#they terrorize everyone but they took a liking to piett

[decent-hugs]

The Excusioner was tense, well tended than it normally was with Lord Vader around Piett throught. The twins definitely took after their father. He would would have been lying if he said there wasn’t something unnerving about them. Their father was one thing commanding respect and fear into those under him and delivering a swift end to those who failed him but they were something else entirely. Perhaps it was the waiting, the anticipation to see what the twin devils would do to others who displeased them that truly was the most unnerving, though their ability to enter rooms without making a sound and their constant speaking in unison did not help matters. The children didn’t leave their quarters without their father often but he still saw it happen a few times and watched as the two seemed to stare straight through members of the crew as though they could see their very souls as they went through the corridors. He had never seen them out of sync. Though he doesn’t know if it can be blamed on them he also feels as though something is wrong. Not just the nerves of having two mini Vaders running around or the thought of what their father would do if anything happened to them but almost like he was loosing his own mind. Things would move from where he remembered them being. Or he would forget why he was in a certain part of the ship. Or he would feel eyes on him even when there were none. Or... none of that mattered right now what did was the fact that Luke had wondered into the bridge without his father. Piett was the first to notice the boy who looked as if he may just be a ghost staring out into the stars, he seem to be doing any harm but he’d also hate for the boy to end up under foot of someone who didn’t have the clarity of mind to watch out for either of the children. He walked up to Luke and bent down. This was his first time seeing the boy without his twin. He was unsure of how he was meant to approach speaking to one of the two people to do what Lord Vader had failed to do, truly frighten Piett. “Young lord, May I ask you step out from the doorway?” The boy looked up at him and immediately Piett regretted speaking. The boy seemed to stare into him like he had seen every moment of his existence and was passing a silent but inescapable judgement more absolute than anything had seen from lord Vader. “Can I still watch?” His voice was barely over a whisper and the question itself might have seemed innocent enough coming from any other child but this felt different in a way Piett could not explain as if, if he gave the wrong answer the consequences would be dire. “Yes, but you will need to stay out of people’s paths here,” “alright, where should I stand?” “How about just against the wall to the side here where less people go by?” The boy complied without another word. Returning to his duties Piett tried not to think about the perching gaze and simply focus on the task in front of him. By the time he looked back at Luke he noticed that he was no longer alone. Leia has now joined her brother sitting against the wall watching. Unlike her brother she didn’t seem to be staring at the people around them as if he were death himself, she on the other hand seemed to be very focused on something behind him and had raised her hand in a way that reminded him of her father’s own power but didn’t seem to be effecting anyone in the bridge below or along the upper deck. He turned slowly to see if he could see what the young lady Vader was up to, only to see a data disk be moved from one side of a technician to the other on the deck below and watch them do a double take when they realized the disk had been moved. Piett looked back at the the twins. They both looked at him with sickly sweet smiles that only a fool could mistake as innocent, though at least he knew he wasn’t going mad. Never breaking eye contact Luke and Leia stood up, they joined hands as they both waved in sync at him and walked out. Lord Vader’s children indeed.

[miriannemiri]

Father and Son

@kaelinaloveslomaris gave me a prompt of Vader and Luke surviving RotJ, Vader carrying Luke, and Luke holding Vader’s hand.  (I may have been grumbling about Dreamwalker again.)  So have a ficlet!  It immediately follows a slightly different fight on the second Death Star.

When the Emperor lay dead, headless at the foot of the dais, Vader felt satisfaction, but it was lessened with the guilt he felt for his son, unconscious on the floor.  As gently as he could, he lifted the boy in his arms, using the Force to compensate for his missing hand.  Then he stalked from the throne room.  He'd already ordered his squadron to disengage, so he merely needed to get a shuttle off the station before the Rebels did the Galaxy a favor by destroying it.

Though he knew Luke would prefer to return to the Rebellion, Vader was practical.  That wasn't an option when his son was unconscious and needed medical attention sooner rather than later.  They both needed care, and he could ensure that his people provided it.  If he took Luke to the Rebels, he'd be lucky if they both weren't shot on sight.

