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Vader's boot's barely made a sound on the floorboards of his son's makeshift room. He stood to his full height, brushing a stray piece of grubble from his cape.
A few steps forward and there he was, right where Vader had expected, snuggled in his bed.
The boy was blissfully unaware and fast asleep.
An immense smugness ran through Vader.
Finally.
It was early in the morning, so early that it was pitch black outside. It hadn't taken long to locate the Rebellion's hideout; Vader had steadily followed his son's presence, his boots crunching the gravel with every sure-footed step. He'd like to do the same to every member of the Rebellion. But he would not.
Chasing down the Rebels had been a grueling, tedious, borderline dehumanizing task. He had found that no matter how close him and his crew got, they were always one step ahead. A part of him was proud to have such a brilliant son leading the charge. It was clear he was doing a decent job at it considering the literal Empire hadn't destroyed them yet, but he expected nothing less from his kin.
This fondness, however, had soon divulged into great irritation, and after months and months of grueling trial and error, a new strategy had popped in Vader's mind.
Their previous tactics hadn't involved much stealth; Vader hadn't thought he would need to be stealthy given the sheer size of his army. And yet, somehow, it always backfired. Somehow when the Empire arrived unannounced in all their glory, the Rebels would bounce back fast enough to get away.
It was maddening.
…So what if they didn't know they were under attack until they were fully infiltrated, until their precious Commander had been taken and it was too late? Never in a million years would he think he would have to sneak into the Rebel's hideout, but it was certainly worth a shot.
While Luke usually did an annoyingly efficient job of keeping his shields up, there were times where they were weaker. Where they slipped a bit. Fortunately for Vader, this was one of those times.
The boy was fast asleep, his shields only leaking occasionally nerves and exhaustion as he drifted further and further from consciousness. Vader's walk to his son's room had been exceptionally easy; it had been like someone was tugging him with a string in the right direction. That string, of course, being Luke's presence unintentionally guiding him the whole way. The boy's mere existence was practically a beacon to his greatest nightmare as his slumber tugged his shields lower and lower by the second.
Given the time, Luke and most of the other Rebels would be asleep, leaving only a handful of them to patrol their barren halls. Vader didn't need to attack the whole hideout or even take out a single Rebel if he didn't have to.
He turned his attention to his son.
The room hadn't been fully dimmed; Luke's face was lit up by the warm, soft glow of a lamp he had apparently forgotten to shut off before falling asleep. He was burrowed impressively deep into his thick covers, only his head and bare left shoulder peeking out as he laid on his stomach. His blonde hair, while usually scruffy and unkempt, was even more mussed up than normal, sticking in all sorts of directions. The boy obviously wasn't a still sleeper.
Luke's mouth was ever so slightly open, there even being a touch of drool on his pillow.
Vader could almost laugh. If he hadn't been so sure of what his son looked like, he would think he had the wrong room. This was the great Commander the Empire feared. He was barely a boy.
It was thrilling, finally getting to see his son's face in person after the long months of scrapped wanted posters and glitchy holos. He had long awaited the moment he'd get to talk to him again, to bring him home whether the boy wanted it or not.
And yet forgive Vader if he dared to be a bit sentimental, because in that moment, he… wasn't as eager. Not that he didn't intend on going forward with his plan, he did, but he could also watch his son sleep for hours.
Luke twitched his head, slightly irritated by whatever silly dream occupied his even sillier head.
Something twinged inside Vader's chest; he never got the chance to see Luke anything other than angry or scared or hurt. It was bizarre to see how much resemblance they shared when his features weren't pinched with agony or soaked with blood. Those were the only face-to-face memories Vader had. Always doused in pain, fear and resentment. Never happy, never laughing, never relaxed, and certainly never sleeping.
Never good moments, moments that were rightfully his because he should've been the one to raise Luke- but if he went down that train of thought he wouldn't resurface for a while.
So instead he stared a moment longer, watching the rise and fall of Luke's back as he quietly slept. When Vader, or really Anakin, had slept, he was a very heavy sleeper, snoring included. Funnily enough, it seemed Luke didn't inherit that particular trait, instead sleeping with small, quiet breaths like his mother had. Maybe it was for the best Luke didn't take after his father in that particular area. Padmé had always complained about it.
A part of him was angry; if he had raised Luke from the start, he would've known this. There were so many things about the boy that were still unknown to him. Just how many things had he inherited from Anakin or Padmé? Surely the way he fell asleep wasn't the only thing he shared in common with them. Luke probably had no idea he slept like his mother.
Luke twitched again, muttering something unintelligible.
Vader stared, feeling… maybe not guilty, but certainly a bit hesitant to wake him. If Luke's inability to sense his greatest enemy standing right next to him was any indicator, his Force bond was oozing with a concerning amount of exhaustion. It was far too much for a young man to handle.
