SW fic: "Permeation," part three (Luke/Vader)
Getting caught up with what has been posted on the L/V Yahoo group...
Title: Permeation (part three)
Pairing: Darth Vader/Luke Skywalker
Rating: This chapter, again, is PG. Rating will be adult eventually.
Feedback and concrit are incredibly welcome and deeply appreciated.
Part One, notes, and the summary can be found here.
Part Two is here.
Permeation (part three)
"I can't do this," Luke muttered, for the tenth time in as many minutes. As he had each time before, he winced at the sound of his--that is, Vader's--voice reverberating in the helmet. It had been nearly a day, now, and he wasn't sure he could stand another moment in Vader's body.
It wasn't just the body, either, though that had only gotten more uncomfortable as time went on. It was everything.
He'd gone to Vader's quarters (and taken a good long time figuring out that the door opened with the Force, not some invisible locking mechanism) and just...sat there. The rooms were almost painfully bare. The main room seemed to be an office, with a desk, computer terminal, and what looked like plans for some sort of ship spread out. Then there was what Luke guessed was the bedroom, though there was no bed--only a huge, black, spherical...thing, and, beyond it, a chair, low table, and a wardrobe. Past the bedroom was a 'fresher, though there were no toiletries, no mirror, and no shower.
There were some cabinets and drawers, too, but even if Luke hadn't been afraid of what Vader would do to him if he touched anything, he had a feeling he wouldn't have found anything to eat or drink if he had looked. And he still didn't know how to eat, or drink, or relieve himself. He didn't have to 'go,' but his brain said he should, which just left him feeling uncomfortable. But even if he had, he wouldn't have dared to touch the suit. For one thing, he didn't want to accidentally unhook something that kept him alive. And though Luke was curious about what Vader looked like under the leather and armor (who wasn't?), he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Especially since this wasn't just Darth Vader's body. It was Luke's father's body.
And that, more than anything, was why Luke had eased himself down onto the chair in the bedroom, closed his eyes and hoped briefly that no one would bother him, and tried to distract himself.
He'd imagined a line of Wookiees dancing, wearing brightly-colored costumes. He'd imagined his X-wing, then went through all the steps involved in cleaning it and tuning it up. He'd mentally run Master Yoda's obstacle course on Dagobah four times. He'd thought up three jokes that involved a Jedi, a stormtrooper, and a Hutt going into a cantina. But no matter what Luke tried to do, his mind always stubbornly came back to It.
Darth Vader was his father.
Which meant that Darth Vader was Anakin Skywalker.
Which meant that Darth Vader hadn't betrayed and murdered Anakin Skywalker.
Which meant Ben had lied to him. About his father. Who was Darth Vader.
Luke wasn't sure what upset him more: the fact that Darth Vader, his father, had tried to kill him...or the fact that he had tried to kill Darth Vader.
And Luke still wanted to kill him. Didn't he?
But on the other hand--
Luke grimaced. Don't think about hands, Luke, he told himself silently.
On the other-- from another point of view, he was having trouble reconciling Darth Vader, the huge, evil monster who had tried repeatedly to kill him, with his father, who had extended his hand to Luke on Bespin. His father, who had been calm and reassuring when they first exchanged bodies, who had helped Luke already, wanted to help him more, and who had seemed almost...normal...during their mental conversations.
Luke shook his head, was surprised yet again at the weight of the helmet, and wondered how long he'd been sitting this time. He wondered, too, if going from the bedroom to the office to the 'fresher (instead of pacing from the bedroom to the 'fresher to the office) would be exciting enough to take his mind off of It.
No wonder Vader was always so mean, Luke thought. If his life were this boring, stark, and painful, he'd probably take out his frustration on other people, too.
"Boring?" Vader's mental voice almost caused Luke to fall off the chair. "Did you not use this time to meditate?"
Luke wondered if picturing dancing Wookiees counted as meditating and decided it probably didn't.
"You weren't supposed to hear that," he replied, feeling like his privacy had been invaded. "Honestly, I don't think I could meditate right now."
Damn! Why did he tell him that? Now Vader would know what a terrible, untrained Jedi he was, and--
"Understandable," Vader replied. "If you wished to entertain yourself, you could have made use of my library.
"Your--" Well, that's what he got for not snooping. "I didn't see it."
"No matter. Have you been disturbed?"
"No." Then Luke remembered. And though he didn't want to ask, he felt he should. "Did you have the surgery? Were you able to get--"
Oh, hells. He didn't want to know. Didn't want to think about this!
