Chapter Text
The child in front of him is tiny. Though, with Vader’s increased height and discolored sight, the entire galaxy looks different to him. His skin is supposed to be the pale blue color typical of all Faust beings, but it looks more reddish-purple thanks to his lens.
Vader can feel the boy’s fear – and he can also sense that he knows something. He steps closer, slowly crouching in front of the child though the movement jars his injuries agonizingly. He’s been forced to get used to it in the last year since it happened, though. Sidious cares little for how painful kneeling is for him.
The child backs away from him, his already large eyes widening.
“I did not come here to harm you,” Vader tells him, “The Empire is here to establish order.” There's a rebel revolt on the planet of Adana where the Fausts live, and he was sent here to put it down, the same as he would have done were the Empire still a Republic. Except everything else is different now.
The boy doesn’t believe him.
“You must have seen the rebels somewhere. They will harm anyone who stands in their way.” At least they will if they’re anything like the Separatists.
“Wer bist du?” the boy asks.
That is distantly not Basic. He doesn’t know what language it is but he can sense the meaning.
“Darth Vader,” he replies.
The boy's eyes widen at the word, but this time it doesn’t seem to be in fear. “Du bist hier, um mir zu helfen?”
“...Yes. The Empire will protect you.”
The child bites his lip, glancing between the rows of buildings that line the streets of the town. He finally lifts a hand, pointing toward one of them.
The location of the rebels.
So much for the other townspeople’s claims that they don’t know anything about it. He can still hear them trying to convince the Ninth Sister of it.
Once, as Anakin, he may have tried to offer the child more comfort, especially knowing that he is about to be caught right near a battle but – That is not what Vader is anymore. He’s no longer sure he even knows how to do that anymore. Not when all he’s known is the ceaseless, unending pain of every kind he could and could never imagine he’d have to face for the last couple months.
Vader stands, forcing past the pain that tears through him as he does, and moves down the street. This is a mission the same as any he’s ever done. All he can do is move robotically and carry it out. He knows what he needs to do.
The battle breaks out moments later. The rebels start shooting before he or the Ninth Sister even get there.
He ignites his lightsaber, deflecting the shots away into the nearby gray building walls or the duracrete street, and some back at the rebels fighting them.
Cutting through them swiftly isn’t hard. He’s fought harder battles in the past. Except, the moment the last of the rebels are fallen and the others flee down the street, the Ninth Sister stalks toward the civilians who are backing away from the worst of the damage.
“You lied to us,” the Ninth Sister snarls, spinning her double-bladed lightsaber and then charging them, cutting through the bystanders without hesitation.
His first instinct is to tell her to stop, but that is – that’s the Jedi side of him and he knows it. Sidious is always displeased when he shows the slightest traces of that. His master has told him over and over again to leave all traces of that behind him, or he will not be good enough to be anything anymore. He cannot disappoint his master. He knows how that’ll end, how it’s always ended. He must bring peace to the Empire.
The people here very well could be involved with the rebels, but he also doesn’t know that. Killing them all senselessly will serve little purpose.
There were more rebels who fled further away anyway and that’s who they should be pursuing. “Come,” Vader orders her, turning to move away.
Something runs into his leg and when he looks down slowly, it’s to see… the child? He’s wrapped his arms around Vader’s leg, burying his face against his cape. He’s terrified – Vader can feel it clearly in the Force.
“Vater,” he says, nearly a whimper.
…What?
“Go,” Vader tells him, slowly lowering a hand to his shoulder to tug him off. He lets go very reluctantly, but doesn’t back away. “It is… not safe for you here,” he repeats, trying to say it slowly to convey his meaning.
The boy looks up at him, eyes wide and full of tears.
Why is he out in the street alone? His family must be dead or they show little concern for him.
“Vater,” the boy repeats desperately.
Why does he keep saying that?
Vader leads him toward the side of the street opposite the death. “Go,” he repeats again, and the child slowly backs away, finally darting off behind the bushes outside one of the buildings.
There.
Now, they need to keep moving.
***
They finish dealing with the rebels quickly enough. The Imperial presence they’re leaving behind isn’t something Vader needs to stay around to observe, so he’s heading back to his ship when he catches sight of a familiar figure moving in and out of the shadows of the buildings, following him again.
Seriously.
What is with this child?
“Vater?” the boy asks when he realizes he was spotted, slowly stepping out of the shadows. He looks fearfully at the Ninth Sister behind Vader.
Vader doesn’t quite intend to shift his position so he’s standing between her and the child, but he… still does it. “What is it?” Why does he keep repeating his name like that?
He says something that Vader doesn’t catch, except that it includes his name again.
The way he’s saying it is beginning to make him think he means something else by the word – he’s not pronouncing it right. At first, Vader thought that was because of the childish way he speaks, but now he’s suddenly wondering –
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Du bist mein Vater.”
He doesn’t understand the words but the emotion – He knows that emotion far too well.
The boy thinks he’s his father.
Or at least, is under the assumption that he told him he was going to adopt him.
A wild rush of grief and guilt and gutting pain floods him full-force. It’s overwhelming, too strong for him to know how to face.
He was about to be a father. He was going to have a family – the one thing he dreamed of so long. And then all of that was ripped away, burned to ash just like he was.
