Forbidden

Aethero

Vader's POV 

The Dark Lord felt the now familiar cold sweep through him. Whatever the Archive had implanted in him, and through their bond, into Qui-Gon, had activated again. So he wasn't surprised when the cellblock around them shimmered then broke apart like shards of glass and the landing pad in the trees took its place. 

They were back in the vision where it had last left off: the Jedi Master's armor-clad hand cupped Vader's cheek and Vader covered that hand with one of his own. The murmured 'Aethero' endearment from the Dark Lord's lips echoed between them. The knowledge of what the word meant hung tantalizingly on the tip of Vader's mind, but he could not quite grasp it.

Vader suddenly turned his face into Qui-Gon's touch and nuzzled the older man's palm. Shocked at what he'd just done, he tried to step back, tried to stop the sensual exchange, but his body did not respond to his commands. Instead, the Dark Lord swayed further forward. A line of heat bloomed between them and Vader's nipples peaked under the thin silk shirt he wore as they brushed the hard, slick chest plate of Qui-Gon's armor.

'What is happening? What am I ... are we ... doing?' 

Vader's thoughts tumbled further as the indulgent look on Qui-Gon's face intensified and he swiped a thumb over Vader's lower lip. His mouth tingled from the caress. Vader again attempted to pull back from the older man. Not violently, not quickly even. He would not hurt Qui-Gon with his rejection if he could help it; assuming that the older man wanted this any more than he did. But Vader's body still did not respond, and, unlike in the Executor's hallway, Qui-Gon did not move away from him either. 

'I'm not in control of my body! Why is this happening? Another Force web? No, it isn't. But then ... why can't I move? Why I can't I speak? Why can't I stop this?' 

Then a voice that sounded like Qui-Gon's whispered in his mind, 'Because this is a memory. You cannot change it.'

'Qui-Gon ... no, you are not him. Who are you? How did you get in my mind?' 

Amusement that felt so much like Qui-Gon's yet ... not, flowed through the mental thoughts, 'Always so many questions. I promise to answer them all ... in time. I will be like a clear glass and all my knowledge shall shine through to you. As to how I am in your mind ... let me show you.'

A mental image of him being shocked by the Archive as he'd tried to disconnect the power source flashed through Vader's mind.

'The Archive ... you are the Archive?'

'In a manner of speaking. The Archive is but a receptacle for me.'

Vader mentally shook himself. Then things began to click terribly into place. 

'Are you a cyborg?' 

'No, not a cyborg like your old foe General Grievious nor even as you were before your son's intervention.'

Vader chilled as he realized that this ... man, for the voice felt male to him ... had read not just his surface thoughts, but far deeper ones. But then again what was mind-reading compared to the ability he was demonstrating to Vader and Qui-Gon right now? This man had created a world around them that was so real Vader could not differentiate it from the cell block he had just "left." Not to mention his apparent ability to make Vader and Qui-Gon act in whatever manner he chose. It wasn't the comparatively crude manipulation that Sidious had perpetrated on Vader earlier. This control was flawless and seemingly complete. These abilities made mind-reading a mere nothing. 

'But who could do such a thing? What kind of man could ...'

And then Vader knew what the man had to be and, worse, how he had foolishly let this dangerous being into their lives by taking the Archive from the Temple ... if it was in fact a Temple. Maybe it was ... 'a prison or ... a Tomb?' But no matter what the structure on Black Heart had been, it did not change what Vader had taken from there. This man was ... must be ... an incredibly powerful and ancient ...

'Sith Lord. You are a Sith Lord,' Vader sent.

The man laughed. 'I suppose you could call me that. In a way, I am the ... original ... Sith Lord.'

Vader contemplated that statement. Sith were known to lie and they were certainly known for their self-aggrandizement, but the other Sith's statement felt true, which was very disturbing. He set it to the side for now and pursued a more practical line of questioning instead. 

'Why are you doing this?'

'I do this to help you. To set you free of the ... Worm.'

'Worm?' Vader puzzled then a mental impression of the white, pulpy, malformed body of the Emperor was sent to him. His stomach twisted at the image. The Dark Side had not been kind to Palpatine physically. 'Ah, yes, now I see why you call him that. But why should you care about ... freeing ... me? Why should you interfere?'

'Surely that is obvious. Look at my face. Tell me what you see in it.'

Vader saw only the handsome visage of Qui-Gon Jinn looking at him with that, disconcerting and yet pleasing, love in his eyes. 'I do not see you.'

'Don't you?'

A low chuckle broke from Qui-Gon's lips drawing Vader's attention back to the older man. The Jedi Master had evidently noticed the pert nubs tenting the front of Vader's shirt. Qui-Gon's free hand tweaked Vader's right nipple through the chill silk and Vader gave a gasp and arched his back as though offering his body for more. 