"--an artificial hand?"
"Yes, your hand has been replaced," Vader replied. "The prosthetic is satisfactory, and your body is adapting to it as well as can be expected so soon."
How did one respond to that? Was Luke supposed to be pleased? He shook his head again, wishing he could sigh.
"Uh. Good?" Hells again! That wasn't supposed to sound like a question.
"Indeed."
"Where are you?" Luke asked. "Will you be ready to go to your castle soon?"
"I am on my way."
Vader gave him the coordinates, told him where his personal TIE fighter was, and gave him instructions for what to tell Admiral Piett.
"Right," Luke replied as he rose to leave Vader's quarters. "I guess I'll see you when I get there."
"Yes."
There was a long, awkward pause, and Luke wondered if Vader was just realizing, too, that they were going to spend time together voluntarily. In one another's bodies. Luke was about to have a visit with...himself. The idea was strange, and more than a little unsettling.
Luke almost said, 'May the Force be with you,' but instead shook his head slightly, shrugged, and broke their connection. There wasn't really anything else to say.
---------
Darth Vader paced in the entrance hall of Bast Castle, awaiting Luke. He wasn't certain whether he dreaded his son's arrival or felt impatient that Luke wasn't there yet. Regardless, he felt decidedly unsettled.
...Which, itself, was odd. Darth Vader was not given to feelings of nervousness. And even if he were, he certainly would not (or would not be able to) indulge the emotion by allowing his stomach to clench or his heart rate to increase. Luke's body, however, had other ideas. It insisted upon adding insult to impatience by making him uncomfortable and jittery while he waited.
It was ridiculous, he admitted. There was no reason to believe that harm had come to his son. Granted, they had not been in contact since he'd given Luke his instructions, but still, there was no cause for alarm. Piett would believe that 'Darth Vader' had a pressing matter to attend to and would not question Luke's departure. Luke was perfectly capable of piloting a TIE fighter. And, though the planet's atmosphere was inhospitable, Luke, with no flesh exposed to the stinging rain, would be in less danger than Vader himself had been. Vader had only just remembered in time to cover his skin, but he had made it from the X-wing to the castle unscathed.
As would Luke. He was certain of it.
Still, Vader breathed a small sigh of relief when he felt Luke arrive, and a larger one when he heard the familiar sounds of his respirator and heavy, booted footsteps approaching. Then Luke stood in the doorway, hulking, dark, and faintly steaming, and Vader found himself at a loss for words.
"Gosh!" Luke exclaimed. "Am I really that short?"
Vader chose to assume this was a rhetorical question, as he could not seem to find a suitable answer. They stared at one another in silence for a moment, and Vader realized that perhaps Luke's startled question had not been as foolish as he'd thought. His own thoughts seemed to be centered on the fact that his usual body was not only taller and louder than he remembered but also, from the outside, quite an intimidating figure.
"Luke," he said at last, stupidly.
The briefest hesitation, then, "Father," Luke replied. He began to walk toward Vader, and Vader frowned, noticing the stiffness of his movements.
"You're in pain," he observed.
Luke shrugged, though he dipped his head in a nod as he came to stand beside Vader. "I'm...not used to this. But I'm fine."
Vader refrained from pointing out that lying to him, particularly on this matter, was pointless. "Come," he said instead, turning to lead the way. "I will take you to my suite, where you'll be sleeping."
"What?" Luke sounded startled, and Vader sighed again.
"I will sleep elsewhere."
"No, I figured that," Luke said, obviously flustered. "I mean, we're not going to discuss...any of this? You just want me to go to sleep?"
"I assumed you would wish to alleviate your physical discomfort and attend to the needs of your body immediately," Vader explained. "I have had a meal prepared, and, if you wish to dine together, we could discuss our current situation as we eat."
"Oh. All right." Luke nodded, fell in step beside him, and then stopped again before they were halfway down the corridor. "But why are we going to your suite?"
"Because my rooms are the only place where I-- where you can remove the mask."
"Oh," Luke said again, requiring only a few long strides to catch up with Vader's shorter legs. "But if this is your castle, why can't you--uh. Why is it...like that...only in your bedrooms?"
"I deemed the expense of modifying the entire building's environment too great for such a frivolous matter."
"Oh."
Vader waved his hand and opened the door to his suite, then sealed the door behind them when they'd entered. He reminded himself to breathe shallowly and slowly, allowing this body to become accustomed to the pure, pressurized oxygen.
Luke, having no such difficulty, looked around with apparent interest once Vader turned the lights on.
