up a bit. 

Ben Kenobi. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

The man who’d left his father without limbs and burned alive. 

The man who’d kidnapped him and lied to his aunt and uncle about the fate of his father. 

Luke suddenly felt sick. 

If he ever made it out...he’d have quite the session with his own therapist to process everything. 

“You.” He said, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed Piett glance at him worriedly. 

“Hello, Luke.” Kenobi said, giving him a sad but kind smile. His uncle had always claimed this man was a crazy wizard, and Luke had never known whether he should have believed him or not. Now? He could see how it could be possible. How could someone look so nice and yet do such terrible things? 

You handle Vader on a daily basis. You can handle this guy. 

At least, he wanted to believe what his mind was telling him. He suddenly wished that he’d taken Vader up on those Force lessons. 

Weirdly, Princess Leia just stared at him. He’d heard plenty of rumors about her, mostly unflattering and terrifying, and he knew that she and Vader had previous confrontations on the battlefield. Perhaps she was staring at him because he was the son of Darth Vader? But there wasn’t any disgust there, just...intense curiosity. 

“What do you want with me?” He asked, his voice low and calm. His therapist training served him well, because he was definitely terrified. Did Vader know that he’d been taken yet? Could he track them down? He didn’t wish for the bloodbath that would be sure to follow, but he didn’t want to be in the same room as the man who’d separated him from his father. 

Kenobi lifted his hands in a peaceful gesture. “We just want to talk, Luke.” 

Interrogate, he meant. They were Rebels. He was an Imperial Therapist who worked with some of the most important Imperials in the galaxy. They’d want to interrogate him for information, he was sure. 

But Piett was the first to respond. “You will do no such thing. Young Lars is under my protection. If you wish to speak with anyone, you will speak with me.” 

Luke’s chest warmed, even if he was suddenly terrified for Piett. 

His words seemed to snap Leia out of her oogling and she rolled her eyes, disdain written all over her face. “I assure you, we will get to you, but you are not our priority, believe it or not Admiral.” 

That...that was weird. Piett would definitely pick up on how weird that was. He was an Admiral--he outranked him. Technically, he should know more than a simple therapist. Why wouldn’t the Rebellion want to interrogate him first? 

Because they know I’m Darth Vader’s son. 

He was, as much as he never liked to admit it, the Heir to the Empire. 

That definitely outranked an Admiral. 

“I am the Admiral of Death Squadron. I personally serve Darth Vader himself. I assure you, a therapist would have no information that would be of use to you.” Piett had the gall, or perhaps courage, to sound offended. Luke already understood why his father liked Piett so much, but now he really understood it. If he’d fight to protect someone as insignificant as a therapist, who knew what he’d do to protect Vader? To protect the son of Darth Vader? 

“That’s all very interesting, but we’ll get to that later. Right now, Luke has an appointment with us, so if you’d excuse us…” Leia took a step towards Luke, and he instinctively dug his heels into the ground, anticipating getting grabbed. 

“I’m sorry, but you actually kidnapped me in the middle of a session with a client. You’ve already tarnished my reputation, which I highly value, and I will not allow you to tarnish it further by separating me from my client, who I am still technically in a session with. I am not going anywhere.” 

He glared at the two Rebels as if to emphasize that he would absolutely force them to drag him from the room if they attempted to make him leave. He would drag his heels, kick, pull, push, anything to keep from being separated from Piett, not only because he himself was afraid to be alone with these people, but because he was afraid of what they’d do to Piett. Maybe the Rebels would be afraid of what Vader would do to them if he was injured. Maybe it would give him at least some protection. But Piett? Sure, he was valuable, but Luke wasn’t sure how Vader would react to losing a trusted Admiral. It probably wouldn’t be great, but it wouldn’t be on the same level as losing a son. 

Kenobi and Princess Leia glanced at each other. “We promise, we don’t wish to hurt you, Luke--” Leia began, but Luke interrupted. 