No one got in their way as he stalked through the station; everyone was too distracted by their desperate efforts to survive, to protect the Emperor’s prized technological terror, and he had every right to be there.  He took his personal shuttle, both for the fact that it was the fastest and for the medical supplies he kept on it, reluctant concession to his poor health and the state Palpatine had left him in for decades.

Once he had the shuttle on autopilot approach to the Executor, he did what he could for his son. The rest would have to wait for a real medic.  Fortunately, Piett had not withdrawn far, just far enough to make it clear he had no intention of continuing the fight.  With other ships still actively engaged in shooting at them, the Rebels had respected that and left Death Squadron alone.  The shuttle landed in the hangar undisturbed by the battle still waging behind it.

Piett hadn’t come down to meet him, so Vader assumed he was still running things from the bridge.  Another reason that Piett was more competent than so many of Vader’s prior officers.  Normally, Vader would head the the bridge to join the admiral, regardless of his own injuries, but his son took priority.  Any orders he needed to give would have to come from medical.

Again, he lifted his son and carried the boy with care.  The corridors of his flagship were much calmer than the passages of the Death Star, but he still passed without anyone stopping him.  This was his ship, and its people knew better.

In medical, he gave explicit orders for Luke’s care before reluctantly leaving the boy to the best medic for a short time.  Luke needed a bacta soak, and Vader needed care, too.  For all that he’d prefer to stand guard over his son until the boy woke, if Luke saw him with his prosthetic arm still damaged, the boy would not react well.

Fortunately, Vader had a spare prosthetic tucked away, one of several he’d designed as he hunted his son.  He’d been intending to replace the substandard ones the Emperor had inflicted on him before killing his master, when he’d still thought he could win Luke to his side.  He’d given up that plan after Bespin, but it seemed he and Luke had, somehow, still managed to work together well enough for Palpatine to die.

Swapping prosthetics was a quick process provided the patient did not mind a higher pain level.  Vader didn’t, so he was back with his son before the boy came out of his bacta bath.  He was the one to settle Luke carefully into a hospital bed, where he could continue to recover under the supervision of both the medics and his father.

That was where Piett found Vader, a few hours later.  The Rebels had won the battle, and Piett wanted orders.  The Rebels had not, thus far, turned on Death Squadron, but Piett wanted to know if that situation was likely to change or if Vader wanted to change it himself.  The order to withdraw had puzzled the admiral, as Death Squadron might have changed the outcome of the battle, but he’d obeyed it.  He trusted Vader to know what he was doing, even when his plans made no sense from the outside.

“Death Squadron is largely undamaged,” Piett added.  “Your order to withdraw came in good time for our ships.”

“Contact the Rebel High Command,” Vader ordered.  “Arrange a ceasefire, subject to later negotiations.  The Emperor is dead.  This is not surrender,” he added sharply.  “Merely a temporary cessation of hostilities that may develop into a truce.”  Much of that, of course, would depend on Luke, but he hoped his son would appreciate the gesture for what it was.

“Do you wish me to ask them if they will negotiate with us?  Or should I wait for you to be ready to speak with them personally?”  Piett’s eyes fell on Luke for a moment, but he quickly returned his attention to Vader.

“Wait,” Vader ordered.  “Tell them the ceasefire may lead to negotiations, but do not make arrangements yet.  I will do so later.”

Piett nodded and left, not asking awkward questions or hovering or needing his hand held.  No, Vader did not regret replacing Ozzel with someone much more competent.

When the admiral was gone, Vader took a seat at his son’s bedside.  He would watch over the child as long as it took; Luke would come to no further harm under his father’s care.  Vader would make sure of that.

Though he had not intended to, he must have slipped into sleep at some point.  The fight had exhausted him, and despite replacing his prosthetic, he had not gotten all the care the medics would have recommended.

Gradually, he drifted back to awareness, his waking far more peaceful than he had experienced in years, perhaps even before he’d Fallen.

There was peace all around him, warmth and affection that were unfamiliar and baffling but welcome.  Gradually, he realized he could feel a small hand in his, the new prosthetic far more sensitive to touch than the old had been.

He opened his eyes to find Luke was holding his hand, watching him.

“Father.”

“My son.”