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Chapter Text

Jabba had fallen out of favor with the Empire.

Luke didn’t really know the details of what had happened. Things had been tense between Jabba and the Emperor for a while – Luke suspected it was over him. There had been numerous failed offers and deals extended by Palpatine in order to obtain him over the years. Those emissaries either left to return to their master with their tail between their legs, or they were killed and the bodies themselves were sent back to Coruscant as the answer.

Jabba always laughed. Laughed and laughed at the very idea of handing Luke over to anyone like it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. After all the time and energy he had put into breaking the last surviving Jedi into a perfect little attack dog that kept all of his subjects perfectly in line and obedient… nothing anyone offered him compared.

At one point, the emissaries simply stopped coming.

Vader was never one of them and he never came on his own.

Luke knew this, because in the beginning, he’d watched and waited and desperately hoped that he would.

Sometimes, on those rare occasions when Jabba deigned to take him off-world in order to attend Imperial galas or other functions hosted by the rich and wealthy members of the Imperial elite, Luke would catch glimpses of him out of the corner of his eyes.

Luke was never allowed to stray far from Jabba’s side and he long since learned not to look up.

Slaves didn’t get to look up.

He would be in for a world of pain if he did.

But sometimes… sometimes, he spotted Vader off in the distance from under his eyelashes, standing aside the Emperor. Sometimes, Luke tried in vain to connect with him through the Force. But even that had been taken from him and unless Jabba willed it, the Force was denied him the same as everything else was. There was never anyone to reach out to.

It was a little easier once he learned to stop looking.

It didn’t hurt so much to be forced to attend events on Coruscant, dressed up in glamorous clothes and jewelry that were designed to make others lust after him and approach Jabba for the opportunity to do business, once he'd accepted that no one would ever come and help him. Luke was always kneeling, kept at Jabba’s nonexistent feet by the collar around his throat and the chain in his hand.

Sometimes he performed “tricks” for the crowd when Jabba wished to be entertained. The Force always felt flimsy and disgusting when it was returned to him after long periods of time locked tightly away. It was like drinking too much water after nearly dying of dehydration. “Tricks” were all he could manage.

Once, a long time ago, it seemed like… Luke had watched Vader storm out of the elaborate hall during one of those occasions and slams the grand doors shut behind him as he left. The faint sounds of things being destroyed echoed throughout the hall, which had fallen silent in the wake of Darth Vader’s departure.

Jabba had been amused by the disruption and urged him to continue, which Luke had. But watching Vader leave had left Luke feeling hollow and empty inside. More than he already did, anyways.

They hadn’t attended anything on Coruscant since then. It had been strictly Tatooine and Luke hadn’t seen or heard anything about Vader since.

Until today.

Jabba had fallen out of favor with the Empire. It wasn’t Luke’s job or even his right to know why and if he was perfectly honest, he had stopped caring about that a long time ago. Life was simpler if he didn’t pay attention to the details. If Jabba died or was ever killed by any of his own hired scum or some agents from the Emperor who finally decided he’d had enough, Luke only hoped he would be allowed to spit on his rotting corpse before he was forced to bend at the knee and call someone else “Master”.

He kept his head down as he disembarked the Star Jewel at Jabba’s side, suppressing a shiver at the cool night air.

Luke distantly wondered what planet they were on and then let his thoughts drift away from the subject. It didn’t matter either way. It was easier if he didn’t care at all. He didn’t pay any attention to the opposite party of people who were waiting for their arrival. He was probably here as a show of Jabba's power and to play watchdog incase anything went awry.

They came to a stop just off the ramp and Luke made to move into a kneeling position – he was stopped from doing so by a sudden shock of electricity from his collar and he held in a cry of pain, freezing in place. He turned his head slightly in Jabba’s direction, awaiting direction and being sure to keep his eyes low.

“Stay on your feet, Jedi.” Jabba snapped shortly in Huttese.

Luke slowly straightened up, trying not to let his hands shake as he tucked them respectfully behind his back. “Yes, Master.”

In Basic, Jabba addressed someone else.

“The Jedi – as requested.” He sneered, pulling slightly on Luke’s chain as he made short gestures with his stumpy little arms.

“And the detonator?”

Luke twitched in surprise at the sound of that particular voice, fighting the urge to lift his head for the first time. Instead, he looked up through his lashes and spied the lower half of a familiar black figure standing several paces away, guarded on both sides multiple sets of white boots.

Vader and… his stormtroopers. The 501^st?  

Luke couldn’t tell without looking up and he wouldn’t do that.

It had been a long time since he’d seen Vader and being so close to him now made Luke feel unbelievably nervous – almost enough to be sick to his stomach. In hindsight, Jabba not allowing him to eat anything for the past couple of days was probably a good thing.

He had no pride left to save but Luke still had no desire to throw up in front of Vader.

Jabba raised something up for Vader to see in response to the question. Luke immediately closed his eyes. Even after all this time, it was one thing to know that Jabba held Luke’s life in his hands… it was another thing entirely to see it.

The detonator to his transmitter chip was waved in front of his face often enough already and the sight of it made Luke feel helplessly weak.  

It made him compliant. Death was preferable to the living hell he was trapped in but even death was outside of his control. He had no right to die – not when his life belonged to another. Jabba had forced him to live when he didn’t want to and would let him die only once he was decided Luke could. And as terrible as life was... he wasn't ready to die yet either.

“Give it to me.” Vader demanded instantly. A few seconds later, Luke heard the faint sound of someone catching something and he flinched despite himself. “Now the boy.”

Whatever slack there had been disappeared as Jabba tightened his hold on Luke’s chain.

“My payment first.”

Was… was Jabba selling him?

Luke blinked his eyes open at the thought – that was… what? Selling him to Vader?

Those same black boots stepped forward then and Luke winced at the feeling of his collar digging into the sensitive skin of his neck. He leaned ever so slightly to the side, closer to Jabba to avoid choking entirely.

“Here’s your proof.” Vader fairly growled, shoving something at Jabba once he was close enough.

Jabba took a few moments to look at whatever it was, using his free hand to flick through the datapad rapidly. Finally he hummed a gross, dissatisfied sound.

“It was the price we agreed upon.” Vader warned dangerously.

“I wasn’t going to argue,” Jabba retorted sourly. “I just hate to give up my things.” He thrust the datapad back into Vader’s hand and then Luke felt and heard the jingling of his chain as it finally changed hands.

“Take him and leave. Give my respect to the Emperor. I trust that this ends our disagreement.” Jabba began to back away and Luke instinctively tried to step with him. He wasn’t jerked or pulled backwards by any means, but Vader didn’t let go of the chain and that kept Luke where he was.

“If I believed you had any respect, I would.” Vader fairly sneered, taking a step closer to Luke. The action gave the chain some slack and eased the pressure on his throat. It wasn’t kindness though – why would anyone feel the need to be kind to him? Why would Vader care when he’d done nothing for Luke all these years?

Luke felt himself tense up at being so close to him, feeling wildly confused.

Jabba laughed again, at the top of his ramp now by the sound of it.

“You wish to kill me,” Jabba observed with dark amusement. “Yet you are stayed by the hand of another. You may think otherwise but you aren’t any different than my pet is, Lord Vader. You cow to a master the same as he does.”

The doors of the Star Jewel hissed as they began to close and both Luke and Vader stood almost side by side as Jabba’s men began shouting orders to prepare for immediate take-off.

“We shall see,” Vader said darkly, once the doors were sealed.

Luke flinched when Vader set a cautious seeming hand on his shoulder, hunching his shoulders up towards his ears in some vain effort to look smaller. He didn’t dare to look up or try to move away. A heavy sense of dread filled him, to the point where he was shaking almost uncontrollably.

Vader had bought him.

The universe had a sick, twisted sense of humor, he decided – Luke had rejected his father’s offer to join him at Bespin years ago and now he was sold into his hands as a slave too weary and broken to try and fight back.

He felt more than saw Vader move to stand more in the front of him, blocking a huge gust of air as Jabba’s ship finally lifted off the ground and flew off. Luke expected to get hit when Vader raised his other hand and closed his eyes to prepare for it.

The pain he expected didn’t come though.

Instead, there was a distinct snap of a chain and then weight from that wretch lead was suddenly gone from his collar. He heard it clatter to the ground a fair distance away as if Vader had thrown it as far from him as he could get it. Leather gloves pressed carefully against his throat and after a few seconds, there was another faint click as the locking mechanism on his collar was released.

