Vader was on edge. The Force didn't feel right--something was wrong, but he couldn't tell what it was. At first he thought maybe it was left over emotions from his rather intense therapy session a few days before, but whenever he'd started dwelling on what was discussed, he closed his eyes and followed Luke's directions, imagining and placing the thoughts and emotions into the unlatched box.
And it worked...so why did he feel uneasy?
He tried meditation, but the feeling of angry ease he normally felt wasn't there. He was uncomfortable, and shifting positions in his meditation pod did not help. The Dark Side did not respond to him like it usually did.
He gave up, put his helmet back on, and went to the bridge.
If he couldn't focus, he might as well work. Perhaps then the answer would become clear.
The feeling intensified when he reached the bridge and Piett was not there. It was early in the morning cycle, and Piett was usually early to his shift on the bridge...but today, he wasn't there.
Vader paused at the door, eyes scanning faces just to be sure, before he approached a young captain.
"Where is the Admiral?"
The captain paled when he looked up from the pit to find him standing over him, but he answered clearly and quickly. "He hasn't come to the bridge, my lord. He isn't due on schedule for another thirty minutes."
Clearly he thought Vader was overreacting, and with any other Admiral he might have reluctantly agreed, but Piett was always at least an hour early. Vader had always suspected insomnia...but he supposed it was possible that the man had gotten a full nights sleep. Or perhaps he was under the weather.
The explanations didn't fit, but he supposed he could wait until the Admiral's shift time.
At least that was his initial thought, but after about five minutes that felt like an hour where the bad feeling grew and grew, he decided to trust his intuition.
Something was wrong, and somehow, Piett was involved. That...was not something he'd expected to ever think, but it was true nonetheless.
"Get me the Admiral. I want him on this bridge now." He snapped at an ensign. The man jumped a bit and hurried to comply.
Vader approached and stood over the man's shoulder as he tried to comm him. Was it just him, or did it feel like even the rings on the comm was slower?
The comm went to recorded message, which the ensign quickly left, requesting that the Admiral come to the bridge immediately.
"Keep calling." Vader pointed at the captain. "You, go find him."
As the Captain rushed off and the ensign continued trying to call, Vader stretched out with his senses to look for the familiar, tired presence of Piett.
Nothing. Sure, non-sensitives were duller in the Force, but Vader had worked with Piett long enough that he could usually pick him out easily in a crowd.
Not sensing him in the upper levels, Vader stretched further out. Perhaps he'd stopped by Luke's office--he seemed to like his son, and his son liked everyone, so...
Vader froze.
No. He...he had to be wrong.
He checked the Force and all of the presence's on his ship again. And again. And again. There were fifty thousand dull presences aboard his ship, but no bright, brilliant point of light.
Maybe he's on one of my other star destroyers?
No. There was no reason for that. It was early, and if for some reason one of his other ships in Death Squadron needed a therapist, he had a feeling Luke would set up a virtual meeting rather than leave.
He pulled his own comm out and stormed from the bridge before he'd consciously made the decision. He punched in Luke's comm.
Straight to recorded message.
He hung up and called Luke's office. Maybe Cyl would pick up and explain.
No answer.
He kept trying, even as he barreled through the halls towards Luke's office, his panic increasing with every missed call, every step. By the time he turned the last corner, he could barely contain the urge to tear the ship apart.
He didn't make it to Luke's office. In front of the doors leading to it were stormtroopers speaking to a worried-looking officer. When they saw him approach, they came to attention. "Lord Vader," the officer greeted, voice tense...but not because of him.
"What happened?!" He demanded. His voice sounded like a roar.
"I...I had an appointment with Mr. Lars," The officer stammered, "but when I came to the office..."
Vader didn't wait for the rest of the explanation. He pushed past them and into the lobby...and stopped short.
Cyl lay on the ground, unmoving and powered down. There were no signs of blaster fire, but he knew mechanics well enough to know from a glance that Cyl had not gone down without a fight. A stun bolt had taken him down and fried the circuits. Not irreplaceable, but...
He used the Force to open Luke's door and headed into the office.
No Luke.
His office was normally tidy (unlike his bedroom, which the few times he'd been in it, had dirty clothes on the floor). This office was almost tidy, except for the chair pulled back from the desk, an empty drawer open, and Luke's datapad sitting on the desk.
Even without the chair and the drawer, Luke's precious datapad would never be left behind.
He left me.
No. No. That made no sense. Luke was nothing but supportive. Even when he'd been afraid or nervous over his behavior, he was always there. The last time he'd seen him they'd enjoyed time together in his hangar, working on a ship together. Luke had been smiling and laughing at his own jokes...It wasn't the behavior of someone who was planning on leaving.
That meant that Luke had been taken.
His comm rang and he immediately answered, hoping it was Luke.
