Author Note: I don't own Star Wars.

The Executor

In Orbit around Sedratis

4 months after the Battle of Yavin

19 years of service to the Galactic Empire had made Darth Vader a man of military precision and routine.

The planets came and went, with long stretches in hyperspace. But the shipboard regimen provided its own sense of security, of tenuous peace. It assured him that he was, in spite of the personal tragedy that was his life, where he belonged.

He had 65 minutes before his command meeting.

There were reports to analyze, there were always reports, but an errant whisper of the Force directed him to take a rapid walk to Interrogation Chamber #2 in the high security block.

The door to the cell slid open and Vader stepped inside. A captain and two troopers were pushing the prisoner into place against the wall. The prisoner's hands were cuffed above his head and a wide band of metal held his narrow waist against the wall.

He was unconscious. For now.

Vader looked at the young man – and he was, indeed, very young – for a long moment. There was something about him …

"Report," he ordered the officer.

"A Rebel, my Lord, captured by a double agent on Sedratis 4 hours ago. He was stunned and then sedated by the agent. We are preparing to wake him and begin the interrogation. Initial data suggests he is a pilot with substantial knowledge of the workings of Rogue Squadron and he may indeed know the name and location of the Death Star pilot."

Vader nodded slightly. This was why he had been drawn here by the Force, then.

"Wake him up."

A medic, standing to one side, moved forward and injected a stimulant into the boy's arm. It was designed to be an uncomfortable awakening, and included additional chemicals to encourage the subject to talk freely.

Vader watched as the young man regained consciousness. The lolling head straightened suddenly, the youth's legs found purchase on the hard floor below.

And Vader found himself taking a sudden breath out of sync with his respirator. For with consciousness came a blooming Force presence, one both startling in its intensity and familiarity.

This man, no this boy, was not just a pilot, but the pilot. The source of that remarkable Force presence felt in the Death Star trench. Bright, energetic, powerful, passionate.

Obi-wan's padawan. Or student. Or protégé. The Destroyer of Palpatine's battle station.

He was remarkably untrained.

Darth Vader allowed himself a full smile, a smile which stretched scarred skin, which hurt even as it reminded him that he was still alive.

The smile remained as the youth realized where he was. A look of terror, and pain, flashed across the young face. He yanked, futilely, against the bonds holding him.

"A pointless exercise," Vader boomed stepping closer. The youth flinched, but the determination in those eyes reigned supreme.

The door slid open. The interrogation droid hovered briefly, then moved into the room. The officer and men stepped aside.

Vader hesitated briefly, then gestured for the droid to stop.

"Leave us," he ordered the other sentients in the room.

There was a flash of surprise (muted by the bright Force presence of the child) and then the men obediently marched out, closing the door behind them.

Leaving Darth Vader, and his prey, alone.

There was a long pause, a pause which would have been ironic if the energy pulsing between the men hadn't been so real. For on one hand was a scrawny youth, chained to a wall, and on the other the Dark Lord of the Sith, more than 2 meters in height, black armor, flowing cape, rhythmic respirations.

The boy broke the silence first, his voice filled with passionate conviction, "I won't tell you anything."

Vader tilted his head slightly, "You have already told me much, boy."

He stepped forward, closer, looming over the young man who flinched even as he determinedly lifted his head to stare into Vader's dark mask.

"You fired the shot which destroyed the Death Star," Vader said softly.

A quiver of terror ran through the youth's slim frame, but the face remained defiant.

"You can't prove that," the prisoner said huskily.

"I need no proof," the Dark Lord snarled back softly, "Do you imagine I did not sense you in the Force as you flew down that trench? I look forward to our discussions before your death. I am sure you have much of interest to tell me."

The prisoner gulped, fear crossing his face, before again he straightened his body as much as possible within his bonds.

"I will tell you nothing," he spat, "No matter how much you torture me. Do you imagine I will break before a murderer and betrayer of the Jedi?"