Luke instantly fell to his knees as the Force flooded his awareness for the first time in months. It hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. Life flooded his senses, feelings, emotions, the beating of millions of heartbeats and the rotation of planets – he could hear and feel and almost see everything. Force, it hurt and he leaned forward on his hands, dry-heaving the nonexistent contents of his empty stomach. Black filled his vision as Vader knelt beside him and he felt when the same gloved hands brushed against his neck once again and as the suppression collar was gently peeled away.

“Breathe. In and out, Luke. Just breathe.” Vader was saying and it sounded gentle but that hardly mattered.

Vader was the Master now and Luke was hardwired to obey. He sucked in a breath of air and shakily tried to release it, coughing as he did so. And then again. And again and again until the overwhelming flood of the Force began to dissipate just a little and it became easier to think and breathe.

He didn’t dare try and touch the Force. It still felt slippery and gross, and Luke knew from past experience that it would take hours for it to settle into something comfortable and natural again. He wouldn’t be able to use it anyways – not without permission. Jabba had drilled that into him a long time ago.

His limbs were trembling, barely supporting his weight, and it felt like Vader was rubbing a circle into his back. Luke wished he could beg him to stop because he could feel each of the the individual fibers of his shirt brushing against his skin and the raised scars on his back that were kept out of sight, always covered up so the public couldn’t see, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth –

Vader stopped immediately.

The next few minutes passed by in silence as Luke tried desperately to ground himself and force himself to adjust to the vastness of the galaxy once again. He was never given much time to get himself under control and he had the electric cattle prod scars to prove it. His power was always released for a reason and he suspected now wouldn’t be any different.

“Can you stand?” Vader asked after a few minutes, once Luke had finally pushed himself back into a sitting position. He was still shaking but felt marginally better now. He could work.

Luke nodded but didn’t look up and didn’t protest when Vader wrapped a firm hand around his bicep, just above one of the decorative gold bracelets he’d been made to wear today, and helped pull him to his feet.

The change in position made his head swim but Vader was patient, waiting long enough for it to clear before slowly walking him towards an Imperial shuttle. There was more than one. The ramp was short and the air felt warmer against his skin as they boarded and entered the passenger compartment. Behind them, the doors began to lift on their own, sealing with a hiss.

Vader released his arm and moved away, leaving Luke standing on his own in the center of the floor. He lifted his eyes just enough to see that there were seats on either side of him but no one else was present yet. Still, Luke knew that none of those were for him to use, and he automatically went down to his knees to wait for instructions. At least this way, he wouldn’t be forced to kneel or simply collapse from exhaustion. It was easier to do if he pretended that he had a choice in the matter.

“Luke,” Vader approached him swiftly and then he was crouching in front of him once again. “Not here. Come on.”

Shit.

Luke almost whimpered, closing his eyes in defeat. He’d gotten it wrong. He let Vader pull him back up to his feet, expecting to be reprimanded but instead he was brought over to the open seats. Luke resisted, stiffening his spine and trying to step back when Vader gently urged him to sit in one.

He wasn’t stupid.

He knew the rules.

“Luke,” Vader hesitated for a long moment, only the audible sound of his breathing filling the air. “You can sit here. You have my… permission.” The last word was said tightly, as though Vader loathed to use it.

Luke tried not to let his despair show on his face. Was this just a… a sick show of dominance? Was Luke supposed to insist that, no, his place was on the floor, Master – or comply with what he was told to do? Would he be punished either way?

He felt shaky and uncertain of the correct answer, if there even was one. But Luke knew not to keep a Master waiting too long. With great reluctance, he sat down gingerly in the seat, half expecting to be slapped or thrown to the ground immediately for his disrespect and reminded of his place.

Neither of those things happened.

Vader didn’t say anything but a faint sense of approval and reassurance flickered at the edge of his thoughts, setting him slightly more at ease. It still felt wrong – but at least he wasn’t in trouble. Luke wrung his hands nervously, uncertain of what to do now that he was sitting. He still refused to look up – Vader was quite tall and it would be obvious when he tried. In front of him though, he realized that Vader was holding a device in his hands.

Luke stiffed at the realization, wondering what it was and if it was going to hurt. He tried to hold very still when Vader knelt down in front of him. With slow movements, unhurried and definitely not harsh, Vader lifted his hand to show him what he was holding.

Luke felt his breath catch in his throat when he realized what it was.

“Your grandmother designed this device.” Vader said, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. Luke lifted his eyes to see Vader’s face for a very brief moment and then dropped them again, swallowing thickly. If Vader was displeased, he didn’t say or do anything. Instead, he continued speaking. “She stayed on Tatooine after I left with the Jedi. She wasn’t freed with me when I won the Boonta Eve Classic. I promised to one day come back and free her, but... I never had the chance. She was bought by a moisture farmer by the name of Cliegg Lars and given freedom that way. You probably heard the story when you were much younger.”

It was phrased almost as a question and Luke nodded very slightly, wondering where Vader was going with this.

“I had been trying to create a device that would locate our transmitter implants but never had the chance to finish. I was told by your aunt and uncle that my mother had figured it out not long before she was killed by the Tuskens.” Vader flipped a switch then and the scanner came to life, humming in a familiar way. When Luke had been old enough, Beru had had him help her remove transmitters from the runaways that came to the homestead along the Underground route. It seemed like that time belonged to a different person.

Luke watched attentively from under his eyelashes as Vader began to scan his left leg and then his right, waiting to hear the shrill beep that meant the transmitter had been found. There was nothing and so he raised the device, checking Luke’s thighs and then his stomach. Unnamable emotions were getting caught in his throat – Grandmother’s device was something he’d always been proud of. It represented freedom and life.

Even in Vader’s hands, it couldn’t hurt him.

There was still no beep and Vader quietly moved on, checking each of his arms and his chest before finally raising the device to his neck.

The scanner light turned red and there was a number of shrill beeps. For the first time since they had been “reunited”, Luke looked up and they locked eyes with each other.

“Found it.” Vader said quietly.

Luke felt his eyes blur with tears and he immediately looked down and away again. For the first time in years, he knows where the damn chip is. If ever given the opportunity, he could take out and taste freedom again. If he dared to try, that was. He doesn’t know if the realization is freeing or cruel. He hears Vader turn the scanner off and watches as he carefully sets it to the side.

“What do you want to do, Luke?”

Luke stiffens, confused by the question.

What he wants doesn’t matter. It hasn’t mattered in a very long time.

Still. Without consciously deciding to, Luke lifts a trembling hand to his neck, his fingers hovering a hairsbreadth over his skin for a long, long moment.

The collar is gone. The feeling of his skin underneath his fingertips doesn’t feel… normal. The fact that he’d gotten so used to it being there that being free of it felt wrong makes him close his eyes in shame. He bites back a choked sob that tries to rip itself free from his throat.

Crying was a sure way to make the Masters angry.

He scrubs at his eyes, releasing an unsteady breath.

“Is… is that a trick question?” Luke can’t help but ask, looking up again.

He expects to be punished for it. Almost wishes that Vader would punish him for it just so that Luke can’t dare to dream or hope for anything else.

But Vader only shakes his head once. Their bond is still thrumming with a quiet sense of warmth. Luke is tempted to reach out and grab it – it had been such a long time since he’d felt it and even now, he hated the thought of losing that connection again.

“No. It is not.” Vader responds, pressing his honesty gently along their bond so that Luke can feel it.

Luke doesn’t know how to respond. He wants the chip removed. He wants it gone. Of course he does. But he can’t just say that.

Perhaps this was all a trick.

Vader had never come for him – had never acknowledged him those few times they were in each others presence – he’d never put a stop to any of this. In the end, Vader had bought him. How much could he actually care?

“Whatever you want, Master.” He says tiredly. He feels empty and hollow – but that was usually a safe answer.

Suddenly, Luke feels uneasy and he remembers that he’s sitting in a chair. He shouldn’t be doing that – all of this wrong. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do and he wishes something would make sense.

“Stay here.” Vader says after a moment. Once again, his voice sounds gentle and he rises to his feet.

Luke watches as he crosses the floor of the shuttle, which is strangely bereft of any guards or personnel. Jabba always enjoyed being surrounded by his cronies. It made him feel powerful. As Vader reaches up towards a small compartment, Luke once again feels the urge to slip back to the floor where he belongs, but Vader had said to stay. It hadn’t sounded like an order, but Luke couldn’t just ignore the one thing Vader had actually said which might be one.

He doesn’t want to disobey him but he also doesn’t want to be punished for sitting anywhere that wasn’t the damn floor either.

