Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Luke never called Vader 'dad', before he even knew the truth, he was always 'father', very sophisticated and polite, hoping the word could convey all the respect he felt for the man. And to anyone who asked about him, it would always be 'father'. On Tatooine the languages were mixed, English mixed with Huttese and then the slave language. Luke met several other children, some who preferred the normal language to others who preferred Huttese, 'dad.', 'beej' and 'daddy' were the titles most often used by them, and rarely did they use 'father', only when in trouble and embarrassed by being caught in the act, in Biggs' case. He can't remember if at any point in his childhood he had called him such a colloquial term, Aunt Beru said it was because he was a very polite boy and Uncle Owen said he was very intelligent. Luke felt that neither, but for the fact that that word meant a lot to him.

'Father' escaped his mouth too quickly after Bespin, when Vader reached out his hand to him and bounded into his mind, dragging his cold presence against Luke's confused presence. But that word had turned ashes in his mouth for too long, erasing it from his dictionary and for too long in the silence of his mind and in the whispers he murmured to himself after a nightmare, he had called him 'Vader' or 'Lord Vader' and when he could barely digest his dream and his lips trembled after stifling a sob it was just 'him'. They didn't have a meaning behind it or a story behind the name, just a brief title for someone Luke didn't recognise as his kin. And it worked for a while, he had acquired a new hand and his plan for Han's rescue was in the final details and slowly his new lightsaber was coming out of scribbles of crumpled paper and taking shape. The rehearsed speeches from his father that plagued their bond was replaced by silent pleas and then desperate pleas to accept his fate and that was when 'Vader' and 'he' became wrong. 

And the more Vader begged him to accept the Dark Side, there was guilt running his father, slow and literal, sometimes Vader would let slip a silent apology for the bond and just as apology escaped the Dark Lord's mind, it became hard to avoid speaking 'father', even if shouted at himself in imaginary dialogues he had with Vader. 

'Father' re-emerged in his mouth, quieter and more mature, not so young and naive anymore, with a spark of hope in the title every time he sensed Vader's desire to be at Luke's side. After that, Luke was sure he loved him and could feel a small, isolated flame of kindness in his father. 

Luke loved his father, based much of his life on Anakin's, followed in his footsteps and learned from his mistakes. So he learned and honoured, trying to protect a legacy left to him. 'Father' was honourable and respectful, yet loving and gentle, yet firm and hopeful. Vader was Luke's father. 

He observed how his friends called their fathers; Biggs was 'dad' or 'buddy' and respectfully 'father' when he needed to use it. Biggs loved his dad too much, no matter how many times they disagreed with his world views. Luke respected this in Biggs and everything else that made up his friend. He was loyal and cunning, a well of energy and a sneaky way to be, but as true to his beliefs as a devout follower to pantheon of gods. And on the darkest days, Luke avoided thinking about Biggs and his father, not wanting death to suck those memories out of Luke. 

Han, on the other hand, wouldn't mention his family and childhood, and Luke understood that well, there were certain things that needed time to be heard out loud, but on the rare occasions Han gave glimpses of his past, he would refer to his father as ''my old man'' in a mocking tone and ''father'' in a rude and savage way, and Luke never contradicted him, he would just watch Han and then deflect the subject, trying to get his friend out of his dark thoughts. Han Solo was a pilot, a hero, a former smuggler, an acquaintance, a friend and an older brother to Luke. As he sat in the Falcon and touched the controls in the cockpit and closed his eyes, he was teleported to another time; Chewbacca's grumbles in the background as he fixed the entry door, Han sitting in the pilot's chair, sloppy and arrogant as ever, the smell of oil, paint and smoke being his trademark and Luke would hear his smile even from afar as he bragged about one of his many adventures. He couldn't wait for the time when he could have those moments with Han again. 