It was not. It was the captain he'd sent to look for Piett.
"Lord Vader," he stood at attention in the holo, "I cannot find Piett anywhere. General Veers said he hasn't seen him since he had an appointment yesterday."
Appointment?
He looked back at Luke's desk.
Luke was missing. Piett was missing.
If he had to guess, Piett was probably wherever Luke was.
The world was starting to spin. It was an effort not to explode, to shatter the port windows and let the vacuum of space take him.
Luke and Piett were missing. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Piett was loyal to him. He would not take Luke--he didn't know their relationship, but he knew he at least approved of the therapist. He wouldn't take the therapist without asking him first.
Taken. Luke and Piett had been taken.
His first thought was the Emperor. Who else would have the resources to take both his Admiral and his therapist from his ship? He was well aware that the Emperor had spies aboard the Executor, but he knew who they were and Piett had always made sure they were kept busy chasing false leads on the opposite end of the ship. He almost never saw them as a result. Could they have figured a way around Piett's distractions? Had the Emperor figured out who Luke was and ordered him brought to him?
But then why hadn't he already called to gloat about it?
And why would he take his Admiral, of all people??
It wasn't impossible, but when he considered the Emperor being behind this, it didn't sit right with him in the Force.
Pirates wouldn't have the resources, and Piett was adept at handling them. Vader felt sure there would have at the very least been casualties on the pirates side of they'd been bold enough to attempt it. He could see pirates wanting revenge on Piett for his actions earlier in his career, but why take a therapist?
That left Rebels.
His blood ran cold as the Force surged at the possibility. But how? The Rebels were always trying to infiltrate the Executor, but he usually managed to find them out before they made off with any information, let alone two captives. It would make sense that they would capture his Admiral, and as much as he hated to admit it, it also made sense to take his therapist, too. Both would have vital information (albeit very different types) on him and the personnel on his ship.
He looked at Luke's datapad, discarded carelessly on the desk.
But why take his son and not the very thing he stored all of his notes in?
Because they know.
He felt as though the floor had dropped from beneath him.
They knew about Luke. They knew who he was. The Admiral was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Captain," The words were a growl, but he didn't feel connected to them. It felt as though someone else was giving the order. "Put Death Squadron on high alert."
He was certain the raised alert level would make it back to Palpatine, but they were also in a war. If the Emperor contacted him to question him, he could blame it on the Rebels.
It would be the truth, after all. He just had to hope he could get Luke back before the Emperor got wind of the whole situation.
The captain looked like he suspected the alert level had to do with Piett, but he only saluted and disconnected. Vader summoned Luke's datapad to his hand with the Force. He half expected, and desperately wished that he'd hear Luke plead with him to remember their boundaries, but there was no protest. The room was silent of everything except his mechanical breathing.
Vader turned and left the office. The stormtroopers and the officer were now in the lobby. The officer glanced at him nervously, but the stormtroopers had begun their investigation.
If he hadn't come down to investigate himself, it would have been hours before the report came to him that his therapist was missing. Luke didn't have any official rank. Technically, he wouldn't have been informed at all if he didn't have him as his therapist. It would have gone to a lower superior officer who would have done an investigation to ensure there had been no foul play before they would have marked Luke as being a deserter and left it to bounty hunters.
He wouldn't have known until it was too late--as it was, it probably already was too late. What had Veers said, that he hadn't seen Piett since the day before?
"You will report your findings directly to me," he snarled, pointing at the troopers before turning on the officer. "You will get me a record of every ship that has come and gone from this ship within the last forty eight hours."
"Yes, my lord." The officer turned to leave, then hesitated. "Is...do you think Mr. Lars is...?"
"He is not dead!"
The words were a shout, and the officer and the troopers jumped. Vader didn't care. How dare he insinuate that Luke was dead?! How dare the Rebels take his son?!
But the words reminded him of the bond that, by now, had surely formed between them. It would have been stronger and more noticeable had Luke used the Force more often and more intentionally, but when he reached into the Force, he found it.
He couldn't get much from it. It was stretched thin and flickering weakly. Vader didn't know if that was just because of distance, or if Luke was injured on top of that.
If they'd injured him...if they'd harmed him in any way...
He felt as though someone had reached into his chest and squeezed what was left of his heart.
"I want updates every fifteen minutes, even if there is nothing new to report." He growled as he reached out towards Cyl and used the Force to lift the lifeless droid. He would repair the droid and find out what it knew. "I want the therapist found and I want him back alive and unharmed."
He'd find his son. If he had to tear apart the galaxy and slaughter every Rebel who stood in his way, he'd do it. He'd make sure no one ever dared to touch what was his again.
____________________________________
Dealing with the Rebellion was exasperating.
