Home Fiction Adult Fiction Art Mail List Staff Links

Title: For Thine is the Kingdom
Author: Rynne (rynnewrites@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU, slash
Characters: Luke, Vader

Summary: Vader will do anything to persuade Luke to the Dark Side.

Warning: This is rated NC-17 for father/son incestual slash, sexual acts, dubious consent, and (possible) disturbing themes. If you do not think you can handle such things maturely, please do not read.

Author's notes: Thank you to Bix for betaing. Written for and dedicated to Mina, who asked me for L/V slash. Hope you like it. :)

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"

He stood in front of the Council, feet set slightly apart, hands clasped behind his back, immersed in that center of calmness that Yoda had taught him to find.

"Furthering your training is all well and good," General Madine said, "but not at the expense of your command! Do you deny that you abandoned them after the battle of Hoth, Commander Skywalker?"

He fought against grinding his teeth. "I told Captain Antilles of my intentions," he said, again. "And he's done well at leading Rogue Squadron in my absence."

General Rieekan sighed. "That's not the point, Commander," he said. "Had you formally applied for leave in order to continue your Jedi training, it would have been granted. The Alliance may not have as rigid a command structure as the Empire, but we can't afford to have one of our best pilots and commanders just leave, with only the word of one person that he's alive and intends to return."

"Wedge's word is trustworthy," Luke replied, sharply--and then immediately told himself to calm down. Anger was part of the Dark Side, and he would not go there. There was--

A dark image, tall, ponderous, and heavy, rhythmic breathing. Holding out a hand, it said, "Join me. It is your destiny!" And almost of its own accord, his remaining hand trembled and started to reach out--

He wrenched his thoughts away from that just as he heard Madine say, "That is not the issue here. For abandoning your command during battle--"

"The battle was over when I left!" Luke protested, but Madine didn't acknowledge the interruption.

"--you're lucky that we won't court-martial you," he finished, and only then glared at Luke.

But Luke didn't notice the glare. He blinked and unconsciously straightened.

"You won't?" he asked.

From the way Madine was talking, he would have expected that, at the very least.

Now Mon Mothma spoke, for the first time since the debriefing began. "We did already say that you're one of our best pilots and commanders," she said, looking at him coolly, but with a smile twitching at her lips. "Not to mention you're the only Jedi we have, Commander. I remember the Jedi before the Purges, and how they always had reasons for everything they did, even if not ones they could explain to others. And as a Jedi and the destroyer of the Death Star, your existence and presence in the Alliance is a morale booster, and dearly needed."

"Put simply," Rieekan finished, "we can't afford to court-martial you, even if the offense were more severe." He shot a glance at Madine. "Captain Antilles has led Rogue Squadron well in your absence, and we presume you come back more accomplished in the Jedi ways than when you left?" He raised an eyebrow, tacitly inviting Luke to elaborate.

Luke almost flushed, and fought the urge to look at the floor. "I've learned a lot since I started training," he said, "but I was unable to finish before circumstances forced me to leave."

Now Mothma leaned forward, sharp gaze set on him. "The Bespin affair," she said, the very name of the planet sending a chill down his spine in memory. "I must admit to curiosity about several things. Princess Leia informed us that she and Captain Solo were there solely to bait a trap for you, but she didn't say how you even knew that she and Solo were there. She also mentioned that you fought Darth Vader, losing a hand and somehow ending up at the bottom of the city, but she didn't know anything more. We were hoping that you could fill in the gaps in our knowledge."

Luke felt hot, then cold. What to say, what could he say, how could he avoid saying the most important thing--

Join me, and together we will rule the galaxy as father and son!

"I had a vision," he began, haltingly. "Vader was torturing Leia and Han. I had to leave, had to try and rescue them."

"Yet it was you who ended up needing rescue," Rieekan pointed out, dispassionately, and Luke flushed, because that was certainly true. Some rescue...

But Mothma flapped a hand, dismissively. "Princess Leia also said that it was almost certain she and Chewbacca would have been unable to escape had Commander Skywalker not distracted Vader. Continue, Commander."

Distracted Vader. How simply said--but Luke shook his head slightly, and went on. "When I got there, I saw Leia being taken away. She said it was a trap, but it didn't really matter to me, because she was still in trouble. I followed, but Vader intercepted me." He swallowed against a throat suddenly gone dry. "We fought, though I was definitely overmatched. Eventually we made our way into the bowels of the city. I was at the end of a gantry over a long chute when he cut off my hand. I couldn't escape any other way, so I had no other option"--except taking what he offered, and don't say you weren't tempted--"but to jump. The chute ended up at the bottom of the city, which is where Leia found me."

Mothma's eyes coolly surveyed him, and he began to wonder if he was hiding as much as he hoped he was. "Very lucky," she said finally. "Did Vader say anything to you?"

A spike of panic, quickly squashed. Does she...? No, she couldn't. What could he say?

Your destiny lies with me, Skywalker.

No. I am your father.

Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son!

Luke...

Luke almost jolted, because that last was more than memory. Quickly, he said, "Nothing more important than threats," and the lie tasted like ashes in his mouth. But he couldn't tell the truth. What would the Alliance do with the son of Darth Vader? If it was even true, he quickly amended to himself, and was disturbed at how easily he claimed Vader as his father even inside his own mind.

Luke.

But he ignored the voice rolling through his mind, and quickly built up the strongest barriers he had to keep it out. If he heard, he might listen, and that would be disastrous. He was a Jedi, and he could not afford to run after Vader now, not when his training was still incomplete. He had learned from the last time.

And still Mothma looked at him. Then she said, "Very well, Commander Skywalker. Have you given a thought to returning to active duty?"

Surprised but grateful at the change of subject, he answered, "I'd hoped to go after Han. We assume that he'll be brought to Jabba the Hutt eventually, and Lando and Chewbacca have already gone to Tatooine to wait. Leia and I hoped to join them soon."

She nodded as if she'd expected that, and considering Leia had already had her own debriefing and would have informed the Council of her plans, she probably had.

"We look forward to your return, then, Commander," Mothma said. "But since our intelligence says that Captain Solo has not yet reached Tatooine, perhaps you would be willing to run another mission before you leave? It should not take long, but we think it needs a more experienced commander than Captain Antilles."

He remembered the lie he'd just told, and that he had abandoned them a month before with very little word, and couldn't say no.

---

He should have refused, he reflected bitterly. Better to have his own guilt and the Council's unhappiness than to be here.

It had seemed a simple mission, escort duty for a small freighter bearing important intelligence that the Council immediately needed to hear, and could not be entrusted to the holonet channels. He took Rogue Squadron and met the freighter above Kothlis, and was to have escorted it to the Alliance flagship Home One orbiting one of the moons of Sullust.

Simple. Easy. Nothing he hadn't done what seemed a thousand times before.

But on none of those previous thousand trips had the Executor shown up with an Interdictor Cruiser, pulling them out of hyperspace and trying to keep them from escaping. On none of those thousand trips had he felt that distinctive presence, surrounding him, wrapping him in a shroud of Force-strength he didn't even begin to know how to unravel.

And on none of those thousand trips had he had to stay behind to ensure the survival of the freighter and of his squadron.

Three squadrons of TIEs, and almost all of them focused on him, trying to cripple him, or herd him away from the others. None of them were shooting to kill; or if they were, they were doing very badly, and Luke was not just flattering himself that he was better at evading their shots than they were at shooting--though he was, especially with the Force to help him.

But even the Force was not being very helpful; at times it seemed constricting rather than freely flowing, and often Luke had to burn out of his mind what seemed like cobwebs, slowing him down and narrowing his focus. And that familiar dark presence seemed to get closer and closer...

Then his comm unit crackled to life on the securest channel he had. "Lead? Lead? Luke, you there?"

"Kinda busy here, Wedge," he said through gritted teeth, and sent his X-wing into a spiral turn to evade a blast of laser fire from three different TIEs.

"We're clear of the interdictor field, Luke, even the freighter. A few gave chase, but then they looped back when we got further away. All of them are going after you!"

"Tell me something I don't know!"

