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? 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 him 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 quite ready for that 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,” He 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 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 knew 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 heard Vader turn the scanner off and watched as he carefully sets it to the side.
“What do you want to do, Luke?”
Luke stiffened, confused by the question.
What he wanted doesn’t matter. It hasn’t mattered in a very long time. Still. Without consciously deciding to, Luke lifted 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 bit back a choked sob that tried to rip itself free from his throat.
Crying was a sure way to make the Master's angry. He scrubbed at his eyes, releasing an unsteady breath.
“Is… is that a trick question?” Luke couldn’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 responded, pressing his honesty gently along their bond so that Luke could feel it.
Luke doesn’t know how to respond. He wanted the chip removed. He wanted it gone. Of course he does. But he can’t just say that.
Perhaps this was nothing but a trick.
Vader had never come for him – had never acknowledged him those few times they were in each other's 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 said tiredly. He felt empty and hollow – but that was usually a safe answer.
Suddenly, Luke felt uneasy, and he remembered that he was 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 wished that something would make sense.
“Stay here.” Vader said after a moment. Once again, his voice sounded gentle, and he rose swiftly to his feet.
Luke watched as he crossed the floor of the shuttle, which was strangely bereft of any guards or personnel. Jabba had always enjoyed being surrounded by his cronies. It made him feel powerful. As Vader reached up towards a small compartment, Luke once again felt the urge to slip back to the floor where he belonged, 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 was stuck, feeling like anything and everything was the wrong thing to do.
The compartment door opened, and Vader pulled out a silvery, folded piece of cloth. It was shimmery and looked quite expensive. As it unfolded, Luke realized that it was a blanket. His brow furrowed, watching as Vader came back and crouched in front of Luke again. So that they are at eye-level with each other... and then with those same slow, nonthreatening movements, draped 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 said before he could stop himself. He instantly felt 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 lifted his eyes to Vader's again and imagined 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 pilot's 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? The chip?”
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.