First, there was the accommodations. Luke had grown up on a farm on Tatooine, so it wasn't like he wasn't used to difficult conditions. But he was an Imperial, even if he technically viewed himself as a somewhat neutral party, and Piett was definitely an Imperial, though in Luke's limited experience, he was one of the nicest high ranking officers there were, so the Rebels weren't about to let them out of the cell. And with being in the cell came uncomfortable air conditioning that was just a bit too cold, and lighting that was, according to Piett, intentionally designed to cause disorientation and headaches.
"It's used to unsettle a prisoner before interrogation." Piett explained to him, "I doubt Princess Leia would let them torture you, but since you're still an Imperial and, probably in her eyes, a Lord Vader supporter, she's not about to move you anywhere else, and it's not like they can change the conditions for one cell without changing the conditions for all cells, so you may be stuck like this."
Luke noted that Piett didn't assume they wouldn't torture him, but Luke was determined to not let that happen.
"If wanting my father to develop healthy living habits is considered a "Lord Vader supporter," then I guess she's not wrong." Luke replied dryly, "And even if she did want to move me somewhere more comfortable, I'm not leaving without you, so yeah, we're both stuck here."
"Lord Vader would prefer--"
"I don't care what my father would prefer. I'll deal with it when that happens."
"You are remarkably sure about that."
"Hey, you thought we were all dead after Vader went on a drug-related rampage through the ship and I managed to convince him then."
"I definitely feel like he might feel differently when his only...well, only son is in danger." He paused. "He doesn't have another son, does he?"
"As far as I know, no."
Somehow, he thought Piett might have been relieved by that thought.
He and Piett slept in shifts. There was only one bench, and as uncomfortable as it was, it was still better than the floor. Luke couldn't tell how long it had passed since he'd been taken, and could only imagine what his father might be going through--because despite Obi-Wan's revelation bomb, he knew that Vader, as he was now, had no desire to harm him, and he especially would not appreciate harm coming to him.
As for what Obi-Wan revealed...Luke had his own mental container. It was a cookie jar in the shape of a duck. It opened by removing the tail. He stuffed the thoughts and emotions and worries over the situation into the duck jar, and he'd re-examine them once he'd managed to get the full story. Then... then...
Well. He'd known who Vader was when he took him on as a client (minus the father-son thing). He'd need to process through the personal aspect, but he'd already decided that he wasn't going to abandon his client...especially given that his client was prone to major abandonment issues.
Stars, Luke hoped Vader didn't think he'd left. It might save a lot of people from his wrath, but it would completely destroy any trust they'd built up. He would have to hope that Vader could use what coping skills they'd worked on to push past the initial fear of abandonment and see that he'd been taken. Weirdly, it probably helped that Piett was with him, but given that Vader also liked Piett, it probably wouldn't help his rage.
Luke was terrified that he couldn't stop the bloodbath that would follow. Sure, he could probably save Piett, maybe Leia, but the other Rebels had made probably their largest mistake in kidnapping him. Despite him being technically an Imperial, it brought him no amount of comfort or joy.
Obi-Wan continued to be a bit of a problem. He dropped by every once in a while. Mainly he seemed concerned about the Sith lightsaber they'd found in his desk, because he kept drilling him over what he knew about the Force and about the Sith. Technically drilling was a bit of a stretch, since Obi-Wan was always polite about it, but he was insistent.
"I told you, I don't know that much. I'm not a Sith, let alone a Force user." Luke let himself sound annoyed--because he was. He wished he'd remembered to give Vader back the stupid saber. "I'm a therapist. I don't care about some stupid mystical magic voodoo thing."
"And your father is fine with that?" Obi-Wan sounded skeptical.
Luke raised his brows. "Are you saying that Anakin wouldn't have been fine with me neglecting the powers I inherited and therefore you assume that Vader also wouldn't be fine with it? Because that sounds like you admitting they're the same person."
Piett stayed silent, though he appeared to be trying to look busy looking at his cuffed hands in the corner. Luke wished they could at least give him noise cancelling headphones to block out conversations he didn't want to be part of, but technically Obi-Wan had offered to let Luke speak privately in another room, so he doubted that would happen. He just couldn't trust the older man to keep Piett safe while he was away.
"I am not implying anything. I just cannot fathom a Sith allowing you to stay on their ship without trying to train you to be their new apprentice."
"I didn't say he didn't try. Just that it didn't work."
Obi-Wan frowned, and though he tried to hide it, Luke spotted unease in his expression. "And...he's okay with that?"
Luke didn't bother bringing up the breakthrough they'd had when Vader had identified the cycle of abuse in his life, with part of that being the Sith. It wasn't his place to say anything. If Vader wanted to tell Kenobi, he could. "That's between him and I."
"Luke, I'd like to get you out of this cell--"
"I'm not taking a bribe and I'm not leaving the Admiral." Luke tried to cross his arms, but the cuffs around his wrists stopped him and made it look awkward. He sighed. "Why are you so concerned about me being a Sith anyway?"
