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Luke’s headache is only growing, and at this point, he doesn’t think it’s just in frustration at being pulled along by his father, Darth Vader. The man’s grip on his wrist is almost bone-crushing, but his protests and struggling have so far done nothing. So now he’s reluctantly following the man through endless dark tunnels, spikes of pain pounding behind his temples. He assures himself that the pain is the only reason he’s not resisting as hard as he can. 

 

He fights the urge to massage his forehead with his free hand. He will not admit that a slight pain in his head is bothering him to his Sith lord father; he definitely doesn’t need a lecture on pain and its connection to the dark side or anything his father would try to convince him of. Their silence is awkward enough, only Vader’s respirator and their echoing footsteps breaking it, but Luke’s sure conversation will only make it worse.

 

Despite his numerous questions, Luke has no desire at the moment to talk to the man; he can feel the frustration leaking through Vader’s mental shields, so he restrains his questions and especially his comment about them being lost, though with some difficulty. He likes his other hand attached to his body after all. But he is beginning to doubt Vader’s confidence in his ability to find another exit.

 

Luke can’t even see in the complete darkness of the Sith temple they’ve found themselves trapped in, but the dark lord keeps a swift pace despite Luke’s stumbles, only pulling him forward and continuing on. Luke hadn’t meant to collapse the temple entrance, but his panic and anger at seeing his father had triggered something inside him, and he hadn’t been able to control it. Vader had quickly grabbed him in Luke’s confusion and the storm of dust from the crashing stone.

 

They’ve barely been walking for more than ten minutes, but already Luke can’t sense anything beyond the cold of his father’s presence and the unnatural warmth and power swirling around them. He’s not sure if that’s because of his lack of training or if Vader’s senses are also muddled, but it’s unnerving all the same.

 

The warmth is wrapping closer around him, tendrils piercing his mind with every step he takes. He shakes his head, trying to ease the pain, but it doesn’t help. Vader doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual. Luke pulls his shields tighter around him, trying to hide the pain from his father.

 

He’s pulled further along the tunnels and hallways, all draped in complete darkness, uneven stone bruising his toes through his boots as he shuffles along. The warmth is turning to pure heat and squeezing. It’s enveloped his brain and is tightening like a vice, the pressure building and pulsing. It reminds him of the one time he’d run away from his aunt and uncle and been caught in a sand storm. When they eventually found him, he’d been unconscious and stricken by sunstroke in the heat of the Tatooine desert. The heat engulfing his brain is not dissimilar.

 

He stumbles again, but this time it’s not a stray rock or the uneven ground but dizziness. He doesn’t think it’s actually hot enough in this temple for heatstroke; Vader doesn’t seem to be having any problems, although that could just be the suit. But Luke’s not sweating, and his limbs aren’t sending any signals of heat. No, this warmth seems only to surround him in the Force. He’s reminded of the trash compactor on the Death Star closing around him. It feels similar.

 

Suddenly, there’s a spike of pain that resonates through his entire head. It feels like burning and flames. He can’t help bringing his hand to his temple with a sharp inhale that echoes loudly, all thoughts of remaining stoic in front of Vader gone. His forehead is clammy to the touch, almost cold, in sharp contrast to the fire consuming his thoughts.

 

Vader stops abruptly, and Luke’s momentum carries him into his father’s back with a thump. He quickly pulls back, trying to clear his thoughts, to steady himself, any possible embarrassment lost to the pain. His other hand makes a motion to move towards his head, but it’s stopped by the durasteel grip still around his wrist. Strange, he’d forgotten it was there.

 

“Luke?” comes the rumble from Vader’s vocoder.

 

Luke doesn’t bother to respond, doesn’t know if he could manage words. He gasps again, doubling over. The pain is growing, the fire crackling and flaring higher around his head. He tries again to bring his other hand to his head, doesn’t know why it would help, but it’s an instinctive reaction, as if he could pull the flames from his thoughts with his fingers. The grip around his wrist tightens but then releases, and his non-prosthetic hand flies to his forehead in its newfound freedom, pushing at his temples.

