1st place: Star Wars Fanfiction Awards
Luke Skywalker is turning 8 in just a few days on Empire Day. Unfortunately, the Empire has ordered a galaxy-wide census on Empire Day. Instead of heading to the pod races, like his Uncle Owen had promised him...
When Vader reached the medical bay, he found a Two-One Bee medical droid and two doctors attending to the boy. The Sith Lord stood outside, observing the procedures through the observation window. The droid did not waver, but both doctors shuddered when the dark lord's silhouette appeared on the bulkhead.
After many hours, the team transferred the boy to a recovery room. Vader followed them, his heavy steps and mechanical breathing announcing his presence immediately.
"Will he live?" The Sith Lord toward over him, threatening.
The lead medic said with a tremble, "Yes, my lord."
"Very well, you will live today, too, doctor."
Both doctors in the room breathed a sigh.
"Leave us."
The medical officers hurried from the room, closing the hatch behind them.
Vader knelt down, his mechanical knees thumping the deck with a loud thud beside the bed.
The boy lay unconscious. Whether from the drugs or his injuries, Vader did not know.
Bandages covered the boy's brow and stitches trailed down his cheek. It would be a few days before the boy could endure a Bacta tank. I just hope the scars fade.
Vader grabbed the boy's right hand with his own gloved right hand, gently squeezing it, wishing his flesh could touch his son's flesh. Not for the first time, he wished he had his own hands, his own legs, his own everything. Padmé, you were right. I wish you could see our son. Our son.
He brushed his left hand over the boy's forehead, pushing a reluctant curl above the bandage. The Sith Lord spoke as softly as his respirator and voice module would allow. "Luke. My son. My angel's son."
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Luke's eyes popped open, revealing a monstrous figure in a black mask leaning over his body. The boy jerked from side-to-side, trying to break free. He had no idea where he was or who that creature was. He only knew that just about everything hurt.
"Let me go," he mumbled with slurred words. "Please, let me go. I'll be good. I'll do as I'm told. Please, I want my Aunt Beru." Tears ran down his face.
Vader stroked the boy's head again with his black-gloved prosthetic.
The boy shrunk back in fear. "Please-don't hurt me."
"Shh. I would never hurt you. You're safe now." The man caressed the boy's forehead.
"Safe until you kill me, you mean," Luke said, remembering the fear his aunt and uncle had of him being captured. His eyes grew wide as recognition dawned. This is Vader. The Sith Lord. Anger swelled in the boy. All he wanted was revenge for never getting a chance to know his father. "Just like you did my father."
Vader shook his head and corrected with gentleness. "No, I am your father."
"No, that's not true. My daddy is dead. He died during the Clone Wars." This must be nightmare. I'll wake up at home, Uncle Owen upset with-