Luke is stuck, feeling like anything and everything was the wrong thing to do.

The compartment door opens and Vader pulls out a silvery, folded piece of cloth. It’s shimmery and looks quite expensive and as it unfolds, Luke realizes that it’s a blanket. His brow furrows. 

Vader comes back and crouches in front of Luke again so that they are at eye-level with each other and then with those same slow, nonthreatening movements, drapes the blanket over Luke’s shoulders.

“When I first left Tatooine,” he said quietly. “Space was always cold. I would hoard blankets at the Jedi temple. Obi-wan found out and I thought he would be angry with me… but he let me keep them. Even brought me an extra one night.”

Luke didn’t understand why Vader was telling him this, but he could relate to that. His first time off planet, after Beru and Owen had been killed, he'd been freezing. He'd adjusted after a few months but since becoming a slave, he'd spent most of his time on Tatooine under the warmth of the Twin Suns. Whenever Jabba deigned to take him off world, space had felt cold all over again.

Slowly, Luke tugged the edges of the blanket around him a little closer.

Vader didn’t reprimand him for it and it was warm. Maybe it was a heated blanket.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” Luke says before he can stop himself. He instantly feels his heart drop into his stomach. After all, who was he to question anyone else’s actions? If Vader wanted to be nice, Luke shouldn’t complain. 

He lifts his eyes to Vader's again and imagines that he can sense pity from behind his mask. He doesn't try to touch the Force to find out in case he is wrong.

“Were you cold?”

Luke nodded hesitantly.

“Are you still cold?”

"No." Luke admitted. It could be a game. A trick - lull him into a false sense of security and then take away what was given. 

"Good."  Is the only response. Vader sounded faintly pleased. "If you become too warm, then make yourself comfortable. You don't need to ask."

"But," Luke didn't understand. What did it matter what he felt? What did Vader want him to feel? How was he supposed to make him happy if he didn't know what Vader wanted from him? "I don't - I don't get it." He insisted desperately.

That same quiet warmth from before flickered along their bond. Warmth and reassurance.

Vader patted him briefly on the knee and then stood up. Luke almost stood up as well – sitting down in a chair was one thing but sitting while his master (father?) was standing up was another. Before he could jump to his feet though, Vader took a brief moment to adjust the blanket around him so that it sat better.

If Luke stood up now, he might mess it up.

"You will. Now, if you're tired, rest. If you wish to be alone, you don't need to ask. If you want to join me while I pilot, you are more than welcome to.”

That was a lot of options. Was one supposed to be better than another? How was he supposed to choose? 

“Where are we going?” He asked quickly, before Vader turned to leave. He mentally scolded himself, knowing that he shouldn’t.

It wasn’t any of his business.

But again, Vader didn’t seem to mind Luke speaking out of turn. “To Vjun, in the Nuiri sector.” He answered easily. “Bast Castle is a private stronghold of mine. You will be able to rest and recover there.”

Rest and recover?

Luke felt even more confused. Rest and recover from what? It wasn’t as if Jabba roughed him up very often. He hadn’t had to use physical means of punishment in a long time. He had other ways to keep Luke under his control which didn’t involve maiming him. 

He was supposed to look attractive. Jabba had taken care to only leave permanent marks where they would be difficult to see. Apparently scars were bad for business - Luke had never been... pimped out to anyone for sexual exploitation... but Jabba had always implied it was a possibility if Luke refused to comply. The threat was always an effective one.

The thought made him want to throw up – but it was true nonetheless.

Luke was a toy. A possession.

Jabba’s favorite dog.

Luke looked away from Vader as his eyes unwilling welled up with tears again. He desperately hoped Vader couldn't hear his thoughts. Even if he dared reach for his shields, Luke was out of practice with the Force.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it, just don’t. think. about. it.

Without another word, Vader turned and left and Luke was relieved. He didn’t want anyone to see or witness how weak and pathetic he’d become. Not long later, the ship began to hum as the engines were told on and then they were up in the air and exiting the atmosphere.

And... Jabba was gone.

The realization hit him like a charging bantha.

Jabba was gone. Whatever future awaited him now, it didn't involve that horrible slug. 

It felt… surreal.

Without even realizing it, Luke began to cry. Silently at first, but then choking sobs were tearing out of some deep well of hurt and pain that he’d long refused to acknowledge and simply couldn’t contain for a minute longer.

Jabba was gone.

He slid to the shuttle floor, pressing his hands against the durasteel plating and wept. It felt like something big and ugly was trying to claw its way out of his chest. It hurt and he couldn't stop.

Luke didn’t even know how long he’d been under Jabba’s fist.

It hadn’t been something he’d had a right to know.

How many months or years of his life had been stolen from him? How long had he been forced to endure that hell and bend to the whims of another, just to be… to be sold to the man that was his father? Traded between masters, his value only ever determined by his Force abilities and his looks? Was that what he could look forward to?

Maybe it would be easier if Vader would act like a master.

Instead, he was being nice.

And that was either a trick or it was real and Luke didn't know how to deal with either of those possibilities.

Could his father be that cruel? Could he be that cruel to Luke? 

He’d spoken to Luke as if they were still family. Hadn't issued orders yet and was taking the time to try make him comfortable.

Did that actually mean something or was it just temporary? Would he get comfortable only to have the rug be ripped out from under him - as if he hadn't already been broken enough?

Or was Luke actually… free?

He shivered at the thought, weeping new tears. The very thought of freedom felt so dangerous.

Luke hadn’t hoped for or thought of freedom in such a long time.

But if that were true… if Vader was being sincere… then why did it take him so long? Why hadn’t he come for Luke earlier? If he cared enough to be this nice, why, oh why did it take him so long? It had been so damn long. He couldn't even recognize the person he was anymore. Hated the thought of eventually looking into a mirror and seeing someone he didn't recognize looking back at him. 

The thought made something lonely and broken inside him ache and Luke wept some more. Cried like a child for what felt like ages and marveled that no one came to tell him to shut up or to kick him in the gut to make him shut up. He was hardly being quiet but still, Vader left him alone. But… on the very edge of Luke’s frayed senses, he sensed a steady, familiar presence nearby. Just close enough that Luke wasn’t actually alone but far enough away to grant him what space he needed in order to be allowed to feel.

Luke couldn't decide if he wanted Vader to stay away or come back.

Finally, some undetermined amount of time later, Luke stopped crying. He didn’t have any tears left to cry. He felt exhausted and wrung out… but at the same time… he felt… lighter.

Somehow.

It was as if some terrible burden was gone from his shoulders.

He wiped his eyes and then blew his nose into his shirt.

His shirt. A white, silky kind of fabric with a lower cut and no sleeves.

Jabba had made him wear this.

With a grimace, Luke sat back on the floor and began to rip it off, pulling it up over his head and chucking it as far from him as he could get it, feeling desperate. He wanted it off – all of it, he wanted it gone.

He yanked at the decorative bracelets adorning his biceps, with clumsy hands, those twisty and intricate, made of gold and other fine metals that he hated and threw them at the far wall. They bounced, clinking on the floor as they scattered. The loose, dangly gold chains at his neck were next – he ripped them off, breaking them so they could never be used again and then they joined the bracelets on the floor.

He wasn’t wearing any shoes – that was a right granted to those who were free. No escaped slave made it far in the desert without something to protect their feet from the scorching sands. But the trousers he was wearing met the same fate as his shirt, until all that was left were his small clothes.

No jewelry. No damn Force suppression collar. No mandated clothes that someone else picked out and forced him to wear for the purpose of making others lust after him and cow to Jabba’s whims.

Luke was just himself. For the first time in a long time, it felt like he belonged to himself.

The chip in his neck said otherwise but Luke was good at pretending. At least for now, he would take what he could get.

He glanced around, uncertain what to do next and thinking maybe he'd sleep on the floor... but then spied the cockpit doors. They had been left ajar, presumably so Luke could enter, if he dared believe that Vader had meant what he’d said earlier.

He fingered the edge of the blanket that had pooled around him while he cried, playing with the soft, warm fabric for a long moment. Luke didn’t want to accept anything from anyone ever again – but Vader had offered it to him without any underlying motives.

Luke slowly tugged it up around his shoulders, bundling up in it again. It was really warm. 

Releasing a shaky breath, he rose to his feet. His bout of crying had left him terribly exhausted and it had been a few days since his last meal. His vision swam and it was only with determination that Luke managed to clear it and stay on his feet, trying to decide what to do.

What do you want to do, Luke? Vader has asked earlier.