Vader, who had turned away to move toward the interrogation droid, turned back curiously.

"Kenobi died relatively honorably, young one, in battle," the deep voice mused, "Your understanding of betrayal and murder is … rather limited."

"Not … not Ben," the boy returned, his eyes suddenly glowing with rage and grief, "My father. You betrayed and murdered him. I cannot avenge his death at your hands, but I will not betray his memory by telling you any secrets of the Alliance sworn to fight you and against the loathsome regime you support."

Vader considered the boy thoughtfully. There was passion in that young face.

(Would his own child, if he or she had lived, loved him enough to avenge his death?)

That bitter thought provoked his vicious rejoinder, "I have killed many fathers, quite possibly yours. It is most unlikely that he was significant enough that I remember him or the nature of his death at my hands."

He resumed his walk to the interrogation droid, and leaned over to program it. He felt the rage building in the prisoner at his casual dismissal of the father he obviously venerated. All to the better. An emotional prisoner, generally speaking, would break earlier, and speak more freely, than a stoic one.

"His name was Anakin Skywalker."

Darth Vader froze. And turned back.

"What did you say?" Vader demanded blankly.

"Anakin … Skywalker." the youth repeated slowly, steadily, even as he shook long blond bangs out of his eyes, "My father. His name was Anakin Skywalker. He was a Jedi Knight. You betrayed and murdered him. He was Ben Kenobi's friend. I'm quite sure you remember him."

Vader's paralysis ended, followed by a surge of such anger that he flew forward, his hand raised. Only as he closed in on the prisoner did the rational part of his brain step in.

Interrogation 101: Do not inflict such damage on a subject that he is unable to speak.

The Dark Lord settled for a harsh slap across the youth's face, hard enough that the boy's head thumped against the durasteel. The brilliant Force presence dimmed as the prisoner fought for consciousness.

Vader waited, hands clenched, barely able to control himself from striking out through the Force and killing the boy. But that was almost certainly what the subject wanted, to die before he could reveal Rebel secrets.

There were other ways for Darth Vader to show his displeasure at this deception, which cut at the very heart of the Sith Lord's most devastating personal tragedy.

The youth shook his head slightly to clear it, then held himself up again, lifting his chin to look directly into Vader's eyes.

(Which was odd. Not even Palpatine could do that reliably.)

"It appears you do remember him," the prisoner said softly, through bruised lips.

"Your false claim is most inadvisable, young one," Vader returned coldly, willing himself to remain calm.

The hardened expression relaxed, changed, into bewilderment.

"You think that I'm lying about the fact that my father was a Jedi Knight?" the boy asked incredulously.

Vader paused. It was an odd contention. And more than that, the prisoner's Force presence was blazing with honesty.

The Sith Lord stared incredulously. This young man actually believed …?

Vader's mind leaped, the pieces clicking together in his mind. The youth was a strong Force sensitive. He had been in Obi-Wan's care. There were many orphans from the Clone Wars and early years of the Empire. So Kenobi had no doubt found a Force sensitive and chosen to convince the boy that he was the son of the legendary Anakin Skywalker. That had to be it.

For the so called 'Alliance to Restore the Republic' would enthusiastically welcome the (imposter) son of the legendary Hero With No Fear.

And Kenobi? He had always been one to have plans within plans. No doubt he had his own intentions for this pretender, but his encounter with Vader on the Death Star had meant his own involvement in the boy's life had ended abruptly.

Vader relaxed slightly. He was still furious at this reminder of his lost child but at least the prisoner was merely confused, not deliberately driving knives of guilt into his brittle soul.

(He had thought, on cold dark nights, of the child dying in the womb of his mother. Had he or she died in terror? Or in those last, horrific moments, as Padme's life ebbed away, had she managed to envelop their little one with love?)

"You are unwise to trust Kenobi, Rebel scum," he responded harshly, "I assure you that his claim of your parentage is false."