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving my client.” He glared at her, as if to challenge her to test his resolve. 

To his surprise, she just looked at Kenobi as though she were looking to him to decide what to do. The older man sighed and rubbed his face, as though he were already exhausted by the whole conversation, and nodded. 

“Very well, Luke. We will not separate you from your...your client.” He glanced at Piett as though he thought it was odd to call such a high ranking Imperial officer a client. “But we do have business to discuss. I’m afraid it’s rather personal.” 

Luke’s heart sank. Kenobi was giving him an out if he wished to keep his identity secret from Piett. He wondered what Vader would want him to do...go with them and keep his true identity secret, or stay near Piett? He had no doubt that if anything happened to him, Vader would hold Piett at least somewhat responsible, but if Piett found out…

He’d have to talk to Vader later. He’d convince him that Piett knowing was a good thing...perhaps Piett could help strengthen security measures afterwards if he knew who exactly he was in charge of protecting. 

Luke tried not to worry that Vader and Piett might go overboard with those security measures. One worry at a time. 

“Anything you say to me, Piett can hear. Unlike you, I trust him.” 

He said it with conviction--he did trust Piett. Maybe more than Vader did, considering that Vader wasn’t exactly the trusting-type. 

Kenobi sighed again and gestured at Princess Leia to continue whatever it was they wanted to ‘talk’ to him about. 

She didn’t look happy about the decision, and she shot another dark glare at Piett, but her gaze softened when she looked back at him. “Luke...I’m...I guess the first thing I’d like to say is I’m sorry we had to capture you like this.” 

Luke made a face. “Kidnap. You kidnapped me.” He glanced at Kenobi, then hurriedly looked away. 

“You’re an Imperial. Technically, we captured you. It happens in war.” She said gently. Why was she apologizing? Why was she speaking to him in that tone? 

“Can we just skip to whatever it is you want from me?” Then he hurriedly added, “And just so you know, there are very specific circumstances where I can reveal client information, and I assure you, this is not one of them. You will get no information from me, even if you have to...to t-torture me.” 

Stars. Torture. He was going to be tortured and Vader probably wouldn’t get there in time to stop it and…

“No, no, we’re not going to torture you, Luke.” Princess Leia said, sounding horrified that he’d even suggest it. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but torture is a thing Imperials do. It’s a war crime.” 

Luke hesitated. She certainly sounded like she believed that, but it could be a trick. Or, maybe the Rebellion did it and just didn’t tell her? But she was a leader. How could she not know Rebels were just as likely to torture Imperials as Imperials were to torture Rebels? 

“I think you’re optimistic if you think Rebels have clean hands compared to Imperials. This is war, your highness. Even good people do terrible things to protect what they believe in.” 

Leia looked like she wanted to argue further, but Kenobi stepped in. “You aren’t wrong, Luke, but I promise, we’re not here to hurt you.” 

“So you kidnapped me just to talk, then?” Luke snorted. “What, you couldn’t call me and leave a message? I gave your spy my business card, he had my contact information, you could have done it.” 

“No, Luke, we had to save you.” Princess Leia said passionately. 

Luke looked at Piett, who was glaring at the princess. There was no indication of what the other man thought about that statement. “I don’t need saving.” He said, turning back to her. 

“You mean to tell me that you don’t know about your powers and have no idea what this is?” The princess reached to her belt and unclipped what Luke realized was Vader’s lightsaber, holding it up for him to see clearly. “Our spy said you reached for it when he captured you.” 

Luke ignored her emphasis on the word capture. “It isn’t mine.” 

“You expect me to believe that you just happened to have a lightsaber lying around in your office?” 

Now he could feel Piett’s eyes on him. 

“Actually, yes. Lord Vader handed it to me. We got into an argument and I left with it. I forgot that I still had it until your spy attacked us.” It was the truth, but even he had to admit it sounded like a stupid excuse. “I am a therapist. I am not a fighter. Lord Vader even calls me a hippie!” 