Could he really be allowed to decide? Or maybe just simply express his own desires? Could it be that easy?

He could stay here – stay on the floor and wait for whatever came next. It would be easier.

But Grandma Shmi’s device was still sitting on the floor where Vader had left it. The one thing in his life that he knew represented freedom. It was the very first thing Vader had brought out and showed him. That... that had to mean something, right? 

Biting his lip and more than convinced he would regret it, Luke stepped forward and pushed the cockpit doors open wider. He was greeted by the blue streaks of hyperspace.

The lights were a little dimmer then in the main cabin. Vader was in the pilots seat and the sight of him had Luke hesitating once again. He'd never seen Vader do something so mundane as sit before. And... and he hadn’t been invited in. Maybe he should leave.

But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a gentle sense of don't go, stay flickered through his mind. Stay if you wish. It amended quickly.

For the first time since the collar had been removed, Luke touched the Force, half expecting the effort to make him want to throw up. It didn’t and the feeling of being welcomed in reinforced itself again.

He was barefoot, wearing nothing but small clothes and had only a heated blanket to protect his modesty with. In another lifetime, the idea of being this vulnerable and practically naked would have been ridiculous.

It was ridiculous.

It was Darth Vader.

Still, he approached quietly, curiosity and an intense longing pushing him forwards.

The co-pilots seat was available – it had even been reclined into a position that wasn’t strictly upright, making it somewhat more inviting. 

Luke’s mind instantly rebelled at the thought that maybe it really was waiting for him – he was a slave, he belonged on the floor – on his knees –

No, you don’t.

The whispered assurance came from Vader. He didn’t turn to face him and Luke was briefly grateful. There was no way that Vader didn’t know Luke was there. But Luke thought that if Vader moved just now, that he would bolt. His courage or whatever it was that pushed him in here, would desert him and he would leave.

Do you really mean that? Luke asked quietly, feeling small and tense. He almost hated himself for asking – but he needed to know. What if he was wrong about all of this? What if the answer was no?

I do.

The Force chimed like a bell, ringing with perfect truth.

Hope – terrible, wonderful hope flickered to life inside of him and it left him breathless all over again. Luke had forgotten what it felt like to feel hope.

If it all turned out to be a lie… he was certain that this betrayal would destroy him completely. He would never recover and he would never trust anyone ever again. But hope... hope was so powerful.

“Will you take it out?”

Vader twitched at the controls but still didn’t turn to look at him. Luke sensed that he was exercising all the restraint he could muster to give Luke what space he could offer.

“Of course I will.” He swore and the Force rang with truth once again.

Luke nodded, almost dizzy with relief. 

With only the slightest hesitation, Luke finally sat down in the co-pilots chair. He was bundled up in the blanket offered to him by his father and he turned on his side with his head cushioned in the crook of his arm, facing Vader so that he could watch him while he piloted. He was warm and all the tension and fear was slowly beginning to bleed away.

Gentle pulses of safe love warm flickered from Vader’s end of their bond. 

Luke didn’t have it in him to respond just yet… he needed to understand first before he could hope to reciprocate – but he felt safe and loved for the first time in a long time, and it only took a few more minutes before he finally fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Luke slept.

After all these years, Vader had finally managed to retrieve him from that damn Hutt and he was here.

He was safe, for now, and out of harm's way. No longer a slave or someone’s perverted source of entertainment, or whatever else he’d been made to be. A weight that had sat heavy on his shoulders for a long time was finally lifted and it was as though he could breathe freely for the first time in years.

Vader felt no joy in his accomplishment though. There was no satisfaction to be found in it beyond the knowledge that his son was finally – finally – safe. 

It had taken too long. 

He had taken too long. 

All because of the choices that he, in his ignorance and mad quest for power, had made a lifetime ago. The choices that he’d spent decades convincing himself didn’t matter.

He had been so very wrong.

They did matter. 

The state of the galaxy was his fault. The destruction of Alderaan was his fault. Palpatine being in rule was his fault. And the fact that Luke had gone back to Tatooine at all, to try and save a friend who Vader had handed over to Jabba himself, was completely and one hundred percent his fault. 

His child had suffered and been subjected to a life that was never supposed to be his to experience. 

Luke had been the first Freeborn Skywalker in generations. 

He never should have had to experience slavery. 

Listening to his son sob for over an hour, broken and weeping and hardly daring to grasp at the threads of hope that seemed to dangle so mockingly in front of him - to believe even for a second that his own father even gave a damn - was the worst pain Vader had ever known. 

He had done terrible things over the years - unforgivable things to hundreds and thousands of people - but it was his own failure to protect his son that was surely the worst crime of them all. All the other atrocities he’d committed completely paled in comparison and the weight of his sins haunted him all the way to Vjun.

Luke didn’t stir when Vader finally set the shuttlecraft down on the outdoor landing pad at Bast Castle and turned off the engines. Their Force bond was wide open, the connection between them thriving for the first time in years. Luke had been conditioned not to touch the Force without permission by the Hutt and so there were no shields between them to protect his thoughts from Vader. 

He dreamt of nothing and yet, in the deep recesses of his subconscious thought, Luke felt tense and uneasy. Vader knew without needing to be told that Luke would wake up in an instant with the right stimuli. Whatever it was that he had become accustomed to hearing which alerted him to imminent danger. 

The jingle of keys on a belt or perhaps the sound of heavy boots walking in his direction.

For Anakin, it had been the sound of Watto’s wings as he moved through the air. Or sometimes the sound of his mother coming back to their pathetic little hovel in the early hours of the morning after a night of being rented out to the highest bidder.

Vader turned away from those thoughts quickly. He hated looking back and seeing all the ways he had failed – but he couldn’t afford to be angry right now. Not when Luke was in such a fragile state. Their minds were too intimately connected and while Luke was lacking the ability to shield, and until he could be convinced or feel comfortable enough to access the Force on his own again, he would be especially vulnerable to outside thoughts and impressions.

Luke had slept through the entire flight and his head was still resting in the crook of his arm. His breathing was deep and steady. His hair was long now, looking more like Anakin’s had all those years ago, and blonder after once again being subjected to the harsh rays of the Twin Suns. Some strands of it had fallen into his face as he slept and Vader was barely able to refrain from brushing them away.

Instead, he stood up and left Luke sleeping in the co-pilot's seat, closing the cockpit doors softly behind him. 

The main cabin looked much the same as it did a few hours ago. Luke had touched and used nothing – the only evidence that he’d been in here at all were the slave garments and jewelry that he’d rid himself of laying scattered across the floor. Vader snatched them up in the Force and swiftly chucked them in the garbage chute where they belonged.

The exit ramp opened with a wave of his hand and he stepped out of the shuttle and onto the landing pad. The night sky was clear overhead and there was no hint of any of the planet's acidic rain falling for at least a few more days. 

There was no one posted at Bast Castle currently either. The castle was maintained in his absence by some few droids and a few sentients hired to do so but they came only twice a standard month. He intended to keep Luke’s retrieval a secret for as long as he could and had thus prepared the castle for Luke’s arrival himself, with the assistance of the droids.

The timing of Jabba’s acquiescence to the private offer he’d put down in Sidious’ name weeks ago had been unexpected and Vader had set the date of their meeting before he could bring Luke any immediate necessities, including clothing. Retrieving his son before Jabba could change his damn mind had been far more important. 

Vader kept a mental eye on Luke as he quickly strode inside the castle. His thoughts were restful and muted – still very much asleep. It was, perhaps, a testament to how utterly exhausted he truly was. Jabba was all about appearances and he’d given Luke the appearance of being healthy when he was anything but. Or perhaps, not the appearance of health. No master, not even one who controlled someone as rare and as powerful as a Jedi, cared much about the welfare of their property. 

It simply wasn’t their nature. 

At most, Luke wore the illusion of health only as a means to compliment his natural attractiveness. 

The truth was harsh. Vader could sense the bitter toll that slavery had taken on his son's body. Physically, he was weak and extremely malnourished. If Vader had to guess, Luke had been beaten into submission in the early days of his captivity, broken until he couldn’t fight anymore and punished severely if and when he did. The absence of the Force would have been a torture in its own right – someone as immensely powerful and intimately connected with the Force as Luke naturally was could not endure the lack of it without consequences. 

Jabba had known that and the intermittent explosions in the Force that had been his and Luke’s Force bond flaring back to life as his son's power was released for brief intervals every few months, convinced him that Jabba had wanted him to be functional. 

That, or he would just allow Luke to hit the absolute brink of insanity before harshly pulling him back to reality for the pleasure of watching him suffer all over again. 

