Trigger Warnings: torture, needles, abuse, slavery, and blood.

Active Headcanons: trans Luke, autistic Force sensitives

Luke's head lolled as he was shoved roughly into the single chair in the familiar metal room. Slumping immediately, too weak to support himself, he looked back at the guards in silent confusion. He didn't understand why they did this. Each time his father brought himself to visit the prison, they would scrub Luke furiously from head to toe, force him into a new uniform, and prop him up in his cell, which would also be cleaned.

Perhaps, to them, it made more of a difference. Perhaps they truly couldn't see what was glaringly obvious to Luke, what he knew his father saw as well.

No matter how hard they tried to support him, bandaging his chest until it was properly flat again, practically putting him in a full body splint, his father would know what had happened.

His father would enter, look Luke up and down, and look around the cell. His eyes would be drawn to a patch of misery, a marker of where Luke slept, huddled behind the chair. Luke thought that his blood had stained the floor there, but it was hard for him to be sure of anything.

Hovering on the edge of death, the Force showed him in confusingly vague but certain detail the imprints left on the galaxy. The universe was pressingly close, vying for his attention. The cries of other prisoners echoed in his mind, in his ears, despite the thick, suffocating walls of the cell. The light of the galaxy was too bright, never properly darkened, no matter how deep the blackness of his cell. His own pain resonated from not just his present, aching body, but from the past, and the future.

To Luke's eyes, the blood of many beings stained this empty cell.

But when he thought back, to being dragged in here, kicking and fighting, he didn't remember it.

The door opened, and he suddenly realized that his guards had vanished. Sometimes the galaxy did that, as well. Unimportant things came and went without notice, moving him, harming him, disappearing again.

For now, though, there was something pressingly important again, and he struggled to take a proper breath, and sit up, looking up at his father.

Vader looked at his son for a moment, his gaze slipping from Luke's bruised face, down to his bare feet, before looking around the cell.

When the routine look was over, he stepped in, the door shutting sharply behind him as he walked towards Luke.

Immediately, Luke felt his limbs begin to tremble, and he sucked back a gasp as his father's presence brushed against his, blinding and agonizing. He felt as if his body and soul was inflamed, infected.

It was a routine pain, usually.

But Vader threw everything into such stark contrast, his own form constant, and unfeeling.

"You have not yet died," Vader commented without emotion, lifting Luke's human hand with two fingers, turning it over, and laying it in his palm for investigation.

Luke shook his head, his gaze never leaving his father's mask, even as his hand twitched, reflexively curling as he tried to keep it still.

It wasn't his fault, he remembered, trying to contain his fear and pain. It wasn't. He'd been…

"You've been through hell," Vader said. The words were as familiar and reassuring as they were functionally useless.

Nonetheless, tears prickled in Luke's eyes, and he squeezed them shut, nodding. His throat seemed squeezed shut, and he struggled to swallow, still not wanting his father to see him cry.

"Did you sleep last night?" Vader asked, cupping Luke's cheek in his palm, and brushing away a stray tear.

Luke managed a slight shrug, biting his lower lip in an effort to keep it from trembling. It was always like this, always a battle of their wills as Vader tried to weaken him, to pry him open and force him to divulge everything.

"Was it much?" Vader asked, tipping Luke's head up to face his mask, although Luke's eyes remained closed. Eye contact was a formality, and one Vader happily ignored.

Luke took a ragged breath, before shaking his head.

Of course it wasn't much. It was never much; it never could be much. His mind was never peaceful enough for proper sleep, and the galaxy wouldn't shut up. He would lie in the dark, curled up on the floor for hours before he could glimpse sleep, and would be woken all too early by lights, and commotion.

Before interrogation.

Suddenly, the galaxy exploded in pain again, his mind crystalizing for a moment of perfect, fragile calm as he found the source. A new interrogation was beginning. A new prisoner.

He gagged, rocking forwards despite the stiff bindings that gave the illusion of strength.

Vader caught him, and he hovered uselessly, heaving.

The stranger was etched in his mind, the moment at which their life was abruptly broken, forcing them into their new reality, the one Luke shared with them. He saw a face, frozen in panic and agony, but he didn't know if it was their face, or one of the hundreds of others he had seen tortured, or even his own, twisted by his lack of memory.