I couldn't have been set up. Mothma and Rieekan weren't lying when they said they needed me, and they know that if Vader wants me enough to put a bounty on me of over a million credits, but alive and well only, then it's probably a good idea to see that he doesn't get me.

He moved a little to the left, let a TIE shoot past him, and then quickly moved back and blasted the TIE. It went spinning off into another one, blowing them both up. But there were still far too many.

Mothma and Rieekan couldn't have set me up...but they could have been set up, just so that I would end up in Executor's path with little option of escape. If Vader would go to the effort of that whole thing on Bespin just to get me, I wouldn't be surprised if he did something like this. For a moment anger cleared his mind, blasting away the cobwebs that were still growing, but then he took a deep breath and calmed down. There were other important things to consider.

"Wedge, you'd better get away. Take the squad and finish the mission," Luke ordered. "I'll try to join you when I can."

"Stang, no!" Wedge exclaimed. "I'm not leaving you alone to three squadrons of TIEs and the Executor! Luke, Jedi or not, you can't get away."

"The odds are against it?" Luke asked, almost humorously, and blasted another TIE. "I thought Corellians didn't care about the odds."

"We care about not losing our friends!" Wedge snapped. "Luke--"

"You have your orders, Rogue Two," Luke interrupted. "Acknowledge."

There was silence over the comm but for static, and finally Wedge said, slowly and reluctantly, "Acknowledged, Lead. We'll meet you back at the base."

After about a minute, the Wedge-sense in his mind was gone into hyperspace, and he let himself relax slightly, now that his friend was out of danger. But even though he knew the mission would be completed, his situation was still dire, and regardless of his bravado to Wedge, he didn't think he'd be getting away.

Still he tried. Three more TIEs were destroyed before his X-wing was even damaged, and that just because they were getting in each others' way. And though Artoo asked if he should try to repair the damage, Luke told him to just pour as much power as he could into speed and shields. But he knew he couldn't last much longer.

When the disabling shot came, neatly killing his engines without hurting him or causing enough damage that he should have to eject, he knew who was behind it, and was not surprised to see Darth Vader's modified TIE Interceptor slowly rise up in front of him as he drifted dead in space. And when a tractor beam from Executor locked onto his X-wing and towed him along in its wake, drawing him ever closer to its massive hulk, a nameless dread curled itself into a ball in his stomach and sat there like a stone.

And there was no way to escape this time. No Leia and the Millennium Falcon to snatch him out of Vader's grasp, no Han and Chewie to knock Vader away. He was on his own in this, with a damaged starfighter amidst two capital ships full of enemies. Utterly alone.

Alone...? drifted into his mind, and it did not come from him. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to build up his barriers again, but he was tired, and he could not keep that dark presence out. Not alone, it told him, a whisper in the darkness of space. I am with you. You are not alone.

I do not want you with me! he cried, but that other voice just chuckled, and did not say anything more.

He was brought gently into a hangar bay, one full of stormtroopers, all of whom had their blaster rifles pointed squarely at him. But there were no smuggling compartments to hide in now, and so he resolved to get it over with, and popped the cockpit open and jumped out, taking his helmet off and tucking it under one arm. His blaster in its holster smacked against his thigh as he landed, another reminder: he had no lightsaber now.

"Stand down," a voice said from behind him, and against his will Luke froze at the sound of it. But even when he heard the click of boots on the polished floor, he looked straight ahead of him, and closed his eyes when a large blackness stepped in front of him and filled his vision.

"Look at me," Vader said, commanding, and involuntarily Luke's eyes opened and glanced up.

And there Vader was, exactly as Luke had seen him last, though the cut in his shoulder armor had been repaired. But the sight of him sent a jolt racing through Luke's system, and he was torn between wanting to back away, and needing to stand his ground, to wrest as much respect from Vader as he could. And there was even a part of him, small but getting bigger, that wanted to throw his arms around his father and hold on tight, but the utter absurdity of both the desire and the image stopped him, and he tried not to think about that.

"So," Vader said, with dark satisfaction, as Luke stood before him. "You will not escape, this time. I have told you before that your destiny lies with me."

Luke couldn't help it; he flinched, and his gaze fell to Vader's chest. But he didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, and stood quietly as Vader ordered the stormtroopers back to their posts, or at least out of the hangar bay. Then they were alone, and the emptiness echoed until Luke almost wanted the stormtroopers back, uncomfortable as that sea of white armor was.

Then his chin was seized and his head raised until he was looking up into Vader's mask, which was angled down to look at him in turn. Nothing else happened for a moment but that Vader looked at him, and Luke wanted to close his eyes again but didn't dare.

"I had not been able to look at you properly before now, but you have much of me in you," Vader said, finally.

"What?" Luke returned, shocked into replying. He had not expected that. "I--no, I don't! There's nothing of you in me!" And he struggled, tried to wrench his face away from Vader's grip; but Vader held fast, and Luke could not move away.

"Have you not acknowledged the truth, my son?" he asked, and his voice sounded weary suddenly. "Of physical features only, to say nothing of anything else, you have at least my hair and my eyes and my chin."

"Better for me if I had your height," Luke muttered, and was surprised at the strange barking sound that erupted from Vader--was that laughter? But then it was gone, and Luke had other things to think about.

"You have your mother's build," Vader said, "though she was somewhat shorter than you. You may thank me for the extra centimeters."

The idea that he should thank Vader for anything, much less something as ultimately silly and inconsequential as his height--but then his attention was caught at the mention of his mother. He opened his mouth to ask a question about her--and then closed it again. He did not want to hear what Vader might have to say, and it would probably be as much a lie as anything else that Vader told him.

Not a lie, something inside him whispered, as the silence stretched and grew. He's told you to search your feelings, and you have. You know he did not lie to you.

But that Vader should have spoken the truth was painful, a barely closing wound. Luke closed his eyes at the hurt of that wound as it opened wider with every moment that Vader still touched him.

As if he'd felt those thoughts and that pain--for all Luke knew, he had--Vader's hand dropped away from Luke's chin, and Luke's head slowly lowered. But barely had he had a moment of peace when Vader said, "You are coming with me. Do I need to bind you, or will you give me your word that you will not try to escape? Such an attempt would be futile, my son, and I advise against it."

And Luke did not want to give his word, but that Vader would trust it, would trust him, and would not bind him...was there not offered there the respect that Luke had earlier craved? And he knew that Vader was right, and attempts at escape would be futile, on a large ship full of Imperials and with Vader himself as his jailor.

So Luke said, with an already heavy heart sinking, "I will not try to escape. I give my word." But that did not mean he could not plan, for Vader surely would not be around him at all times, and in the meantime there was much information he could gather that he was sure the Alliance would be grateful for.

Luke's eyes opened in time to see Vader's nod, and his swift about-turn and stride to the hangar doors. Luke followed even without being commanded to do so, and he kept his eyes wide open in order to see as much as he could, and started to plan.

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"

The quarters that Vader brought him to were spare, bare black and white furniture, but large enough and equipped enough to be officers' quarters. Luke was surprised, for a moment, that he hadn't been brought to the detention center; but no, Vader wanted Luke to join him--

It is your destiny...

--and so of course he would be shown courtesy and comfort, or at least as much of either as he could get from an Imperial, especially Vader. Sweet bait snared more than sour, after all.

"You will want to refresh yourself," Vader said, and indicated a door at the other side of the room. "New clothing has been set out for you. Go."

Slightly miffed at Vader's high-handedness, but knowing there was nothing he could do about it, Luke went. And he would be glad to have a shower, after so many hours in a cramped cockpit, and after a battle as well. He was not sorry to get out of the crumpled flightsuit and sweaty clothing beneath it, either.

It was only after his shower that he noticed that the clothes, completely black, fit him perfectly. Luke could not help but be slightly disturbed at that. Vader knew his clothing size--even his shoe size, Luke noticed as he pulled on tall black boots--and how much else did he know of the minutiae of Luke's life, or even the more important things? That he was from Tatooine was no secret, nor that the deaths of his aunt and uncle at the hands of Imperials was his impetus for joining the Alliance, and especially not that he was training to be a Jedi, but--how much did Vader know?