Vader felt his temper rise at the thought; he knew which scenario was the more likely of the two. 

Breathing out through his nose, he forced his thoughts to be calm, pulling on every ounce of Jedi training and technique that he knew of to clear his thoughts and be peaceful. 

He felt clumsy and stupid in his attempts to even try - after two decades of fueling his anger and hatred by every means possible and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he was trying to do away with it on account of someone whom he desperately loved. 

If Sidious ever caught wind of it, it would inevitably cost Vader his life. 

Those were thoughts for another day though. 

Someone far more important needed his attention and even if he’d failed everyone else who had ever needed him, for one reason or another, the galaxy would burn and crumble to ash before he failed Luke again. 

Luke’s bedroom was located on the second floor and he used the Force to push open the massive, ornate double doors. The room was luxurious – almost a private apartment, complete with a bedroom, living room, kitchen, and the most expensive bathroom that credits could buy. Dark wood floors complimented cream colored walls and plush carpets. The entryway was elaborately decorated with all sorts of fine art, plants, and furniture.

Vader paid all of it little attention, except to spare the passing thought that his son – a descendant of royalty and a prince in his own right – would finally have access to all the things that he inherently deserved. It would take time for Luke to adjust, to slip out of the mindset that had been so cruelly forced on him where he’d been made to feel and believe that he was less – but he was not a slave and Vader would never allow him the opportunity to think or feel like he was ever again.

He stepped into the massive walk-in closet and opened a few drawers which were set in the wall itself and grabbed some clothes. Just sweats and a loose T-shirt that would be comfortable to sleep in. Nothing that was restrictive or revealing. Things that he himself had once enjoyed wearing in his down time, before he’d been forced into the coffin that served as his life support. 

He grabbed a pair of socks and some slip on shoes and then turned the light setting on low before turning and leaving. He passed a droid in the hallway and briefly stopped it to request that light, bland food and broth be made for one and taken to Luke’s room. Vader was uncertain whether or not Luke would wish to eat tonight but a meal would be available to him nonetheless. With a solemn nod and a ‘yes sir’ , the droid turned and left and he continued his way back to the landing pad. 

Vjun was a dark, empty planet and there were several other places before this one that he would have preferred to have taken Luke which would be far better suited for him to recover in. But the draw to bring him here was that it was largely isolated and it was not entirely unusual for Vader to spend a few weeks at a time here every so often. It meant that no one would be inclined to think twice about it and that was far more important for both Luke’s safety and his current mental state of mind. Space and the ability to relax and feel safe away from judging eyes was key. 

Vader stepped back inside the shuttle and pulled the doors to the cockpit open again and then hesitated, uncertain how to go about actually waking Luke up. After a few seconds, he moved to stand in front of the co-pilot’s chair. Luke was still fast asleep, curled up in a ball with his head resting in the crook of his elbow. 

Force, he was so young. 

And so very vulnerable. There was so much Luke didn’t know and if they were going to survive moving forward… then there was much that he would need to learn. 

It could wait, Vader reminded himself fiercely. All of it could wait. Luke needed the chance to heal before any of that could take place.

Quietly, he brushed up against Luke’s Force presence as lightly as he could. His own voice was harsh and didn’t allow for much tone inflection. It would sound angry and commanding. Though it was, perhaps, inevitable, considering the circumstances that Luke had just come from, Vader still wanted to try and not startle his son as much as possible.

Luke, he whispered softly. Luke, wake up. 

Luke’s eyes instantly shot open, going from asleep to awake in less than a second. Confused terror quickly replaced the quiet calm of sleep. On instinct, Luke pressed backwards into the co-pilot’s chair in an effort to escape. 

“I’m s-sorry – don’t, please don’t,” Luke choked out, sitting up with the intent of scrambling for the floor. Vader had already positioned himself in order to block the way so that he couldn’t. “Forgive me – please – ”

“Luke.” Vader repeated aloud this time, his heart clenching at the sight. He hesitated before slowly crouching down, balancing on the balls of his feet so that he wasn’t towering over his son. Vader quietly pressed the suggestion of calm and quiet along their bond, hoping to remind Luke of where he was and who he was with. 

Luke’s chest was heaving frantically and he was already shaking with nervous tremors. 

“Luke. This is not Tatooine and you are not in any trouble, my son.”

“N-not Tatooine.” Luke repeated, bewildered. He looked frantically around the cockpit through lowered eyes as if he didn’t dare to believe the words were true. Flickers of memories, of shouting voices and pain and anger and misery passed between them.

“Not Tatooine.” Vader agreed patiently. 

There was a long moment of silence and he felt some of Luke’s fear begin to abate as the events of the day slowly came back to him. 

“I did not intend to startle you, only inform you that we have arrived on Vjun.” Vader continued quietly. Luke’s eyes flickered up to his face for a brief moment before he lowered them again. 

“Vjun…?”

“Yes.”

Luke lifted a hand to his mouth and bit his knuckle, and seemed to be trying to hold back a different kind of emotion. “R-right.” A tear slipped down his cheek and he squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment, breathing heavily through his nose. “I… I remember.”

“I brought you some clothes to wear, if you would like.” Vader said, extending the small folded bundle outwards and then placing them gently on Luke’s lap when he made no move to accept them. “You do not have to keep them and if you want, I will make arrangements for you to pick out your own clothes in the next day or so.”

Luke swallowed and opened his eyes slowly. With minute movements, he dropped his hand again and touched the edge of the fabric with the very tips of his fingers. His thoughts were jumbled and chaotic, learned instinct warring with that faint sliver of hope which had flickered to life inside of him only hours ago.

“…thank you.” he whispered hoarsely. No small part of him was marveling that the idea of choice was once again being presented to him. 

For once in his life, Vader was glad that his face was hidden from view. His throat instantly felt thick with emotion and all the self-loathing he’d felt over the last twenty years did not even begin to compare to hatred he felt for himself at hearing those two simple words. 

Vader had done nothing to deserve gratitude and especially not from Luke.

“I will wait in the main cabin for you. Take all the time that you need. There is no rush.”

He straightened up slowly and left, leaving the cockpit doors slightly ajar, not wanting Luke to get the impression that he was being locked in, and began to wait. He listened as the co-pilot’s seat creaked slightly and heard the tell-tale sign of Luke slowly getting to his feet. 

Pain, exhaustion, hunger, and uncertainty flickered along their bond. He tried to ignore Luke’s free floating thoughts, not wanting to take or observe anything that he shouldn’t while Luke was so vulnerable. It was hard though and after a few seconds, he began to try and reign in all of his negative emotions again. 

He diligently tried to ignore the faint whispering voice that sounded suspiciously like Obi-Wan patiently reminding him to focus on his breathing and let go of his fear. 

Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. 

Obi-Wan was dead and had been for years now but Vader still could not help but snap, I am NOT afraid at him anyways.

…then why are you so angry? Obi-Wan seemed to whisper back. 

Vader did not bother to answer a second time and focused on his breathing instead, shoving Obi-Wan far from his mind. 

He was afraid - terrified, even. Because, for the first time in a long time, he had someone that mattered to him and for the first time in a long time… he was going to try and fix something he had had a hand in breaking. 

It felt like a daunting, insurmountable task and he did not want to fail. 

Fortunately, Vader did not have to wait for very long. 

Luke emerged only a few minutes later, dressed in the clothes that Vader had given him. They were loose and baggy and had the effect of making Luke look much younger than he was. He had even folded the blanket that Vader had offered him earlier neatly and was holding it close to his chest. 

Uncertainty and exhaustion flickered along their bond freely now. The few hours it had taken them to arrive on Vjun had done nothing to replenish Luke’s strength. If anything, he was worse than before. He would need food and medical attention and the chance to rest properly.

“Do you… need any help?” Vader asked, tucking his own uncertainty away. 

Luke glanced up at him once again for the briefest moment. His fear wasn’t gone but it had dissipated enough for now. He was extending all the trust that he was capable of. 

“I… I think I’m okay,” Luke answered softly. 

Vader nodded and together, they stepped out of the shuttle. Luke moved slowly, aching and tired, but Vader was more than willing to match Luke’s pace and stay with him side by side. For perhaps the first time in his life, he felt as though he had all the patience in the world to offer and then some.

Luke kept his eyes on the ground, avoiding the opulence of Bast Castle entirely once they stepped inside. 