 

Then the grip returns, this time on Luke’s shoulders, and Luke doesn’t have time to wonder as his father’s mask appears at Luke’s level where he’s still half doubled over. Is Vader kneeling? Another flare of heat slices the thought in half, and he whimpers, fingers tangled in the blond strands of his hair.

 

“Luke, look at me,” the deep bass comes again, this time softer somehow. Luke struggles to obey, finally finding the lenses of the mask with his unfocused eyes. “What do you feel?”

 

Feel? What does he feel? There’s a word for it. He doesn’t remember, can’t think. He squeezes his eyes shut. The pain flares again, and the word comes in a flash of fire. He gasps out, “Burning.”

 

There’s an eruption of anger, like a volcano, from Vader at that. It feels the same as the fire in Luke’s head, and he recoils from the storm inside and out, trying to escape. He doesn’t know why his father’s angry with him, doesn’t know what he said. Everything’s burning, and he can’t breathe.

 

And then his father’s fire snuffs out as if it had never existed, and instead, the familiar cold returns, washing in an icy wave over Luke’s inflamed brain. It’s like water after being lost in the desert. Luke sucks in a breath as the cold flames match the heat blow for blow and surround him in the Force, blocking the fire from his mind. The pain still lingers on the edges of his consciousness, and his limbs ache, but the cold is comforting and safe, and his energy is gone. 

 

He slumps forward and the hands still gripping his shoulders catch him as he falls and wrap around him in a gentle embrace. Luke can’t quite remember why he was afraid of the towering menace that somehow still has the capacity to be gentle. There’s a gentle wave of warmth at that thought from his father, the opposite of the flames before. 

 

Luke turns towards it, eyes slipping shut again in his exhaustion even as he asks, “What was that?” His voice is quiet in the darkness, the respirator louder, but he knows Vader hears him.

 

The quiet rumble that answers is as monotone as ever, but Luke can feel the slight edge of worry in the Force as he speaks, “It appears your outburst earlier-” Luke wants to protest that choice of words, but he doesn’t have the energy. His father squeezes his arm in slight amusement and continues, “your outburst, when you collapsed the entrance, awoke the ancient powers of the dark side that lay dormant here for centuries.”

 

That… makes sense, he supposes. It’s hard to think clearly, the flames still dancing threateningly beyond the edges of his father’s cold grasp in the Force. “Why me? Why not you?”

 

His father’s grip tightens minutely on his arm, “I am in tune with the dark, young one.” Luke winces mentally at that reminder. The cold wrapped around him protectively recoils slightly, as if in shame at Luke’s thought, but it quickly returns when Luke hisses in pain at the stab of fire that takes advantage of the lapse. Luke doesn’t know what to make of that; is Vader ashamed of his connection to the dark side? Before his addled mind can process the emotions of his father, the man continues, “Your presence in the Light attracted their wrath.”

 

I had forgotten how brightly his light burns, a blessing… and a curse. The thought echoes across their bond from Vader. Luke doesn’t think he was meant to hear it, so he stores it away to contemplate later. 

 

Before he can wrack his thoughts for any more questions, Vader is speaking again, “They cannot hurt me as they can you, but now that I’ve shown that I will protect you, they will seek to muddle the Force and its direction of our way out. I will not be able to guard your mind if I am to guide us out.” Stifling regret and pain lace the words.

 

Luke reaches blindly in the darkness for his father, and Vader meets him, his gloved hand gently wrapping around Luke’s weakly searching fingers. Luke wants to cry at the gentle touch, at his father’s care. The cold wraps around him a little tighter in response. “There is a solution,” Vader hesitates. Luke doesn’t think he’s ever heard his father hesitate. “But you won’t like it.”

 

Luke almost huffs a laugh at that. He doesn’t bother speaking out loud, instead pushing his feelings across their already strengthened bond. It’s not like I can say no. And it’s true. He’s a prisoner, no matter how unconventional his treatment is.

 

Vader doesn’t reply in words either; a vague feeling of guilt reaches Luke before Vader presses on, seemingly ignoring Luke’s comment for the moment. I have Force suppressing binders. Temporarily cutting off your bond from the Force would prevent them from reaching you while I lead us out.

