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Luke had had weird days before. He'd gone from being a moisture farmer to the last of an ancient magical religion in less then twenty-four hours, weird days were pretty par for the course for him.
That being said.
Being brought to kriffing Darth Vader's personal bedroom because he had a broken leg — a leg that Darth Vader had broken — instead of being tossed into an imperial cell and left to rot and writhe in his own pain was... just about the weirdest thing he'd ever experienced.
And to think, just yesterday he'd been thinking the same thing after he heard old Ben's voice whilst on the fresher. Hearing the words 'There is someone waiting for you' from a disembodied voice whilst trying to pee was a hard thing to beat, and yet.
Luke made direct eye contact with the sweating nurse, trying to avoid doing the same thing to the ominous figure behind her, and desperately tried to gleam why the kriff this was happening.
She just sweated harder.
Even her med droid seemed to tremble as it delicately placed bacta patches on his leg.
Karking hells. Why was he just standing there. Menacingly. It did not help that he was being back-lit by a glowing red panel. In his bedroom. Luke felt that that should be emphasised. Darth Vader's bedroom, of which Luke was currently laying in, had a glowing red panel for him to stand ominously in front of. Who was the interior decorater for this place. How much were they paid. Was there an academy specifically for people who were really into intimidating home decor?
The nurse bowed to Darth Vader, hiding shaky hands beneath sleeves, and her med droid slammed face first into the door frame in his haste to leave.
Then it was just the two of them.
Luke had to wonder what the hell the plan was here. Somehow he seriously doubted he'd been brought back here for Vader's... pleasure. For all of his many, many crimes, including but not limited to: Mass murder, Mass property damage, Genocide, Mundicide, Attempted universal domination, Terrorism, Death threats, War crimes, Invasion, Mass populicide, Abuse of power, Corruption, Torture, Mass kidnapping, Theft, Stalking
Conspiracy, Psychological abuse, Treason, Pollution, Sabotage, Unlawful imprisonment, Blackmail, Mutilation, Animal cruelty, Assault and battery, Arson, Aiding and abetting — Sexual Assault was strangely not amongst them.
Strangely.
Apparently even genocidal maniacs who thought blowing up planets was a proportional response to being lied still had a hard, moral line that they wouldn't cross.
Which was oddly hopeful, actually.
This did not, however, change Luke's current predicament. His very, very, very awkward current predicament.
Luke stared at his feet while Darth Vader stared at him, heavy breathing being the only break in the silence.
Luke was starting to doubt his earlier assumption.
He heaved again.
Physically, mentally — Luke could not take another second of this silence. He cleared his throat.
Vader spoke first. "You are feeling better?"
What the fuuuu- "Uh... yeah, loads. Thanks for... this. And the healer. Really, uhm, appreciate it."
"Good."
Great. What was happening again?
"You will need to remain off your leg to give it adequate time to heal,"
"I will."
"You must not place pressure on it, it will cause you pain."
"I won't?"
"Good."
Leia come get him, Luke's scared. Worse, he was weirded out. He desperately hoped she was already on her way. He missed Han and his willingness to shoot first and ask questions later so much right now. He'd take a blaster fight over this situation any day.
Vader breathed heavily again.
Really, Luke would take torture right now. Vader hadn't even tried to ask about the intel Luke had gathered on his recon mission. Hadn't asked about the other pilots that escaped. When Luke had climbed out of his crashed X-wing, leg broken, to see Darth karking Vader standing over him, he'd thought he was done for. Dead. Sleeping with the worms. He could practically hear aunt Beru and old Ben calling for him.
(Though Ben had less been saying 'Luke' and more 'You have the same kriffing luck as your father, stop being so dramatic you overgrown emo, Anaki–')
But then Vader had picked him up, bridal style. And for a moment, Luke had honestly believed he was already dead and his brain was playing tricks on him in his final moments.
Alas.
He was here instead.
Vader just kept breathing. So. Kriffing. Loud.
"Uhm.. is this your room? I like it."
"You do?"
"Yeah. It's very... ambient. Nice contrast." Luke tried his best to channel Leia and her ability to lie like breathing.
Heaving. "That's good."
Please just torture him. Please.
Could jedi teleport? Luke would like to teleport now. Far, far away. Straight into a sarlacc pit, if you please. Luke wasn't picky.