The young brow wrinkled in bewilderment.

"Ben didn't tell me that Anakin Skywalker was my father," the boy sputtered indignantly, "My aunt and uncle did. I've always known. They didn't tell me that he was a Jedi, but at least they told me what his name was!"

Vader stared at him and shook his head slightly in bewilderment.

Anakin Skywalker had, of course, been an only child and he knew that Padme's siblings had not adopted a Force strong infant. So Kenobi had arranged for some mysterious couple to raise this boy from infancy, who had told him that they were his blood relations?

He had always been able to take the long view, had Kenobi. And if his plans had been laid out for so long, the child was possibly the child of a Jedi. In those days and months and years when the Jedi were hunted from one end of the galaxy to the other, it was possible that Kenobi had found and taken the offspring of a known Force sensitive.

He allowed his curiosity to bloom to its full glow.

(It subjugated the grief when he thought of his child's bones, nestled in the bones of the mother, in the tomb of Padme Naberrie Skywalker on Naboo.)

He reached out with the Force and stabbed the communicator.

"My Lord?" came the disembodied voice.

"Send my med droid to this cell, immediately."

"Yes, my Lord."

Time was ticking onward. Absently, he sent a com message canceling the command meeting. Any insight into his former master's machinations was of more value than an easily rescheduled meeting.

The next 10 minutes passed in silence. The prisoner continued to exude strength and determination, his face defiant, as Vader gazed at him.

There was a soft whoosh as the door slid open. The med droid approached and waited for instructions.

"Obtain a blood sample from the prisoner. Run a genetic test comparing his DNA to all known Force sensitives in database R3906. Security code NPD15973."

The droid moved forward obediently and carefully inserted a needle into the boy's neck. The boy didn't resist the slight prick.

"Analysis commencing," the droid stated.

The Rebel spoke, skeptically, "You're seriously trying to convince me that you have DNA data for a bunch of dead Jedi, including Anakin Skywalker?"

Again, the prosthetic hands clenched. Again, Vader pushed down the rage at the casual use of that name.

"We have DNA from a vast number of Jedi, and other Force sensitives as well," he replied, "The Jedi kept careful records, and the Empire maintained the database after the Order was eradicated."

He stopped, surprised that he had bothered to explain.

The prisoner was exuding bewilderment, "And you really expect me to believe it when that droid says I'm not Anakin Skywalker's son?"

He stepped forward now and grasped the boy's chin, forcing it upward.

"Your delusions," he growled at his young prey, "Are of no concern to me. I am merely satisfying my curiosity about Kenobi's machinations in the last 20 years. When this analysis is complete, I will commence with the more important part of today's activities."

The youth paled just slightly, and his eyes darted briefly to the interrogation droid. This time, Vader sensed when the boy drew on the Light Side of the Force to fortify himself for the upcoming ordeal.

He really was remarkably strong, Vader mused, as he stepped back.

There was a beep from the med droid, followed by its calm voice.

"Analysis complete. Paternity match in database."

Vader nodded with interest. So one of the Jedi had indeed …

"Name of paternal parent?"

There was a slight click, and the droid replied, "Data Entry # 8965 Name Anakin Skywalker."

Vader's eyes were on the boy when those ridiculous words emanated from his med droid.

The youth's eyebrows lifted even as he rolled his eyes.

Vader froze, then turned to the droid.

"What?"

The droid managed to convey a slightly offended air as it repeated, 'Data Entry #8965 Name Anakin Skywalker."

Vader turned and stalked toward the droid, "That is impossible!"

The droid, not being a biological sentient, held its ground.

It paused, then said, "Analysis repeated. Paternal match. Data entry #8965 Name Anakin Skywalker."

Vader stared at the droid, then back at the boy.

The prisoner looked back at him incredulously, "I told you he was my father. I would think you'd be happy to have another Skywalker to torture and murder."

This would ordinarily have angered Darth Vader, but his brain was such a whirl of confusion that the words passed over him like blowing snow over a frozen lake.