Princess Leia and Kenobi exchanged looks. They definitely didn’t believe him, nor did they believe that Vader would ever call anyone a hippie. 

“Luke, you are Force Sensitive, and Vader clearly knows this if he allowed you to take a lightsaber. I suspect you know it too.” Kenobi said, his tone deceptively gentle. 

Luke glared at him. “I’m not a Sith.” 

“Then he has told you about the Sith. Did he tell you that the type of saber he gave you was a Sith saber?” 

“What he and I have talked about isn’t any of your business.” 

“Did he tell you what it means to be a Sith?” Kenobi waited for Luke to respond, and when he didn’t, he continued. “I know you, Luke. I...I tried to make sure you were safe growing up. You’re a good kid. Vader would twist that and make you an agent of evil, like him. Has...has he ever told you what happened to your father?” 

It was hard to breathe. Kenobi had apparently stalked him while he was growing up. He probably knew how much he wanted to know about his father. 

This was it. This was the moment Kenobi revealed who he truly was. Piett hadn’t said anything, and Luke was too worried to look over and see his reaction to what had to be a strange and possibly damning conversation. 

But it was Princess Leia who spoke. 

“He killed him, Luke.” She closed her eyes, as if it pained her to say it, “Darth Vader killed your father.” 

Luke stared at them both. They had the nerve to look grave, as though they’d delivered the worst news possible. And, technically, they had...if it had been true. He couldn’t tell if Princess Leia truly thought that awful lie, or if she was trying to convince him like Kenobi was. 

He honestly wasn’t sure how to react. The smart thing might have been to play along, get them to think he was on their side. Then he and Piett could escape at the first opportunity. 

But Luke wasn’t a trained soldier. He wasn’t a spy. He was a therapist, and lying or not, he wasn’t going to sit there and play along, especially given the terrible implications of what the lie was meant to achieve. 

“Is the point of this conversation to make me turn on Vader? I assure you, if I wanted to turn on him, he’s already given me numerous reasons to do so. I am well aware of who he is. I do not need such a lie.” 

Princess Leia looked like he’d slapped her. “Luke, I’m not lying. He killed Anakin Skywalker!” 

Luke couldn’t help it. He laughed, not because it was funny, but because he couldn’t believe he was in the middle of this. If he hadn’t known who Vader was, he absolutely would have reacted in the way they wanted him to, but he knew. 

“I am sure Vader has killed many fathers, but mine was not one of them, I assure you.” He said while shooting a pointed glare at Kenobi. The older man paled, realizing that Luke knew the truth, and by the panicked look he gave the princess, Luke guessed he hadn’t told her the truth. “Would you like to tell her, or should I?” 

“Leia...Leia I think we should regroup…” Kenobi began, putting a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off. 

“No! I’ve waited long enough, Obi-Wan, and I will not have him sit there and insult my father!” 

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Kenobi winced and closed his eyes. Luke barely saw it, though. He was too busy processing what she’d just said. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “What?” 

Leia glared at Kenobi for a moment more before turning her challenging stare on him. “Anakin Skywalker was my father. He was a good man. A Jedi. He gave his life for the Republic, and was betrayed and murdered by Darth Vader, the man you are for some forsaken reason are defending. You, Luke, are my twin brother, and whether you like it or not, I rescued you. Maybe you’re too brainwashed to see that, but I’m going to help you, and one day you’ll see this was for your own good.” 

Sister. He had a twin sister. For some reason, it didn’t even occur to him to not believe her. He felt that what she said was true...perhaps it was a Force thing, he’d figure that part out later. For now, he had far bigger issues to deal with. 

Namely, that his twin sister had kidnapped him from their own father...who she was leading a Rebellion against, not knowing that it was her father because she hadn’t been told the truth. If he had to guess, the person who’d told her the lie that she so fervently believed was Kenobi himself, and given that he knew Kenobi knew who Vader was...the implication was horrifying. 