As Luke finished dressing, he almost wished that he'd put on his own clothes again, sweaty and rumpled as they were. The clothing Vader provided, utilitarian and very Imperial, made him feel rather prickly, and more so because the clothing itself wasn't uncomfortable, and there was no real reason for his discomfort. Given by the enemy or not, it was just clothing, and couldn't convince him to join the Dark Side by itself.

But still, when Luke looked in the mirror and saw himself so attired, he wondered that the reflection didn't look like the person he was used to it being. The difference was somehow more than could be accounted for by a simple change of clothes.

Vader was gone when Luke entered the common room again, and though Luke was not surprised and could not regret the absence, it left him at something of a loss. He looked around the room, but there was nothing there he could use to occupy himself, not even something as innocuous as a datapad.

Then he snorted--had those weeks spent with Yoda been for nothing? He needed nothing but himself and the Force to meditate, which Yoda would likely have been counseling him to do anyway. He needed to be under control now, as he perhaps never truly had before, because surely Vader would take advantage of anything he could use to turn Luke to the Dark Side, Luke's own confused emotions not the least.

Perhaps it would discomfit Vader, whenever it was that he would deign to return, to find Luke meditating like a Jedi--and that decided him. On the other side of the room was a door he thought might lead to a bunk, and it did. Just as spare as everything else, the tiny room held nothing but a bed attached to the wall and a small bedside table with a few drawers and nothing on it, but he didn't need luxury. He sat on the bed and drew his legs up underneath him. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sought the Force.

It came eagerly at his call, which was a relief after the feeling of the shroud and cobwebs during the battle. But there was nothing stopping him from reaching it here, and letting his consciousness sink into its flow felt so good, like sinking into a pool of cool water. He was content to drift for a moment, thinking about nothing but this connection--how deprived he had been, his early life, to touch it only accidentally! And how frustrating it had been, after Ben died, when he knew that it was there but could only reach for it clumsily, missing more often than not. Despite his last disagreement with Yoda, he did have to thank the little Master for teaching him to open up to the true flow of the Force.

But he was here to center himself, to be able to stand like a Jedi before Vader, regardless of the other's attempts to turn him. And though he knew it would be like pouring salt in open wounds, he would have to examine his memories of Bespin and all the pain they caused. If he could come to some measure of peace over them--that would be like a Jedi, he thought.

Your destiny lies with me, Skywalker.

Did it truly? What would it mean, to have their destinies intertwined? Would it perforce mean that he had to follow where Vader led, wherever the road should take them? That was something he could not accept.

But surely there were other meanings. That Vader was part of his destiny, Luke could acknowledge. He was a Jedi, standing against everything that Vader was for; it had come to a fight once already, and he thought it would again. Vader was unstoppable, unavoidable, and there had always been something binding them together. But that that should stop Luke from going his own way--he didn't think so.

Perhaps their destinies lying together did not mean that Luke should have to turn, but more that the Force was bringing them together for something--and it did not have to be as Vader willed. Luke would make sure of that.

I am your father.

No!

Still his first reaction at every remembrance of those words was a swift denial, one that gained vehemence whenever he found himself thinking of Vader as his father. But...

Search your feelings. You know it to be true.

Hadn't he just acknowledged that there was something binding them together? The Force, yes, but the Force did not bind him as strongly to Ben, or to Yoda, and he'd spent more time with both of them than he had with Vader; and they were Jedi, as much in the Light as he, if not more. But this strong connection...he'd felt it, fighting Vader and afterward, and it was impossible to deny.

That it should be a bond of blood--he shuddered in his meditation, and the Force trembled with him, and he was almost jolted from its flow. But how could he feel otherwise, with Vader as his father? That revelation had stripped away the Jedi father he'd so admired, had torn the image up and ground it beneath hard black boots. And he could not create it again, with the doubt planted that it was false.

This connection--it was so deep, though it seemed to have sprung up so suddenly. How could it have grown so deep so quickly? The only other connection he had that had formed as quickly was with Leia, but he did not want to associate that bond with this unwanted one, did not want to taint it so.

But...was it truly unwanted? Yes! something inside him cried, but from beneath it No resounded, and Luke felt it inside him, that knowledge that this bond was not unwanted at all. It was not the father he had hoped for, was nothing like, but still Father in his mind was being paired with an image of Vader, and that it should have an image at all to latch onto was a joy he'd always hoped for in his youth. The identity and actions of that father could mar that joy, could diminish it, but could not extinguish it altogether.

He drifted further into the flow, and there was something, here, powerful and unexpected, deep into the Force inside him, in a place he'd never examined closely before. And he thought he could touch it, reached out a mental finger and did--and when he drew back, it seemed to vibrate like a plucked harp string, resonating.

And with that resonance, Luke felt something else stirring, and it looked at him, and he recognized the sensation from before: it was Vader. Was it, then, the bond he touched, so deeply inside him that he would probably never be able to uproot it? And he felt Vader more clearly now, with dark regard becoming focussed on him, growing and growing until it seemed to fill his mind and senses.

Vader was coming, he thought, just barely catching the intent before drawing back. Force, that presence was potent! Han and Wedge had taken him fishing, once, and he was reminded of the one fish that he'd caught, and the way it had flailed around and struggled, only to fail to free itself in the end. He'd let it go, and Han and Wedge had teased him mercilessly for it--but now he saw himself in that fish, in the way that Vader's presence seemed to reel him in like he was caught on a line, though he fought against it much as his fish had--and then he wondered, uneasily, what would happen should Vader catch him.

He tried to hold onto his meditation, but Vader's approach distracted him, and the Force slid away from his grasp. Soon it was gone, apart from that little frisson of energy he always felt lately, and he was left close-eyed and cross-legged on the bed with nothing but his thoughts.

Stupid! he berated himself. Did you have to attract his attention? Who knows how long he would have left you alone for if you hadn't caught his notice, and you could have used the time to finish meditating and plan an escape!

But it was too late now, when Vader was coming. And Luke rather thought that, with Vader around, planning an escape was going to be less than easy, if not downright impossible. He'd slipped so easily into Luke's mind before.

Closer. Closer. Luke's heartbeat sped up, adrenaline rushing through his body, as that presence drew nearer. But he did not move; if Vader wanted Luke, he would have to come to Luke. Though his meditation was lost, he stayed seated and kept breathing evenly, in and out, in and out, trying to keep himself calm, keep that presence from affecting him.

"What are you doing?" a voice said from the entrance, and Luke was barely able to stop himself from flinching at the sound of it.

But he schooled his body and expressions, kept his eyes closed, and only when he was sure of himself, replied, "Meditating."

Vader made a disbelieving sound. "You are not," he said. "You have barely touched the Force since you touched me."

"I was meditating, then," Luke replied, fighting to keep an edge out of his voice. "And I hopefully will be soon again." He left as soon as you leave unsaid, but implied, and he knew Vader caught it by the darkening in his mood.

"You will be busy with other things," Vader said.

Against his will, annoyance ran through Luke, and he frowned and opened his eyes. He was almost uncomfortable with his head so far below Vader's, in such a position of weakness, but since his head would be below Vader's anyway, he didn't bother standing up. "I will choose whether I will be busy or not," he said sharply. Admittedly, it was a foolish thing for a captive to say, but damned if he was going to so easily let Vader take control of his life!

Now Vader felt almost...amused. What was so funny? But Luke fought down his annoyance; it was only to Vader's advantage, and he was probably trying to goad Luke into anger.

"You have rarely chosen anything in your life," Vader said, with the air of explaining matters to a small child. "You did what your uncle told you until he died, and then you did what Kenobi told you, in trying to be a Jedi and joining the Rebellion. Since then, you have done what the Rebels have told you; your very presence here is the proof of that, since I am well aware of the mission they sent you on. I do not think you have ever made an important decision on your own in your entire life."

Luke's eyes narrowed, and he couldn't stop the anger uncurling in his chest. But he took a deep breath, and then another one when the first didn't help, and waited until he was in control of himself before he replied, as serenely as he could manage, "I do not make choices in a vacuum. Others have influenced me, of course, but they were still my decisions. I am a Jedi, by my own choice. Obi-Wan just gave me the opportunity."

