Author Note: I honestly don't even know what this fic is but it is weird. The idea came to me one night and I wrote it. Hope you enjoy it. It won't be long. Like 4 chapters total. I promise. Maybe.

Med Bay #5

Imperial Prison

Coronet City

Corellia

In a small med bay in the bowels of the Imperial Prison in Coronet City, Darth Vader loomed menacingly over the unconscious form of Luke Skywalker. The young Rebel, dressed in black garments, was lying on a med bed with his hands bound with high alloy steel manacles, and his legs and torso held to the bed with strong straps.

The Sith permitted himself the luxury of checking the straps. They were strong. Luke would not wake up, throw off his bonds, and levitate himself through the ceiling and into hyperspace.

His son was in custody. Finally.

And the boy was, thankfully, in reasonable shape. During the battle to take the youth, Luke had set fire to several Imperial buildings, taken down a squad of stormtroopers, and caused plumbing issues in Sector 17 of Coronet City which would take days, if not weeks, to resolve. He had suffered a few bumps and abrasions in the process, including a blow to the head, but he was mostly well.

At last, at last, his son had been taken. After years and years and years of searching.

Well, four years. It felt like more. It felt like an eternity.

Darth Vader rocked back slightly on his prosthetic heels and smiled to himself. He felt ...

What was that feeling? It was a new feeling, or at least an unfamiliar one. He was, naturally, filled with satisfaction, but he had felt satisfied before.

He felt triumphant, but he had felt triumphant quite recently, when the Executor had blown a flotilla of pirate ships to space dust.

What was that feeling?

Not that it mattered. There was no particular point in pondering his own emotional state. Sith Lords didn't need to focus on emotion, merely get things done. And dwell in the Dark Side, and feed on its Dark Energies, and all that important stuff.

But Luke was still firmly asleep after being stunned unconscious and then pumped full of sedation drugs. Vader certainly wasn't going to wander off to fulfill vague tasks without the boy in hand, and he wanted to make sure his son was in reasonable medical shape before removing him from medical care. It would be most ... regrettable ... if his son were hauled on board Vader's shuttle and woke up with a brain aneurysm or something which required immediate medical care.

(A quick glance at Luke's recent brain scan showed a perfectly healthy brain, but Vader couldn't be too careful.)

So, he would stand, and loom, and wait for Luke to wake up.

He took a moment to inspect the lightsaber in his hand. Luke's lightsaber. He turned it on and found it had a green blade and was both well balanced and well made.

Luke had done an excellent job building his own lightsaber. He was truly powerful, as the Emperor had foreseen.

A stray thought rose like an oily bubble to the surface of his consciousness.

He was happy.

Yes, that was it. This emotion was happiness. It had been ... it had been 24 years since he had truly felt happy. It felt like that time behind the pillar on Coruscant, that incredible moment when Padme had told him, no, Anakin, that she was pregnant.

With what was probably a dopey smile, Vader turned off the lightsaber and gazed full into his son's face.

There was a groan and abruptly the blue eyes fluttered open. Luke stared straight ahead for a full minute, obviously trying to make sense of his world.

Vader knew the moment when his child became aware of his presence, because there was a sudden surge of terror and a moment later, the intent gaze was fixed directly on him.

Luke frowned hideously, struggled ferociously for 13 seconds, and then subsided in frustration as the various bonds held him tightly to the bed.

"Well, this stinks," he stated gloomily.

"On the contrary," Vader said with pleasure, "it is a most aromatic and delightful situation."

(Aromatic and delightful situation? What was this? He was a Sith Lord, not a poet!)

Luke seemed to agree with his assessment.

"Aromatic?" he asked in confusion.

"As opposed to, er, malodorous," Vader said with discomfort.

There was a long pause as the two enemies gazed at one another, and then Luke sighed, "So now what, Father?"

The surge of happiness was even more pronounced now. Luke had ... Luke had ...

"So, you have accepted the truth," Vader rumbled, being careful to tamp down the giddy feelings which threatened to overwhelm him. He needed to stay in control of this situation.

"I've accepted the truth that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father," his son returned firmly.

"That name no longer has any meaning for me," Vader responded, just as firmly.

"Yeah, I guess that's probably about right," Luke replied with a disappointed look on his face. "For one thing, I can't imagine Anakin using the word 'malodorous.' Hard to believe you were ever 24 once."

There was a pause.

