Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was rare to catch a Sith padawan. 

It was even rarer for Anthony to be allowed along for the interrogation. His master, a short-tempered Falleen named Zanot Tel, kept a sharp pace Anthony had trouble keeping up with. 

“You will say nothing,” Zanot said tightly, hands in tight fists. “You’re only allowed to come in the first place because General Civas is feeling generous.”

Anthony allowed himself a small smile. General Civas Vedames was a kind Togruta who had a soft spot for Jedi padawans, letting them get away with sneaking into meetings and keeping training light and useful. Anthony couldn’t count the number of times he and Scotty had gotten away with sneaking sweets with her on guard duty over at the padawans’ wing. 

The cells were kept underground, to keep the escape attempts down. Personally Anthony hated it. He felt the strongest connection to the Force when he was outside, in a field or overlooking a bluff with the stars and moons watching him. 

It was damp down here, and smelled too clinical, too clean. The clones working the main desk spoke quickly and with clipped tones, giving Zanot a brief set of directions. 

“No respect these days,” Zanot growled, loudly enough for the clones to hear, and Anthony suppressed an eye roll. Zanot had a nasty habit of snubbing his rank as Jedi Master at anyone who would listen. Which was usually nobody. 

A few other Jedi were gathered around the cell, talking quietly amongst themselves. Anthony felt a chill work up his spine at their combined nervousness through the Force. 

“Master Zanot.” Civas gave a polite nod to Zanot and smiled warmly at Anthony. “We’re about to begin. He’s quite young, so we’re going to be easy on him. We’ll try the tool of gentleness before sternness.” 

Anthony felt himself relax at the kind Togruta’s words.

The other masters nodded their agreement and Civas opened the door with a wave of her hand. 

Anthony peered around Zanot, fiddling with his hands behind his back. 

The Sith padawan was young, probably about Anthony’s age. His Force signature was subdued, small and balled up so tightly Anthony wondered if it hurt. The boy glared at them from the narrow bench, bony knees held to his chest with skinny arms. 

“Hello, young one,” Civas said, voice low and calming. Anthony recognized underlying Force control to try and get the boy to relax. “Are you okay?” 

The kid’s shoulder’s tightened, ducking his head to avoid making eye contact with anyone. 

“Can you give us a name?” Civas said, kneeling so she was eye level with the boy. “Something we can call you?”

The kid didn’t move. 

“You’ve been kept under the radar for a while,” Civas continued easily as if she wasn’t being ignored. “Your master kept a good eye on you.” 

A flick of the eyes, and the padawan huddled into a tighter ball. 

“Could you tell me his name?”

Nothing, except some blinking. 

“We have a padawan here about your age,” Civas said, and Anthony startled at being indirectly addressed. “Would you like to meet him? It’s scary here, all alone. He can be your friend while you’re with us.” 

Civas motioned without looking, and Anthony glanced at Zanot for permission. The Falleen gave a short nod, and Anthony slipped forward before he could change his mind. 

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, letting Civas pull him closer with a gentle tug. “I’m Anthony.” 

The boy actually looked at him, and Anthony noticed that he only had one vivid green eye. The other eye was a cybertronic prosthesis, a red iris zoned in on Anthony. 

The Sith and their red . 

‘I’m Brian.” The two words were quiet, but spoken nonetheless. Civas smiled broadly, and nudged Anthony.

“Sorry about—this.” Anthony gestured around him. “I’m sure they’ll let you go soon.” 

The boy’s face shuddered closed. “They won’t. I’m a Sith.” 

“Not yet,” Anthony said, brow furrowing. “You’re a padawan, like me.” 

“I’ve given myself over to the dark side.” 

Anthony wrinkled his nose. He wasn’t the best at reading Force signatures, but he could tell there was no Darkness in this room. 

“Well, okay,” he said, noting Civas’s stiffening position. “Do you still want to be friends? Just while you’re here, anyway?”

The boy, Brian, stared at him, then shrugged noncommittally. “Sure. You’re nicer than the clones, anyway.” 