Now Vader snorted. "Some Jedi! You can't even touch something unexpected in meditation without losing control over the Force." The contempt in his voice whenever he spoke the word Jedi was plain.

Don't get angry, Luke told himself firmly. That's what he wants. But something inside him was not so much angry at what Vader was saying as that he was saying it at all. Weren't fathers supposed to be supportive of their children? He remembered his childhood, wishing so fervently for his father, because he believed that father would support him against the dictates of Uncle Owen and let Luke live the kind of life he chose. And there was a twinge of hurt, quickly suppressed, at the seeming disappearance of the respect Vader had earlier given him...

The ashes of dreams tasted bitter in his mouth as he said, shortly, "I'm still learning."

"Yes," Vader agreed darkly. "You are. I do not know why Kenobi waited so long to begin your training, but it is good for you that he did."

Luke looked up at him sharply. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, suspicious, though he didn't think he would care for Vader's explanation.

He was right. "You have less to unlearn," Vader said. "It is unfortunate that you have already been poisoned by Jedi teachings, but that can be overcome."

Poisoned! He would think of it like that. "And if I do not care to overcome it?" Luke asked, raising an eyebrow. Unwilling students do not learn well, and he will not find me a willing student in the Dark Side.

"You will," Vader said, full of damnable confidence. "In time, you will happily learn from me all that I have to teach, and we will have that time. I have spoken with the Emperor, and he has suggested that I leave the fleet to the admirals for the moment and concentrate on you."

Concentrate...on...me. Oh Force, no. Luke's eyes widened. "You mean your only duty right now is to turn me to the Dark Side?" he asked, incredulous. "What about the Alliance?"

"It will keep," Vader answered ponderously. "You, on the other hand, seem to have quite a talent for escape, and it is more imperative that you learn as quickly as possible. You are more important."

"I'm not," Luke said, still not believing, and not quite wanting to. "One man, as opposed to the whole Alliance? I'm not that important."

"Not just a man, but a Force-user," Vader corrected. "And my son. You do not realize your own significance, Luke, but you will."

"Don't call me that," Luke snapped, frantically trying to think of a way out of this mess. If Vader's sole duty right now was to turn him, then Vader would very often be with him, severely cutting down on Luke's chances of escape.

"What should I call you, then?" Vader inquired. "Would you prefer Son?"

"No!" Luke exclaimed, even as part of him was crying Yes! To hear the word son and know that someone was talking to him... "I'm not--"

"You are," Vader interrupted. "Stop behaving like a child. Denial gets you nowhere. You may not like the truth, but I know that you have already accepted it. Persisting in trying to reject it makes you seem foolish, and I know that you cannot be a fool."

Luke took a deep breath, fighting against a peevish reaction that would do nothing to remedy the image of him as acting like a child. "Very well," he said, then added, slowly and reluctantly, "Father."

And it was time to stop being in denial; though Luke hated to concede it, Vader was right about that. When there was this bond between them, when he could feel Vader so clearly, so strongly...could Vader be anything else but his father?

"Good," Vader said, and stepped closer. "Now we will begin your lessons."

"Hang on," Luke interrupted, and scooted back a few centimeters on the bed, trying to put more distance in between him and--Father--Vader. "You may be my father, but that doesn't mean I've agreed to you teaching me. In fact, I would rather you didn't."

But Vader stepped closer again, until he was standing directly beside the bed. Luke would have liked to scoot further back, but he was against the wall now, and Vader was so close. Too close.

"Lesson one," Vader said, and leaned forward. "You do not have a choice."

"Weren't you just berating me for not making my own choices?" Luke asked, apprehension tightening into a ball in his stomach. What was Vader doing? Surely he didn't need to be that close to do...whatever it was he was going to do to try and teach Luke. Did he?

With a speed surprising in one of such size and with so many mechanical devices adorning him, Vader reached out with both hands and caught Luke's wrists, holding them together. Luke struggled, but Vader was too strong and too skilled in the Force for him to break away.

"Lesson two," Vader said, ignoring Luke's question. "'Peace is a lie; there is only passion. Through passion, one gains strength. Through strength, one gains power. Through power, one gains victory, and through victory, one's chains are broken.' That is the Sith Code."

Luke closed his eyes, trying not to look into that mask, trying to ignore the strange feelings running through his blood. "There is no emotion; there is peace," he murmured. "There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is--"

"Serenity?" Vader interrupted caustically. "Where is your serenity, my son? Where is your peace, your knowledge? Do you feel them now? Do not bother answering; I know you do not. You feel. Don't you?"

There was something like electricity shooting up his spine, and his blood seemed to roar within him. He kept his eyes closed, but it made no difference; he could still feel Vader, in front of him, all around him, inside of him. The bond between them seemed to open wider and wider, the physical contact breaching some barrier in his mind. Vader was intent on him, and he felt exposed beneath that black masked gaze.

Too much. It's too much! something inside him seemed to shriek, but it was drowned out. Your destiny lies with me, Vader's voice said to him in memory, thunderous and commanding, undeniable.

"Stop it," Luke gasped, and tried again to wrench his wrists away from Vader's grip; again he failed, and could not, for all his tugging, even move them. "Stop it!"

"What will you do if I do not?" Vader asked him; but still he let go, and Luke quickly put his hands in his lap, rubbing his wrists. "Lesson three," Vader said next. "You cannot stop me. Your only hope of being able to do so lies in learning more of the Force, and there is no one here to teach you but me."

There was no choice, like Vader told him before. He was trapped, and it seemed that no matter what he willed, Vader would overwhelm him.

But that did not matter. "I am a Jedi," he said steadily, despite his quickened heartbeat, despite the ball of apprehension in his stomach, despite Vader's "lessons". "I will not turn. Son or not, I will not be your student."

And Vader sighed, an explosive exhalation of air full of static. "You are as stubborn as your mother," he said. "But whether you will or no, my son, you will change your mind. I promise you that. Your obstinacy just ensures that other methods must be tried."

Other methods? Luke didn't like the sound of that. He didn't like the sound of that at all.

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"

Why didn't I finish my training, again? Luke sighed and brushed hair away from his face, shifting on the bed.

He was meditating. Or trying to, at least. Vader had left a few hours before, despite whatever he'd said about converting Luke being his main duty right then, and Luke figured he might as well use the time to get himself under better control. He hadn't exactly done well at achieving peace during their last conversation.

But he couldn't concentrate. The Force swirled around him, and he could touch it, but when he tried to grab hold it would dance away from him like a skittish tauntaun. His frustration would mount, which would then lead to him having less control than before, and the cycle would start again.

He wanted to touch the Force. He wanted that refreshing coolness, after remembering the discomfort and heat of several hours ago. He wanted to let the Force soothe away his worries about the future, but those selfsame worries kept him from touching the Force in the first place. How Master Yoda would scold him for letting the future take over his thoughts...

The future...and Vader. Luke shivered, despite the long sleeves of his shirt and the mild temperature of the room.

Some time, and most likely soon, Vader was going to return, and then he would try to turn Luke again, with those "other methods" he mentioned, and Luke couldn't help but be nervous at the thought. Perhaps that was why Vader had left him alone--he wanted him to stew, to think about it, to maybe come to the conclusion that there was no point in fighting because he couldn't win.

Always in motion is the future. Maybe he couldn't win--but then again, maybe he could. He wouldn't know until he was tested.

As if the thought had been a summoning, the door opened and Vader strode in. His black mask was as impenetrable as ever, but Luke thought he could feel an undercurrent of--anticipation, through their bond.

It did not help Luke's nerves.

"Come with me," Vader said, and then turned around and left the room again. But when Luke didn't follow him, he turned back, and said, with lurking impatience, "Come."

"No," Luke said, with as much calm as he could muster. "I don't know what you're going to do, but I want no part of it. I won't go with you."

Vader stood for a moment, seeming almost surprised, as if he'd never been so deliberately defied before. Then again, apart from his encounters with Luke, that was probably likely.

Finally, he said, "No matter. It will be cramped, but it can be done here. In fact," he continued, looking around, "it is probably for the best, anyway."

What can be done here? What's for the best?" Luke asked suspiciously. "What do you intend to do?" His heart began to beat faster, adrenalin rushing through his body in a manifest of nerves, despite his trying to stay calm.