As the son of Darth Vader and apparent brother to Princess Leia, he was horrified and outraged. As a therapist, he couldn’t help but see so many unhealthy problems that he wasn’t sure where to begin untangling this mess. 

“I’m…. hmmmmm.” He tried to get his mouth to say the words that were in his brain, but for a good minute or so, all that came out were various sounds accompanied by increasingly horrified faces. “Hmmmm. Hrrrrrrrm. Errrrrm!!!! MMMMMMMMMM!!!!” 

Oh, how he wished he had his stuffed duck so that he could scream into it. 

“Leia…” Kenobi tried again, and Luke just made an even louder noise in protest. By now, Piett was definitely staring at him as though he were worried that what she’d said had broken him. In a way, he wasn’t wrong. 

“Noooooope. No, you had your chance to tell her the truth, and you definitely didn’t, sir.” Luke finally managed to say, gesturing wildly at Kenobi with his shackled hands. 

“Obi-Wan has always been truthful with me!” Leia was outraged, probably by both his implication that Kenobi was a liar, and by the fact that he still wasn’t believing her albeit heart warming adoration for who she thought their father was. And maybe, maybe Vader had been that person at some point--in fact, Luke believed that to be the case, but at least he knew more of the truth. It was a horrifying truth that he didn’t always know how to handle, but at least he knew it. 

“I have a DNA test that says otherwise.” He was suddenly very glad Vader had insisted on it as a formality. If he hadn’t, perhaps Kenobi could have fooled him into thinking Vader was lying. 

Leia hesitated, looking at Kenobi, who now looked like he was about to be sick. “What are you talking about?” 

Luke took a deep breath, trying to get his own emotions under control before he spoke. When he did, he managed to use the best therapist-giving-hard-news voice he could muster. “Darth Vader didn’t kill Anakin Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader.”  

Leia looked at him like he’d just delivered the worst news possible. Considering who she was, he probably had, and he understood. “You’re lying.” She tried to say, even as she backed away until her back hit the door. 

“I’m not. Darth Vader is my father. We...also found out in less than ideal circumstances, and given that I’m also his therapist, there are a lot of ethical issues too, but no one else would take him and there’s a court mandate and...yeah. It’s all very complicated, and I’m truly sorry I had to tell you like this.” 

Beside him, Piett made a strangled noise. “I apparently need to add ‘Lord Vader’s son has been kidnapped and he will definitely kill me for letting that happen and on top of that he has a secret daughter leading the Rebellion’ to my list of things to stress about, and this is definitely not what I thought would happen when I started therapy today.” He looked desperately at Kenobi. “It is still today, right?” 

Kenobi, surprisingly, gulped and said in a small voice, “Actually, it’s the day after you were captured.” 

“Kidnapped.” Luke amended pointedly. “Again.” 

“Oh, great. I’m sure Lord Vader is quite calm knowing that his son and apparent Heir to the Empire has been taken by Rebels.” Piett sounded like he was on the verge of a panic attack, and Luke couldn’t blame him. 

“I’m really sorry, Admiral, my father was worried about the wrong people finding out and wanted to keep it secret.” Luke said by way of apology. 

Piett just gave him a look and quietly muttered, “Your father. Darth Vader is a father.” 

Luke made a mental note to focus on helping Piett through the panic attack the moment the other two left. 

But Piett wasn’t the only one. Leia looked like her entire reality was imploding in on itself. “He’s not lying, then.” 

There was a silence. Then, Kenobi spoke. “Your father was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. He ceased to be Anakin Skywalker and became Darth Vader. When that happened, the good man that was your father was destroyed. So, what I told you was true, from a certain point of view.” 

“A certain point of view?!” Luke echoed before Leia could think of a response, “Tell me, Kenobi, who gave my father the title of Darth Vader?” 

“Sith take on Sith names when they become Sith. It would have been the Emperor.” 

“Oh, the Emperor is a Sith?” Piett choked out an incredulous laugh. “I don’t even know that that is but I assume it’s something like Lord Vader’s powers.” 