"Sith and Jedi are ancient enemies."
"Sure, but you've got me locked in a cell."
"Cuffs and cell doors are no match for a Jedi or a Sith. Maybe I don't trust you either."
Luke...didn't know that. He glanced at Piett to see if he knew anything about that, considering who he worked for, and the man nodded without looking up.
He was regretting some of his earlier decisions more and more.
"Well. Maybe I should have pushed for training, then, but I didn't, and by now I think you know that." He turned back to Kenobi. "If I had to guess, you probably feel some sort of responsibility for me, and since you, being a Jedi, don't like the Sith, you'd probably view me being a Sith as some sort of personal failure. Am I right?"
Kenobi's expression didn't change, but the fact that he didn't reply, told Luke he'd hit the nail on the head.
"You know, even if I had, that's my decision. Not yours. You have no responsibility for my choices. You are not my guardian and even if you were, I'm an adult. My choices are my own."
"I was tasked with keeping you safe...especially from your father. Yet you ended up on his ship anyway."
Luke snorted. "Is that how you justify kidnapping me?"
"Why are you so focused on that? I protected you, Luke."
"Oh, did you have any legal authority to revoke parental rights from my father?"
Kenobi sort of looked like he couldn't believe they were having this conversation. Luke couldn't believe he was so surprised that he'd be bothered by this. "I had literally witnessed your father murder children, Luke. Even if I'd known he was still alive, which I did not, I feel like that's a good reason to not hand over two of the most powerful Force sensititves to their Sith Lord father."
So. He hadn't realized his father was alive. Interesting. It didn't excuse it, considering that he could have brought him and his sister back the moment he found out, but murder of children wasn't a bad reason not to bring back two babies.
"Okay I can see why you might have been hesitant to hand us over, but you still didn't have that authority. Well intentioned kidnapping is still kidnapping. You separated me from my sister, too. You never told my aunt and uncle the truth about my father. You didn't even tell them who my mother was. You made major decisions about our lives under the guise of protection and took our autonomy away from us, and when presented with the opportunity to tell us the truth, you lied to set us against our father. Who, by the way, you left to burn alive." He leaned forward. "How about we talk about why you cut my father's limbs off and left him to burn a slow, agonizing death?"
Kenobi stared at him incredulously for a moment before sighing. "When you are ready to cooperate, we'll talk again."
"Oh, I'm fine, it's you who wants to avoid your own truth, I think."
Kenobi frowned, then turned and left.
"Are you trying to therapy him??" Piett said when the door had closed.
Luke shrugged awkwardly. "Not intentionally, but I guess it's second nature to me now."
And second nature it was. Anyone who entered their cell, Luke chatted up. People usually dropped by to bring them food, or take them to the fresher (down a bunch of nondescript halls that meant nothing to him, naturally). He usually asked for their name (which they only sometimes gave), then asked how their day was. Civil, polite conversation. Mainly he was hoping to show that he wasn't a threat, despite who he was a therapist for, but he wasn't sure how well it worked.
That was, until the Rebel who took him to the fresher turned to him with a glare and said, "If you think you can trick us into thinking you're a nice guy, you're dead wrong. You're an Imperial even if you are a therapist, and you work for the worst of the worst."
Luke doubted that Leia or Kenobi had told anyone else who he really was, because otherwise the man probably would have brought that up before the whole therapy thing.
"Assuming that everyone who is an Imperial is evil seems like quite the generalization. Surely there has to be some genuinely good people who also just happen to work for the Empire."
"That's because you are. Especially if you work for Darth Vader." He said the name like a curse.
"Technically, I report directly to another therapist who happens to be over the Imperial Military Mental Health Association."
That got the Rebel's glare to falter a bit. "...The Empire cares about their soldier's mental health?"
Luke winced. "Honestly, it's more for show than anything else. We're a small, underfunded, overlooked division."
"So you were ordered to work for Darth Vader?"
"No, I chose it before it could come to that."
His eyes narrowed. "So you chose to help that monster."
"I chose to help someone regain control over their own life."
That earned him a scoff. "He's Darth Vader. He practically controls the galaxy."
"No, the Emperor controls the galaxy." He didn't hide his disdain. "I believe in giving people chances to improve themselves. The problem is, not everyone has or understands the resources to do that. My job is to provide those resources, then let the client choose whether or not they wish to take advantage of them."
"Darth Vader would never."
"Are you so sure about that?"
"Yes! Do you know your client at all?!"
"I am very well aware." Too aware. But he didn't add that.
"Then you know there's no redemption in a man like that."
"Do you speak from personal experience?" He was almost afraid to ask, but he was sure many people had joined the Rebellion because of his father's actions.