“Cool.” Anthony pulled away from Civas, plopping down shoulder-to-shoulder with Brian. “What’s your favorite color?”

…

The Jedi masters let Anthony talk Brian’s ear off for an hour, but when it was clear that Anthony was running out of probing questions, they ushered him away. 

“I’ll see you!” Anthony said cheerily, waving as Zanot pulled him from the cell. 

Brian waved half-heartedly back, and the door whished back in place. 

“Did I do good, master?” Anthony asked, hoping. 

“You did satisfactory,” Zanot said, and Athony’s heart warmed at the small praise. 

Better than nothing. 

…

Zanot didn’t keep the closest eye on his padawan when it wasn’t time for training, and neither did Scotty’s older-than-Force master either. 

“He has a cyber eye?” Scotty whispered, following after Anthony like an eager puppy. 

“Yeah,” Anthony said, super excited to bring another friend for Brian. He had his pockets full of sweets, most from his personal stockpile he kept hidden in his room. “He says he’s gone Dark and everything, but he doesn’t feel like it.” 

“That sounds like it could be a dirty joke,” Scotty pointed out, choking on his laugh at Anthony’s elbow in his ribcage. The two gathered their composure before Anthony calmly approached the main desk. 

“General Civas ordered me to talk to the Sith padawan again,” he said importantly, letting a little Force control slip into his undertones. “I’m to bring my fellow padawan with me.” 

The clone working the desk looked dubious. “Aren’t you supposed to have a Jedi with you?”

“The boy poses no threat,” Anthony said easily. “We’ll be fine.” 

The clone appeared nervous, but at that moment the desk lit up with an upcoming call and he waved them in, handing them a code cylinder. 

Anthony gave Scotty a thumbs up and darted down the hall.

…

Brian was more or less happy to see them again. Anthony was pretty sure he was just happy to have real food, because he scarfed down the little cakes and candies in under ten minutes. 

“What’re you even doing here?” Brian asked, licking chocolate from his fingers. “Don’t tell me you care about a Sith’s sweet tooth.” 

Scotty frowned. “You’re not a Sith.” 

Brian glared. “Don’t tell me about my connection to the Force.” 

“We’d be able to feel it, dumbass,” Scotty snapped, instantly offended. “We may be padawans, but we’re still Force-sensitive.” 

Brian tightened his jaw. “I’m a Sith.” 

“And I’m a Twi’lek.” Anthony rolled his eyes. 

Brian brought his knees up again, much like when Anthony had first met him. “I’m not a Jedi padawan. I’m a Sith, a servant of the Dark side, and you can’t tell me otherwise.” 

Scotty and Anthony exchanged an uncomfortable glance, then Anthony nudged the last box of fruity sweets at Brian in an attempt at an apology. 

Brian’s hand stopped mid-grab, and he lifted his head to the door. Anthony and Scotty felt it a second later, then the alarms went off. 

The door whished open and Brian lunged without a second’s hesitation.

“Hey!” Anthony followed instinctively, Scotty squawking shock before struggling to keep up. 

Brian darted left, seemingly knowing exactly where he was going in the maze of cells, beelining toward the main desk. Brian shot past, ignoring the yell of the clones. 

“We got him!” Anthony shouted on their way by. “We totally got this!”

Brian slipped through the halls like a ghost, ducking and dodging guards and sentries, ignoring the blare of the alarms. 

“What’s going on!?” Scotty screeched, running out of breath. 

Brian dove into an empty elevator, Anthony and Scotty just barely catching up in enough time to join him before the door slammed shut. 

“What’re you doing?!” Brian yelled, ducking around as Anthony tried to snag him in a bear hug. 

“Catching you!” Scotty ducked away as Anthony made a dolphin dive at Brian, nearly steamrolling Scotty in the process. “You can’t just run away !”

“I don’t want to be here!” Brian screeched indignantly as Anthony got him, pinning him against the wall and strong-arming Brian to hold him still. “They’re—” he rested his head on the wall. “They're Jedi and I don’t want to be. That makes me a threat. Do you know what people do to threats?” 

“The Jedi aren’t like that!”