Leia shared many stories about her parents, about Alderaan and about her childhood to Luke, confiding only to him, a protector of the happiest moments of her life. To Leia Organa, her father was 'papa', at times when she needed to be the general of the Alliance he was 'father', with so much affection and respect overflowing from her, but he always remained 'papa'.  She would tell him of the weekly picnics she and her parents held in the palace gardens, she would talk about the many times she hid in her father's office so she could spend time with him and she would remember the stories about the peoples of Alderaan that her mother told her and Bail Organa would tell her about the many princesses and warriors of Alderaan who fought for peace and democracy to a little Leia at bedtime. Leia, with her brown eyes and round nose, would tell her quietly with a smile on her face ''They were everything to me. My mama and my papa. I want to honour their legacy.'' and Luke would reply promptly, aware of her words and faithful that they were true. ''You have already honoured them. Leia, they should be very proud of you.'' Leia had already mentioned being adopted casually and Luke never asked about her birth parents because he knew her well enough to know what the answer was and in the end he would always know who she was. Leia Organa, daughter of Breha and Bail Organa. Luke wished that when the war was over, he and Leia could sit alone at night, him braiding her hair while listening intently to Leia teaching him to speak the ancient language of Alderaan. 

When Luke murmured 'father' to Vader in that small hospital room, holding his father's prosthetic hand and waiting silently for him to wake up, it sounded wrong to his ears - it wasn't like before as ash in his mouth - it just felt like the wrong term to him at that moment. He calls him that because it means respect and honours his father and shows how much he loves him. Luke calls again, lower and more hesitant, but the Force ripples, negatively in response. 

The word is on the roof of his mouth, very small and simple - very casual and different too, he rolls the word across his mouth and speaks from behind his mental shields, frowning as he keeps his fingers entwined in Vader's. 'Dad' sounds wrong, but simultaneously right as if 'dad' could mean so much more than 'father', it's almost as if they both have the same meaning and the same term for the same person. He feels awkward as he tries to pronounce it, and all around him, the Force seems to crackle with impatience, as if it wishes it could hear it coming out of Luke's mouth. 

He holds his father's fingers tighter and hopes that the same feeling he carries when he speaks 'father' will be the same when he calls Vader 'dad' and hopes that it doesn't dishonour his father's image. 

Anakin Skywalker is his father. So Luke calls him, "Dad.' 

Chapter Text

''I'm fine, Father,'' Luke says, taking care to keep his expression neutral. His father had not given the androids any opportunity to touch him. 

Father keeps his eyes fixed on Luke, studying him closely, inspecting his face, shoulders, arms and legs. Luke does not move throughout the inspection, quietly watching his father. ''Father.'' Luke calls out, hoping his tone would show that he, indeed, was well and unharmed from injury. 

''Son.'' Vader acknowledges, turning away from Luke harshly, nodding in satisfaction after his inspection. ''I'm glad you're alright.'' His father says. 

It is Luke's turn to nod, his clear eyes watching the shattered, mechanical bodies of the androids on the ground, wires sparking in different areas of their bodies. 

Luke has faced several opponents throughout his life and most of the time come out victorious. He may not have had the most conventional training but he still possessed one, he was always quick and cunning in battles and had excellent escape plans when he needed them. So he considered himself someone who could handle his problems on his own. 

A group of androids surrounding him didn't scare him, he was ready to draw his saber and fight them, it wouldn't be the first time he resorted to fighting, and with his father by his side they would be over even quicker. 

However, he never needed to turn on the ignition of his saber and fight an opponent, not when his father would push him back with his own lightsaber access and slash with exquisite skill at the body of Luke's approaching android. 

The battle or extermination that occurred unfolded before his eyes abruptly. Luke did not notice the moment it ended, only blinking in surprise. 

Luke can feel his father's veiled eyes on him, his posture is tense but slowly seems to be relaxing the more time passes. He has never doubted his father's abilities and knows all too well the brutal and rough way he fights, but watching his father crushing android heads with his boots or using the Force hoisting them into the air and then throwing them hard into a wall, the nauseating sound of crushing filling the air.  And to have seen it happen as a mere observer was a lot. His father was not to be underestimated. 

With each passing moment Luke feels vulnerable under his father's gaze and searches his tongue for words to speak, to lighten the mood, to distract his mind, but his mouth remains firmly closed. 