"I believe this room's purposes are obvious," Vader said, gesturing at the dining table and chairs, then at the soft, low couch with its side-table and reading light. "The 'fresher is there," he continued, nodding toward a door leading to a facility exactly like the one on the Executor. "The bedchamber." He nodded to the doorway, beyond which could be seen the large bed that allowed him to sleep half-sitting. "The medical facilities are beyond the bedroom."
"You have--" Luke stopped abruptly and ducked his head. "Sorry."
Vader nodded, spared from finding a reply by the short buzz from the environmental controls, signaling that the air was now free of the impurities introduced when they had opened the door.
"Sit," Vader instructed, indicating one of the chairs at the dining table. When Luke had lowered himself onto the seat, Vader went to stand before him, surprised to find that their difference in height put them almost at eye level with one another.
Vader lifted his hands to Luke's helmet to remove it and was startled when Luke touched his forearm, checking the movement.
"You could just tell me how to do it," Luke offered. He radiated nervousness, not least, Vader heard from Luke's unshielded thoughts, because of his father's proximity.
"Your hands are outdated prosthetics," Vader said shortly. He removed the helmet, set it aside, and averted his gaze to avoid looking upon the thick, discolored ridges and valleys of scar tissue. "They lack the dexterity necessary to remove the mask."
"Then how do you...?"
"Droids."
"Oh."
Vader nodded and lifted his hands to the sides of the mask. Then he paused, as it dawned on him that, after spending his time in Luke's body attempting to adjust to the strange, silent absence of his mechanized breathing, already he was accustomed to hearing it again.
"Father?"
Again, Luke brushed gloved fingers against Vader's arm. Vader caught Luke's fleeting moment of wistfulness; was startled and unaccountably pleased that his son did not only feel revulsion towards him. Then Luke's mental shields slammed into place, clumsy and unsubtle and perhaps unintentional, and Vader pulled his arm away from Luke's touch.
"You may feel...strange...when the mask is removed," he said brusquely, recalling himself to the task at hand. "No longer will air be forced into your nose and mouth; you must make a conscious effort to inhale, at least initially, and--" Vader realized he was stalling and silenced himself at once.
Luke nodded, seeming oblivious of Vader's discomfiture. "All right."
Vader nodded yet again, inhaled deeply through his nose, and unfastened the clasps.
Title: Permeation (part three)
Pairing: Darth Vader/Luke Skywalker
Rating: This chapter, again, is PG. Rating will be adult eventually.
Feedback and concrit are incredibly welcome and deeply appreciated.
Part One, notes, and the summary can be found here.
Part Two is here.
Permeation (part three)
"I can't do this," Luke muttered, for the tenth time in as many minutes. As he had each time before, he winced at the sound of his--that is, Vader's--voice reverberating in the helmet. It had been nearly a day, now, and he wasn't sure he could stand another moment in Vader's body.
It wasn't just the body, either, though that had only gotten more uncomfortable as time went on. It was everything.
He'd gone to Vader's quarters (and taken a good long time figuring out that the door opened with the Force, not some invisible locking mechanism) and just...sat there. The rooms were almost painfully bare. The main room seemed to be an office, with a desk, computer terminal, and what looked like plans for some sort of ship spread out. Then there was what Luke guessed was the bedroom, though there was no bed--only a huge, black, spherical...thing, and, beyond it, a chair, low table, and a wardrobe. Past the bedroom was a 'fresher, though there were no toiletries, no mirror, and no shower.
There were some cabinets and drawers, too, but even if Luke hadn't been afraid of what Vader would do to him if he touched anything, he had a feeling he wouldn't have found anything to eat or drink if he had looked. And he still didn't know how to eat, or drink, or relieve himself. He didn't have to 'go,' but his brain said he should, which just left him feeling uncomfortable. But even if he had, he wouldn't have dared to touch the suit. For one thing, he didn't want to accidentally unhook something that kept him alive. And though Luke was curious about what Vader looked like under the leather and armor (who wasn't?), he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Especially since this wasn't just Darth Vader's body. It was Luke's father's body.
And that, more than anything, was why Luke had eased himself down onto the chair in the bedroom, closed his eyes and hoped briefly that no one would bother him, and tried to distract himself.
He'd imagined a line of Wookiees dancing, wearing brightly-colored costumes. He'd imagined his X-wing, then went through all the steps involved in cleaning it and tuning it up. He'd mentally run Master Yoda's obstacle course on Dagobah four times. He'd thought up three jokes that involved a Jedi, a stormtrooper, and a Hutt going into a cantina. But no matter what Luke tried to do, his mind always stubbornly came back to It.