With their pain, the dams burst, and pain poured in from all sides, threatening to drown Luke, trauma struggling to be released as he sat before his father, trying to be strong.

"Do you want it to end?" Vader asked.

Luke choked, trying to lean into his father's arms, longing for personal protection.

Instead, Vader offered a needle, one Luke recognized immediately from his other visits. He knew that it would temporarily shut off the Force, allowing him a few hours of silence, to focus on his father.

Luke nodded, and began to roll up his sleeve with shaky hands, revealing his veins, prominent with the lack of nourishment. Vader pressed his thumb to Luke's arm, and Luke looked away, sucking in a breath as the needle slipped into his skin, and Vader injected him with the contents.

Slowly, the galaxy faded away, leaving only Luke; a lost, helpless boy; and Vader, his distant, terrifying father.

Trembling, Luke looked up, drawing a deep breath as he looked around the cell, trying to comprehend its size and blankness. There was no blood. No way of seeing, and knowing beyond the walls. The galaxy was finally left to deal with itself, and he was finally free of it.

Shaking at the sudden freedom, Luke tried to get to his feet, to walk to the walls, and touch them, verify that they were real, and finally protecting him.

The moment weight was placed on his feet, however, his legs buckled, and he teetered back into the chair. Immediately, Vader caught him, helping him back to his feet. Desperately trying not to think of his father's supportive arms, Luke stumbled to the wall, pressing his hand to it, and then his other hand, and finally his cheek to its cool, flat surface. Nothing would enter, nothing could distract him from finally being with his father. Just as he would never leave these walls.

He was home.

Finally, he pushed himself back from the wall, turning back to look at his father, "Thank you."

"If you wished, it could remain like this permanently," Vader intoned calmly, leading Luke back to his seat.

Closing his eyes, and allowing his father to guide him the short walk back, Luke shook his head, feeling sick again immediately, "No, I can't… I couldn't…"

He felt blindly for the seat, and clumsily sat, leaning against his father's chest.

"Luke," Vader rumbled, "You know that unless you agree to join me, the Emperor may see fit to deny these visits at any time."

Luke shook his head, trying to force Vader away, "I can't!"

Vader withdrew, leaving Luke tottering in the chair, unable to support himself. "You know that what occurs is your own choice."

Luke felt his lip trembling again, and squeezed his eyes tighter, until colours swirled before them. "I do," he choked out.

Softly, almost lovingly, Vader's fingers caressed Luke's cheek, before his thumb dug into a deep, dark bruise on Luke's temple.

Luke tried to regulate his breathing, struggling not to show his pain, although his head spun suddenly, his heart unused to pumping blood through an upright body. Feeling Vader's fingers tracing another bruise, he wondered if his heart would ever beat strongly enough for that again.

Vader's fingers dug in again, and Luke allowed himself a small exhale. His father was near, he reminded himself. The galaxy was silent for once, and his father stood before him.

Ignoring the pain, he forced himself to open his eyes, looking up at Vader, trying to take in the huge form of the Sith.

His father.

It was impossible to imagine, he thought, tensing as an interrogation droid rose from the floor, and approached, jabbing a needle into his arm. That man, the monstrous creature who haunted the dreams of a galaxy… had once been the father of a toddler.

If he had found Luke then, how different would it have been?

Luke convulsed as the droid's injection began to take hold of his body. It would have been so… easy…

Vader's hands were on his shoulders, pulling him from his chair, and throwing him to the floor. His head connecting with the cement, Luke saw stars, and the droid hovering directly in front of his face.

His… his father was so strong, he would have held him… Love and protection in every motion, every second they spent together.

There was another blow, and he curled, trying to hide himself. He was crying freely now, but it didn't matter. Vader knew he couldn't be expected not to during torture. He'd put in his effort, holding back tears while he'd still been in control of his body.

For a long moment, there was silent peace, and Luke began to relax, before a horrible stabbing in his back shattered the moment, and he sucked air helplessly. Automatically, Luke began to reach for his father, before tugging his arms close against his chest again, trying to shut out his need for his parent. Vader didn't appreciate being asked for help during torture. The point was that Luke had his opportunity to give in, and then could accept defeat at any time.