'Qui-Gon!' Vader sent over their bond, trying to reach the Jedi Master, but he heard nothing back from the older man. In fact, he could not even feel their bond. 'Luke!' He tried his bond with his son, but it, too, was simply not there.

Vader's heart fluttered in unaccustomed panic, a feeling of claustrophobia gripping him, as he realized he was trapped within his mind and he was alone again. Alone except for the elder Sith, but that was hardly comforting. He had gotten used to having the other men within easy mental reach, but now they were seemingly gone. The panic pounded harder when he realized the extent of his helplessness in this place: he could not speak nor even will the expression on his face to alter to show Qui-Gon how he felt or stop what was going to happen. 

'But would it matter if I could? If I cannot control my body, what makes me think that Qui-Gon can control his?' 

Qui-Gon was undoubtedly ensnared like he was by the ancient Sith, forced to caress Vader, compelled to gaze upon the Dark Lord as if he was something treasured and precious. Surely the Jedi Master did not want this intimacy. 

'You are so sure about that?' the Sith asked. 'Has he not always treated you as treasured and precious?'

'No! He ...,' Vader stopped for Qui-Gon had always treated him as such, only those feelings came across as more paternal than passionate. Discomfort flooded the Dark Lord at that thought. Had this heat between them merely lain hidden beneath the surface? 'It is not like that between us. He is a ... father-figure to me.'

'Considering your relationship with your own son that is an interesting comparison for you to make.'

'Your insinuations are baseless. I want and will take no other lover than Luke.'

'Ah, yes, so you say. But ask yourself this: are you with your precious Luke now only because you met him first this time around?' the Sith murmured.

'Met him first? What are you talking about?'

'As I said ... this experience you are having now ... it is a memory.'

'This never happened! Qui-Gon and I were never lovers. I was six when he died--'

'For the second time.'

Vader felt like a parrot as he repeated the other man again, 'Second time? That's impossible. Ah ... you imply another life? Do not bother with this line of talk. I do not believe in reincarnation.' 

The elder Sith's voice was crisp as he answered, 'Your belief is irrelevant. It is the truth. The first time he was taken from you was soon after this meeting took place. It almost destroyed you. Experience these last moments together with him again.'

'No! You will stop this. Release us! NOW!'

The ancient Sith responded dryly, 'I'm afraid I must decline your ... strongly worded ... request. You must see this moment if not for the revelations it offers you about your feelings towards this man then ... for a way out of your present predicament with Sidious.'

'What? I don't understand how this has any bearing onâ€"'

'You will. Just watch.'

The fingers of Qui-Gon's right hand suddenly slipped behind Vader's head and the Dark Lord's attention snapped back fully to the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon massaged the soft skin at the base of Vader's neck. The Dark Lord tilted his head backwards as if to trap that teasing hand there. The rest of his body similarly responded to the touch: a flush of arousal stained Vader's cheeks, his breathing grew deeper, and trills of heat ran down his spine and centered in his groin. 

It was like this was a familiar act between them and his body already anticipated what was to come. Vader rebelled against this anticipation, strove not to fall forward against hard armor that warmed against him and became soft and pliable, but it was no use. He was securely in the other man's arms. Not a hair's breadth between their bodies. 

Qui-Gon's left hand palmed his lower back, sliding down to his buttocks then squeezing them like they were ripe fruit. Pleasured moans spilt from Vader's lips like rain. Qui-Gon placed a chain of kisses all along his forehead then moved downwards, his goatee tickling Vader's bare skin, till that generous mouth covered his own. The kiss was startling in its possessiveness, its surety.

'Qui-Gon! I am Luke's! Not yours! STOP!' But at that moment, Vader recalled Sidious' mocking voice saying, 'You've always wanted to be someone's ... boy.' Those words were like a splash of icy water on Vader's psyche. He strained even harder to shake off Qui-Gon's touch, tried to wrench away this time. 'I am no one's boy! No one's!'

But nothing changed no matter how he raged against it. Vader was locked within himself and in this place, at the ancient Sith's pleasure.

The kiss deepened and Vader felt he was being devoured as the other man mapped his mouth with his tongue. He made a desperate mewling noise when Qui-Gon drew back. Then with a grin, the Jedi Master gently nibbled on Vader's lower lip as if to console him for the loss.

Vader was not a fool. Perhaps unwilling to see or understand certain things when they happened; instead shoving them away, not allowing his conscious mind to dwell upon them until later, or, hopefully, if the situation never arose again, not at all. But he was not a fool. Only sometimes his willful blindness led him places only a fool should be.

Vader now allowed himself to understand the look on Qui-Gon's face in this place, his tender caresses, and why the Jedi Master's hand had jerked away from Vader's hair after the last vision. Qui-Gon had obviously figured out what they were to each other ...no, he corrected, what the ancient Sith wished them to believe they were to each other ... far before Vader had. Vader was Qui-Gon's ...lover ... beloved. He was Qui-Gon's boy here.