"From emotion and passion come strength," Vader said. "In order to be strong, you must feel."

"I feel emotion all the time," Luke retorted. His heart was still beating rapidly. "Hasn't done me much good."

"That is because you do not let it," Vader said. "That is weakness, which the Jedi never understood. Denying feelings does not make them go away. You must embrace the emotions, use them, and do not let them use you. Emotion can give you a power that peace cannot."

"I don't want power," Luke said, sure on that point, at least. "Not like that."

"Not even for your Alliance?" Vader asked. "Not even to save your princess and your friend? Not even to defeat me?"

"Not at the cost of giving up my soul," Luke said flatly. "The Alliance can take care of itself, and so can Han and Leia. They've been doing it for longer than I've known them."

Vader snorted. "The Alliance could not even hold its own before you arrived and destroyed the Death Star," he replied, openly contemptuous. "Princess Leia was scheduled for execution when you found her, and Solo is encased in carbonite and needing rescue. They cannot always take care of themselves, and when they cannot, they need you, because of the power you hold."

"I've helped the Alliance and Leia without the Dark Side," Luke returned, "and I intend to do the same with Han when we find him. I don't need what you're offering."

"Foolish boy," Vader hissed. "You think you can prepare for every eventuality? That the weak Light will aid you in every circumstance? When the Light has let you down and you are needing of more strength, more power, then you will want the Dark Side."

"I don't think it will let me down," Luke said. "It hasn't yet."

"Oh?" Vader said caustically. "Then you were able to defeat me on Bespin, using your Light? You are not sitting there listening to me now, because the Light Side helped you escape from my clutches?"

Luke flushed. "I--" he began, but Vader interrupted him.

"Do not bother to continue your protest," he said. "I did not come here to argue with you again."

"Then why are you doing it?" Luke muttered, still audible enough to be heard, but Vader ignored it, and stepped closer.

"Emotion," he said. "Passion. Sensation. Let yourself feel them, Luke, and you will understand."

Luke opened his mouth to protest, though what exactly he would say he didn't know, but then something shoved him hard enough in the back that he would have fallen forward had he not put his feet on the floor and stood up. He swiftly turned around, searching for the new threat, but there was nothing behind him. Then something seized his shoulder and spun him so that he was facing Vader again--Vader, who was standing there with his arms crossed, looking at him.

And he and Vader were the only ones in the room.

Luke looked at Vader for a moment, not quite sure what to think. But not even Vader could be so quick as to shove and grab Luke and then step back and stand as nonchalantly as he was, not without Luke seeing him move.

"I am rather infamous for asphyxiating people with the Force," Vader commented, almost tangentially, but Luke could sense that he had a point. Then he made it. "Being able to touch them without touching them," he continued. "It is a simple thing, to create a hand made of nothing but Force energy, but one that could do whatever a real hand can."

"So--what?" Luke asked, understanding now what had happened, but not why. "You're going to choke me without touching me? Or beat me up, or whatever?"

Vader gave the impression of quirking an eyebrow, though the mask was as impenetrable as ever. "I could," he said. "There is a reason why pain is part of a standard interrogation; enough of it causes those subjected to it to break, to say or do anything to make it stop. There is another method of interrogation, though more often used in conjunction with and as a counterpoint to pain, and that is pleasure. Pleasure, no less than pain, can cause those subjected to it to break, because they will say or do anything to make it continue."

Luke stared. That was...well, unexpected would be an understatement. "Pleasure?" he repeated, almost choking on the word. "What are you going to do?" Then he added, before Vader could reply, "You know, it would probably give me the most pleasure if you let me go."

Vader snorted. "Unlikely," he said. Then, "Take your shirt off."

Luke stared, again. "What?" he asked. "Why?"

"Because it will make things easier for both of us," Vader answered.

"Good reason not to do it, then," Luke retorted. "What will make things easier for me is if you let me go. I don't particularly want to make things easier for you. I'm sure you understand."

"Nevertheless," Vader said, "you will take it off, or I will take it off for you. Your choice."

"Another one of your choices," Luke muttered. "Wonderful."

But he did take the shirt off, because he was sure that Vader wasn't bluffing when he said that he would do it if Luke didn't. He laid the shirt behind him on the bed, and fought the urge to fidget. If he'd felt exposed to Vader's gaze before, when he was fully dressed, he felt doubly so now. And he wondered, more than ever, just what it was that Vader intended to do.

When he looked at Vader again, whose head was tilted, that masked stare gazing at him, considering, he frowned.

"What?" he asked, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "D'you want me to take the pants off, too?"

"That will not be necessary," Vader replied. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" Luke choked. "What--"

But he fell silent when a phantom hand covered his mouth, and was still silent as it moved away, tracing his jaw, drifting across his cheek and down his neck. He shivered, goosebumps popping up on his skin despite the warm temperature of the room. He closed his eyes, for a moment, as the hand rested on his shoulder; but when it slid down his chest, taking a nipple between unseen fingers and pinching, his eyes flew open again, and he couldn't stay silent any longer.

"What are you doing?" he asked, crossing his arms again, trying to push the hand away.

He wanted to back up, get farther away from Vader, but he was at the edge of the bunk as it was, and he couldn't get back any further. And the hand just rested itself on his shoulder again.

"What did it feel like I was doing?" Vader inquired, crossing his own arms. "Surely you understand."

Luke didn't mean to, but he flushed. Had he ever felt this uncomfortable before? He didn't think so.

"Not very fatherly of you," he snapped, and his eyes narrowed when he felt Vader's amusement.

"You didn't even know I was your father until two weeks ago," he pointed out. "Not that either of us have had any chance to be a father or a son." And his mood seemed to darken at that.

"This doesn't seem the best way to start," Luke said, feeling behind him for his shirt.

But Vader noticed what he was doing, and an unseen hand grabbed his wrist and stopped him just as his own hand closed around the material. A finger reached up and caressed the skin above his pulse, and out of surprise his hand opened, and the shirt dropped away.

"I am not doing this as your father," Vader said, and the hand, still holding Luke's wrist, began to pull him away from the bed, closer to Vader. "I am doing this as your teacher. Would you not like to learn how to do this as well?"

Can you separate the two that easily? I don't think you can. I don't think I can. But another hand pressed itself against his chest, sweeping itself along his skin, causing the skin to tingle madly where the hand had been.

Luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the hand on his chest and the other running up his arm, and said, with as much poise as he could manage, "No, thanks. And I'd really rather you stop now."

"You don't like it?" Vader asked, one phantom hand now on his back, tracing his spine, lingering around each vertebrae.

"That's not the point," Luke protested, taking in a ragged breath.

One hand was still exploring his back, and the other was drawing circles on his chest with one finger. How am I supposed to be able to think when he's doing that? Then he mentally snorted. I'm not, of course. And it was very hard to think.

"It's exactly the point," Vader countered. "It is a simple question. Do you like it?"

"No," Luke answered quickly, and that was true, partly. He did like the sensation of those phantom fingers ghosting across his skin, caressing and exploring, but he didn't like who was doing it, and why.

But as much as it was true, it was also a lie, and Vader caught it, and sighed. "Why do you cling to your inhibitions?" he asked. "Propriety will get you nowhere here, and discarding it brings greater rewards."

Luke narrowed his eyes. "You would think that," he said. "But I care more about morality than expediency."

"How very cumbersome," Vader said. "But that can be fixed."

And before Luke could begin to answer, the unseen hand on his chest slid down to his groin--and grabbed. Luke yelped and tried to jump backwards, but his knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell on it, ending up sprawled on his back, with Vader towering over him.

"Don't!" Luke shouted, not knowing what he was going to do--what he wanted to do--should Vader continue. "Don't!"

But Vader moved closer, an inexorable force. He reached down and caught Luke's bare shoulders in his real hands--and Luke was lost.

Connection. They were tied so closely...it was so intense. He felt everything that Vader wanted him to feel, a bundle of emotions that hit him all at once and that he had no idea what to do with. He felt cold, then hot, and then a wave of desire rushed over him and overwhelmed everything else. He felt himself harden, and had to close his eyes at the embarrassment of his body's betrayal.