"You were the pilot who destroyed the death star," Darth Vader declared ominously, "The rebel fighter,"
Oh, thank the force. Finally. Here comes the torture. Honestly, Luke's looking forward to it. He nods, perhaps a little too eagerly, "Yep. That's me. Sorry about that. But, I mean, you were using it to commit genocide, so."
"It was a good shot."
...huh.
Luke blinked at him, still ominously back-lit. "Thank you?"
"It was expert maneuvering."
"I appreciate the compliment?"
"You must be the pride of the rebels."
What was happening? Please, just accuse him of something. Pull out your lightsabre, pull out a blaster, pull out a kriffing guillotine, if you please. Just stop being so kriffing nice. Leia, hurry, please.
"Do you watch the Boonta eve classic?"
Luke's brain stopped. "I‐ yeah? It's- like Tattooine's only upside. Do- do you?"
A heavy breath. "I enjoy it."
It was possible Luke was starting to become a little hysterical. "Yeah?" He asked, voice pitched an octave higher then normal, "I- did you watch last months race? How long have you been a fan?"
"A while."
Luke would pay a lot of credits to make this make sense right now. A lot of credits. A shit tonne of credits. Enough credits to buy a planet. Enough to put him into a crippling life debt.
Darth Vader moved. It was so unexpected Luke flinched, moving his eyes from his feet as Vader menacingly approached his bedside. He loomed over him, casting a red shadow over Luke's bed.
"You're... a lot like your father."
What.
What the fuck.
This was a fever dream. This was a force honest fever dream. This had to be. This could not be kriffing happening.
"The spice runner?" He asked, a tad hysterical, momentarily forgetting Ben's reveal of father's true profession, and of the lightsabre hidden aboard the falcon.
"Is that what they told you."
Luke stared up at him, absolutely bewildered, "Yes? Did- did you know him?"
A heaving breath.
"Yes."
OH??
Pray-fucking-tell?
"I- did not know that."
"Your mother, too."
Who the fuck was Darth Vader again? Had Ben told him anything about him besides being an evil jedi? When the fuck had he met Lukes parents?
Was-
Was he-?
It was possible Luke was delirious, because the thought that came to him, nay, the realisation that hit him like a freight train, was the possibility that-
Was Darth Vader his step-father?
Surely that was the only logical explanation. Surely that was the only reason he could have for acting this kriffing weird. Had he been in a relationship with Luke's parents? Had he felt left out, maybe, when Luke had been conceived? Enough to be driven to the dark side?
It would explain so much. The awkward care. The weird focus. The frankly uncalled for mentions of his dead parents.
Holy kriffing shit.
Luke had a step-father.
Darth Vader was Luke's step-father.
***
After, when Han and Leia had staged their daring rescue in the five minutes when Vader had left to run an errand for the emperor, Luke sat blankly in the falcons sitting area.
Han and Leia stood across from him, arms crossed, expressions concerned.
"Kid?" Han prompted. "You good?"
"How bad was the torture?" Leia cut in, "He probe you?"
"Did you get probed, kid?"
"Luke."
"I wish," He whispered, staring at the stagnant sabaac board.
"...what?"
He slowly moved his head, looking up at them, eyes wide and filled with horror. "I think- I think Vader-"
Leia slid into the seat next to him, placing an arm on his shoulder. "Luke? Luke, what did he do?"
"I think Vader fucked my dad."
"What."
"Luke," Leia gently shook his shoulder, "You're not making sense."
"I mean- he's speaking pretty clearly, princess."
"Your father was a jedi, Luke," She reminded him gently, "Why would he sleep with a sith?"
Dread curled down Luke's spine. "Ben trained him."
"Vader?" Han asked, "Or your dad?"
"Both, I think," He swallowed roughly, looking at Leia. "Leia. Leia he fucked my dad."
"...and what brought you to this conclusion?"
"He told me."
"He told you?"
Luke shrugged, all but absent in his body. "Basically."
Han made a disbelieving sound, "You sure he wasn't just trying to get in your head?" He suggested, "Psychological warfare?"
Slowly, Luke shook his head. "He was being- nice."
"Nice," Leia asked dubiously. "Vader."
"Uh huh."
"Well, kriff, kid. That's fucking traumatising."
Leia was staring at him.
Luke honestly thought he might start crying if he had to keep thinking about this.
"So," She said after a beat, "You come from a long line of crazies, you're not the exception like I thought."
Making a sound like a wounded animal, Luke collapsed face first on the table and wept.