'What is the purpose of this? To show me how you can maneuver us like puppets in this place? To make us feel things ... do things ... we wouldn't if not for your manipulation!' Vader shouted mentally at the other Sith.

'You do so persist in your denial. But remember the second reason I show you this ... your freedom.'

'How does showing me these carnal acts help me against Sidious? Not that I would believe or trust anything you did show me.'

'Denial again. Watch. Listen. Learn.'

Rage tore at Vader at the other's complacent tone as if he were a child to be humored. But it was impotent rage and it did nothing to change his predicament so he quieted. He would not give the Sith any more of his attention. He would endure this ... vision ... but he would offer no more entertainment to the other Dark Side user.

The kisses stopped and the caresses slowed as Qui-Gon pressed his forehead against Vader's and began to speak. At first, the thrum of the hovering ships' engines made it hard to hear and the language was incomprehensible, though melodic, to Vader's ears, but like a universal translator switching on, the meaning of the words abruptly became clear. 

"My One, I thought you were angry with me," Qui-Gon said.

Vader's body tensed. His eyes dropped down to the floor and he clenched his fists at his sides. Vader heard himself ask, "Who says I am not still?"

A low chuckle. "You never make it easy for me do you?"

Vader's head reared back and he frowned deeply. "You do not deserve it to be easy! You seek to leave me! I should be by your side!"

"Not in this."

"In all things!"

Qui-Gon sighed, or at least his lips opened and a gust of air brushed Vader's cheek. "You know you cannot come with me. You must remain here and welcome the Dar'tath."

Vader wondered what Dar'tath meant, but obviously there was no translation for it into Basic. His thoughts were interrupted as he suddenly wrenched himself away from the older man, turning so that his back was to Qui-Gon, his arms crossed over his chest in a defensive gesture. "And what if I don't wish to? What if I ... refuse?"

There was nothing in the Force to indicate Qui-Gon's intended actions. Vader's only warning was a slight stirring of the air as the other man moved too quickly for human eyes to follow. Vader was grabbed and swung around. The air in his lungs was expelled in a harsh gasp as he was pressed tight against the older man again. Vader had to tilt his head backwards to see the other's eyes. They were burning gold with Dark Side energy.

"You will go through with it, my One. It is the culmination of all we have fought for. We will control every aspect of the Force," Qui-Gon said, his voice tinged with the command of the Dark Side.

Vader winced as armor-clad hands dug into his shoulders to enforce those words. 
"Is that all I am to you? A way to enslave the Force fully? To bend it completely to your will?" 

Qui-Gon's eyes became a mellow gold instead of the blazing furnace they were moments before and his mouth relaxed from its firm line into a gentle smile. 

"You know that is not true," Qui-Gon's voice was low and smoky. His hands loosened their grip from Vader's shoulders and slid up to cradle his face. "I would never have taken you to my bed ... into my heart ... if I meant to rule alone. We will rule over the Force together. As we have always been meant to."

Qui-Gon's head dipped down, his eyes sliding half shut, but just as those lips were about to touch his, Vader said, "So easy to say now, but words without actions mean nothing. You taught me that."

Qui-Gon froze, his breath passing into Vader's mouth, his expression shuttered, but Vader could see that his thoughts were whirling through that clever mind. Qui-Gon nodded and pulled back. He reached up to his own neck and pulled out a long silver chain that nestled there. Slowly the chain was lifted up and out of the armor until Vader saw a delicate amulet at the end. He recognized the Black Heart lettering. Vader just knew that this was the necklace that his mother had found, the one that had gone to Watto, the one that Salara's father had attempted to purchase, and the one that was found where he was conceived.

Qui-Gon slowly placed the necklace around Vader's head, adjusting the amulet so that it slid down the inside of his shirt and rested against his bare skin between his pectoral muscles. The older man pressed his palm over the amulet and warmth pulsed between them. Vader felt his heart rate speed up. 

"Is this action enough for you, my One?"

Vader looked down at the hand that rested upon his chest over the amulet that seemed to throb against his skin. He lifted his head up so that their gazes met. His own hands rose and he laid them palms down on Qui-Gon's broad shoulders. His lower lip was trembling and he actually felt the burn of tears in his eyes. The necklace must have far more significance than a simple bit of metal, but such knowledge did not flow over into Vader's awareness. 

Vader licked his lips as he leant forward, his head tilting to the side, his eyelids sliding to half-mast. His voice was hoarse as he said, "I will relent if you ... promise to do one more thing for me."

"Ask and I will do it."

"Promise me that after this war that you will never leave me again. That we will never be parted."