Darth Vader was his father.
Which meant that Darth Vader was Anakin Skywalker.
Which meant that Darth Vader hadn't betrayed and murdered Anakin Skywalker.
Which meant Ben had lied to him. About his father. Who was Darth Vader.
Luke wasn't sure what upset him more: the fact that Darth Vader, his father, had tried to kill him...or the fact that he had tried to kill Darth Vader.
And Luke still wanted to kill him. Didn't he?
But on the other hand--
Luke grimaced. Don't think about hands, Luke, he told himself silently.
On the other-- from another point of view, he was having trouble reconciling Darth Vader, the huge, evil monster who had tried repeatedly to kill him, with his father, who had extended his hand to Luke on Bespin. His father, who had been calm and reassuring when they first exchanged bodies, who had helped Luke already, wanted to help him more, and who had seemed almost...normal...during their mental conversations.
Luke shook his head, was surprised yet again at the weight of the helmet, and wondered how long he'd been sitting this time. He wondered, too, if going from the bedroom to the office to the 'fresher (instead of pacing from the bedroom to the 'fresher to the office) would be exciting enough to take his mind off of It.
No wonder Vader was always so mean, Luke thought. If his life were this boring, stark, and painful, he'd probably take out his frustration on other people, too.
"Boring?" Vader's mental voice almost caused Luke to fall off the chair. "Did you not use this time to meditate?"
Luke wondered if picturing dancing Wookiees counted as meditating and decided it probably didn't.
"You weren't supposed to hear that," he replied, feeling like his privacy had been invaded. "Honestly, I don't think I could meditate right now."
Damn! Why did he tell him that? Now Vader would know what a terrible, untrained Jedi he was, and--
"Understandable," Vader replied. "If you wished to entertain yourself, you could have made use of my library.
"Your--" Well, that's what he got for not snooping. "I didn't see it."
"No matter. Have you been disturbed?"
"No." Then Luke remembered. And though he didn't want to ask, he felt he should. "Did you have the surgery? Were you able to get--"
Oh, hells. He didn't want to know. Didn't want to think about this!
"--an artificial hand?"
"Yes, your hand has been replaced," Vader replied. "The prosthetic is satisfactory, and your body is adapting to it as well as can be expected so soon."
How did one respond to that? Was Luke supposed to be pleased? He shook his head again, wishing he could sigh.
"Uh. Good?" Hells again! That wasn't supposed to sound like a question.
"Indeed."
"Where are you?" Luke asked. "Will you be ready to go to your castle soon?"
"I am on my way."
Vader gave him the coordinates, told him where his personal TIE fighter was, and gave him instructions for what to tell Admiral Piett.
"Right," Luke replied as he rose to leave Vader's quarters. "I guess I'll see you when I get there."
"Yes."
There was a long, awkward pause, and Luke wondered if Vader was just realizing, too, that they were going to spend time together voluntarily. In one another's bodies. Luke was about to have a visit with...himself. The idea was strange, and more than a little unsettling.
Luke almost said, 'May the Force be with you,' but instead shook his head slightly, shrugged, and broke their connection. There wasn't really anything else to say.
---------
Darth Vader paced in the entrance hall of Bast Castle, awaiting Luke. He wasn't certain whether he dreaded his son's arrival or felt impatient that Luke wasn't there yet. Regardless, he felt decidedly unsettled.
...Which, itself, was odd. Darth Vader was not given to feelings of nervousness. And even if he were, he certainly would not (or would not be able to) indulge the emotion by allowing his stomach to clench or his heart rate to increase. Luke's body, however, had other ideas. It insisted upon adding insult to impatience by making him uncomfortable and jittery while he waited.
It was ridiculous, he admitted. There was no reason to believe that harm had come to his son. Granted, they had not been in contact since he'd given Luke his instructions, but still, there was no cause for alarm. Piett would believe that 'Darth Vader' had a pressing matter to attend to and would not question Luke's departure. Luke was perfectly capable of piloting a TIE fighter. And, though the planet's atmosphere was inhospitable, Luke, with no flesh exposed to the stinging rain, would be in less danger than Vader himself had been. Vader had only just remembered in time to cover his skin, but he had made it from the X-wing to the castle unscathed.
As would Luke. He was certain of it.
Still, Vader breathed a small sigh of relief when he felt Luke arrive, and a larger one when he heard the familiar sounds of his respirator and heavy, booted footsteps approaching. Then Luke stood in the doorway, hulking, dark, and faintly steaming, and Vader found himself at a loss for words.