"My family owned land on Lothal. It was forcibly taken from us by the Empire. It was troops working under Thrawn who took our land from us, and killed my parents in the process. I've seen Vader's work while fighting in the Rebellion. He's worse than Thrawn--Thrawn is brilliant and terrifying, but he's still well within the realm of a mortal being. Vader?" He shuddered. "The things he can do...did you know he once pulled the pin from the grenades of every one of our soldiers? An entire field of a thousand Rebels were dead within seconds, and he hadn't even lifted his hand. He wasn't even trying. He killed them as easily as though he were swatting an annoying bug. Many of my friends were among the dead. So yeah, I don't believe there's redemption for a man like that."
By that point they'd reached the fresher and Luke excused himself to step inside. He used that time to process the information he'd been given (and tried hard not to think that technically, he had the same power Vader had used to kill a thousand men in the space of a few seconds) before he finished and stepped back out.
"I'm not going to convince you that Vader should be given a chance. That's not my job. But it sounds like you've experienced a lot of loss in your life. How have you been handling that?"
The man looked at him suspiciously as they began heading back to his cell. "Are you...trying to give me therapy?"
"No. My sessions are an hour long, not the time span of going to the restroom. But I am concerned for your mental wellbeing nonetheless. If you'd like, I can point you to some resources that could help you." He noted the bags under his eyes. "You aren't getting sleep, are you?"
The man frowned. "How did you--?"
"It's natural that when you are at rest and no longer have things to do to distract you that your mind and emotions dwell on the people you miss, for a life you once had. If you aren't careful, it can suck your energy away, make it difficult to sleep, and therefore make it difficult to function during the day, which, in a war, can be fatal. It's common for soldiers to have PTSD, and sometimes society tells us to just ignore and get over it, and sometimes it's implied that you can only work on PTSD after the trauma is done. But I'd recommend seeking help as soon as possible, lest you lose yourself and make it that much harder to regain the life you want when you're done with war."
The man stopped talking, and Luke assumed he wasn't going to answer him at all, but when the cell door was opened and Luke was about to go back into the room where Piett waited, he spoke. "Those resources...where can I find them?"
Luke smiled and listed them, and the soldier nodded thoughtfully. "...Thanks." Without another word, he closed the door, leaving Luke alone with Piett.
"You're going to befriend the entire Rebellion, aren't you?" Piett sounded both tired and resigned.
"What? Of course not. I doubt the entire Rebellion is even here."
"Actually, if Princess Leia is here, there's probably a good amount of it here. And that's not the point."
Luke shrugged and sat back down next to him. "I'm not going to befriend the entire Rebellion. I'm just making conversation."
"That didn't sound like making conversation." Piett sighed. "I'm convinced this isn't even a professional thing--you're just nice and people like you because of it. Are you sure you're Lord Vader's son?"
"Very." Luke grinned. "Apparently we look alike. Or we used to."
Piett made a face. No doubt he was trying to picture Darth Vader looking like Luke. "You...probably get your personality from your mother."
The grin faded. "Yeah. Probably." He turned away.
There was an awkward silence. "Just...be careful, Luke. I know you want to help people, but when the time comes, we need to get back to the Executor."
Luke nodded. "I know. I've already made my decision."
Another awkward pause. "It's just...I'm sure you may have feelings about what our captor--"
"I do, but I've already made my decision." His voice was far more tense than he would have liked. "Sorry. But please, believe me when I say I have every intention of going back."
"Even if it means leaving your twin behind?"
Leia. She hadn't even dropped by to see him since he'd rather bluntly revealed the truth of their parentage and Kenobi's lies. He didn't know her at all--what could she be thinking?
"I go where I'm needed the most, Admiral, and right now that's with Lord Vader. I'll...worry about Leia when I even know what to think about that whole situation."
Piett made a noise, but didn't continue pushing. "Just be careful, Luke."
"I always am."
___________________________
With every hour that passed, Vader's panic turned to rage. Rage fueled the Force, which in turn fueled his ability to find the information he was looking for.
The take off logs showed numerous different ships leaving from the various hangars around the ship. Most were TIEs taking off to complete their patrol, a few shuttles to and from the other star destroyers in Death Squadron, and a few supply ships. But one ship in particular stood out--a simple cargo supply. It had been authorized to leave, and he had the name of the pilot and everything.
The man he'd stolen the hoverboard from. He'd almost forgotten about him, but when he pulled up his file and found out that he actually worked as an officer aboard his ship, he remembered.
A Rebel spy. He'd been so preoccupied with his son, he hadn't sniffed him out, and he'd been allowed to be far too close to his son to take him as a result.
Surely the name was incorrect. He sent his agents to uncover the man's real identity and bring back more information on him. Then he sent more agents to the destination the ship's log had claimed to be headed towards, not because the ship was actually headed there, but because perhaps they could find evidence of the true destination along the way.