Vader knew that he had seen far grander places during Jabba’s stints in the Core Worlds where he’d often been forced to serve as part of the entertainment in humiliating displays. The last one on Coruscant, once again being forced to watch his son, so clearly malnourished and being treated as less than a dog, had had him storming out of the grand hall in an absolute rage. 

They were both dogs, he had realized that night. 

Both of them, trapped and enslaved to a cruel master, unable or unwilling to act for themselves. He should have been able to put a stop to all of it - to take his son and free him right then and there and he couldn’t. The only difference was that Vader had entered his service to Palpatine knowing in his heart where it would lead him. Luke, who had been so bold and defiant and full of life, was the victim of his father’s choices. 

Sidious had found the show that night amusing and had forced Vader to watch and relive the whole thing later, long after Jabba had left Coruscant, as punishment, and tortured him with lightning as if it would burn the emotion out of him. 

That night, Vader had accepted the well-deserved punishment and hadn’t bothered to protest. 

He hadn’t been able to bear the sight of his son in such a sorry state but in leaving the room, Vader had left Luke alone, and the faint whispering echoes of hurt and loneliness that had briefly reached across their bond had haunted him ever since. 

Judging by Luke’s thoughts from earlier in the night, he remembered as well. 

Vader selfishly hoped that it would never come up between them if only because he didn’t have an acceptable excuse for what he had done. 

“This way,” he said instead, pausing and gesturing to a small corridor in the opposite direction of the grand staircase. Vader did not think that Luke would be able to climb the stairs on his own but there was an elevator that would take them up to the higher floors for them. 

The ride up was quick and then they were stepping out once again. The floor they were on was much more inviting than any other part of the castle, giving off a welcoming air rather than a dark and foreboding one due to the extensive renovations that had been made to it over the years. He had left the doors to Luke’s rooms open and he quietly directed Luke inside. 

His son hesitated in the doorway, taking in the sight with wide uncertain eyes. 

“Everything in here is for you to use as you wish,” Vader promised after a few seconds. “Use it, break it… it is all yours and it is of no consequence to me.”

The Force whispers truth even as Luke slowly shook his head.

“I can’t…” he whispered in denial. “This isn’t - I don’t need this.” Whispers flickered along their bond, insisting to Luke that is must somehow be a trick and that he knows better - knows where he belongs, he learned that lesson - 

And Vader can’t. He can’t let his son think those things but he knows he can’t rush a healing process either. He wishes he could go to Tatooine and rip Jabba to shreds. The great slug deserved far worse than death but he can’t, he can’t abandon Luke by himself, and he can’t tip Sidious off, and he just feels trapped by all the things that he can’t do.

Instead, he tempered his emotions and tried his damnedest to whisper peace and safe to his son. 

“Luke,” he said quietly. “You are not a slave. Not anymore and certainly not to me. I promise, you do not need to be afraid here.”

“But… then, what do you want me to do?” Luke asked in a voice that was much too small. He felt so confused and lost. 

“Nothing. Make yourself comfortable. Everything in here is yours.” Vader said as gently as he could, pressing his honesty along their bond for Luke to feel. “There are no rules for you to follow, Luke. I only want you to rest and feel better.”

Disbelief and exhaustion war with each other in the Force, even as Luke’s eyes blurred with tears. With a sniff, Luke scrubbed at his eyes with his forearm and then Vader felt as something inside of him seemed to untangle. After a moment or two, he stepped past the doorway and into the room at last. 

Vader watched him look around before then turn back to him, waiting for direction.

“Whenever you are ready, I do want to have you seen by a medical droid.”

Instant panic shoots between them and what little color is in Luke’s face vanishes in an instant. “R-right now?”

His son should see a medic. Sooner rather than later. He’s ill and malnourished and Force only knows what abuse he has suffered the past three years. But Vader can’t stand the fear between them, can’t stand to make his son suffer through one more indignity, to do something that he doesn’t want to do. 

He’d see a medic. He had to. But…

“No, not yet. When you are ready.” Vader promised, silently whispering soft assurances to try and calm Luke’s panic. It didn’t take as long as he feared that it would. There was a moment of silence between them.

“Can… can I be alone?” Luke asked tremulously. “Just for a little bit? Please?”

Behind his mask, Vader smiled sadly. “Of course. There is food for you on the table,” he said, gesturing to the meal that had been left. “I will not be far if you need anything.”

Luke breathed a sigh of relief once his master - his father, he corrected himself - had left. 

He wanted to think. 

To feel as though he wasn’t being watched. It had been a long, long time since he had had any time or space to himself.

There are no words to describe how badly he does not want to see a medic. His experiences with medics and medical droids of any kind the last few years have all been nothing short of torture and he can’t - he can’t do that again. The thought was enough to make him want to tear his hair out. 

But Vader said he didn’t have to - not yet, at least. But… but maybe, Luke conceded… if he went to medical… he could have his transmitter removed. 

He wanted that even more than he wanted air to breathe. 

Still, just the thought of being at someone’s mercy like that made his skin crawl. 

Luke wandered the spacious room instead, not daring to touch anything. It was opulent and expensive and clearly designed for someone of exceptionally high standing. But Luke thought… that it might have once been to his taste. The colors of the walls are simple but beautiful and the foliage accents it in a way that makes everything feel open and free. The dark wood furniture is so different from what he knew on Tatooine. There was nothing to compare it to from where he came from. 

The smell of food wafted through the air and it made his stomach growl. It clenched tightly in a horrible, sickening kind of way and reminded him of how long it had been since he’d had a meal. 

Luke ignored it, feeling like anything he dared eat would just come back up and… and he doesn’t want to get in trouble for not being grateful enough to keep it down. He passed the bedroom and a sitting space and massive glass windows that are easily twice as tall as he was, looking out onto the planet. 

Vjun. 

It was nice to have a name to put to where he was for once. 

The outside world looked dark and desolate and there were massive storm clouds in the distance. He watched them for a long time as they rolled in closer and closer. The storm seemed to be coming in slowly though; lightning flashed in the clouds every so often but the sound of thunder must be too far off because it never reached his ears. 

He left the view of the window and wandered into a massive closet filled with clothes, peeked into a pristine kitchen, and then found himself in the bathroom. It was just as grand and as beautiful as everything else seems to be. Luke avoided the mirror, not wanting to see what he looked like. His eyes find the shower instead and then linger there.

He felt gross. Disgusting and dirty and exhausted and that awful, empty feeling from the shuttle was still lingering in the back of his mind. 

Luke took a small step forward, suddenly filled with an intense desire to just be clean. 

Cleanliness under Jabba was being held down by a few droids and having a bucket of either extremely cold or extremely hot water dumped on him and then scrubbed down until he felt like his skin was going to fall off and he was willing to beg for it all to stop. 

There are buttons on the wall, for temperature control and pressure control and he hesitantly set it to something that might be comfortable and watched as the water started to spray. 

He flexed his fingers, feeling nervous, and then shed his clothes. The effort of taking them off was exhausting but he remembered to fold them neatly and place them on the counter before stepping inside the shower and sliding the glass door shut behind him.

The water was perfect and Luke couldn’t help but groan. He stood still, letting it hit him - the pressure felt almost like a warm massage and it was so comfortable that he could hardly bring himself to move. But after a few minutes, he had to sit down on the floor, legs too shaky to hold himself up for long without support. He scootched backwards and pressed up against the glass, just soaking under the spray. 

After a few minutes, more tears begin to run down his cheeks before he could stop them and he held himself while he sobbed. It was nothing like earlier on the shuttle, but he started and then couldn’t make himself stop. He was here and Jabba was gone and his father… his father finally came to get him. 

Luke had given up on hoping that that would ever happen… and then it did.  

He didn’t know what that meant for his life moving forward. But anything different moving forward had to be better than where he came from, right?

He hoped that that would turn out to be true.

Luke only stopped crying only when he ran out of energy to continue. His head was pounding and he blew his nose into his hands and les the water wash everything away. He half-heartedly tested some of the fancy soaps and tried to enjoy the way that they smelled but it was a fleeting pleasure. A few more minutes passed by and then Luke shivered, feeling strangely cold despite the fact that the water was still warm. 

He doesn’t like being cold and wasting water was a punishable offense in the Desert so he decided to get out. He pulled himself to his feet and turned the water off again with hands that were now shaking. 

The towels hanging on the wall were soft and fluffy and Luke dried off with one before slipping back into the clothes he’d been given. He shivered once more and started making his way to maybe try and find somewhere he could sleep. Then... he briefly caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on accident and paused. His hair was wet, dripping onto his shirt and Luke bent over, picking up his towel to get rid of the excess water.