“Yes.” Kenobi nodded gravely. 

But Luke wasn’t done. “So the Emperor, who, by the way, groomed my father from a young age despite my father having legal guardians who should have prevented that, gave my father a name that was not his own to further separate him from his own fractured identity, and you’ve decided to help perpetuate that by going along with it and lying to my sister about it? That is not a truth, Kenobi, that is neglect, neglect that would have had one of us possibly unknowingly committing patricide had we not found out the truth!” 

Leia made a pained, distraught noise. “He tortured me, Luke. He held me back and forced me to watch as my entire planet was destroyed!” 

Beside him, Piett muttered, “If someone told me I’d be in the middle of Lord Vader’s family drama today, I would have laughed….laughed!” 

He was ignored. 

Luke...for the first time since he’d found out about his father, suddenly felt lucky. He had certainly found out in a less than ideal way, sure, but his father had never done anything to harm him before they’d found out. He had no doubt Vader had probably planned to harm him, but his entire attitude towards him had changed the moment he’d found out about their relationship. That didn’t make it right, but Leia hadn’t been as lucky. She’d been lied to. Vader had been lied to. He’d tortured her, not knowing he was torturing his own daughter. Luke had always read that Tarkin had given the orders for Alderaan to be blown up, but Vader being involved, forcing Leia to watch…

He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to find out the same man was her father. His heart ached for her...and as a therapist, he again didn’t even know where to begin with untangling that. 

“I won’t defend his actions. They are terrible. I would never say they aren’t, and should the law find it necessary,” which he doubted the Empire would do, “then he will have to answer for them. But I am his therapist. It is my job to help him in any way that I can. I went to school for therapy because I wanted to help people, no matter who they were, and yeah, maybe I’ve found out way more about my father than I ever bargained for. Yeah, maybe I may have made a mistake accepting an assignment like this as my first assignment fresh out of college, but I’m not about to quit now--” 

“He murdered the entire Jedi Order.” Kenobi said dryly. 

Admittedly, they hadn’t gotten to talking about that part in their sessions. “Look, working with the galaxy’s most notorious murderer, who also happens to be my father, is not the easiest job, but I mean...I think I’ve done a pretty decent job?” He glanced at Piett, hoping for some kind of back up. 

Piett thankfully seemed to be at least together enough to provide assistance. “Actually, yes, deaths have decreased by 95.4%, and productivity is significantly up. Officers have reported a higher satisfaction in their jobs. Like all of us lost our bet that Lord Vader would strangle Luke to death at some point.” 

“Exactly--” He paused, wincing. “I really hate how specific that is.” Piett shrugged. 

“How can you defend him at all?” Leia demanded. 

“Because I’ve seen good in him, Leia.” He couldn’t believe this was how he was meeting his twin sister. He was fairly certain she was going to hate him after this. “I’m not asking you to change your mind about him. Again, you have every reason to be angry and upset, and I would highly recommend seeking out therapy to help--” 

“I am not talking to you!” 

“--Actually, I agree, that would be unethical, and I am certain there are therapists who would be happy to take you on.” Actually, he wasn’t sure if there were Rebellion-friendly therapists, or if there were, how she’d go about finding them, but he wasn’t about to take back the recommendation all the same. “But I do support you getting the help you need to process all of this, and I apologize for my role in causing you such distress.” 

Even if she was part of kidnapping him in the first place, her heart had technically been in the right place. Had the roles been reversed, he wasn’t sure that he’d make a different decision to save his sister from someone he believed would cause her harm. 

Leia opened her mouth to retort...and closed it with a whimper. 

“I assume then that Vader told you about your mother.” 

Kenobi’s words made Luke go still. He must have seen that he’d finally found something Vader hadn’t told him about yet, because he continued. “After he turned, she tried to save him too, Luke. She believed there was still good in him. She went to him, heavily pregnant with the both of you, and tried to convince him to turn.” 