The crew continued to supply information as requested every fifteen minutes. Any possible lead on any Rebel activity was gathered and updated in a report, a report he scoured constantly. Unlike usual, the information was more valuable, at least enough to send probes and resources to investigate further. He didn't think about why that might be--he didn't care. That was, until he grew frustrated with the lack of concrete evidence and almost lashed out and killed an officer, but stopped when he took a moment to sense the emotions of his crew in the Force.
They were all angry.
"They took our Admiral," Captain Riss explained, fury barely contained in his voice, "And they took our therapist. We will do whatever necessary to bring them back, Lord Vader."
Well. An angry crew was better than a dead crew, and it explained why there were at least more Rebel leads than usual.
In between report updates, he worked on getting Cyl back online. Cyl would be a valuable witness, and if he was honest with himself, using his hands to work on something helped him control his fury and terror enough not to get in a ship himself and start tearing the galaxy apart on a one-man crusade. As he worked in the silence of his workshop, he talked to himself.
Or, rather, he talked to Luke. Even more specifically, he talked to his imagined Support Luke.
"I'm pleased you didn't kill everyone because you were terrified for my safety. I'll be sure to give you another ten gold stars when I return."
Maybe the real Luke wouldn't go that far, but the idea of more stars and more Force lessons calmed Vader only marginally.
"If you return." His voice, alone in the hangar, sounded too loud even to his own ears.
"If you kill your crew, I won't be happy. Some of them are my clients."
"You and your stupid no killing rule...I hope you remember that it does not apply to Rebel Scum, especially now that they...that they..."
The hydrospanner in his hand bent unexpectedly under the weight of the Force. He threw it across the room and summoned a new one to his hand and continued working.
"Breaking things is not a healthy coping mechanism." Support Luke chided. Even in his imagination, he sounded far calmer than anyone else would have been had they been in his presence to see that.
"The only person who's health I am concerned for is yours at the moment."
He imagined Luke's small smile, a smile that didn't wipe away the concern in his blue eyes. He wished Luke wasn't so worried about other people, even in his imagination--now was the exact time to worry about himself.
"Let's walk through your concerns. What are you specifically worried about?"
Vader groaned. He really wished he didn't know Luke well enough to therapy himself at this point, but he was sure even Support Luke would complain about his non-cooperativeness if he didn't reply.
"I am worried that they are hurting you. What if they know who you are? At best, they just assume you are my therapist--those stupid Rebels like to pretend they are nice enough not to torture information out of their prisoners, but if they knew you were my son..."
He trailed off. He couldn't say it. In his mind, he imagined everything they could do to him--it was mostly all of the things he did to prisoners, and while the Rebels didn't resort to torture as often as the Empire did, he was also well aware that some Rebel cells had no issue resorting to similar methods if the prisoner was important enough.
"I have to hope that with the Admiral being with you, that means they brought you to someone high up in Rebel Command. They are too soft hearted and diplomatic for such methods. But if they did not, I am afraid of the state I will find you in."
He could imagine a thoughtful frown on Luke's face, not the terror that would have been on most people's faces.
"Those are very legitimate fears. This is a war, anything could happen."
He did not reply for a while, working steadily on repairing Cyl's circuits. Then, he paused, looked up to stare at the ship they had been working on together. It sat alone, it's mechanical guts still pulled out and scattered around. "Will I feel if you die?"
"You know that you would." Real Luke wouldn't know the answer to that, but he did.
"I...never felt your mother's death. In fact, I thought I felt her the whole time I..." he trailed off. She wasn't Force sensitive. He'd had a connection to her, but it was different than Luke's connection to him. That was bound through the Force, and even if it wasn't as strong as it would be soon enough, it was still stronger in its natural state.
"I understand why you're worried, but you know our connection will tell you the moment I'm even in immediate danger. What does it tell you now?"
He closed his eyes and reached for it. "You are alive, and though you are in danger simply because of who has captured you, your life is not currently under threat."
Support Luke nodded in his imagination. "Then take it one step at a time. I know you will find me. If you take it one step at a time, have patience, you'll find the information you need to reach me."
Again, Vader groaned as he finished the final touches on Cyl. "Why, even in my own imagination, can I not imagine you telling me to murder every last Rebel to find my way to you?"
Because, even in his imagination, Luke was at his very core, good. Even if he hadn't included Rebels in their No Killing rule, he knew Luke wouldn't appreciate the bloodbath he wanted to carve to get to him.
With Cyl finished, he turned him on.
The droid's eyes immediately lit up, and it sprung up.
"--Mr. Lars is busy and your appointment isn't for another month...oh. Lord Vader." The droid looked around at his hangar. "This is not Mr. Lars' office. Why have you removed me from my posted station?! Do you know what could be happening--?"