 

Luke almost recoils at the thought. He knows he’s a prisoner, but binders, especially Force suppressing ones, make it real. With them on, there would be zero hope of escape once they exit the temple. He’d known the chance of escape was low when Vader found him, but even the hope of it is comforting. The thought of losing that sends a shudder down his spine, his freedom once again vanishing before his eyes, even if he knows his father doesn’t want him harmed.

 

You can say no, my son. I only wish to protect you from further harm from the powers of this temple. Vader sighs mentally, as if in resignation. But I will not force you.

 

His father is offering him a choice, letting Luke maintain some semblance of control. He sends a wave of gratefulness across their bond. It’s more than he’d expected. And yet, he can’t help but hesitantly ask for something else. Would you take them off again? 

 

He expects Vader to say no or avoid the question altogether. Why would he risk Luke trying to escape when he can ensure his safe capture? Another thought crosses his mind: why hadn’t his father used the binders on him in the first place?

 

His father’s answer surprises him. As soon as we are free of this place, they will be removed. Luke blinks in the darkness, trying to gauge his father’s honesty, but he can sense no deceit, and Vader hasn’t lied to him yet. And then Vader continues, as if in answer to one of Luke’s unasked questions. I know what it feels like to have the Force taken from you, my son. I would not deprive you of it unless there was no other choice.

 

And that’s all he needs really. His father cares, and he wants Luke safe. He’s not the image Luke had of his father when he was a child, and there are many problems to come, but he cares . So Luke nods weakly and holds out his hands, knowing Vader can see him in the darkness.

 

Vader stands swiftly, cape whooshing through the stagnant and oppressive air of the temple. As gently as he can, he pulls Luke to his feet; one arm remains on Luke’s arm to steady him as he sways with the sudden change, his head protesting. Then, there’s a resounding click in the darkness, and Luke feels the weight of the binders around his wrists.

 

The Force disappears with a snap, and Luke lurches forward, his stomach heaving. His whole being protests the loss like it’s his other hand. Only emptiness answers him when he tries to reach for the Force. He’s never been without it, even before he knew what it was. His father’s hand on his shoulder tightens and steadies him. It’s then that he notices the flames that had infiltrated his thoughts and been kept at bay by Vader are gone, but so is his father’s comforting blanket of cold. He finds he misses it.

 

As if in answer, Vader’s other hand reaches for Luke’s face, resting lightly on his forehead as he brushes a stray piece of hair back. “It will take some adjustment.” His reassurance that it will not last long goes unsaid, but Luke hears it even without the Force. It’s evident in his father’s calming brushes through his hair and steadying hand on his shoulder that has yet to move.

 

Luke nods, “I’m okay,” and takes a step forward, demonstrating to his father that they can continue.

 

Vader needs no other signal, and he starts walking again, a guiding hand on Luke’s elbow. Though if Luke had to guess, he’d say Vader’s pace isn’t as brisk as it was before. And when Luke stumbles over the uneven ground, bound hands coming up to try to balance, Vader steadies him before igniting his saber with a snap-hiss, the red light illuminating the floor as they continue. His father isn’t looking in his direction, but Luke smiles gratefully up at him anyway.

 

The rest of the trek out is uneventful, and when they reach the exit, Luke blinking blearily in the sunlight, Vader keeps his word, and with a negligible brush of the Force, the binders snap open, falling from Luke’s wrists. Pain shoots through his head again at the return of such a vital part of him, and his legs shake as the signatures of everything on the planet overwhelm him. Everything is so alive. His eyes water at the force of it. 

 

His father is a steady and cold presence at his side the whole time, letting Luke find his balance in the Force again. His faint amusement even drifts across their bond when Luke reaches for a stone the size of R2 sitting in the underbrush and lifts it into the air just because he can, just because he hadn’t realized how much the Force is a part of him. He laughs slightly as he sets it back down, still half unbelieving of what’s happened.

 

And if Luke manages to work out a deal with his father, which involves training and the emperor’s death but no dark side, well, he doesn’t think Leia will be too mad. At least not once he contacts her, as his father’s promised to let him.

 

And he definitely doesn’t let them leave without stopping by his x-wing for R2. As they leave the temple and planet behind, protective warmth flows across their bond, even as the cold blanket once again wraps around him in a promise of safety, and Luke can’t help smiling.