It was only kindness that gave Luke the opportunity to be held before his beatings.

Nothing but simple torture was required of Vader, yet the Sith would arrive early, and hold Luke in his arms, offer him safety…

Luke involuntarily opened his mouth, looking up at Vader. It would be so easy! Just agree to go with Vader, to train as a Sith, to finally be safe…

He wished that he could sense the lives around him. The reminder of what hung in the balance kept him from making choices that would harm others.

It felt good to be free of the responsibility.

But it made it seem so easy to escape, and it truly wasn't.

The droid jerked at his spine again, and he clung to the floor uselessly. It should have been easy. He only wanted his father. He still had trouble believing that that was too much to ask, but it evidently was.

"Father?" he whispered, not expecting, or wishing his father to hear it.

Vader knelt, however, supporting his head, "Yes, Luke?"

Luke gaped at him, his heart clattering as the droid paused in its work, implements still stuck into Luke's back. He…. He…

He scooted closer to his father, pressing his head into Vader's bicep, the droid dragged along behind him, twinging.

"Little one," Vader said, supporting Luke gently, "You could leave this behind."

Luke shook his head, sniffling. He couldn't leave this behind if it meant plunging others into it. If it meant the potential imprisonment of Han and Leia.

He put his arms around Vader's neck, wincing as it interfered with the droid's probes.

Vader waved it off, cradling Luke in his arms, "I cannot free you."

Luke nodded, feeling tears on his cheeks again, his chest heaving as he clung to his father. He tried not to cry, always hiding his pain and fear from the older man, but they had slipped out at last, and it was freeing, in a way.

Vader's hands found the tears in his uniform, and his fingers ran over Luke's back, feeling the wounds inflicted over weeks of interrogation.

Trembling as Vader traced a long lash mark, Luke clung tighter to his father, pressing his face into Vader's chest, before suddenly the galaxy was torn around him, and he was thrown back to Tatooine, an unfamiliar dwelling, where he felt his fingers running over his back, finding similar marks.

He pushed himself from the rough bed he sat on, and padded out into the hallway on silent feet. As he passed through the doorway, he realized that he was still only a child, doorknobs sitting at shoulder height.

He reached out, and pushed open another door, moving as silently as a ghost. It was another small room, where a woman sat on another rough bed, her shirt sitting next to her, her back to the door. Matching lashes marked her back, and Luke carefully pulled himself up onto the bed as well, looking at her back before coming to her side, and leaning against her.

She looked down at him, and smiled softly. Luke took in her face for a moment, marked by tiredness and pain, before she gently put an arm around him, stroking his hair.

His hand slipped into hers, and she squeezed it gently.

His perspective jumped, and he suddenly found himself looking down on his own body, from Vader's perspective. There, again, where the familiar marks, interspersed with the strangely shaped marks left by the more complex punishments.

His stomach felt strange as his hand slowly lifted, and ran through… Luke's hair again. The red tinged world felt sickly and cruel, and Luke was surprised to sense how much Vader hated what he was doing.

His body trembled in Vader's arms, and he found himself suddenly back in it, panting anew from the shock of the mind jumping. Frightened, he slowly looked up at Vader, who gave an uncharacteristically ragged breath, and pulled him closer.

"I cannot," Vader whispered again, his hands gripping spasmodically at Luke's arms.

"I want to come home," Luke plead, gripping at Vader's hands again, running his fingers over his leather gloves.

Again, his mind flashed to the hovel on Tatooine, but it was gone as soon as it had arrived, and he lay still in his father's arms.

"I know," Vader answered.

Luke's mind shifted again, and for a second, he saw a tusken camp, a familiar blue lightsaber raised before him…

Before he was suddenly, violently pushed back.

Shaking his head to clear it, his ears rattling, he found himself on the floor, his father kneeling several feet away. His back ached where it had dragged across the rough floor, but at the moment, he was more concerned with Vader. The Sith's breath was uneven, his respirator struggling to keep up, and stabilize his breath, and his massive shoulders shook.