Don't think, Vader whispered into his mind, a cool voice and power surrounding him, buoying him up. It sounded little like the Vader he knew, but still it was his voice; it could be no other's, with the strength of the bond behind it. Don't think. Feel.

I'm feeling! he cried, throwing his head back, as the phantom hand started stroking his hardening length through his pants, the cloth rubbing against sensitive skin almost driving him mad. The other had slid around to his hip and settled there, a strange pressure without temperature. I want to stop. It's too much--too much!

That is because you are thinking, as well as feeling, Vader told him. The voice itself was like a caress, and Luke couldn't stop himself from leaning into it, that place deep inside him where the bond between them was rooted. Let go, Luke. Let yourself go.

He didn't want to. He wanted to hold on, as tightly as he could, but his skin felt more tender than it ever had before, and every stroke along his length sent a jolt through him that was impossible to ignore. He started trembling, and his breath came in ragged gasps with the effort of holding himself back.

Let yourself go, that voice told him again, persuasively, but with an undertone of command that Luke could no longer resist, especially with the reminder of Vader's breathing in the background. Let go, Luke, it said, and he did.

As if sensing his victory, Vader's presence in his mind heightened, the connection between them strong enough to overwhelm everything else. He felt--

He felt.

The hand on his hip moved, running lightly down his leg until it reached his boot, then swiftly tugged it off and dropped it. It soon did the same with the other boot, and then it ran, just as lightly, up his other leg. It drifted to right above where the other hand was gently stroking him, then unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper. Then both hands disappeared for a moment, and Luke groaned at the loss, when they just as suddenly reappeared, tugging on the legs. He lifted his hips and let them pull the pants off him, dropping them somewhere with the boots, and then gasped and bit back a moan when one of the hands traced figure eights on his inner thigh.

"If you're going to do something...do something!" Luke panted, and was surprised at the hoarseness in his own voice. But he didn't care about that, not when his body seemed like it was on fire.

Luke was blasted momentarily by amusement when Vader said, "I am doing something. Many things, in fact." One of the real hands on his shoulder slid up his neck, traced his jaw, ran lightly across his lips, leaving behind a strangely pleasant tingle.

"Not...enough," Luke huffed, and heard Vader's rasping chuckle with both his mind and his ears.

"You don't want me to stop, then?" he inquired. "You want me to continue?"

"Can't stop you, can I?" Luke replied vaguely, most of his concentration focused on the pair of phantom hands tracing figures on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. "Might as well go along for the ride."

"Yes," Vader agreed. "You might as well. I knew you would be reasonable, in the end."

"Not end yet," Luke pointed out. He didn't want to take the effort to speak in complete sentences--it was so hard to think. Everything was narrowed, suddenly, to this small room, this cramped bed, this person standing over him, the two pairs of hands covering him.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be allowing this, but it felt--good. So very good. Enough that he cried out at the loss when the phantom hands were lifted, even though he hadn't meant to.

Vader, one black-gloved hand still on his shoulder, pulled him to an upright position again, but Luke couldn't trust his legs right then, and leaned against Vader, feeling strangely...nice. He never would have thought that Vader could be so reassuringly solid.

But he was still hard, uncomfortably so, and he'd never be able to release his sexual frustration into the Force in this state--it was so much easier to do before he got so aroused--which left one option, now that the unseen hands were gone. Uncaring that he was not alone because embarrassment seemed far and away right now, he straightened slightly, put his hands on his hips to push the last of his troublesome garments out of the way; but Vader's hands closed around his wrists, more gently than before, and stopped him.

"What happened to going along for the ride?" Vader asked.

"You didn't seem to be doing anything further," Luke retorted, frowning up at him. "I figured I might as well take things in hand, if you weren't going to finish."

"What makes you think I wasn't?"

"You stopped--"

"I paused," Vader corrected. "And I finish what I begin, Luke Skywalker. You do not need to worry on that point."

Luke looked at the floor, at his clothes haphazardly piled there, and couldn't keep the red tinge from his cheeks as he replied, "Wasn't worried. Wouldn't care if you didn't finish--"

Vader squeezed his wrists in warning. "No more lying to yourself," he commanded. "Or to me, for that matter. And stop thinking."

But now that he'd started again, he didn't want to stop, didn't want to let himself go, no matter how good it felt--

Then his thoughts flew right out of his head again as Vader reached down with one hand and violently ripped away Luke's undershorts, tearing the cloth off with one strong yank, and then throwing it somewhere behind him. Luke didn't look to see where it landed, because a real, leather-covered hand closed around his cock and squeezed. Luke let out an involuntary moan as his knees buckled, and he would have fallen had Vader not caught him around the waist with his other arm.

Something roared in Luke's head, and he was caught up in a storm of sensation, a whirlwind of desire, strengthened by the bond and the Force, catching him up and spinning him until he was dizzy. And with Vader's hand on his erection, deftly moving up and down, the leather soft and supple enough against his tender skin to keep it from being painful, he felt something weakening inside him, though whether it was his resolve or something else, he didn't know.

And emotions were still flooding their connection, keeping him from thinking about anything except the here and now: himself, leaning against Vader for support; Vader's hand, curled possessively around his hip. Vader's other hand was on his length, building up a deliciously terrible pressure--and the passion pounding through him.

He was drowning, and he couldn't find the surface. There was nothing here anymore but himself and Vader, the connection between them, and the emotions around and inside of him. He heard moaning, and was almost surprised that it was him.

Everything was building up to a crescendo, and he could feel himself nearing the breaking point, knowing that soon he could no longer hold anything back. Vader seemed to sense this as well, for he slowed down, started tortuous, leisurely strokes--and then stopped, and lifted his hand away.

Luke whimpered, unable to manage anything more articulate and unable to care about the demeaning noise that came from his own throat, when he felt himself being led to the wall, his hands braced against it, and his feet spread apart. Then for one horrifying moment, no part of Vader was touching Luke, and he couldn't help but cry out at the loss of intensity in the bond.

The moment stretched, and then was over, as one of Vader's hands came back around and settled on Luke's hardness, and the other--

--slammed into him, two fingers reaching up inside him, and Luke let loose a strangled groan because it hurt, it was completely without lubricant and it hurt.

But then the hand on his erection started pumping, and the fingers inside him began moving around, and pleasure and pain became intermingled until he could no longer tell where each originated, and it was all painful pleasure and pleasurable pain anyway.

The duality of the sensations was his undoing, as he reached the peak and everything seemed to crystallize--and then the crystal shattered, and he with it. "Father!" he almost cried as heat surrounded him, Tatooine's twin suns going nova at the same time with him caught in the middle, his orgasm blasting out of him with a fury. Semen spurted out of him onto Vader's glove and the wall and the floor, and Luke's knees buckled again as Vader's fingers slipped out of him, and Luke's hands, braced against the wall, could no longer hold him up.

But Vader caught him, both arms tight around Luke's chest. "You are mine," Vader said, satisfaction in every part of him, and flowing through him into Luke, who no longer had the energy to hold up the last of his barriers.

But Luke had energy enough, barely, to say, "This doesn't...change anything."

Then Vader lifted him with ease, and bore him back to the bed, bringing the thin covers up to Luke's shoulders. The last thing Luke heard was Vader's voice saying, "Do not lie to yourself. It changes everything," and then darkness claimed him.

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"

"Always a choice, there is," Yoda told him once, "between what is easy and what is right. Face it, each Jedi does, and often. Face it, you will. And no one but yourself and the Force can tell you what to choose."

It would be easy to give in, to let Vader persuade him to stay. To accept what Vader offered--everything that he offered. To learn from him about the Force, Light and Dark, and the nature of people, of passion, of pleasure and of pain.

It would be easy to stop fighting. He had been fighting all his life, first against the harshness of the desert and Uncle Owen, and then against the Empire. He had won, sometimes, but more often he had lost - been sent to his room after an argument, been made to fix broken machinery, been kept away from Anchorhead and the only friends he'd had; had to retreat from hopeless battles, watched friends die in heat and explosion in the middle of uncaring space, let himself fall off a gantry after the cleaving of his sword-hand. If, for once, he didn't fight, didn't struggle--what would he gain? What would happen, if he let himself give in, for once? He didn't know, and was afraid to find out.