"Indeed," Vader finally said rather awkwardly. He had already transitioned to being Vader at age 24, but it seemed such a very long time ago. Nor had his speech patterns been so ... stately ... at that age.

"So," Luke said with determination, "again, now what?"

"I will soon escort you to the Executor, which will embark to Imperial Center. I will present you to my master, who will turn you to the Dark Side."

Luke frowned, "Just like that?"

"Yes," Vader said confidently, "the Dark Side is power, my son. The Emperor will show you the true nature of the Force. He is your master now."

"And then, what, we work for the Emperor and terrorize the galaxy as a family?"

"Precisely," the Sith said enthusiastically. Really, Luke was being very sensible, far more so than at Bespin. Of course, events at Bespin had been rather tumultuous and confusing for Luke. And for him, to be honest. Luke's insane, suicidal leap into the chasm still caused the occasional nightmare.

(Vader's eyes strayed briefly to the bound right hand of his son. A prosthetic hand. He really did regret chopping off Luke's hand. But apparently Luke was being reasonable about the whole Bespin debacle ...)

A thought occurred to him.

"To clarify, we will not terrorize the galaxy," Vader amended hastily. "We will bring order to the galaxy as father and son."

"No, that is not going to happen," Luke said calmly. "I will not turn to the Dark Side. It's not like I would be happy running around the galaxy, even at your side, blowing things up and murdering people by the thousands and millions."

Vader blinked at the 'even at your side'. What was that about?

"Even at my side?" he asked in a puzzled tone.

"Well, yeah," Luke said with a slight nod. "I admit I've always wanted to know my father so I'd like to spend time with you, but being a brutal psychopath would make me miserable, not to mention be absolutely terrible for the galaxy in general and individual sentients in particular."

Vader sighed, though not loudly enough to be heard through the vocoder.

"You do not understand, young one," he said patiently. "Only through the Dark Side can you achieve that which the Force wills. It is your destiny ..."

A soft beep interrupted him. With a frown, the Sith gestured to a datapad lying on a nearby shelf. It flew into his hand, and he perused the new message on it with leisurely interest.

"What were you doing here on Corellia, Luke?" he asked, not lifting his helmet.

"I have no intention of telling you that," his son responded with a distinct snap.

Now he lifted his gaze to focus it on the boy's indignant face.

"I advise you to tell me, Son," he stated absently. "If you do not, your Rebel companion will. And while I will not torture you, I have no such hesitation where he is concerned."

Luke blinked, and his Force presence generated obvious confusion.

"My ... companion? I'm alone on this ..." he trailed away, then shut his mouth firmly.

Vader waited a full 30 seconds, then stepped forward, released the straps tying Luke to the bed, and stepped back.

"Come," he ordered.

Luke rolled to his feet gracefully, his face still more curious than alarmed. That was a trifle odd. According to his men, this man was clearly a Rebel conspirator. So why was Luke puzzled?

Or perhaps the boy was more adept at concealing his emotions than expected.

The tall Dark Lord placed a hand on his son's right shoulder. The youth was inclined to take this poorly and pulled away, but Vader determinedly yanked him back.

He had, after all, missed his son's birth, infancy, toddlerhood, preschool years, early school years, early teen years, late teen years, and early twenties. He'd even failed to lay hands on his son at Bespin thanks to the boy being convinced that Vader had murdered his father (curse you, Obi-Wan Kenobi!) such that their entire interaction had consisted of Luke trying to kill Vader and Vader trying to capture Luke.

Looking back at the whole affair, it had been a profound mess of miscommunication, roiling emotions, and sword play.

With a sigh, Luke submitted to his father's guiding hand and walked out the door, to the right, and into an elevator. The lift dropped four levels and opened up without so much as a word between father and son. Luke looked peeved, and Vader was still basking in happiness. Words weren't necessary.

The elevator door slid open to reveal the command center of high security detention block C. The officers, who had been lounging at least a few millimeters, leaped to attention.

"Where is the Rebel prisoner?" Vader hissed menacingly. He must maintain his demeanor of psychotic Sith Lord, after all, not ecstatically happy father.

"Interrogation chamber #2, my Lord," a random lieutenant stated nervously. "This way, my Lord."

Luke allowed himself to be shepherded down the hall, his Force sense growing more uneasy.

The door slid open and Vader pushed Luke in gently, then followed his son in. The door shut, and locked, behind them.