"That," Qui-Gon answered huskily as he laced one hand through the hair at the base of Vader's neck, "is something I can assure you of." He leant in, his mouth poised half an inch from Vader's as he added, "I will be with you for all time ... my beloved son."

Vader's smile at that moment was golden, glowing, as he answered, "I will hold you to that, Aethero."

'Aethero ... father ... lover ... both. Oh, Force ... this can't be ...'

The vision or memory ended. All went black around Vader. He was in a void. Betrayal streaked through him like lightening. The Sith had read his most precious childhood wish and granted it to him: a father who loved him and offered to rule the universe with him as if there was nothing more natural. But this offering was a complete violation, too, a rape of his hopes and wishes. 

Because it was a lie. 

None of this had happened. Qui-Gon was not some grand, powerful warlord on a wild Force-filled world. Qui-Gon was not his adoring father. And Vader was not a beloved son. The older man had not been lost in a war and Vader left to mourn his loss. He was a Jedi Master, a practical stranger to Vader when he died; protecting one Padawan and in so doing abandoning his next Padawan to the mercies of others who were not so kind or good or caring. This "memory" was merely a way for the ancient Sith to amuse himself after millennia of being cooped up in the Archive with no one to torment. 

It had to be. 

Icy wrath wrapped its tendrils around Vader's heart as he hissed at the ancient Sith, 'You will pay for this ... this obscenity! I will destroy you! I will obliterate the Archive! I will eradicate it! You will go to the Madness Beyond Death for this! I promise you.'

And the voice that was, but wasn't Qui-Gon's, echoed in his mind, 'You misunderstand. Ah, of course. You misunderstand, because this ... having a father who loves you ... is too close to your heart, isn't it? I am glad that your need for me has not diminished--'

'You? My need for you? What are you ... you are not ... you cannot be ...' 

'Oh, but I am. I am your father. And I am Qui-Gon. Or I should say ... he is me. Though he ... until this time ... has forgotten that fact. But he will have to remember ... to save you from Sidious. And when that happens, I will be fully reborn ... my beloved son.' 

Vader felt like all the air was being pressed from his lungs; that he was suffocating again as heard those words.

'No! It's not true! It can't be true! I'll never believe that! I don't believe you!'

For one wild moment, Vader could hear his own son saying almost those exact same sentiments to him when he had revealed the truth of the boy's parentage on Bespin. Then the universe seemed to tilt on its axis as the cell block was once again around them even though Vader could still smell those rain-drenched trees from the landing pad. The falling sensation hit him like it had in the hallway after the last vision, but this time, since he was already on the ground, he was able to brace himself against the metal grating of the cell block's floor and keep himself upright as the world pitched wildly around him. 

When his surroundings stopped spinning, Vader focused on his hands. They looked like pale starfish against the blackened durasteel. He couldn't ... wouldn't look at Qui-Gon. Couldn't quite face him yet after ... after what had happened. Vader swallowed hard. 

"Anakin?"

Qui-Gon's voice made him jerk, but he kept his face averted. The older man was, of course, the first one to talk, to reach out. The tone of his voice, simply speaking Vader's former name, communicated that he understood Vader's pain. And that galled the Dark Lord as much as it pleased him. 

'Could he be my father? No! It's impossible. Then why don't I do a simple blood test to confirm one way or another ... because I know he isn't! But could he have been ... before ... long ago ... thousands of years ago ... in another place ... another time ... adoring me ...'

Vader felt dizzy. The Darkness was whispering again, scratching at his mind, and he feared within it was the elder Sith's voice, offering him knowledge, terrible truths, things he had always wanted, but shied away from at the same time. Vader refused to look up when Qui-Gon called his name softly again. He kept his head down and his body rigid. But he knew that the older man would not take the hint and go away. Vader tensed more as he realized he didn't want the other man to go. He wanted him near to feel safe and also to rage against him. 

Qui-Gon dropped down onto his haunches in front of Vader. "Anakin? Are youâ€""

"Why do you call me that?" Vader snapped.

"Why do I call you ... oh ... I call you Anakin, because ... that is your name," Qui-Gon said. He was even closer to Vader now, within a hand's breadth.

"No, it is not! It has not been for twenty years. I am Vader now. You know that yet you persist to ignore this fact! Demonstrating your Jedi obstinacy and foolishness!" Vader heard his words and couldn't stop them even as he knew they were nonsensical and only a way to avoid talking about what had happened in the memory ... 'no, not a memory! A vision! A trick! A filthy Sith mind-trick!'

"Forgive me if I prefer to call you by the name your mother gave you rather than the moniker that ... Sidious chose for you," Qui-Gon said, his voice still soft, with only a hint of bitterness as he spoke Sidious' name.