Father lowers his gaze, tilting his masked head and his gloved fingers go soft, no longer locked in a hard, firm grip. Luke thinks he might have heard the metal of the prosthetic thanking him for freeing himself from his father's iron grip. 

''Let's go home.'' Father says, turning around, the black cape snapping dramatically past several dead androids. 

Luke doesn't know yet why he feels so lost, but he nods distractedly, trying to take his attention away from the black liquid that begins to drip onto the floor. 

Father walks very calmly, his silent steps passing through the corridors could show how powerful and strong his father was, but with each step he took, his hands opened and closed, then repeated the movement, as if the anger from the battle had not yet evaporated. 

Luke stumbles forward, dodging a hand in the way, and runs to catch up with his father's broad strides, managing to catch up to his father and taking his place beside Vader. Father held strong control of his emotions, then he no longer possessed and his anger took over his entire being. 

And all this out of control caused due to the androids surrounding Luke. 

Luke couldn't explain what he was feeling, relief that he was alive, yes, and he had no resentment for the androids being dead, however, all that anger that his father released because he was in danger baffled him. Father protected him. 

And that was all Luke had ever wanted as a child, to possess a father who would protect him when there was the mere sign of Luke being in danger - it was Luke's dream.  And to have witnessed that up close was overwhelming. 

His father's harsh breathing, brought him out of his thoughts and Luke's eyes travelled to his father's hands, still twitching with each step, brushing against his father's cloak every time he slid back and then forward again. Just as having a father protecting him from the cruelties of the world was Luke's dream, being able to have his father's hand to hold was also one of those dreams.  

Luke feels a wave of courage taking over him. He reaches out his own human hand and shyly slides it into his father's, feeling he has crossed an invisible line. 

The pace of his father's steps slow down until his father's tall figure stops in his tracks and Luke feels very embarrassed and an apology begins to take over his mouth, already beginning to slide his hand out of his father's grip. He doesn't get the chance when his father's bigger, stronger fingers close in on his, careful and gentle, and Luke lightly squeezes Vader's hand lovingly and swallows a happy sigh when his father shakes his hand with equal care and love. 

They both walk back in sync, their hands held permanently in each other's, and Luke cannot observe his father's lips curving upwards hidden behind the mask, but he can feel Vader's smile. 

Luke pretends all the way to his father's personal ship that he was thinking about the repairs he would make together with Han on the Falcon. 

Chapter Text

Of the two, Luke had always been the faster between them, it was so clear from the first time they duelled together. He could dodge Vader's brutal attacks and generate strong blows against Vader, no matter how untrained. With the training and fighting that Luke cultivated over time, it only pointed that fact out. 

Luke is agility and cunning, Vader is fierce and brute strength. 

The training takes place every morning, when the sun begins to shine through the opaque clouds of the sky and the winds are serene, the leaves barely flying how calm the day dawns. They train for a long time, each battle is friendly although each one carries a bet at the crossroads, nothing so dangerous of course, they bet on things so simple they could be considered boring (and indeed it is) but for them it is something worth betting on - who will sweep the floor, who will organise the courtyard after training or who should answer the council's calls for bureaucratic meetings and sit listening for long hours, without cheating of course - this extending to Luke, who always finds a way of not having to listen to the debates and discussions that take place in the calls. 

Luke proves himself a better opponent every day - not that he wasn't before, however, the more he refines his technique, the better he is. He is fast and weaves his movements using his speed as a defence. It becomes more difficult to attack him without his wooden lightsaber skillfully interrupting the attack. 

But Vader still manages to surprise him. Luke doesn't blink or time for it, in fact when he gets close and doesn't feel the warmth emanating from his father as he steps forward and his mechanical arms so strong wrap around his chest, the impact is soft and gentle but Luke is still crushed in his father's embrace. There is a brief hesitation before he disappears and a gloved hand reaches out into the golden threads and tangles his hands there, pressing his head into Vader's mask under his chin and the other hand is planted on his back. 