Luke’s heart sank. He didn’t know his mother. He didn’t even know her name. He knew his father had turned to save her, but he didn’t know the circumstances. Without the proper support, if his father had been out of control…

“Stop.” 

He didn’t want to hear it from Kenobi. He didn’t want to hear it at all. Or, if he had to, he wanted to hear it from Vader, not the man who’d already kidnapped him and then lied and manipulated his sister and tried to do the same to him. 

Kenobi didn’t stop. “He strangled her, Luke.” 

Luke felt as if Kenobi had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart. 

No, no Vader had definitely not told him this. 

And as his son...he was hurt. Deeply hurt. He wanted to shove everyone out of the room so he could scream and cry and try to make sense of everything. His father, who had made it clear that he cared for his mother, that he in his weird, heavily twisted way cared for him, had hurt her. He’d betrayed her. Had this been how she died? 

But as a therapist...he didn’t dare ask. Some logical part of his brain whispered that Kenobi had his own agenda, that he wasn’t giving him the whole story...and asking him, after everything he’d done and said when it came to his father, would not give him a full picture of what happened. He could not react and possibly cause more damage to everyone involved based on such limited and probably biased information. 

When he spoke, it was calm and even, the total opposite of how he felt. He spoke quietly, but in the silence of the cell, it sounded far louder and firmer than he meant for it to be. “I do not know you. So far, you have kidnapped me, lied to my family, and hurt my father...who I know made decisions that were inexcusable and probably hurt you, too. You lost your friends, and, from what little Vader has told me about the Jedi order, probably your own found family. If I had to guess, you probably cared for my father, deeply, and you are hurting from his betrayal. I understand, but you did not tell me that information for my own good. You told me because you, like my father, are not over what happened between you two, and you wanted to hurt Vader through my reaction. I will not give you the satisfaction of reacting, because I don’t trust you enough to believe you’ve given me the full story.” 

“I didn’t--” Kenobi began, but Luke cut him off. 

“Until you are ready to be honest with yourself, this conversation is done. Get out.” 

Kenobi just stood there, staring at him in disbelief. Luke was sure he possibly believed everything he’d done was for the greater good, but it was obvious that the older man needed just as much professional help as Vader did, even if for completely different reasons. In the meantime, Luke was not about to be a pawn to be manipulated in the feud that existed between the two men. He would not allow it…

Even if his own personal feelings wanted to take over and consume him. 

There was a silence as they stared each other down. Then, finally, Kenobi turned, opened the cell door, and walked out. 

Leia shook her head at him. It hurt to see how hurt she was, both from the truth that had been revealed about Kenobi and their father, and from how he reacted when it came to the man she hated so much. She wanted him to hate Vader as much as she did, and though he was definitely hurt by the potential truth of what had happened to their mother, he couldn’t react the way she wanted him to. 

What a terrible way to meet her twin brother. She’d probably been so excited too, only to be disappointed and hurt. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, and he meant it. Oh, how he meant it. 

She shook her head, hurt and betrayal reflected in her dark eyes, but she said not another word as she turned and left the cell, the blast door slamming behind her. 

“So,” Piett said after a heavy silence, “would now be a terrible time to bring up setting a boundary not to involve me in Lord Vader’s family drama more than I probably will have to be?” 

Luke closed his eyes. Despite what he’d said, Kenobi’s revelation still sank in his chest, attempting to drown him in the implications and pain that came with it. He both desperately wanted to talk to Vader, and didn’t at the same time. In some ways, he was glad he wasn’t alone in that cell, but he wished it was with someone who had no connection to Vader whatsoever. Then maybe he could talk about it without making it complicated. 

“I think that’s a really valid boundary to make.” He said, then added, “I’m proud of you for recognizing a healthy boundary and asking for it.” 

“Thanks...but I’m sure Lord Vader won’t see it that way and will somehow involve me...if he lets me live, that is.” 

Luke let out a long sigh. “Yeah...we’ll work on that...assuming you still want to work with me after this.”