Vader's heart hurt with the statement. It was a good answer. A caring answer. But he was not in the mood for the older man to read him so well and offer him so much. Vader's mouth felt filled with ash as he gave a short, sharp laugh. He lifted his head to meet the other man's concerned gaze. So close, just like in the Archive. The desire to move into his arms and be safe and loved by a ... by a father ... flowed through him, but he shoved it down. A smile, or perhaps more like a sneer, twisted across Vader's handsome face. 

"Is that why you call me Anakin? I wonder ..."

"What?"

"That may be what you tell yourself, but perhaps you persist in calling me Anakin, because it allows you to make believe that I am still the little boy you knew. Allows you to feel that you can still reclaim me. That you can undo your ... failure ... in dying and leaving me with Obi-Wan and those wretched Jedi. That I am not lost forever to you like your precious Xanatos."

Vader tilted his chin up, letting the smile grow as he spoke, even as he felt sick at his own words. He saw how the name of Qui-Gon's former apprentice and the cruel use he was putting that confidence to caused Qui-Gon to flinch. But his better nature lost out to his anger and pain. 

Qui-Gon was so close, too close, and Vader's clothes were ripped open, fluttering around him like a shroud, and his body ached from where Sidious had bruised and torn his skin reminding him of how helpless he had been, how in need of rescue. And how Qui-Gon had rescued him. And how it had felt to be rescued and caressed by a father's hand and ... it was unbearable.

The Jedi Master regarded him for long quiet moments that made Vader want to squirm and drop his head, but he kept that mocking smile on his face instead. 

The older man finally said, "I will not fight with you, Anakin."

"Of course you won't," Vader said as he rose to his feet slowly, brushing off the droid parts from the remainder of his clothes. He would not be at the feet of another man. Never again. "Because fighting with me would reveal how far I am from the boy you once knew."

'And the boy you could have raised and loved, but didn't. Instead you died saving Obi-Wan. Died when you were my father in the past and ... and could have been again. NO! Damn this!'

Qui-Gon stood up to face him. The older man's brow was furrowed, his lips parted as if he wished to speak, to comfort, but didn't know the words. But Vader would not listen. Not now. The Jedi Master began, "That is notâ€""

Vader continued on as if the other man had not spoken, "Fighting with me would show how I am not the ... the mewling, panting slut in the vision. I am the Dark Lord of the Sith. Not your boy! Not your son! Not anyone's!" His voice rose at the end and he heard the hysterical edge to it, but he couldn't stop. His emotions were swinging wildly out of control. 

Qui-Gon's hands were out in front of him, gently patting the air as if it were Vader's shoulders. "I know what ... what the Sith said to you ... if it was anything like what he said to me ... what he made me call you ... what he had us do--"

"Did you enjoy touching me? Kissing me? Having me writhe against you like a skilled whore? Do you imagine it now? That I would call you Master or ... or father ... and ... and drop to my knees and take you into my mouthâ€""

"Stop it!" Qui-Gon's face was marred by a grimace. "You're just afraid. Afraid what he said is true and that it isn't. That I might have been your faâ€""

Vader refused to be put off or rather he refused to have to listen to the truth again. "That doesn't answer my questions, Jedi! Tell me that you want me. I know you do. It will be a ... relatively ... painless confession."

Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose and he said, "I always want you, Anakin and I always will. Even when you hurt others. Even when you hurt me. Even when you hurt yourself."

And Vader felt like he had been slapped. "You dare to ... to admit that you ... you..."

"I will always ... always love you ... and want you with me," the other man answered so softly as he gently went to grasp Vader's shoulders for real this time.

Vader jerked away. His body trembling and his voice chill as he asked, "You think I would betray Luke with you?"

The Jedi Master shook his head. "No, I know you would not. I am offering ... to be what you need. Whatever it is you need. And this time I think it is--"

"You presume to know what I need? Foolish Jedi. You have no idea."

Qui-Gon's expression was grave. "I fear I do."

Vader stiffened. "Do not pity me! I do not need your mercy or understanding!"

"You need so much more than that. And that is why you are terrified."

Vader felt the brush of Qui-Gon's presence along their bond and he mentally flinched. "You Jedi always talk of fear as if you understand it when you flee from it and every other emotion. Have you ever looked into the Darkness and felt it looking back at you? That is fear. That is terror."

"The Darkness is a part of the Living Force. It is always with me. A companion I did not understand that I had or wanted or ... needed. I do know, Anakin." 

Qui-Gon moved forward again, inching towards him, and Vader felt the desire to step forward. Allow the embrace. Allow the strong, masculine arms to hold him close and banish the pain of abandonment that had been the only constant presence in his emotional life up to this point. To be weak for a moment. Just a moment.

But then Vader heard the Dark Side begin to trill in his mind as it hadn't since Black Heart. It was like a lullaby blocking out all his sense, all his love and pain towards this infuriating and alluring man. 

'Weak? I am not weak. I am strong. I am ... I am Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, Destroyer, Slayer, Master. It is this puny Jedi that should be afraid of me. He is the weak one.'