He toweled his hair slowly, feeling numb as he stared at himself. It had been a long time since he had seen his own appearance or looked in a mirror. His hair was much longer than it had been. 

Jabba had liked it this way. 

He was thin too. Gaunt, and his eyes… they scared him. 

They look hollow and empty, the way that he felt inside. 

Looking away from his reflection, Luke slowly began pulling open a few cabinet drawers, looking for a brush or a comb. There were hand towels and lotions and fancy razors and everything else that he could think of and more. He doesn’t even recognize half of the things that are suddenly available to him and the idea of so many choices was dizzying. He closed one drawer and opened another and… a pair of scissors caught his eyes. 

He reached for them after a long moment and the metal felt cool in his hand. Luke glanced back up at his reflection and his hair that was so much longer than he’d ever worn it. After a long moment, tears flooded his eyes and he shuddered to remember the feeling of Jabba’s hands petting him and running his slimy little fingers through his hair like Luke was some dog.  

What do you want to do, Luke?

He just wanted to belong to himself. 

Luke reached up and grabbed a strand of long hair and with a quiet little snip… cut it in half and watched it fall away. 

A small weight seemed to lift off his shoulders and he grabbed another strand and cut that one too, and then another and another, starting slow and then with more and more desperate fervor. The polished countertop was littered with strands of his hair in no time at all, and the floor beneath him as well. 

He just wanted all of it gone. 

It was harder to get the pieces in the back and the sharp point of the scissors slices his head more than once but he doesn’t care. All he cared about was that this was his decision and there was no one that could stop him and he just wanted to belong to himself - 

His hands were shaking by the time he finally dropped the scissors on the counter and took a step back. 

His hair was short now – shorter than it had been in years, cropped close to the sides, with only a little bit of fluff on the top. It was probably not the best done job but that hardly mattered. There was something freeing in having so much of it gone. Another weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t realized was there. 

Luke had the thought that he should clean up the mess that he made but his head was pounding and he still felt terribly cold and… and he just doesn’t care. 

He turned away from the mirror and stumbled out of the bathroom and found the bed from earlier. He thought about just stealing a pillow and sleeping on the floor… except… father wasn’t lying. 

Luke had felt his honesty in the Force – had felt it when he declared everything in this exceptionally elaborate room was his. He felt out of place – the only opulence he’d experienced in the last few years was at Imperial functions for the wealthy where he was nothing except the entertainment. 

To be quite honest, Luke doesn’t know how he feels about any of it. He doesn’t want to be anything like those people who had gathered around to watch his suffering, pointing their fingers and laughing - 

The only one Luke had wanted in those awful moments of humiliation and pain was his father. He had often been somewhere nearby, always at the Emperor's side, and even if he hadn’t helped, Luke had always imagined that he was angry at what was happening to him.

The four-poster bed was decorated with gorgeously colored pillows and sheets and blankets. 

Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t give him something like this… would they?

Luke could only bring himself to stare at it for a long moment, wondering if he actually dared to touch something so lavish. He was better suited for the floor… and as it was, the floor itself would probably be divine to sleep on. The carpet beneath his feet was so soft and thick, it was like walking on a cloud. 

Father wasn’t lying though… and Luke had trusted him this far. He climbed on the bed was asleep only seconds after his head hit the pillows.

Vader allowed Luke his space for a few hours before returning to his suite to check on him. 

He’d spent his time meditating in his chamber. It was far from being his most productive session, as his mind was halfway focused on his son, rather than restoring strength to his body. 

The lights were dimmed when he entered and while he couldn’t see him perfectly, Luke was obviously and deeply asleep, curled up on the bed and surrounded by pillows. Vader smiled a sad smile at the sight. It was a testament to how exhausted Luke was that he didn’t wake up – either to the sound of Vader’s respirator or his movements about the room. 

The meal that had been left out was untouched and Vader frowned. He knew and had sensed Luke’s hunger earlier and had hoped….  

Vader brushed up against their bond and was instantly hit with an awful misery. He was at Luke’s bedside in an instant. 

Luke’s face was flushed and now that he was close enough, he can see that his son is drenched in sweat but shivering violently despite the warm temperature that his rooms had been set to. Their bond felt cold and quiet, only the faintest flickers of a miserable feeling of sickness emanating out from it. He focused the heat sensors in his mask on Luke and after a few tense seconds, it read 104.2. 

Cursing his own stupidity, Vader carefully scooped Luke up in his arms, cradling his limp body against his chest. He is light to hold - far, far too light. Luke’s head lulled in the crook of his arm, pale and sweaty. Vader searched along their bond for any sign of awareness and found nothing. 

He crossed the bedroom and threw open the double doors of the master bath with the Force. With the utmost care, he lowered Luke into the massive soaking tub, clothes and all, and then quickly pressed the nearly indiscernible buttons on the control panel in order to set the water temperature to something cool and tepid. He plugged the drain and then allowed the water to run. 

“Luke. Luke.” Vader said urgently, taking a nearby cup and filling it before spilling it slowly into Luke’s now short hair to help cool him off. “Wake up, little one. Look at me, my son. Come on.”

The water in the bath continued to fill and then after a few tense seconds, Luke’s face scrunched miserably and his head lulled to the shoulder closest to Vader. 

“Good - good, Luke. Wake up.”

Vader spilled more water into Luke’s hair and watched as Luke’s eyes finally blinked dully up at him. He smiled behind his mask, letting a sense of relief flow between them. The tub was halfway full now.

He continued spilling water into Luke’s hair with quiet, gentle movements and felt as his son tried to comprehend what was happening. He looked down and slowly lifted one hand out of the water. It shook with weakness and Luke let it drop back to his lap after only a few moments, the water splashing gently.

“...s’different.” he murmured after a few seconds. “...I feel… strange.”

“You are very sick, Luke.”

“...hot… s’too hot - '' Luke whimpered as if he hadn’t heard him, his eyes flooding with tears. Fear burned anew between them as his son seemed to recognize how miserable and hurt his body was.

Suddenly, Luke turned on his side, water splashing quietly as he scrambled weakly for the side of the bathtub. Vader dropped the cup in the water in order to help Luke as he leaned over the edge and began to dry heave, gagging and retching as he tried to expel the nonexistent contents of his stomach. Vader could feel the painful spasming through their bond and felt Luke trembling through the sensors of his fingers. 

He shook like he was about to fall apart completely and Vader only hoped he could catch all of the pieces.

Hush, Vader whispered, slowly smoothing Luke’s damp hair back again. Hush, my son. Relax. Try to breathe.

Luke made another retching sound, his muscles growing rigid and painfully tight. It continued, longer than Vader would have hoped but eventually Luke’s body seemed to get the message that there was nothing in it to throw up. He coughed, spitting weakly before dropping his head onto his forearm and making noticeable efforts to suck in air, crying pathetically. 

Misery bled out into the Force like a gaping wound from the battlefield and Luke was so sick that he couldn’t seem to grasp where the hurt was coming from. 

“W-what did I do wrong?” Luke sobbed at him weakly. 

Vader feels his heart clench painfully in his chest. “Nothing, my little one. Nothing at all. You are sick – you are not being punished.” he promised gently. 

“I don’t understand – ”

“I know.” Vader said, whispering peaceful nothings across their bond. “I know you don’t and it isn’t your fault.”

“...don’t leave me,” Luke breathed into his arm, his whole body shuddering as he cried. “Don’t - don’t leave me alone. Help me… help me, please.” he begged. 

Vader helped Luke sit back in the bathtub and then snatched a hand towel from the countertop and soaked it with cool water before pressing it against Luke’s face and into the sides of his neck. “I am right here. I won’t go anywhere.” 

“...help me.” Luke whispered again. “Help me, Father… please, help me.”

His fevered pleadings for help continued for a long time.

A period of time passed in a miserable haze of pain and feeling so hot that Luke felt as though he had been chained up outside under the heat of the Twin Suns for hours and hours without any shade or water. 

A cruel but effective punishment. 

He just wished that he knew what he’d done wrong this time so that he knew not to do it again but no one would tell him what it was. 

It wasn’t fair but then Luke remembered that the Masters didn’t need a reason and his job was just to endure the cruelty until they decided to stop or finally let him die. 

So, he drifted. Alternating between too hot and too cold, feeling weightless and feeling so heavy that it was an exhausting effort to even try and open his eyes. He wasn’t alone though - someone stayed with him, whispering nice things that he didn’t quite understand but liked all the same. It was different. Different was usually dangerous because it was impossible to know whether things would be better or worse but… but he liked it this time. 