Luke is surprised, his back raised and both hands are soft at his side and his blue eyes flash in confusion for a few seconds - and those seconds is enough to let Vader begin to regret his decision to hug his son - and those thoughts soon fade as Luke returns the hug; his smaller hands gripping Vader's cloak and burying his face in his father's shoulder. His eyes closing and enjoying the feeling of his father's grip. ''I'm glad you're here, father.'' His hands lightly squeeze his father's black cloak, his hands anchoring themselves into the fabric. 

Vader lowers his head subtly, wishing he could feel the tufts of hair, but he knows it's impossible and just touches the mask to Luke's forehead, hoping he understands what that is supposed to mean, and being the smart boy he is, Luke does. 

''I am too, my son.'' 

Vader is learning to be a father and Luke is learning to have a father around - and there is still so much to unpack, so much to learn and so much to feel - but for now, this hug is enough. 

Chapter Text

In the silent void of a distant galaxy, a Lambda-class shuttle hovered over a deserted moon. Luke Skywalker was inside, studying the control panel with the keen eye of an experienced mechanic, while Darth Vader stood beside him, his mechanical breathing echoing throughout the ship. It was a strange scene, yet it carried a quietness that felt almost natural.

On board, the atmosphere was filled with a restrained tension. Luke, in his pilot jumpsuit with his worn gloves, looked at the control panel with a mix of interest and caution. Darth Vader, in his imposing black armor, watched everything in silence.

“The thrusters are slightly out of alignment,” Luke commented, breaking the silence. “I can feel a slight wobble when making sharp maneuvers.”

Darth Vader turned his head slightly to face his son. His deep, resonant voice filled the space.

“The Lambda model has always had issues with that wobble. The weight of the cabin and the foldable wing design affect stability at speeds over one light unit.”

Luke smiled slightly, surprised by his father's familiarity with technical details.

“I always thought the engineers of the Rebel Alliance were the only ones who noticed that. It seems even the Empire has complaints about the design,” he replied, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Vader paused, his breath still marked by the mechanical sound.

“When you command a fleet, you become intimate with the flaws of your ships,” he stated. “A good commander knows the potential and limitations of their resources.”

Luke nodded, appreciating the wisdom behind those words, even though they came from an Imperial commander.

“When I was training with the Alliance, we used to make adjustments to the X-Wings to increase fuel efficiency and maneuverability,” he said, looking out of the cabin as if he could see through the stars. “It was almost like every pilot had a personal relationship with their ship. We modified them as we wanted, made each one unique.”

“TIE Fighters,” Vader began, interrupting, “are faster and more agile, but they are built for battle in large numbers, not for comfort or customization.”

Luke frowned.

“I always thought that was a strange choice. No shields, no decent life support systems... almost as if the pilots were disposable.”

There was a heavy silence before Vader responded.

“They are,” he finally said. His voice carried no remorse, just a raw acceptance.

Luke took a deep breath.

“But you... you were a great pilot before you became...” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Before you became what you are now.”

Vader looked at his son, and for a moment, Luke saw something more human behind that metal mask.

“I still am,” Vader replied with a firmness, almost as a reminder to himself. “I fought in many battles, even before I became what I am. It was a form of freedom, a way to be in tune with the Force itself.”

Luke nodded, trying to understand. He had always known about the legendary pilot his father had been, but hearing Vader speak of it almost nostalgically was something he hadn’t expected.

“I feel the same way when I’m flying,” Luke said calmly. “It’s like the ship becomes an extension of me, and I can feel every move, every turn, every breath of space around me.”

Vader turned his head again, his helmet reflecting the cabin lights.

“The Force flows through all things, Luke,” he responded. “The ship is just a means to channel it. That’s why Jedi were always good pilots. That’s why you are.”

Luke smiled, feeling an unexpected warmth in his chest.

“Maybe,” he said, still smiling slightly. “But I like to think it’s something I inherited from my father.”

The sound of Vader's breathing seemed to hesitate for a moment, a small burst of humanity escaping for the first time in so long. He turned to Luke.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, and for a moment, it almost seemed like he was smiling beneath the mask.

The two remained silent, looking at the stars in the infinite space, sharing a rare moment of understanding, a brief connection that transcended differences, conflicts, and the shadows that existed between them.

Space continued to be vast and mysterious around them, but for a brief moment, it felt a little less empty.