“You don’t know anything about the fucking Jedi!” Brian hissed sharply in Anthony’s face. “There’s a reason why I fucking ran .” 

The door swished open and Brian Force-shoved Anthony off of him, making for the hallway. Anthony and Scotty were right on his tail. 

“He’s making for the hangar,” Scotty wheezed. 

Anthony didn’t respond, just focusing on keeping a steady pace. Brian stretched out his hand, using the Force to open the hangar door. 

Blaster shots filled their ears, but Brian didn’t hesitate. He dove into the chaos head-on, no fear. “Master Sark!”

Anthony and Scotty stopped dead in their tracks as the wave of Darkness rolled over them. 

Sith. 

Not a padawan. 

Not some half-trained, half-witted moron wandering around the galaxy not knowing what he wielded. 

A full-blown Sith . 

Brian ran right for him. 

The Sith whipped around at the call of his name, dual red blades casting bloody shadows. A black mask covered his whole face, a red analogue S carved into the metal. 

“Sith,” Scotty breathed, hand going for his own lightsaber. Anthony didn’t, breath caught in his lungs. The Force whistled to him, rippled in his veins. 

Calling, longing, leading. 

Direction. Proof. Fulfillment. 

The Sith grabbed Brian with both arms, wrapping him in a tight hug. 

“Cease!” General Zanot joined the clones on deck, striding up behind Anthony and Scotty, blue saber drawn as the blaster shots immediately silenced. Anthony’s heart clenched at his master’s appearance—why, he had no idea. 

He should’ve been glad to see him. 

The Force whispered. 

Freedom. Protection. 

“The legendary Sark, come out of retirement for a Sith youngling ,” Zenot taunted, hands folded neatly behind his back. “Pathetic.” 

Sark, or The Sark, or whatever his name was, tucked Brian tightly against his side, pulling him slightly behind him to shield him from the clones and Zenot. 

“I never retired,” Sark bit, voice raspy and deep with a modulator. His shoulders were tight, stiff, broad enough to almost completely hide Brian. 

“So now you conspire with Sith children?” Zenot asked, throwing his hands to the sides. 

Where was Civas?

“Children have no sides,” Sark snapped, hand reaching back to wrap around Brian. Anthony caught one glimpse of Brian’s gleaming red iris before he ducked further behind Sark. “This war doesn’t belong to them. You cannot hand down your ideals of the Force to innocents!” 

“You’d have that monster live?” Zenot demanded. 

“I’d have him be free. ” 

Like a hammer hitting a crystal bell, the Force resonated through Anthony’s body. He grabbed Scotty’s hand, feeling his friend’s fear and confusion. 

“A shame, then,” Zenot said casually, fully confident, “that you both will die here.” 

Anthony shoved forward, lighting his blade. With one clean sweep, he sliced through his master’s leg. 

Scotty screamed incoherently, as did his master, but Anthony didn’t wait. Still holding onto Scotty’s hand like he depended on it and ignoring the reek of burnt flesh, he lunged toward the Sith and his padawan. 

Sark had moved the instant he saw an opening, swishing open the door of a nearby shuttle and shoving Brian into it. Anthony followed, scared and desperate and following following following…

“Hey!” Brian yelled, but the door was already closed. 

“Strap in!” Sark yelled, prepping the shuttle and throwing up her shields. 

Anthony pushed Scotty into a seat before he had a chance to fight back, buckling the straps across his chest and cinching them so tight Scotty wheezed. He lurched into the seat next to him, ignoring Brian’s yells and protests, and pulled his own straps over his chest. 

The shuttle roared into open space and Sark started the calibration for the jump. He turned, and Anthony just knew he locked eyes with him. 

Sark waited a long, tense moment, then hit the lever.

The shuttle made the jump. 

Chapter Text

“Are you okay?”

Scotty wheezed at Anthony’s question, hyperspace pulling them safely into her arms not a second too late. His hands scrabbled at the harness till he released it with a whoosh of breath. “Yeah.” He coughed a little. “I’m fine.” 