Vader let out a small sigh, deciding he might as well get it over with. Worst case scenario, Luke could sleep on the ship. If his stubbornness allowed him to rest, that was.
Vader stood rigidly, a question hesitantly appearing in his mind.
…How exactly should he go about waking the boy?
Should he shake him physically and scare him awake?
Should he wield his lightsaber and chop the bed in half?
Should he do it kindly, almost like Vader's own mother had? It would make sense considering they were father and son, but this was also technically a hostage situation. He doubted Luke would wake calmly no matter how kindly Vader woke him.
He shook himself irritably. He was overthinking it. He never used to do that, but it seemed any and every decision involving Luke had him pacing back and forth like an animal before he could make up his mind.
Speaking the boy's name aloud should do it.
Vader leaned back a bit, crossing his arms, trying to find his footing to be as intimidating as he could. He was well aware his voice instilled an unfathomable amount of fear in any creature in the galaxy. Not that he wanted Luke to be afraid of him, he just didn't want the boy to even consider fighting back. Taking over the galaxy, ruling as father and son and bonding and all that stuff would have to come later.
For now, he just needed him up and on the ship with as little resistance as possible.
And with Luke that would be a challenge.
Vader finally cleared his throat and spoke as darkly as he could. "Luke."
…No response.
Perhaps he wasn't loud enough.
Vader spoke louder. "Luke."
Luke didn't even flinch. If anything he added to the puddle of drool.
Vader huffed in irritation. He wasn't going to yell because, first of all, he wasn't even sure he could, but second, he didn't want to alert the whole Rebellion of his presence. He imagined most of the Rebels had better hearing than his foolish child who was too busy slobbering all over his pillow to notice.
Shaking him awake was the way to go, then. Not too harshly; he would hate for the boy to make a ruckus and attract attention.
Vader hesitated for a millisecond, but immediately righted himself and reached out a gloved hand and shook Luke's shoulder firmly. Surely enough to bring the boy to consciousness. "Luke."
He might as well have been absent from the room, because Luke once again, showed zero signs of waking up. Or being alive for that matter.
"Luke." He shook harder.
Nothing.
A small, ridiculous worry came to Vader's mind.
He paused before putting his fingers on Luke's neck, checking his pulse just in case.
A couple seconds ticked by.
The boy had one. Vader let out a small sigh of relief, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation.
…Is this really how had he had been with Padmé? No wonder she had complained.
Luke continued breathing deeply as if one of the most feared beings in the galaxy wasn't trying to kidnap him.
Vader clenched his jaw in irritation. Of course Luke had to make everything so difficult. If he dared to remember, Obi-Won had said similar things about him as a young adult.
Vader shook Luke even harder, annoyed. "Luke, get up."
Luke suddenly moved, closing his mouth a bit and squinting his eyes. Vader's heart lifted. Finally.
"Luke, you have no choice. You are coming with-"
But Luke decided to turn away, flopping his head face first into his pillow and cutting Vader off mid-sentence.
Vader stuttered in annoyance as he trailed off, before leaning even closer and speaking louder. "You are coming with me." He repeated definitively.
"Five more minutes…" Luke muttered blearily, burrowing further into his pillow.
"No, now," Vader snapped, roughly grabbing and lifting his son's head and turning it towards him. "Luke, listen."
Luke's head ragdolled in Vader's hand.
Vader hissed in annoyance, but held his foolish son's head for the time being, not wanting to let him drown in his pillow again and possibly find depths of the REM cycle that only he could get to.
Luke's eyes were still completely shut, but a small, confused sound escaped him. One might view that as just more nonsense, but Vader viewed it as one step closer to coherence.
"My son," Vader said clearly, hoping to bring some sort of clarification to the situation. "You must come with me."
"Uh," Luke barely managed to get out.
Whatever that meant.
Vader closed his eyes, letting the respirator aide a deep breath. He clenched one fist, the other one still holding Luke's heavy head. How this dope of a boy had led the Rebellion for so long was beyond him. For the first time ever, he felt an ounce of pity for his stepbrother and his wife.
"Luke, enough of this," Vader said through grit teeth, using his hand to lift Luke's head higher so the boy would be forced to sit up.
The boy decided to shoo Vader's arm away.
"No," Vader hissed, trying and failing to prevent Luke from flopping back into his pillow. The boy collapsed back into unconsciousness instantaneously.
Vader groaned loudly in frustration, holding his hands over his son in an effort not to choke him. "You will come with me." He bit out close to Luke's face, shaking him again without an ounce of that previous gentleness.
Luke's face contorted with confusion, his eyes still shut. He said something, but Vader didn't catch it.
"What?" He asked, annoyed.