At some point… the strangeness of the world began to fade and it felt like crashing back down to reality. He was sick… and submerged in water. Luke blinked, staring at it tiredly for a long time while someone quietly petted his hair. 

It was nice - soothing and quiet. It didn’t feel anything at all like when Jabba would do it. 

“Luke?”

Luke turned his head and was met with a wall of black. He had the passing thought that he should be startled but… he wasn’t. “Father,” he murmured instead, the events from… from earlier coming back to him slowly. 

“Yes, it is me,” Vader promised. “Do… do you know where you are?”

Luke felt his brow furrow. “Um… not Tatooine.” 

“No, not Tatooine.” 

There was a moment of silence and then the name came to him after a few sluggish seconds. “Vjun.”

“Yes.” Vader sounded pleased. 

“...s’good.”

A gloved hand pressed up against the forehead. “Your fever has broken,” Vader after a few seconds. 

Fever? That… that made sense. It must be why he felt so miserable. 

A few minutes passed in silence while Luke tried to remember what had happened. Most of it was fuzzy. He remembered going to sleep… but then nothing after that. 

“Father,” Luke whispered tiredly. 

“What is it, my son?”

“...you came to get me.”

Something guilty and sorrowful passed between them and it was so sharp and poignant that Luke almost wondered if he’d said something wrong. But then it was gone again and Luke was too tired to try and figure it out. 

“Yes, I did.” Vader said after a long moment, sounding strangled. “I will always come and get you. Every time you need me.”

Another silence fell but it wasn’t uncomfortable and those silent, whispering assurances were a peaceful steady stream between them. Luke thought that he might have dozed off again a few times. When he stirred the next time, he felt more present than any of the previous times and definitely felt cold. He lifted a shaking hand out of the water and stared at it for a few moments.

“I… can I get out now? Please?” Luke whimpered, turning his head to look at his father. He doesn’t like that his fingers were all wrinkly. That had never happened before. 

“Of course,” Vader said, shifting from where he was positioned to help Luke sit up a little more. He pulled the plug that was stopping the water and a strange gurgling sound came from where it was disappearing down the drain. 

Luke got to his knees and then hesitated, waiting for a dizzy spell to fade. His vision swam sickeningly and Vader waited patiently and then when Luke nodded, he grasped him gently by the forearm and helped bring him up to his feet. 

“Step carefully.” Vader said and for some reason, Luke had the passing thought that his father would rather die than let him slip or fall just now. 

His father helped him walk a few feet to the toilet. The air felt frigid with every miniscule movement of his body. 

“If you sit for a moment, I’ll help you into warmer clothes.”

Luke only nodded, teeth chattering. He sat gingerly on the closed toilet lid and the act of sitting in Vader’s presence still made his stomach twist with unease. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing something horribly wrong. 

He watched tiredly as his father gathered some clothes for him and placed them on the elaborate countertop before stepping back towards him once again. 

“Lift your arms, little one.”

Luke could barely bring himself to move – he felt chilled to the bone and moving felt like it would only bring more misery to himself. He lifted his arms anyways, shaking and trembling, and hoping that his brief moment of hesitation wouldn’t get him in trouble.

For some reason that was beyond him… it didn’t.  

The wet clothes came off and were tossed in the corner with a wet slap. With Vader helping to ease him on his feet again, Luke braced his hands against the counter and then his wet pants and underclothes came off as well. Moments later, a thick towel was wrapped around him and Luke did his best to hold still while his father gently dried him off. 

It didn’t even occur to him to feel embarrassed. 

He was too tired and modesty had not been his to have for a long time. 

It was enough to know that Vader didn’t want him like that. 

Luke allowed his father to dress him in clothes that were warm and soft and then he sat down heavily on the toilet seat once again. He couldn’t bring himself to look up. He closed his eyes when Vader stepped forward to towel dry what was left of his hair. 

Once he was done, he tossed the towel aside and helped him back up to his feet. 

“When was the last time you ate something?” Vader asked, walking him out of the bathroom. 

Luke felt his stomach grumble at just the mention of food. With some effort, he shoved the feeling away from him. He was used to not eating and he had learned a long time ago that ignoring his own desire for food was a learned skill. It was harder the longer he went without… but he could do it, if only because there was no other choice. “...I don’t know. A few days, I think. My… well, Jabba thought it was funny.”

“Can you eat something now?”

Part of him wanted to shrink away from the question. In the past… saying yes could easily prolong his torment. He’d been reduced to begging for scraps on more than one occasion. Saying no… well, the few times he’d tried to refuse, just to be defiant, he’d been forced to eat so much food that he ended up throwing it all up anyways. It was worse than not eating at all.

“...I don’t know.” Luke said, feeling small. 

Vader directed him towards the small sitting room and settled him down on the couch. A fluffy throw blanket was spread out over his lap and then Vader sat down in the space next to him. 

“My son, I will not make you do anything you do not want to do. But your body is weak and you should eat something. Whatever you are afraid of, it will not happen. Not here or ever again.”

Luke felt his eyes blur with tears and he stifled a sob once more. He was so tired of being afraid. Of not knowing what would happen to him. He wished that he could go back and be the person he used to be. He was afraid that that Luke was gone forever though. Maybe that was why Vader hadn't come for him sooner. Maybe he hadn't wanted to deal with a son who wasn't worth anything anymore. Luke thought about asking him... but decided that he didn't want to know what the answer was. Not yet, at least. 

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispered instead. 

Force, his head hurt. 

“What for?” Vader asked. The vocoder made his voice harsh but there were echoes of quiet gentleness and genuine confusion in it. 

Luke sniffed, sucking in a broken breath of air. “I got caught.”

It was hardly a secret - everyone in the galaxy had to know what he had allowed to happen by now… but it felt like such a terrible admission. 

“Luke… that was never your fault.” Vader assured vehemently. Luke shook his head, too embarrassed and ashamed and broken. How could it have been anything except his fault? 

“I got caught," Luke sobbed again, pressing his heels into his eyes and feeling another broken sob rip from his chest. “I was… it was my fault. I made a mistake and I… I….” 

It was too much. It was too much and in the blink of an eye, it felt like the world was falling apart around him - everything was too big and too small all at once and he had been so, so lonely. In an instant, Vader was pulling him into a hug and Luke melted into it, sobbing and clinging to him desperately. It was weird - he didn't think the old Luke would have accepted a hug from Vader. But that had been a long time ago and he didn't have any pride left. He was weak enough to admit that he wanted someone to give a damn about him. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Luke,” Vader said again. “It was my fault. Captain Solo was on Tatooine because of me.”

Luke sobbed and a wave of peaceful assurances washed over him. Jabba had always said that his being slavery was Luke's fault. It had been beaten into him until he had believed it and now he wasn't certain how to let it go. Or if he even could. Han might have been on Tatooine because of Vader but Luke had led the mission to retrieve him. There had to be something he could have done better. Some part of the plan that could have been changed. Maybe he shouldn't have been so arrogant to think he could do what the entire Rebellion had elected not to do. It had to be his fault somehow. 

He didn't have the energy to keep crying and he didn't have the ability to argue either. Luke pulled back from Vader for a few seconds when he leaned forward, reaching for the food that was still sitting on the coffee table and drawing it closer. It was a broth of some kind and his stomach growled when Vader placed the bowl in his lap. Luke got the faint impression of an eyebrow being raised at him and he finally nodded, picking up the spoon and forcing himself to eat as much as he could. It was cold but it tasted good, even if it sloshed in his empty stomach in a nauseating way. When he finished what he could, Vader took the bowl and set it aside again and then Luke pressed against his side once more, sighing heavily. 

He was more tired than he could remember ever being in his whole life and he wouldn't be able to resist the pull of sleep for very long.

"It wasn't your fault, Luke," His father repeated quietly, almost to himself. "You did nothing wrong. Whatever the Hutt told you or made you believe... it wasn't true. Don't let him win by believing his lies. Don't let him have that sort of power over you now."

Luke blinked. He hadn't thought of it like that before. Denying Jabba satisfaction was an appealing idea though... he'd have to think about it later. Instead, he let his eyes drift closed, lulled in a strange sort of way by the sound of his father's breathing and his steady presence. 

"Don't leave me, okay?" Luke murmured when the lights began to dim. He didn't want to be alone and he had the childish thought that his father would be able to keep even his bad dreams away.

An arm wrapped around his shoulder in a companionable sort of way and when his father spoke, his voice was gentle and his promise echoed in the Force. "I am not going anywhere, my son."