It was a fairly large room for an interrogation chamber, with a high ceiling, cold and baleful lights, and numerous nasty devices for torturing multiple individuals at once. But there was only one prisoner in residence, a man about Luke's height, pale skinned, brown eyed, but at least 15 standard years older than Skywalker. The human was standing against a wall with his hands chained above his head, all ready for an unpleasant interrogation. He was dressed in oddly ill fitting clothes – the black shirt was a reasonable size, but the pants were rather large and drooped somewhat precariously around the man's waist.

Vader had long deprecated the Rebel's fashion choices. Bright orange flight suits? How was that practical for a rebel organization whose members were trying, presumably, to maintain a low profile? But this man's garments met a new low.

At random spots along the wall were 6 stormtroopers, thinking random trooper thoughts. Being a stormtrooper was generally a very dull job, but Vader didn't let that worry him. They weren't paid to be mentally stimulated, just to do their jobs.

Lastly, an Imperial interrogator class B was standing near an interrogation droid, ready to do his work when ordered to do so by his Lord.

Luke stopped so suddenly that Vader had to halt abruptly to avoid running into him. The boy's Force presence had shifted from uneasy to blazing incredulity.

"Broose?" Luke demanded in clear disbelief.

"Hi, Luke," the man replied with a thoughtful glint of his brown eyes.

Luke took a few steps closer to the man, and Vader let his hand drop from the youth's shoulder. They were secure enough here and the Dark Lord was curious. Clearly these two did know one another.

"I thought ... I thought you went, you know, home!" Luke said in a bewildered tone.

"I did," 'Broose' replied gravely. "But I came back because you ... uh ... gave me some really great advice last time and I ... I could use more ... advice."

With a frown, Vader suddenly realized this man was a mild Force sensitive. Not really strong, nothing, nothing like his son, but there was some Force sensitivity. Interesting.

"How did you find me?" Luke asked with indignation in his tone. "I mean, it's a really big galaxy!"

"Well, that's a complicated question with a complicated answer and remember ..."

"You're a genius," Luke said with a sigh. "Yeah, right. Got it."

The youth frowned at the chained man for a long moment and then asked, "How did you end up here, though, in an Imperial prison facility?"

"Oh, that's simple enough," Broose answered with a slight smile. "You were all over the local news stations with that stunt you pulled today, the one that got you captured and caused a river of refuse to go flowing down one of the main streets ..."

"What?" Luke demanded, his eyes wide in horror. "Like, sewage, you mean? That is disgusting!"

"No," Broose said thoughtfully. "More like garbage. I think I saw some fish bones. If you have fish around here. Do you?"

"Yes," Vader's son replied wearily. "Yes, we have fish."

"So anyway, I could see you were in some kind of trouble, like real trouble, so I wandered into a bar and started making obscure comments about being allied with you and I got arrested."

There was a long pause.

Luke's face was a bewildered mixture of incredulity and horror.

Vader felt no horror, but he was certainly incredulous. This moron had deliberately gotten himself arrested? It was ridiculous! And yet, the man's Force sense rang true enough. What was going on?

"So, what's going on, Luke?" Broose asked politely. "Seems like maybe you neglected to tell me a few things, huh?"

The boy scowled and then sighed deeply, "First, you deliberately getting arrested was really stupid. Second, yes, of course there were things I didn't tell you, because I'm not ... I don't have clearance to tell random people certain things, and my life is complicated, and you don't need to know ... everything."

"So who is this?" the chained man asked with a lift of his chin toward Vader.

Now there was a ripple of shock from the random troopers in residence. Who was this man? How could he possibly not know the identity of Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith?

Luke rolled his eyes, but responded readily enough, "His name is Darth Vader. He's second in command of the Empire, which is the government controlling the galaxy."

"Which is a despotic, totalitarian and brutal government, right?" Broose asked curiously.

This was weirder and weirder. Had this man been hiding out in some remote moon for the last decades of his life? How could he not know what the Empire was?

"Yes, the Empire has murdered a bazillion civilians and wreaked havoc and destroyed worlds," Luke replied gloomily. "The Emperor runs the Empire, but Lord Vader is his strong arm, so to speak. They are both Sith Lords."

"Sith Lords?" the older man inquired curiously.