“Brian?” The Sark, or Sark, Sith, whatever he was, left the driver’s seat to check on Brian, unclipping his straps for him and resting a hand on his forehead. 

Scotty and Anthony stilled as the Force hummed, the Sark holding still and Brian humoring whatever he was doing. 

Not for long though, because the padawan shoved Sark off him. “I’m fine. Relax, old man.” 

“You were held hostage for several hours by Jedi Knights,” Sark said dryly, voice still raspy from the modulator. 

“They didn’t hurt me. Some Togruta wouldn’t let them work me over.” 

“Civas,” Anthoyn said without thinking, then swallowed hard when the Sith looked over at him. “Her name was Civas Vedames.” 

“I’ll have to thank her sometime,” Sark said, ruffling Brian’s hair and sitting in the chair next to him. “Was she your master?”

“No,” Anthony said glumly. “Wished she was though. She’s a lot nicer than my master.” 

“The Falleen?” Brian asked, resting his head tiredly on Sark’s shoulder. He looked more like a little kid next to the Sith instead of a escaped prisoner. 

“Yeah,” Anthony sighed. “Didn’t care for him, but I didn’t get to pick my master.” 

Sark frowned. “If you were unhappy with your master, another should’ve been assigned to you. The purpose of master and padawan is to benefit the padawan first and foremost.” 

“Yeah, well no one ever asked my opinion,” Anthony crossed his arms. “Scotty had it worse. His master couldn’t ever run through any forms or drills with him.”

“He’s older than that temple,” Scotty said, only a little bit dejectedly, but trying to be humorous. “I have to practice drills with Anthony after-hours because my master can’t help me. He can barely get off the bench to correct my stances.” 

Sark only hummed, but the lines between his brows told Anthony he wasn’t all that impressed. 

“So why’d you turn on your master?” Sark asked nonchalantly, crossing an ankle over his leg. 

Anthony immediately focused on his kneecaps. “The—Force. I—” He squeezed his pointer fingers. “I don’t know why I did it. I just knew—that—”

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Sark said easily. He stood, reaching above into an alcove and pulling out some thermal blankets. “You three should rest. We’ve got a way to go.” 

…

Sark checked the nav screen for the hundredth time, watching space tic by painfully slow even though they were in hyperspace. 

He leaned back, grumbling in frustration and clicking the mask off his face. He didn’t like showing his face to strangers, in case they turned on him, but the Force was humming in his veins. Whispering in his ears. 

He turned, watching the boys. 

Brian had fallen asleep almost instantly, comforted by the close proximity of a familiar Force user he associated with a father-figure and the safety hyperspace provided. The stress from the past few days crowding down on him probably helped as well. 

Anthony was on his side, facing the wall and snoring lightly. Scotty used Anthony’s legs as a pillow and faced the inside of the cabin, whistling out through his nose. All three breathed softly, steadily. 

Safe . 

Sark let his head tip back against the headrest and reached for the pool of cool Force within. It sang in his ears, refreshing and clear. Meditating came harder when he wasn’t with the rest of the kids, but he could force himself if he had to. 

It cleared the doubt and the fear, made way for the clearheadedness he craved in these situations. 

Once he centered himself once more in the Force, he reached out to nudge at the boys. Brian was dead asleep, projecting total safety and contentment into the Force. The bond responded sleepily at Sark’s tap, like a dozing cat pressing into a petting hand, but otherwise remained asleep.

Scotty’s presence hummed quietly, unassumingly, like a candle in a lit room. His sleep was lighter, more stressed in his current situation, but at least he rested. 

Anthony responded to the tap, actually stirring awake at the disturbance, but Sark pushed him back under with an order to sleep . It was easy to do so, Anthony’s will and walls caving like a sheet of sheer cloth. 

Sark frowned, disgust and disappointment tainting his new-found clarity. Both boys were old enough to have learned basic shielding. Even Delirious could shield against his Force-mates, and he had almost no control whatsoever over his abilities. 

