Vader pulled his arm away from his new master the moment he was inside the holding cell. He knew he'd probably pay for his insolence, but at the moment, he didn't care. After decades of the false-freedom of being a Sith, he chafed to be put back into traditional slavery. Despite the information gathering nature of his enslavement, he hated the cuffs, and no amount of assurance that it was necessary could make the ache in his oldest scars shut up.

He hated the new prosthetics, and the new, aching scars from the surgery that had barely returned his lungs to working order. He hated that his vision was still nigh on useless, and he hated that Palpatine had insisted that it did not have to be further repaired, as his impairment would allow him to get closer to anything of interest.

A small, rebellious part of him hoped that his new masters might see fit to repair him a bit themselves, perhaps just to let him see across a room, but for now he was nearly blind without his helmet.

The new master didn't immediately grab him back, and he stumbled uncertainly into the room, before exhaling, and letting the Force draw the room about him.

It wasn't perfect. His 'vision' was patchy, required all his attention, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to maintain it.

Letting out a small breath, he let go of the Force again, and the world reverted back to its strange new colours and vague traces of movement.

"Next stop: the factories!" shouted the master's voice, and Vader winced, bowing his head, and trying to press back to somewhere he could safely seat himself, and wait the ride out.

It was strange to feel the rumble of the ship under his feet, and smell other humans, and fear for their destination again. So many times, he had thought he'd escaped slavery, and so many times, it had found him again. His mind was struggling to distance itself from the situation, and he struggled not to disassociate. As much as he hated his mission, it was his, and if he was unable to identify the source of the most recent threat to his master's empire, he would not be allowed to return to his service.

Trapped in his head, he failed to recognize that a vague splash of colour in his vision was another slave until he had directly collided with them.

"Hey!"

Something about the tone gave Vader pause, and he started to look up, attempting to discern the face. But before he could even straighten, the Force seemed to explode, and Vader realized in horror that two of its most powerful users had walked into one another.

"Luke!"He grabbed his son's shoulders, attempting to draw the boy closer. It couldn't be real, he thought desperately. Luke couldn't be here, Luke couldn't be enslaved! It had to be a nightmare, induced by the drugs or pain or something!

He physically felt the tremble shoot through Luke.

"Father?"he asked in return, pulling Vader's hands from his shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" Vader hissed, leaning closer, trying to make out his son's features.

"I'mtryingto find out who these people are!" Luke took a step back, and Vader hastily followed him, afraid of losing him to the crowd. "What are youdoing in with the slaves?"

Vader bristled, "You believe me to be in league with the masters?" He lowered his already raspy voice and whispered as best he could, "The Emperor is as concerned about this faction as you are."

Luke groaned, and took another step away from Vader, turning his back, and running a hand through his hair. "You can't behere."

"And yet I am," Vader answered, grasping his son's arm again. "But it is you who should not be in slavery. Who assigned you to this mission?"

"I volunteered!" Luke hissed, wrenching away again, "Our family have always been slaves anyway, so I knew I'd be harder to spot!"

"Luke!" Vader began, but his son turned back to him, and Vader felt a sudden wash of exhaustion.

"What, Father? Do you think I have a better option? Do you think I'd rather send Leia in here?"

"How do you intend to escape?" Vader demanded, pulling Luke's arm, trying to draw him to a quiet alcove to continue their conversation. He couldn't risk that a word be heard.

Luke tugged free again, cramming himself into the shadow of the bulkhead, clearly understanding the need for secrecy. "The Alliance will extract me in two weeks."

Suddenly, frustration washed over Luke's face, and he pushed his hand through his hair. "I can't believeyou're here. I thought that just once, I'd be able to not have to worry about you findingme! And you're a mechanic, too, aren't you."

He looked up at Vader, exhaustion rolling off him in waves, a flicker of pleading in his eyes. Pleading that his father not share his station, that they not meet again in their work.

"I am," Vader murmured. He hadn't tried to follow Luke into the small alcove, merely standing outside it, where he was sure only Luke could hear him. He felt as if he was intruding, although he knew the only thing to intrude on was his son's stupid, stupid plan.

For a long moment, Vader was silent. "I would have you dragged off this ship, if it would not compromise both of us. This is the one thing in the galaxy I wanted kriffing lessthan for you to have died!"

"Then sorry for not being dead," Luke spat, pushing Vader aside, taking advantage of his weakened body.

Stepping aside, Vader caught his son's arm in a vicelike grip. "Luke."

The rebel turned to him, looking as if his gaze alone could burn through his father's scarred chest, and finally tear him apart.

"They will realize that we are related," Vader said. He and his son no longer shared anything like a family resemblance, but there was blood, records, and… and whatever residual affection he held for the boy. Whatever strains of humanity he hadn't managed to tear from his heart. Anything his son felt for him was obliterated by the boy's opposition, the knowledge of his father's evil, and a lack of any connection to their shared family.

But Vader still saw a family in the child's face. Luke, who must have seemed like an island to himself, was a living record of what might have been. His gentle fierceness like a glimpse of his mother, his tiredness an echo of Shmi. Flashes of Padmé's family, who Anakin had hardly met, and the one thing Vader would never identify, because it was new. Whatever made him Luke.

"And then what?" Luke spat. He seemed eager to return to the crowd, a slow milling of slaves.

"And then we would likely be punished for not volunteering the information," Vader answered, squeezing his son's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "We…" he struggled for breath for a heartbeat, and briefly feared that his repairs had not been as effective as they had hoped. "We do not have to remain on speaking terms. I will tell our masters whatever you wish, and we will act as it dictates."

"Tell them whatever you want," Luke sighed, pulling his arm free. "I don't want to see you again."

"I can make no promises on that count," Vader said, attempting a smile as he released his son's arm. If he could just illicit a smile, just a flicker of happiness or mere humour on his son's face, it could start to make up for his master's plan. It broke his heart that this, of all places, was where they could be equals, but at least they finally could be.

Without another word, Luke vanished into the crowd.

His chest constricting with the refusal, Vader struggled to reach out, to brush against his presence. Surely there was some comfort he could offer, if only a reassurance that he was there! He wouldn't let harm come to Luke again, and with the rashness of the schemes the boy had been taking part in, he had begun to think Luke understood that.

But there wasn't a flicker to be found, and Vader sighed, slowly sitting down against the wall. It was no surprise, he told himself. He had done nothing for Luke that would merit a bond. They had been separated since the boy's birth, and the fact that Vader had failed to find any sort of family in the wake of the first one's loss didn't mean that Luke had stayed equally isolated.

Luke, who every report said was friendly to a fault. Luke, who he knewhad bonded with the aunt and uncle the Empire had murdered.

Of course his son wouldn't want to speak with him longer than necessary.

He was settling into that dark thought when a blow came to his ribs, and he looked up. A master stood over him, and he squinted, attempting to see the stranger's face. For a heartbeat, he caught himself wishing it was Watto, so at least he would know how best to weather the situation.

"What were you two talking about?" the slaver demanded, pointing off into a haze of slaves, presumably at Luke.

"I was surprised to see him again, master," Vader said softly.

"Again?" the slaver asked, crouching down to meet Vader's eyes.

Respectfully, Vader cast his gaze downwards, folding his hands slowly, "He's my son. When I lost his mother, I thought I'd never meet him." Taking the deepest breath he could, he looked up, "I failed him. He doesn't wish to see me again."

At the words, the slaver smiled, showing off sharp, shining teeth as he patted Vader's knee, and stood up.

"That's what I like to hear."