"Dark Side Force adepts," Luke explained. "Both very powerful. I've not had the displeasure of meeting the Emperor yet, but I met Lord Vader about a year ago and tried to kill him and he chopped off my right hand with a laser sword. This was after I attacked him, so I kind of deserved it, but it hurt. A lot."

Broose frowned and shook his head, "Seems like you kind of had that coming, Luke. Why did you assault him?"

"Because he captured my friends and tortured them so I would come and try to rescue them, that's why! He set a trap for me, and I evaded it, and then he chopped off my hand, but I managed to escape by jumping into a bottomless shaft that thankfully wasn't bottomless and my friends rescued me," Luke returned indignantly.

"Gotcha," Broose said thoughtfully, eying the Dark Lord in a way which caused an uneasy stir in the Sith's thoroughly damaged stomach. It reminded him of the look a krayt dragon would give a bantha. This man's demeanor made no sense at all.

"So he's your enemy, then," the man continued carefully, shifting his arms so that the chains rattled slightly.

"Yes, emphatically," Luke said, his brows furrowed. "He's a thoroughly lousy excuse for a human being.

There was another pause, and then the boy's eyes widened in horror.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" the youth exclaimed. "Don't even think about it!"

"Seems like you need some help, Luke," Broose replied, his eyebrows raised.

"You ... you don't like killing people, you told me that!"

"I don't like it, no, but I owe you a lot, Luke. Do you really think I'm going to just let him do something horrible to you?"

The troopers behind Vader shuffled their feet slightly at these words, and Vader found himself dropping his hand close to his lightsaber. These were very threatening words.

"I don't want you to," Luke replied passionately. "And you don't owe me anything, Broose! Your life was hardly in danger!"

"My soul was," the chained man said quietly.

The two stared intently at one another and then Luke's shoulders drooped slightly.

"Lord Vader is my father," he said quietly.

Another surge of bewilderment from the troopers, but that was nothing to the incredulity suddenly broadcast by the man called Broose.

"What?!" he demanded after he managed to shut his hanging mouth.

"Yeah" Luke said sadly. "He is. We have an incredibly messed up family and I didn't know until after he chopped my hand off, but yeah, he's my father. So for all that I hate what he's done, and who he is, I don't want you to kill him. Or try to kill him. I'm not sure you could."

Again, the krayt dragon look, mixed in with a very intent stare of curiosity.

Then the man relaxed, "Ok, that makes sense, Luke. I'm sorry I butted in. I have a friend with kind of a similar situation, actually. He and his younger brother have been fighting and nearly killing each other off and on for years."

"That's rotten," Luke responded sadly.

"Yeah," Broose agreed.

There was a pause and then Luke turned resolutely toward Vader.

"You will, of course, ignore my recommendation, but you really should let Broose go, Father."

There was a long pause while Vader stared first at Luke, then at the man in chains.

He admitted to being rather unnerved. But if he listened to Luke, then it would negatively change the dynamics of their relationship. No, he couldn't show weakness now.

"Commence with the interrogation," he ordered the Interrogator Class B.

"Broose," Luke said urgently as the interrogator prepared his shock stick, "Go that way!"

The boy was pointing towards the door of the cell with his bound hands even as he added, "Lower population center. You'll end up in a forest."

"Thanks, Luke," the prisoner responded sincerely, even as he apparently braced himself for ... something.

The interrogator stepped forward boldly with the shock stick in his hand, even as Luke began backpeddling. Vader grabbed him by the arm and halted his progress, noting the boy's spike of anxiety.

The stick was lifted and thrusted against Broose's chest. The man jerked and yelled in pain.

And a moment later, the man began changing before the Dark Lord's incredulous eyes.

He who had been a middle aged, medium height man began altering. The man, the Thing, was suddenly tall, and then taller. Taller than the Dark Lord of the Sith.

And green, very very very green. With giant, enormous, incredible muscles. With legs as large as tree trunks. The durasteel manacles shattered into a thousand pieces, broken apart by the gigantic wrists of the creature.

2.65% of Vader's horrified brain noted that while the man's shirt tore and fell along with the manacles, his stretchy pants held. So that was why the man's pants were so ill fitting ...

"Arrgghhhhhghhhh," the Thing, the Hulk, howled.

"Rarhhghrrrrrrrr!"

Author Note: I know this should be a crossover but I was hoping to conceal "Broose's" identity until the last bit. As for how the Hulk ended up in the Star Wars universe, I'll explain that later. Maybe not convincingly!