Sark breathed out through his nose. It was fine. Everything was fine now. The Force had obviously nudged Anthony to him—Sark had felt the disturbance a second before Anthony had acted back in the hangar. The Force was leading Anthony to Sark, and now he could take care of them. 

He smiled to himself. The other kids are gonna be so impressed with this. 

…

“C’mon, Brian. Wake up.” 

Anthony blinked sticky eyes open, unable to feel his legs under whatever pressure was breathing away on them. A blurry shape moved in front of him. A few painful blinks later, and Anthony recognized Sark nudging Brian awake. 

Brian groaned, hiding his face in his arm. Sark chuckled, patting Brian’s head. “You can sleep in a few minutes. We’re home.” 

The two words settled in Anthony’s bones, and he fell back under to the Force’s warm embrace 

…

Sark let Brian keep sleeping. The kid had been so stressed, so tired, fingers so tight around Sark’s arm back in the hangar he was surprised the kid hadn’t broken a few—it was best to just let him sleep while he could. He held Brian in his arms, using a few fingers to wave the door to the ship open.

His ship. 

The Machinima. 

Well into its night cycle, the Machinima was blessed quiet. 

Three, two—

“SARK!” Delirious shot out of the hall, slamming into Sark’s legs and latching on just below the kneecaps. 

Sark nearly fell flat on his face, catching himself at the last second when Delirious let him have one leg back. “Kiddo—” Sark chuckled, Delirious smushing his cheek into Sark’s pants. “Tyler and Brock are the only ones supposed to be awake. You’re supposed to be sleeping .”

“Couldn’t sleep!” Delirious announced loudly, staring up at Sark with his infamous green puppy eyes. 

“Shut him up, or I’ll do it,” Brian muttered sleepily, flaring annoyance into their bonds, trying to curl up inside Sark’s shoulder. 

“ Quiet , youngling,” Sark pressed, Delirious caving instantly to the suggestion. He yawned sleepily, letting his head rest against Sark’s knee. Sark chuckled, then dragged his new ankle bracelet to the bridge. 

“Missing something?” he asked the only two occupants. 

Tyler snapped his head up from the desk and snorted comically, a stencil pen sticking to his forehead. Brock rolled his eyes from his own chair, feet propped up on the console, scooting farther down into his blanket. 

 “I told you to put the others to bed and made sure they stayed there,” Sark scolded good-naturedly, feeling Delirious’s grip start slipping on his pants as he fell deeper asleep.

“Evan is currently wearing binders strapped to his own bunk,” Tyler said, rubbing his face tiredly. 

“You’re lucky we got half of the Dynamic Duo to stay put,” Brock pointed out, yawning and hiding part of his face in the fluff of his blanket.  

Sark had to admit Brock had a point—Evan and Delirious could cause more trouble together than a dozen rogue droids let loose in a tech room. To tell the truth, when Sark wanted something destroyed on a sem-safe planet, he just dropped the “Dynamic Duo” off and told them to have fun for a few hours. 

It hadn’t failed so far. 

“I’m putting Jail-Bait and Velcro-Tape to bed,” Sark said. “Set the alarms and get yourselves to your own bunks.” 

“Wouldn’t recommend putting Brian away,” Tyler said. “Marcel jumped-scared Nogla four times yesterday—he’s so jumpy he punched Brock for opening a bottle of milk.” 

Brock grunted his never-ending dissatisfaction with Nogla before shuffling off to the bunks, Tyler trailing after. Sark rolled his eyes and followed, Tyler ducking into his room he shared with Marcel and Brock slipping into the one he didn’t have to share—much to his Force-mates annoyance. 

Sark made good and damn well Nogla was deep asleep before he slipped in to deposit Brian on his top bunk, tucking him in and checking one more time through the Force for injuries. 

Tyler hadn’t lied when he said they’d binded Evan to his bunk. The kid was asleep on his stomach, snoring with his mouth open, hands in front of him on either side of the frame. Chuckling at Tyler’s methods of babysitting, Sark undid the binders and un-Velcroed Delirious from his leg. 

Now—

He let his mind wander to the two littles lights still on the shuttle, sleeping on. 

Welcome to the family.