DNA match.

A confused maelstrom of thoughts swirled.

This boy was not his son. His child (he didn't know the gender) was dead. The remains of his wife and child were in a tomb. On Naboo.

A clone. He must have a clone somewhere. He had certainly left pieces of himself in more than one place in the galaxy.

The very thought of a clone made him shudder.

So if the clone had impregnated a woman almost 20 years ago, there would be a child with a paternity match to Anakin Skywalker.

Or perhaps a clone had had a child, and the child had been cloned with accelerated growth to produce the young man who was standing chained to a wall.

The youth was giving him a look like he was crazy.

Maybe he was crazy. Or losing his edge. How could he have missed something as monumental as a clone? And clone child? And who had done it? Kenobi, somehow?

Sidious? (It was the sort of nasty thing his Master would do, come to think of it.)

"It must be a clone …" he muttered.

The boy apparently had excellent hearing.

"You think I'm a clone?" he demanded indignantly.

"Not you," Vader muttered back, "Or … maybe. Maybe you are. But your father wasn't Anakin Skywalker. He must have been a clone of Anakin Skywalker."

The boy blinked at him, before shaking his head, "I freely admit, Vader, that this interrogation of yours is very creative. I've read the handbook on Imperial interrogations and I understand the part about the torture droid over there. This peculiar obsession with my father is, I confess, just weird."

Vader let these words flow through his mask into his mechanically augmented ear, but he didn't really grasp them in their entirety.

Because he did have a way to prove it to himself, if not the boy. Not immediately. And he would convince this youth sufficiently that the boy acknowledged, with his own bruised lips, that he was not the son of Anakin Skywalker. Because his child was dead. In a grave. On Naboo.

"Med droid," he barked out suddenly, "Compare subject's DNA to the data files in CGA1738."

(He would sometimes sit and look at Padme's DNA pattern on his holoscreen, at night. She was dead. She would never return to him. But at least he had this record of the woman who had won his heart, and broken his heart. Even as he had broken hers.)

A long pause, and a beep.

"Maternal match. Data entry #1087 Name Padme Naberrie, also known as Padme Amidala. Maternal aunt match. Data entry #9854 Name Sola Naberrie. Maternal grandfather match…"

The droid kept reciting the matches, but Darth Vader was no longer hearing.

He turned back to the child.

His child.

This. Was. His. Child.

There was no reasonable explanation for anything else.

He was an idiot.

He moved forward without thinking. Stared incredulously at the young face in front of him, puffy and red from his harsh strike. The eyes, according to the color sensors in the helmet, were blue. The hair was dark blond. The nose, now that he knew, reminded him painfully of the boy's mother.

He ran a gentle hand over the swollen cheek, regretting it bitterly.

The prisoner was looking indignant and trying to move away from him.

Which was, of course, impossible.

His son must be very uncomfortable. He had been standing with his arms chained over his head for quite some time.

He lifted one hand and released the boy's hands, though he left the band at the waist, keeping him restrained against the wall.

(The situation was too volatile. He knew he was an emotional wreck, and he couldn't let his son, his son, run around this cell while Vader's entire view of the galaxy wobbled madly on its axis.)

The boy's arms fell as Vader backed up, staring at him.

What was the child's first name, he wondered?

He found himself, suddenly, on the floor, kneeling. Not in reverence toward his Master, but because he couldn't hold himself vertical anymore.

He felt like rocking back and forth like a demented prisoner in an insane asylum.

He had known known known known known that Padme was dead and the child was dead and Sidious told him he had killed them both and now …

He knew none of it was true.

He had a living child.

Author Note: I have read many fics where Vader finds out about Luke, and they are great. In most fics, Vader seems to have a remarkable ability to grasp the truth quickly. I decided it would be fun to write a story where he just will not accept what is right in front of him until a med droid forces it down his reluctant throat. Hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will have Luke's reaction.