"Monkeywrench," Luke muttered, his voice thick with sleep.
Vader stared in disbelief. Was he on drugs? "Must I carry you out of here?" He asked, exasperated.
Luke shook his head slightly. "Mhmf, no they it's uh, four and seven, it's what they said." He slurred nonsensically.
Vader squinted his eyes, giving him another good shake. "What are you talking about?"
"Yeah,"
Vader stood up immediately and began to pace as to not strangle his son right then and there.
He was never one for anger management, but a couple of deep breaths and maybe counting to ten were in order.
He had proposed carrying him out for dramatic effect, but his options were dwindling.
Luke's shields were radiating a continuous stream of exhaustion. Exhaustion paired with the occasional wave of contentment.
Well, wasn't that just wonderful, Vader conceded flatly. At least one of them was having a good time. While Vader was trying to abduct his greatest enemy of war, his son was off in la-la land probably dreaming about riding banthas and catching butterflies and all the other nonsensical things Jedi did.
The boy was a target in this state; he was lucky his kidnapper was his father and not some other manic bounty hunter with a dart gun.
Actually a dart gun might've been a good idea. Vader cursed internally.
But a different idea suddenly popped into his head.
The Force.
Luke was incredibly Force sensitive, he usually (with the exception of this situation) could pinpoint Vader's presence, and he assumed the boy had only gotten better since they last met.
Vader stopped his pacing and looked at his buffoon of a child, still swimming in the ocean of ignorant bliss.
It was worth a shot. Shaking and saying his name had only gotten him so far. If the Force idea didn't work Vader would probably hurl him out the window next.
Vader closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the Dark Side. He slowly crept along his and Luke's bond, allowing it's murky presence to corrupt and slither towards his son's shields. If it did it's job correctly, Luke should wake up due to the disturbance.
The Dark Side approached Luke's barely open shields, trying to tug them open and sneak inside.
Vader peeked an eye open. And paused.
Luke's facial expressions did change, and Vader felt his responsiveness in their bond. But it wasn't exactly the change Vader had wanted or expected. Luke wasn't any closer to being awake. No longer was his face fixed with the steady hum of sleep; instead the boy's features began to scrunch and contort into an uncomfortable grimace, his eyebrows pinching in distress. His breathing soon dipped from deep, soft inhales to shallow, panicked breaths.
His head twitched and an anxious mutter left his lips. "No."
It was barely audible, but Vader still heard it.
He could continue; Luke would surely wake in a few more moments.
…But then why did it feel so cruel? And even if it was, since when did that matter?
Vader was not a novice to cruelty, he had dealt it in any and every manner. Some might say he invented it.
And yet seeing his boy shake his head in misery, becoming surrounded by the Dark Side he couldn't fight off in his sleep…
Another small cry of distress escaped Luke.
Vader stared.
He wasn't waking him at all.
He was giving his son a nightmare.
Before he could think twice about it, Vader forced the Dark Side to retreat, allowing or rather commanding it to dissipate and leave his son completely.
He glanced at Luke again, not wanting to even go near their bond in fear of tainting it once more. He partly wished he had the ability soothe the boy by implanting tranquil thoughts instead of terrors, but comfort wasn't exactly Vader's strong suit.
Slowly but surely, Luke's facial features dissolved back into one occupying a blank, deep slumber. Luke unconsciously let out a small sigh, his mouth falling slightly open once more.
Vader was slightly amused for a moment before almost face-palming.
He was right back to square one.
He leaned his head back, closing his mouth to prevent a string of profanity leaving it. How in the world would he manage to get this ridiculous child aboard? The ship was a walkable distance, they should've been off world by now.
Vader let out a sigh, watching through half-lidded, deadpan eyes as Luke grabbed at his comforter and held it close. His son buried his head in it, his arm held snug around it.
It was slightly endearing, slightly disarming. Slightly irritating due to the circumstances.
Vader stared.
And slightly worth a shot.
In one swift motion, Vader leaned over and snatched the comforter from the boy, tossing it across the room.
Luke startled, still lying on his stomach before pushing himself up on his arms, incredibly disoriented.
His hair was even more of a mess than it had been when Vader had walked in due to all the boy's fussing and flopping around. Of course he still wasn't awake, but startled was definitely a good first step.
Before Luke could just fall back onto his pillow, Vader grabbed his shoulder and tried Strategy #1. "Luke. You must come with me."
Luke finally barely opened his eyes, squinting in utter bewilderment.
Vader waited a beat before shaking him again. "My son. It's over. If you want me to spare your men, you will come with me back to my ship. Do not think of resisting."
Luke stared dumbly.
Vader resisted the urge to smack him.
"…Father?" Luke finally said, his voice thick with sleep.
It was music to Vader's ears. He could've cried tears of pure relief.