It would be easy to let Vader to horribly delightful things to him, to let Vader touch him and connect with him and bring him to climax. He still remembered that first time with a shiver and a throbbing ache, because he'd never known that sex could be both wonderful and terrible.

It would be easy to do those things, and sometimes Luke even wanted to--but it would not be right, and so he did not give in.

He'd woken up the morning after...after, sore and aching and bruised. He'd spent as much of the day as he could in the shower, trying to avoid Vader, trying to wash away the humiliation of coming with Father on his lips, trying not to remember that strange excitement in his belly. But he couldn't live in the shower, and Vader was always there, a reminder in and of himself.

"Why do you continue your refusal?" Vader had asked him once, when Luke was trying to ignore him rather than listen to his "lessons" about the Force and Luke's own place in it. "What would be so terrible about joining me?"

"You're a murderer," Luke had replied, hoping that perhaps being blunt and rude would make Vader leave him alone. He should have known better, of course.

"So are you," Vader had said. His hands had clenched and unclenched, and Luke had tried not to look at them, or remember all the things they had done, good and bad and a mixture of both. "You killed more than one million people with one shot, after all."

"To stop a repetition of Alderaan!" Luke had protested, though he felt a twinge at Vader's words, because they were true; Luke had killed those people, just as surely as Vader had killed Ben. And it had occurred to him, suddenly, disturbingly, that Vader had killed few people Luke knew, while Luke had killed many that Vader had known, having been on the Death Star before its destruction. But he hadn't wanted to think about that, so he'd said, perhaps oversimplifying things, "You're evil."

"I am someone who carries out my duties in a government that was legitimately elected," Vader had countered. "You are a terrorist."

"Freedom fighter!" Luke had snapped.

Vader had snorted. "That is only rhetoric you use to make yourself feel better about what you do. But what I have told you about deluding yourself? Do not be fooled by words and pretty ideals, Luke; every blow to the Empire that you have struck was committing an act of terrorism against the legitimate government of the galaxy. Cling to your perception of having the moral high ground, if you like, but do not expect me to indulge you."

That had not made Luke feel better about himself.

And there was this, still, this bond between them, amplified by physical contact, of which Vader took constant advantage.

"Tell me, young one," Vader was saying now, almost idly, "what would you do if I let you leave?"

His hands were massaging the tenseness out of Luke's neck and shoulders--tenseness that he ironically both caused and relieved. Though Luke kept wanting to lunge away, because he knew what this kind of thing would lead to, had led to once before already, he stayed still, because moving would cause Vader's grip on him to tighten, and he wouldn't be able to get away. And Vader was surprisingly good at this...

"Wonder what your ulterior motive was," Luke said promptly, resisting the urge to twist around and look Vader in the face, because it wouldn't do him any good; the mask gave nothing away. "Then stop on some uninhabited planet or moon to check for tracking devices."

"And then you would go back to your Rebellion?"

Luke blinked. "Of course," he replied. "Whatever you say about it, it's right. The Empire is oppressive."

"I have asked you before about ruling the galaxy with me," Vader said, thoughtfully, almost quietly. His thumbs dug into Luke's shoulders, and Luke suppressed the relaxed sigh that was threatening to escape. "We can change things. If you do not like something about the way the Emperor runs the galaxy, we can be rid of him, and fix it."

"How long before we're just like him?" Luke demanded, but gently. There was something, flowing across their connection--Vader was in earnest. Suddenly Luke wondered how long Vader had been dreaming of this, of taking the galaxy in his hands and sharing it with someone he cared about. And Luke knew that Vader did care about him; it was understated, perhaps, but it tinged every emotion Vader sent to him, and it was undeniable.

That Vader should have dreams like everyone else in the galaxy--and Luke himself--and that so much of what he had done was in pursuit of his dreams...Luke could not help but sympathize, though he knew he shouldn't, that he should be thinking of Vader as the enemy, and that was the only way he could survive this with his spirit intact.

"We do not have to be," Vader said. The hands stopped massaging, and one of them started drifting down his back, tracing his spine through the material of his shirt. "When we rule, we will be able to choose what we want to be."

Arching his back slightly, and trying to hold onto his train of thought, Luke asked, "Where is the line drawn? If circumstances force us past it, how will we rationalize our actions, and where will the new line be drawn? It's a slippery slope, and I want no part of it. The Force gives us strength that's too easily abused if we're in power."

"You do not trust yourself?"

"No," Luke replied frankly. "Isn't that what you're counting on, with doing this whole thing?" He waved a hand to encompass their position. "Something the Alliance told us, several times, is that anyone can be broken."

"Even you," Vader said, the words having an almost questioning lilt, but Luke knew them for what they were: a promise. The other hand started moving down his side, pausing a moment on his hip, and then moving again.

"Yes," Luke said, and anticipation started burning in his stomach with every centimeter that hand moved, even as he was mentally cursing himself for that anticipation--This is my father so stop feeling like that and concentrate! He mentioned letting me go! Think about that instead! "I don't know what my breaking point is, but I have one. Though I think it's higher than you might think."

"Perhaps," Vader replied. "Perhaps not. We shall see."

"I'm not going to lose myself," Luke said, defiantly, despite the hands caressing his body, lifting his shirt away, brushing across his skin. Let me go, let me go, let me go.

Then the hand on his back moved, coming around to cup his cheek, deceptively gentle. "And I," Vader replied, his voice hard but with a barely noticeable undertone of sadness, "am not going to lose. What did I tell you about thinking?"

The hand passed over his groin, and he gasped, but held to his thoughts. "The first time was a surprise, and the others don't matter because I never consciously agreed without you doing stuff first--never mind that if you're my father, you shouldn't be doing it anyway. I'm not going to let you win so easily." And he dove into that calm center he'd first found with Yoda's help, where serenity washed over him like a deep-running river. The first time Vader had touched him, he'd been so surprised that he hadn't thought to reach for the Force until his concentration was so frayed he could do nothing with it; but he was forewarned now, and his rediscovery of that well of serenity inside him was most of what kept him from succumbing to Vader's seduction.

"I'm your teacher as well as your father," Vader said harshly, the hand on Luke's cheek now forcing him to turn around and face Vader. "And even as your father, you live only because of me. You are mine."

And Vader fought against Luke, sent flurries of emotion across their bond, and blasts of desire and frustration and anger and pleasure swirled around him, but were unable to get across the barrier of peace he'd erected around himself. Still some things leaked through, and he felt himself begin to harden, beneath his pants and Vader's hand. But he closed his eyes and ground his teeth and felt for the Force around him, refusing to give in.

"You can't separate teacher and father so easily," Luke retorted, keeping himself still, trying not to buck up into Vader's touch. "And maybe you've given me life, but I am my own and no one else's! What you're doing is a perversion of what we could have shared!"

Something in Vader seemed slightly shaken at that, but Luke could only tell because of the intensity of their link right then, and even that small hesitation was gone before Luke could look at it properly. Then Vader's hand closed around Luke's erection and squeezed, sending jolts of desire straight to Luke's brain; but Luke thought of the possibility of leaving and forced himself not to react.

It would be easy, he told himself, to let him in, and let him get me off. And it would feel wonderful, just like the last time, and the time before that, and the first time. I know it would. But that's not a reason to give in, because I refuse to be hedonistic, and it would just be wrong, as everything he's done to me has been. Here's my choice, between what is easy and what is right, and I'm making it.

And Vader seemed to sense something of his resolution, for he sighed, and lifted his hand away--both hands, and the connected between them dwindled. Something in Luke cried out at the loss, but it was a small part, and the rest of him was heaving a mental sigh of relief.

"You are too stubborn for your own good," Vader told him. "You would be safer with me than with your Rebellion, and you would be treated well. You could have anything you wanted. To squander such a gift..." He sighed explosively.

But Luke blinked. Was there an undertone of resignation to those words? The bond between them was diminished, and Vader's shields were up, so Luke could not tell for sure, but he thought so. "What are you saying?" he asked, carefully shoving away any expectations, trying not to remember his hopes at Vader's earlier words of letting him leave.