"Luke was taken. I need to know who shot you." Vader demanded.
Cyl stared at him. Vader could practically hear the gears turning in his head while he sorted through his memory banks. "Damian Salva. Human. Age thirty five. He had an appointment with Mr. Lars in three weeks time at thirteen hundred in the afternoon. He showed up early and shot me when I dared to tell him that Mr. Lars was busy with another client--"
"And that client was Admiral Piett?" It was still weird to think that Piett was one of Luke's clients. The Admiral hadn't said anything about it, but then again Vader rarely paid attention to anyone's personal lives outside of his own and Luke's and the Emperor's.
"That is confidential--"
"The Admiral was taken, too. I already know he was with Luke at the time of the attack."
"Oh. That is most unfortunate."
Unfortunate. His fists clenched. Do not destroy Luke's droid. He made the droid. He would not appreciate it if you destroyed the droid because his personality chip is not as tactful as you would like.
But Luke could repair the droid...
No. No destroying. He'd just fixed it.
"Did this Damian Salva give you any additional information when he signed up for the appointment?"
"Oh, he filled out the required paperwork."
"Send it to me."
"But patient confident--"
"I am certain that patient confidentiality does not apply if illegal acts have taken place, am I not correct?"
Cyl processed for a moment, checking his protocols.
"Technically, that is correct."
"Damian has attacked and captured my son and my Admiral. He has committed treason against the Empire. I doubt Damian is his real name, but perhaps he let something slip in that paperwork. I need it. Now."
There was a promise of death in his tone, but it went over the droid's head.
"I will send you the paperwork promptly."
"Good. Now, I..."
He was interrupted by the sound of the blast door opening. He whirled, ready to tear into whoever had dared interrupt him, but brought himself up short when he saw it was Veers who had entered.
Well. Veers was no Piett, but he was better than nothing. Last he'd checked, Veers had volunteered to be the point of contact for the investigation, the middle man between him and the rest of the crew.
"There had better be useful news, General." He snarled.
Veers stopped before him, coming to attention. "Yes, my lord. You will recall that I have a son who is part of the Rebellion?"
It was not unusual. Families were often torn apart on different sides of a civil war. Vader had once asked him if his son would cause him to falter on his duty to the Empire. He'd said no. Now, it appeared, he was making good on that promise.
"I do not know details on where my son is stationed. He does not tell me details, but I have a haunch that he might be stationed with some of the other higher ups in the Rebellion."
"What is your evidence?"
"He was friends with Princess Leia when she was a senator. They were close in age. I assume that, given her position in the Rebellion, she would either keep him close, or would at least be in communication with him."
Vader scowled. Princess Leia, out of all of the members of Rebel Command, hated him the most. Ironic, given that she was now going around the galaxy saying she was a Jedi, but it was still a problem if she was in charge of Luke and the Admiral's safety.
"I have his comm number. He will probably not pick up, but your message may get to the appropriate leaders."
Vader did not wish to negotiate. He wanted to hunt down the Rebellion and destroy it. But he didn't know how long Luke had, and he didn't have any further leads at the moment.
He would...have to play negotiator and get his son back.
Use your words. That's what Luke would say.
Too bad he was terrible with those.
____________________________
Leia sat in her office, a bottle of Corelian Whiskey on her table. It was almost empty. She needed to stop, get up, and go to bed. At this point, she couldn't even pretend she was working on Rebellion matters--her vision was swimming. She had hoped that the whiskey would chase away the demons plaguing her since finding out that the man she'd looked up to so much was the same man who'd tortured her and forced her to watch her home world blow up, and for a time it did make her forget. But now with the bottle almost done and her head swimming, it was back at the forefront of her mind.
She should have turned to the Force for comfort. She normally would have...but it also didn't help that the man who'd taught her to do so was the same man who'd lied to her. He'd tried to come to her office, probably to talk and make excuses, but she wasn't ready to deal with them. She turned him away every time.
Then there was her brother she had to deal with...
Tomorrow. She'd worry about all of that tomorrow.
She sighed and put her datapad away, before standing. The movement made the world dizzy, and she steadied herself against the table. Finding her quarters would be a fun task, she could already tell.
But she didn't get a chance. The blast doors opened, and in walked Zev.
"You're not going to believe who just left me a message." The tone of his voice was tense, and it got her to try to pay attention. Drunk or not, she still had a Rebellion to lead.
"Who?" She hoped she sounded normal, but when Zev stopped in front of her desk, his eyes glanced at the almost empty bottle on it.
"Um. Uh. Did I...catch you at a bad time?"
"Nah. What up?"
Zev hesitated...then said, "Darth Vader left me a message. For you."
That sobered her up. At least, it felt like it did. It gave her more focus as a wave of anger and betrayal hit her.
"Play it."