He stalked over to Qui-Gon and internally cursed at his lack of greater height as he invaded the other man's personal space. To his credit, Qui-Gon did not back away. The Jedi Master's spicy, woodsy scent filled his nostrils, that scent that made him feel safe and warm and loved, but he ignored it.

Vader tilted his head to the side, that mocking smile on his face and in his voice, as he purred, "Do you have a weakness for pretty, young men, Qui-Gon? Was Xanatos pretty, too? Did you want to bed him like you want to bed me? Did you ever break that blessed Jedi restraint and fuck him into his mattress at night at the Temple?"

Qui-Gon's expressive mouth tightened into a thin line and his eyes flashed warningly. "Enough, Anakin. Do not listen to the Darkness. It only wants to hurt you."

"I will say when it's enough! I am the one in control here! Not you!"

The older man gave out a bitter bark of laughter and said in his rich, baritone voice, "Control? You haven't been the one in control of yourself or anything since I died and Palpatine slithered his way into your life and your mind. That's what this ... posturing ... is all about. The fear that if you allow yourself to care for another ... to care for someone you could submit to ... that you will lose everything."

The words felt like acid splashing against Vader's skin. The Dark Lord was using Force-Choke on Qui-Gon before he even thought about it. Qui-Gon shuddered, but unlike other victims, he did not claw at the invisible hands at his throat, knowing it was useless. The Dark Side's melody welled up louder and louder in Vader's mind as the other man's face purpled. It was better than any lover's voice, but so ... so cold. 

Qui-Gon reached out to him and grasped at his shoulders. Warm skin that seemed to break through the Dark Side's icy hold on him. The other man's grey eyes met his and they were filled with pain. Only it was not pain for what he was experiencing ... it was pain for Vader. This man did not fear death. He had already been there. Qui-Gon feared what killing him would do to Vader. The Dark Side's music stilled for one moment.

"No! I ... I don't want him to die!" Vader heard his own voice sounding so young and frightened. The Dark Side's melody returned, but this time dissonant, angry with him, wanting him to take a life for it, to feed it, but Vader shoved its desires away, wrenched his Force powers back from the other man.

'What have I done?'

As soon as he was released from the Force-Choke, the Jedi Master stumbled backwards. Vader grabbed him just before he tumbled to the floor. Vader kept the other man upright as Qui-Gon gasped and took in deep, shuddery breaths. Already bruises were blooming around his neck. Vader hissed and gently touched one of them. The older man flinched away from him. The Dark Lord jerked his hand back.

'Of course he doesn't want me to touch him. I just tried to kill him! Lost control and ...hurt someone I care for. Again.'

Vader backed away from Qui-Gon. His hands trembled at his sides. He wrapped them around him torso, attempting to still the involuntary movements, but his whole body shook instead of just his limbs.

'I've attacked my master ... my ... my ... father ... no ...'

"I ... I know you ... you can't ...can't forgive me," Vader stuttered. "But I'm ... sorry. So ... sorry."

Qui-Gon reached for him. "Anakin," his voice was raspy. Damaged. "Don't ... don't .. leave."

"I'll have Luke come to you. He will ... he'll heal you." With that Vader turned on his heel and fled. 

Luke's POV

The doors to Detention Block C whooshed open. It was not the detention block where he and Vader had made love. It was the detention block where the slavers were being held. Or at least where they ... had ... been held. Only his father was in there now.

It was over two hours since Vader had fled Qui-Gon and sent Luke a pain-filled mental message to help the Jedi Master. No explanation other than Qui-Gon was injured and his location. Then his father had pulled his mental shields all the way up, keeping Luke completely out. Luke had found the Jedi Master, beyond distraught, crawling down the hallway, his throat blackened with bruises, hardly able to breathe. Luke had healed him, recognizing the cause of the injury; even as shock ran through him that his father would have used Force-Choke on the older man. 

After his throat was healed, Qui-Gon had haltingly confessed what had happened. The attack by Palpatine. The visions. And their contents. The fact that the Archive was not merely a repository for information but housed the consciousness of an ancient, evil Sith Lord who claimed to be Qui-Gon in a prior life, who also claimed to be Vader's father, Luke's grandfather. All of it was laid bare to Luke, even the parts that Qui-Gon had not wanted to say, the parts where he and Vader had been intimate. 

Those details had burned Luke inside, made him angry in a way that showed him just how much he was his father's son. And had made him realize his fears of losing Vader to an unknown lover out in the wide universe had been foolish. He should have been looking closer to home to a man that Vader loved and trusted almost as much as he loved and trusted Luke. Part of him had wanted to send Qui-Gon back to the Force at that moment, take back the energy he had given him, but then horror had gripped him. He cared for the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon was ... was like family to them even without the shadow of his being Vader's father in some past life. What was he thinking?