"We have unfinished business," Vader said. "Perhaps it would be more fruitful if you were given time to think." Then he added, as if in afterthought, "I have every confidence that you will choose correctly, and take up your destiny at my side."

Luke's eyes widened, and he took a step backwards. "Are you letting me go?" he asked, almost not daring to hope, and definitely ignoring the strange pang in his chest at the thought. To not be so divided anymore, with most of me against that Darkening part of me that enjoyed what he did...

"We have unfinished business," Vader repeated. "Sooner or later, you will seek me out; of this I am quite sure. You cannot do otherwise."

"You're letting me go," Luke said, a statement this time, because surely Vader could not mean anything else.

"Only because I know you will come back of your own free will," Vader said, then placed his hands on Luke's shoulders and sending one last, strong burst of emotion through the bond; but it was many feelings rolled up into one, and Luke could not separate them enough to identify any. "Yes, I am letting you go."

---

"He let you go," Madine said, disbelievingly. "Just like that. He kept you for a week and then he let you go?"

"You must admit that it sounds far-fetched," Rieekan added. "How do you know that he didn't add a tracker to you or your ship?"

"I looked," Luke said, with more patience than he felt. He just wanted this to be over with, but already the story that he had been captured by Darth Vader and gotten away was making its way across the ship, and he couldn't deny the summons from the Council to explain. At least he'd managed to see Wedge first, and assure him that he was all right. "Before I came here, I stopped on an uninhabited moon and made sure that there were no tracking devices."

"Then why did he let you go?" Madine asked. "We know how much he wanted you. So why let you leave, when he finally had you?"

"It's...a Force thing," Luke said, reluctantly. "He wanted me both to take me as his apprentice and to make sure I don't become a Jedi. But when I refused to turn, he said he was going to let me think about things, and that he knew I would come back to him eventually, of my own free will."

"Will you?" Admiral Ackbar, who had been silent until now, asked. The others in the room affected disinterested expressions, but Luke knew they were paying intense attention. He could feel the strength in each gaze, settled on him.

Will I? But Luke knew the answer. He had been happy to be free, but he had not expected that he would feel so...empty. But he couldn't say that. "I must," he said simply. "I am a Jedi, and he is a Dark Lord of the Sith. I don't think we can avoid each other. I'll find him again, eventually, but I won't do what he expects. I won't fall."

I have to find him again. I have to find out--what's to become of us. This power struggle of ours...who will win, in the end?

Madine looked suspicious. "I still can't believe that you were in Vader's clutches for a week, and came out untouched," he said, and Luke stiffened at the implication.

"Not all scars are visible," he replied, very softly. "Would that I had been untouched..."

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he knew they were blazing with too much emotion. Madine looked taken aback.

There was silence in the room, as none of the Councilors seemed able to speak.

But Luke took a deep breath, controlled himself, and said, "I am still proud to be a soldier in the Alliance, and to continue the fight against the Empire." Terrorism or not, it was right, and he knew it; the Force, and his own conscience, told him so. "And I am still a Jedi."

The Councilors looked at each other, then finally Mothma spoke. "Thank you, Commander Skywalker," she said, with a minute smile. "We are incredibly glad that you have returned to us, and relatively unscathed. But you have undoubtedly gone through an ordeal, and I believe some officially sanctioned leave would do you good. You said you wanted to go to Tatooine for Captain Solo, did you not?"

"Yes," he said. Tatooine...where Leia was, now. He wanted to see her again, desperately--she always had the ability to make him feel better, whole somehow, and he needed that, right now. There was such an empty place inside him, where that overwhelming connection had once been.... How short-sighted of him, not to realize that being let leave would mean the loss of that bond, yet another thing that he would have to come to terms with. "And I would like to finish my training."

He had made a promise to Yoda, that he would return, and he kept his promises. Vader, and their unfinished business, could wait.

"Very well," Mothma said, and rose to her feet. Luke stood up as well. "Please join us again whenever you can. We will always welcome you."

Luke smiled--he did still have a place here, and that was good to know. He wouldn't mar that nice feeling by wondering why no one asked why Vader was going to the trouble of trying to turn him rather than simply killing him....

"Thank you," he said, and saluted. Then he left.

He was already on his way to Tatooine, away from the press of people constantly asking questions he didn't know how to answer, when he let himself think again, but there was only one thing on his mind.

He let me go, he thought, watching the star lines blur past him. He didn't have to. I know I couldn't have lasted forever, and if he'd kept me, he would have had me. Well, had me more than he already did.

And Luke had to shiver at that, because Vader had had him. Almost every part of him. So many times had Luke been close to giving in...and even now, he missed that bond, the distance now between them too great for it to be felt. It had been so much a part of him that week that its absence hurt, worse than the cleaving of his hand, which had been a part of him longer than had his connection to his father. But that connection had been so deeply entwined with his emotions that he couldn't feel anything without feeling it as well. It was disturbing how quickly and easily he had gotten used to it, and now it was so strange to have it suddenly ripped away.

And thoughts of the bond led to thoughts of what had been done with the bond, how absolutely inside him Vader had been. That intensity of feeling--it had been so easy to drown in, to lose himself, and perhaps he now was like an addict in withdrawal, because he wanted almost nothing more than to have that connection back again. His well of serenity apparently hadn't helped him as much as he thought, if he could be feeling so bereft right now.

This is what he wants, he thought, with a strange prickling running straight down his spine. He wants me to think about him, and miss him, and want him back, want to be back with him. To feel again, what I felt before, what I'll probably never feel again--

There was a sharp pain, at that, the idea that never again would he know the kind of pleasure he'd received from his father's hands, for with no one else had he had that deep connection, not even Leia.

Stop it! he snarled at himself. He's your father, or don't you remember? That's incest you're remembering right now, and it's not exactly a good thing!

But he should not be getting so angry with himself; his feelings could betray him. He touched the Force then, letting its refreshing coolness wash over him, letting it carry away his anger and disgust and doubts and regrets and dissipate them.

There is still good in him, Luke thought, and from the Force an agreement seemed to come. He'd said it before, about interrogation--pain breaks, and he could have used that. But he didn't. Though perhaps what he did was worse, because it was pain of a different sort, to have had that pleasure and then had it so summarily taken away--

And it was unwilling, don't forget that, he reminded himself sharply. It was never something I agreed to. Don't waste time on stupid things you shouldn't be regretting, because they're wrong--be proud, instead, that you didn't give in. Be happy that he let you go. And he was that, at least. And that there should still be some good in his father...

There's so much that he could have done to me, and didn't, and he is letting me decide things for myself. He wouldn't do that, would he, if he was completely gone?

But whether he would or not, Luke had to hope. He was going to see Vader again, he couldn't not, and when he did--

If I could turn things around, try to turn him, instead of him turning me, then I could have him again, and have our bond, and not be evil. But something else inside him whispered, You couldn't have him the same way, though--it was only his Darkness that let him do what he did--and you must have Darkness, too, if you enjoyed it at all. Good fathers don't have sex with their sons, and good sons don't want them to. You'll never have that again, unless you go back to him and ask him for it. And don't deny that you want to; I know you do. Everything he did to you felt so good...

Luke took a deep breath, and let it out. Yes, he acknowledged to himself, it had felt good. Incredibly good. And he probably would never feel that good again. Though it was disgusting, because it was his father, one of the people who gave him life, and though he was horrified at himself for feeling almost regretful, the horror could not get rid of that feeling completely.

It was like coming to terms with his father's identity all over again, with shock and despair that this was his father, but still a seed of happiness, that at least there now was a father in the first place, and not even the despair could kill that seed. And now there was this horror and disgust at what Vader had done to him and how he himself had responded, but not even they could quash the remembered pleasure...

But he was a Jedi, and he would be a Jedi. He was free, and alive, and Light, which was all he'd struggled for, that week with Vader. But Vader had struggled, too, and had succeeded at least in part if Luke was still having these thoughts and almost-regrets.

And, looking back on their week-long confrontation, he still had one question he wasn't sure would ever be answered.

Who won?

END

Home Fiction Adult Fiction Art Mail List Staff Links