"Gosh!" Luke exclaimed. "Am I really that short?"
Vader chose to assume this was a rhetorical question, as he could not seem to find a suitable answer. They stared at one another in silence for a moment, and Vader realized that perhaps Luke's startled question had not been as foolish as he'd thought. His own thoughts seemed to be centered on the fact that his usual body was not only taller and louder than he remembered but also, from the outside, quite an intimidating figure.
"Luke," he said at last, stupidly.
The briefest hesitation, then, "Father," Luke replied. He began to walk toward Vader, and Vader frowned, noticing the stiffness of his movements.
"You're in pain," he observed.
Luke shrugged, though he dipped his head in a nod as he came to stand beside Vader. "I'm...not used to this. But I'm fine."
Vader refrained from pointing out that lying to him, particularly on this matter, was pointless. "Come," he said instead, turning to lead the way. "I will take you to my suite, where you'll be sleeping."
"What?" Luke sounded startled, and Vader sighed again.
"I will sleep elsewhere."
"No, I figured that," Luke said, obviously flustered. "I mean, we're not going to discuss...any of this? You just want me to go to sleep?"
"I assumed you would wish to alleviate your physical discomfort and attend to the needs of your body immediately," Vader explained. "I have had a meal prepared, and, if you wish to dine together, we could discuss our current situation as we eat."
"Oh. All right." Luke nodded, fell in step beside him, and then stopped again before they were halfway down the corridor. "But why are we going to your suite?"
"Because my rooms are the only place where I-- where you can remove the mask."
"Oh," Luke said again, requiring only a few long strides to catch up with Vader's shorter legs. "But if this is your castle, why can't you--uh. Why is it...like that...only in your bedrooms?"
"I deemed the expense of modifying the entire building's environment too great for such a frivolous matter."
"Oh."
Vader waved his hand and opened the door to his suite, then sealed the door behind them when they'd entered. He reminded himself to breathe shallowly and slowly, allowing this body to become accustomed to the pure, pressurized oxygen.
Luke, having no such difficulty, looked around with apparent interest once Vader turned the lights on.
"I believe this room's purposes are obvious," Vader said, gesturing at the dining table and chairs, then at the soft, low couch with its side-table and reading light. "The 'fresher is there," he continued, nodding toward a door leading to a facility exactly like the one on the Executor. "The bedchamber." He nodded to the doorway, beyond which could be seen the large bed that allowed him to sleep half-sitting. "The medical facilities are beyond the bedroom."
"You have--" Luke stopped abruptly and ducked his head. "Sorry."
Vader nodded, spared from finding a reply by the short buzz from the environmental controls, signaling that the air was now free of the impurities introduced when they had opened the door.
"Sit," Vader instructed, indicating one of the chairs at the dining table. When Luke had lowered himself onto the seat, Vader went to stand before him, surprised to find that their difference in height put them almost at eye level with one another.
Vader lifted his hands to Luke's helmet to remove it and was startled when Luke touched his forearm, checking the movement.
"You could just tell me how to do it," Luke offered. He radiated nervousness, not least, Vader heard from Luke's unshielded thoughts, because of his father's proximity.
"Your hands are outdated prosthetics," Vader said shortly. He removed the helmet, set it aside, and averted his gaze to avoid looking upon the thick, discolored ridges and valleys of scar tissue. "They lack the dexterity necessary to remove the mask."
"Then how do you...?"
"Droids."
"Oh."
Vader nodded and lifted his hands to the sides of the mask. Then he paused, as it dawned on him that, after spending his time in Luke's body attempting to adjust to the strange, silent absence of his mechanized breathing, already he was accustomed to hearing it again.
"Father?"
Again, Luke brushed gloved fingers against Vader's arm. Vader caught Luke's fleeting moment of wistfulness; was startled and unaccountably pleased that his son did not only feel revulsion towards him. Then Luke's mental shields slammed into place, clumsy and unsubtle and perhaps unintentional, and Vader pulled his arm away from Luke's touch.
"You may feel...strange...when the mask is removed," he said brusquely, recalling himself to the task at hand. "No longer will air be forced into your nose and mouth; you must make a conscious effort to inhale, at least initially, and--" Vader realized he was stalling and silenced himself at once.
Luke nodded, seeming oblivious of Vader's discomfiture. "All right."
Vader nodded yet again, inhaled deeply through his nose, and unfastened the clasps.