'But Father's mine! Qui-Gon can't have him! He's MINE! Oh, Force ... jealousy ... would I kill out of mere jealousy? Destroy someone? Take their life because Father might ... might prefer them to me? No, I cannot allow those emotions to lead me. I cannot act on them. I must ... must not.' 

Besides, Luke trusted his father implicitly. He even, ironically, trusted Qui-Gon. He knew his father would not betray him. Nor would Qui-Gon ask Vader to. Neither man had done those things in the visions willingly. And Vader would tell him if he wanted to ... to go to another. He would not creep behind Luke's back. He would simply tell Luke his intentions. And if the time came and Vader asked to be released from their bond ... Luke felt like his heart was breaking even contemplating it ... but if that time came he would deal with it then. But until that time, Vader was his. And Luke was going to fight for what was his. 

Luke had tried to rush off to his father right after the last words were out of Qui-Gon's mouth but the older man grabbed his arm, restraining him. "Don't, Luke. He's not ... he needs to get a hold of himself. He would never forgive me if I let you go to him now and he ... he would never forgive me."

"He would not hurt me! He needs me!"

But Qui-Gon had not let go. "He is not himself right now, Luke. You know that!"

Luke had broken away and run to the Detention Block where he had felt his father's Force signature. Qui-Gon had been right on Luke's heels, his Jedi robes flowing out behind him like wings. They had heard the screams coming down the hallway through the closed detention block's doors. The screams were like nothing Luke had ever experienced: high-pitched, endless, almost wet sounding as if the person was drowning in them. And thankfully they were not his father's. But if they were not Vader's ... then Vader was the one causing them. Luke had swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat.

Two storm troopers in their gleaming white armor stood guard outside the Detention Block's doors. Like sentinels of light even as they guarded a black place.

"We have been instructed by Lord Vader not to allow anyone inside," one said as he pushed back on Luke's chest.

"He would want you to let me in," Luke said.

"No. He said specifically that you were not to be allowed inside. Either of you," the trooper answered, almost gently. "And if you force your way in ... our lives are forfeit."

"What? No ..."

Luke couldn't be responsible for the troopers' deaths. His father had thought of everything to keep him out. He had let out an anguished cry then slumped to the floor. His father was torturing the slavers and hurting himself by doing so. And he could do nothing to stop it. Luke slammed his fists into the ground. Qui-Gon settled down behind him. The older man's arms suddenly went around Luke's slender body. Luke stiffened, but then he surrendered to the comfort being offered. He rested his head against Qui-Gon's broad chest. 

"Why is he doing this?" Luke whispered.

"It's the only way he knows to stop feeling pain and confusion. It makes him feel ..."

"In control. Even when he's completely ... out of control," Luke finished. "You have to teach him another way ... this will destroy him otherwise." 

That it could destroy everyone else, too, was left unspoken.

They had said nothing more for a long time after that. The screams rose and fell like obscene music from different men's throats. Finally, they had ended and there was a extended, almost painful silence. Luke had finally stood up on numb legs and went to the doors. 

"He will not punish you for ... for allowing me in now," Luke said, certain of it, though he did not know why.

Luke had to give them credit that after only a momentary hesitation, the troopers stepped aside, giving him access to the door panel. After listening to what his father was capable of this showed more courage than Luke thought he would be capable of in their shoes.

Luke then had looked over his shoulder at Qui-Gon who had also risen. "I want to do this alone," he said.

Qui-Gon nodded, looking grey and tired. "I understand if you don't want him and me to be ... Luke, please let me help him ... help you both. If not in this then ..."

Luke gave him a wan smile. "I'm not kicking you out of our lives. He ...he needs you. You give him something I ... I can't."

Qui-Gon blinked back tears, one hand rising and pinching the space between his eyes. "He is yours. You are each other's. I don't want to ... interfere in that. I don't think ... no, I know ... I could not interfere in that."

Luke bit his lower lip. "I'm not giving him up. Not even to you. Not unless he ..." Luke held his head up higher, his blue eyes flashing with strength and conviction. He cared not the troopers heard what he was about to say. "He promised me it would just be him and I ... forever. I believe that. I want that. I intend to have it. Do you understand? You can be his Master ... perhaps even his ... his father, but not ... not his lover."

Qui-Gon regarded Luke for a quiet moment before nodding his agreement. He gave a smile that was less weary. "You are so like him."

"Yes. Yes, I am. And that is not a bad thing," Luke said then turned back to the doors. "Even when ... even now."

The air that flowed outward as the doors opened was perfumed with the iron tang of blood. Luke felt his stomach roil. There was no one in the control chamber. His father had chosen to ... interrogate ... the slavers alone. Luke resolutely walked forward. His booted feet made echoing, clanging sounds as he entered the narrow hallway that held the individual cells. He remembered similar cells where he had spent the most glorious time with his father just hours before. But he shoved that memory from his mind. He did not want to taint that experience with Vader with this one now. 