Unsteady from weeks of hunger and pain, Luke tried to push himself up, crawling awkwardly towards Vader. But he met what seemed to be a wall, projected from his father.

Slipping to his knees, he looked over at the other man, wishing he had the Force back for more than the strange, frightening bursts of insight to his father's past.

Vader's head rose slowly, as he continued shaking violently, and his eyes met Luke's, locking onto his son's gaze.

Again, Luke was pulled into the past, but instead of the perfect memories he'd seen before, in which he felt and seemed to make each decision, this memory jittered.

"Ani, I'm pregnant."

"This is a happy moment. The happiest moment of my life…"

The scene stretched and twisted, nondescript noises echoing in Luke's head, before it began again.

"A happy moment."

It restarted.

"The happiest moment of my life!"

The loop faltered, and Luke clung to it, staring down from his father's eyes at his mother, smiling, but frightened. With some effort, he managed to feel her in his father's arms, real and solid. Warm.

"Ani."

Luke was trapped in the loop. It flickered, new moments showing themselves, although the original moment remained.

"I'm pregnant."

"That's… that's wonderful!"

Luke felt as if there were tears pressing against his eyes, unable to force this memory to shed them. Were they his? Or his father's?

He had been wanted. He wasn't just a mistake, the child of someone Vader had never truly cared for.

"It's going to be all right."

"A happy moment."

"The happiest moment of my life."

Suddenly, Luke found himself back on the floor of his cell, Vader bent over him as he lay. He must have collapsed when his mind had been thrown back.

"I apologize," Vader said, carefully lifting him back up into his arms, tucking his head safely against his chest, "You were on the verge of memories I do not wish you to witness."

Luke nodded vaguely. His father had set up that loop for him. Vader had wrapped him in it to shelter him from whatever had occurred in the tusken camp.

His mother's face was already fading from his mind, back into the past, although her voice still rang clear in his ears, and he could still feel the warmth of a forgotten smile.

"This has gone on long enough," Vader said finally, and Luke moaned as his father stood up, jostling his broken body. Wordless, Vader looped Luke's arms around his neck, lifting him safely from the floor.

As his head fell against his father's helmet, fragments whispered in his mind again, "A happy moment. The happiest moment of my life."

"Our baby is a blessing."

For a moment, the memory faltered, and Luke was once more acutely aware of his body, before the thoughts slipped back in, their touch unimaginably gentle as his father finally let him into a private moment, not originally meant to be shared.

"I love you."

It was his mother's voice, and Luke choked back tears, clinging tightly to Vader. The words hadn't been meant for him, he knew. They were spoken with a cavalier tone meant for someone who had heard them a thousand times, and who anticipated to hear them thousands more.

But to hear his mother tell him that she loved him. The woman he had accepted was dead, in the way the Force had never allowed him to believe that his father was. He knew she was gone, and he would never hear her say that for him.

His father was sharing a moment of intimacy, and Luke remembered the indecipherable bits of the Code that he had found.

Attachment had been forbidden.

Marriage, much less children, would not have been allowed.

How many moments like that had existed? Where they had sat together, and proclaimed their love for one another? It couldn't have been many. Luke's guess of thousands must have been a laughable overestimate.

Perhaps the familiarity had come from the repeated thoughts. Maybe his mother and father had once whispered their love to the winds in silent moments, like blowing a kiss across the galaxy.

And now, decades later, Anakin was whispering that love back to their child.

It was an echo of a galaxy that would never again be, but it felt real and protective nonetheless.

"I love you, too," Luke whispered.

Again, the portal faltered violently, splashes of fiery red bursting across the moment, and Vader pulled back from Luke, taking the pain and confusion with him as he rested his son on a cot. Somewhat confused by the shifting worlds, Luke blinked vaguely up at his father. As Vader freed crash webbing from the edges of the bed, and strapped him in, he looked slowly around the room, finally recognizing it as the interior of a lambda shuttle.

"Home?" he asked uncertainly, slipping his hand into Vader's.

"Yes," Vader agreed, squeezing Luke's hand gently, before slipping free, and heading for the cockpit.

For a long moment, Luke blinked after him, before shifting awkwardly under the crash webbing, and curling up to sleep.