"Yes," Vader affirmed, feeling the weight lift off his shoulders. "You must come with me."
Luke shook his head. "Nuh-uh."
Vader stared.
No one in the galaxy had ever said the words "Nuh-uh" to Supreme Commander Darth Vader.
The worst part was the boy was dead serious. He hadn't said it as a way to taunt or disrespect. He was still squinting at Vader with the same slightly confused stare.
Before Vader could reply, Luke began to lie back down again. "Bye." He muttered.
"No, no," Vader hissed, his patience stretched unimaginably thin. "Luke, enough. We're leaving." He began to pull Luke by his forearm.
Luke scrunched his eyes in discomfort, scoffing before batting Vaders hands away and lying back down.
"Luke-"
Luke patted the space around him in confusion before staring close to where Vader's head was. "Whr's 'm blanket?" He interrupted.
"It's gone," Vader said impatiently.
"Where?"
"It-" For the love of- "Luke, we must-"
"Where'd it go?" The blonde continued blearily, swiveling his head and trying to squint through the darkness.
"I took it," Vader said through grit teeth.
"Can I have it back?"
"No, you cannot 'have it back!'" Vader snapped. "We are-"
"Why not?"
"You-" Vader could've screamed. "What if I was actually your enemy?" He began to lecture angrily, unclipping his unlit lightsaber and swinging it around as he gesticulated. "What if I was actually trying to kill you?"
"Ugh, please don't," Luke sighed tiredly.
"I'm not-" Vader cut his sentence off with a violent sigh of exasperation. Luke was about to face plant into his pillow again, so Vader snatched it away from him and threw it to where his comforter was across the room. "Luke, get up. Now."
Before Luke could say "Nuh-uh" again, Vader ignited his lightsaber so it blazed through the dark with that signature, blinding crimson red. He held the weapon close to Luke's face. "Do you understand?"
Luke shook his head immediately, letting out a yawn and grabbing his left hand. "Nope. You're not takin' this one."
"I'm not- Luke," Vader seethed. "You are coming with me on my ship. Now."
"I'on't wannfight," Luke huffed tiredly, sounding more like he was whining over an inconvenience than making a statement to his enemy of war.
"We won't fight," Vader agreed smugly. "You've already lost. That's why I am taking you to my ship. Understand?"
Luke stared. He looked at the lightsaber and finally up at his father.
Hope lifted in Vader's chest.
Until Luke shook his head again. "Five more minutes," He finally sighed once more, somehow settling down on his dingy, blanketless and pillowless mattress.
Vader made no move to stop him, instead standing there in disbelief.
He stared as Luke fell back asleep in about four seconds, breathing just as deeply as he did minutes ago.
Vader waited a moment before turning off his lightsaber and rolling it around awkwardly in his hand, thinking.
He felt stupid. And bewildered.
No one defied Vader. And if they did, they died.
Vader continued to stare at the only living being who could get away with disobeying him to his face.
Luke's shields had been tugged wider than before. Vader made no move to exploit this. He did not want to frighten the boy again.
A tired, resigned sigh left Vader's mouth as he felt the draining, potent exhaustion leaking across their bond.
He analyzed his son's pitiful state. The sweat forming on his skin, the dark circles under his eyes.
The Rebels had better be taking good care of him.
Vader glanced to the side and back again, contemplating.
It hadn't been that long. He could afford a… slight delay.
So heaving a disbelieving sigh, he strode across the room to where he had thrown his son's things, picking up the thick comforter and pillow.
It was comical what he was doing, but Vader found a small part of him didn't mind. He threw Luke's blanket on him and straightened it out, making sure to cover his whole body and his limbs that sprawled wherever they wished to. He lifted Luke's head roughly because heaven knows a bomb wouldn't wake the child at this point, and shoved a pillow underneath it before letting it fall again.
Satisfied with Luke back to comfortably sleeping, Vader looked around the room before grabbing a chair and placing it in front of the bed. He sat down in it, crossing his arms.
Luke slept like the ruler of the galaxy hadn't just tried to kidnap him thirty seconds ago, mouth open and hair disheveled to an impressive extent.
He looked like a slob.
And yet Vader found himself to be slightly amused. And also a bit saddened.
He knew what was going to come; Luke would wake up for real and be horrified. It would be a long time until Vader would get to coexist this peacefully with him again. Or maybe that time would never come. Vader ignored such a daunting thought.
It was bittersweet.
Before really even thinking about it, he absorbed Luke's exhaustion across their bond, his hurt and burdens, and subtly sent a steady drum of calm. Hopefully the next time the boy awoke, he would be a bit more coherent and well-rested.
But for now Vader could wait and watch his precious, foolish son slumber and appreciate this rather bizarre turn of events.
At least for five more minutes.