The individual cell doors were open. The light in each of them was blinding. The white walls were splattered with red and hunks of pink, yellow and a gray: blood, organs and bone. The remains of what had been men hung like slabs of meat from their chained wrists from the ceiling. Luke stopped looking after the third cell and its ravaged occupant met his gaze. It was then that he saw his father. 

Vader exited the last cell. He was leaning against the wall, dragging himself along it, seemingly too exhausted to stand upright on his own. 

'The torture has worn him out,' Luke thought with a touch of horror.

Vader's chest was bare. It glistened in the low light of the hallway with sweat and blood. His hair hung in wet, loose tangles down to his shoulders. Some strands were sticky with blood, making them curl tighter. His eyes had a constant gold glow under heavy lids, which turned towards Luke then, pinning him where he stood. 

'How can he still be so beautiful?' Luke wondered. 

Vader pushed off from the wall, but his legs trembled beneath him. Luke made to move and help him, but the Dark Lord steadied himself on his own and gave off an aura that kept Luke back. 

"Did they ... did the slavers tell you what you wanted to know?" Luke asked softly, but his voice echoed in the silence.

Vader's voice was quiet, too, almost slurred seemingly from the superhuman effort of speaking. "I ... I didn't ask them anything. I just ... destroyed them." His father suddenly shook himself, as though aware for the first time that Luke was there. "What are you ... are you doing here? I told those troopers that if you got in they wouldâ€""

"I know. I waited. But you were done and I ... I had to come in. Don't blame them," Luke said. "I had to ... to be with you."

"Be with me? You want to be with me?"

"Yes ... yes."

Vader looked down at his hands, tacky with blood, and his faced seemed to crumple as he met Luke's gaze. He half-turned so that his head and upper body were facing the wall, his arms covering his face. "I don't ... don't want you to see me like this, Luke. I don't ... I'm filthy. Filthy and ugly and ... I don't want you to see."

Luke slowly began advancing down the hallway towards his father. "You aren't. You're still ... beautiful. Still ... It's okay. It'll be okay."

"No. It won't. It can't be. I ... I hurt him. Did he tell you ... tell you what I did? What I said?" Vader's voice was broken and hoarse. His shoulders began to shake and Luke realized he was silently crying. Crying not for the slavers that he turned into slabs of meat, but for the Jedi Master he had throttled. The slavers were nothing in his father's mind, but at least Qui-Gon was important. Luke felt the alienness of that thought pattern, but knew he would have to accept it for that was how Vader operated. Perhaps his father would change that belief-system. He already had to a great extent. But not entirely. This carnage proved that.

"He told me. Everything." Another few steps.

Vader stopped shaking, but his voice was still husky with tears and small like a child's, "Does he hate me?"

Luke shook his head then realized his father could not see him. "No. He's ... he's extremely concerned about you. He ... he loves you ... very much."

And yes, that hurt to say. Hurt to acknowledge that Qui-Gon loved his father dearly. Maybe more than the older man knew or was willing to tell Luke.

Vader turned around, his amber eyes looked almost lifeless and he could hardly meet Luke's gaze. Their eyes would catch and then his father's would skitter to the floor or the wall or the ceiling. Finally, though their gazes fully met and Vader asked so very softly, "Do ... you ... hate me, Luke?"

"No, never. Never," Luke said. He was a foot away from Vader.

Luke admitted to himself that a part of him was afraid. His father was capable of terrible things. He could lash out at Luke now and there would be nothing Luke could do to stop him. But he had to trust in his father's love for him, trust in the Force, trust that somehow, this could be all right again. 

"I love you, my son. Believe that. I never ... never would betray you. Never meant to hurt you. I can't ... can't explain why I wasn't strong enough to stop Sidious and this ...other ... why I'm not strong enough..." Vader's voice hitched at the end.

Luke moved. He pulled Vader against him, buried his head against Vader's chest, not caring that he was smeared with the slavers' blood. He couldn't bear the pain and almost childlike confusion in his father's tone. 

Luke murmured into his father's skin, "You're the strongest person I know. But that doesn't mean you don't need help. Let us help you. Let me help you, Father. Together we can do ... anything. Face any foe. Together. Please."

Vader's arms were around him, tight and strong and desperate. Luke felt his father's hot breath against the top of his head and the hammering of Vader's heart against his cheek. "You forgive me? For what happened with Qui-Gon and ... and this?"

"There's nothing to forgive on my end. But I give you my forgiveness if that helps any."

"You forgive me ... even when I don't deserve it." 

Luke shut his eyes and tightened his hold on his father's torso. It was a statement that might damn the universe, but he would give it, because it was true. "I'll forgive you always, Father. Always"