"Maybe I should bring this to someone else--"
"Play it."
He hesitated again...then placed the comm on the desk and played the message.
When Vader's image appeared on the desk, she felt as if someone had hit her in the gut.
Vader.
Anakin.
Her father.
"If you value your pathetic Rebellion, you will bring this message to Princess Leia Organa." Vader's hands were on his hips. It was the classic figure she'd seen of him in so many Imperial Propaganda ads that featured him. He looked terrifying, even in the small visage of the recorded holo. After a pause, he must have assumed Zev would do as he demanded, because he addressed her.
"Your Highness," his barely contained rage was evident in his entire demeanor. It was like he wanted to crawl through the comm to where they were and start murdering the entire base. "It has come to my attention that you are likely in possession of not only my Admiral, but my...my therapist."
Your son.
My brother.
I'm your daughter.
Her own fury rose with every word he said.
"You will return them both to me unharmed within the next twenty four hours. If you do not, I will personally find you and I will destroy you--and I will make sure that it is not a quick death."
Her throat constricted as memories hit her.
A needle being injected into her arm.
The feeling that her skin was on fire.
Vader diving into her mind using the Dark Side of the Force, trying to break her from within.
Her own father had done that to her.
"I will leave proposed coordinates to drop them off, if that is what you would prefer. If you do not respond, I will assume you reject my offer and will do exactly as I have threatened. I am a man of my word, Princess. I assure you, this latest foolish stunt had earned my full attention. I will find you, and I will destroy you and your pathetic friends."
The message cut off, and Leia was seething.
"I mean...technically he's already been hunting us, right?" Zev sounded nervous. "Do you think we should evacuate just in case?"
But Leia wasn't listening. She was staring at the comm, at where Vader's visage had been just seconds before.
Then before Zev could stop her, she picked up the comm and dialed back.
"What are you doing?!" Zev hissed, dropping to his knees and peeking over the desk, obviously not wanting Vader to see him there.
She didn't care. She didn't care when Vader picked up after a single ring, either.
"Where are they?!" Was his first demand. No greeting. No forced niceties. Just straight to what he wanted.
She was so angry, she was shaking.
"I have whatcha want."
Her words were slurred, but anger still shook her voice. Hatred was probably written all over her face. When she'd faced Vader on the battlefield after the Death Star, she'd always managed to stay calm and composed.
But tonight?
She didn't care.
Vader paused. "Are you drunk?" He sounded both furious and surprised that she'd drunk called him for what he viewed as a negotiation.
"That's none ya business." At least, she hoped that's what she said. "I know why ya wannnn him."
Vader stilled.
"Then you know why this has my full attention." The threat had increased in his voice. Oh, yes. He wanted to hurt her. To relish in killing her.
"You know why I kidnapped your stupid theeeerapisssss?!" She was definitely slurring. She didn't know how much he even understood. "Turn'sssss out, Luke's my twin brother. Did ya know that?"
Vader stared at her.
"He didn't. Surpriiiiiiiise!!!" She waved her hands dramatically. "Annnnn guess whaaat? He told me...he told me.... you'rrrrrrrr my daaaaaad. Which is baaaad, cuz you tortured me. You were baaaaaad. A bad daaaaad."
The only noise was Vader's breathing. Zev stared at her with disbelieving, horrified eyes over the edge of the table. He looked like he wanted to reach over and end the call before she said anything worse.
Nothing could be worse than the truth.
"Sooo now I have what ya want. Luke. My broo. My broo who likes you more than mee. I have him. He's mine. Miiiiiiine. And ya know what I say to your mean, bad request?"
Finally, Vader spoke. It was a different tone than she'd ever heard from him. She couldn't place it. "Leia--"
"Noooo, it's yourrrrrr hiiiiiighnessss to yooooooouuuuu." She pointed at him...or in his general direction. "I say, piss off dad!"
"Leia, I...." Of course he didn't listen to what she'd told him to call her. He didn't care about anyone. Luke was wrong. "If he's hurt..." he trailed off, as though he'd been planning on making the threat before her bombshell, but now he didn't know what to say anymore.
"I'm not in the buizzzzzz of torturing family. He's fiiiiiine. And better awaaay from yoooooooou."
Finally, Zev decided enough was enough, reached over, and turned the comm off just as Vader again tried, "Leia, please--"
The call cut, and Zev hurriedly turned off his comm, clearly afraid that Vader would call back.
"Um." Zev whispered, horrified, "I...I think you need to go to....Leia, is any of what you said true?"
It was probably bad to reveal all of that in front of Zev, but she didn't care. She just sat back in her chair, satisfied that she'd stuck it to the man who'd haunted her every step since the Death Star.
Luke was hers. Not Vader's. Tomorrow, she'd talk to Luke. She'd make him see reason.
She had to.