His child is dead because of him.
The guilt is nearly strangling every time he thinks of it, and it’s enough that all he can feel is the overwhelming darkness, flooding the gaping hole everything he lost left inside of him. But even that isn’t enough to fill it.
He lost that because he – That was because of himself, no matter that Padme betrayed him and he’ll never have the chance to understand why because she’s gone. Nothing will change that he hurt her and their child is gone.
And now this boy is…
For whatever unfathomable reason, is under the assumption that Vader plans to adopt him.
As if he – could even –
“I am not your father,” he replies evenly, struggling to speak past the emotion crushing him. He wants to lash out and crush something, destroy something, as if it’ll do anything to fill the emptiness inside of him.
The boy’s face falls. Vader doesn’t understand his reply, except the Vater.
He sounds desperate.
He doesn’t want to be left here alone, with nothing. Something Vader knows all too well, because that’s all that will ever be true of him again.
The boy’s loss is probably also because of the Empire, because of Vader himself.
Not that he is capable of anything but destruction. He doesn’t know what to say to him. “Your home is here,” he tries finally.
The boy glances back at the still burning town – the town that will have so much rebuilding to do, Vader doubts anyone will be stopping to care for this child. The boy just as quickly looks away, eyes full of tears.
He looks back up at him hopefully, as though Vader is capable of helping anyone anymore. He’s talking again, though Vader still can’t understand a word. But he’s obviously asking to come.
He could force him to leave or he could –
“Nothing happens by accident,” Qui-Gon had once told him and he doubts this meeting is either, even if he roughly shies away from the memory and gutting emptiness thinking of anything of Anakin’s life brings him.
Even seeing this species is – not helping. The last time he saw someone of this species was Nuvo Vindi. The incident wasn’t pleasant, but at least he had Ahsoka and Padme and his boys and – and – Now they’re all gone, and they’re never coming back.
But this meeting was not by chance. The Force…. made this happen for a reason even if Vader cannot understand why. It feels like more of a punishment for what he’s done more than anything, not as if he would deserve any less. The least he can do is – is ensure the child is brought somewhere safely, even if Sidious would be displeased. His master doesn’t need to know, though. As Anakin, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do this but he’s not Anakin. “Very well,” Vader concedes, “You… may come.”
The boy squeals and bolts the rest of the way to him, throwing his arms around his leg again. When was the last time anyone touched for anything but pain? Maybe it’s only been about a year, but it could be a lifetime for how long it feels like, for how different everything is.
He also shouldn’t be allowing this when there are witnesses nearby but he doubts the inquisitor would ever speak of this incident again. She likely doesn’t even understand the reason he’s very reluctantly agreeing to take this child along, but he knows she won’t ask.
He still doesn’t know what to do with him, though.
“What’s your name?” Vader asks an afterthought, standing there awkwardly as the boy hugs him.
The boy blinks up at him, uncertainly.
“Your name,” he repeats slowly, trying to convey his meaning.
“Ulrich,” the boy replies cheerfully, smiling brightly up at him.
“Come, then,” he says, waiting until the boy steps back before turning to head back for his ship, Ulrich running after to keep up with him.
***
He should have gotten to do this with his own child. Once, he would have, except he killed them. Vader is the reason his child is not here, and he understands what it means to lose. He can feel this child’s grief – his real parents are dead, and he’s been roaming the city and trying to survive on his own ever since.
He needs help, and he attached himself to Vader in a way that is guaranteed to get him hurt, but he cannot turn it down.
He has lost both a parent, and a child. He’ll let this one stay until he can find a better place for him.
As for taking him to a safe location – temporarily, naturally – his castle on Mustafar will work very well. He has plenty of extra, unneeded room there.
The child is studying all the controls on Vader’s ship.
He finally points to one of them, babbling eagerly in whatever language it is he’s speaking.
This is going to be difficult. But his instant fascination with ships reminds Vader of – of Anakin, when he first left Tatooine.
Vader tries to explain what the controls are for, but he doesn’t think Ulrich really understands Basic enough to know what the complicated words mean.
Ulrich finally settles back in his seat next to Vader’s, seeming content to to just watch as he flies them away from Adana and back to Mustafar. The awed look in his eyes when they make the hyperspace jump is… kind of adorable, if he’s being honest.
It’s strange to be in the company of someone else, most of all a child.
As Anakin, when he’d have to teach the young padawans –
He banishes that thought as fast as it comes.
Ulrich unsurprisingly has little desire to sit still and he’s sliding out of the chair, crawling over pretty much every inch of the ship in minutes. They can’t communicate well but Vader just follows him, keeping a close eye on him and letting him explore what he wants.
He doesn’t let himself think about how this is the first time he’s felt the tiniest shed of warmth within the gaping emptiness in his heart since everything fell.
***
Ulrich is glued to the viewport as they land on Mustafar, and when Vader heads down the ramp, Ulrich scampers along next to him, looking around with wide-eyed curiosity. He doesn’t really seem bothered by the Darkness, but with the life he’s been living, that may not be surprising.
“Vater!” Ulrich says, perking up and reaching up to grab his finger. It’s his right hand – the one that still has some feeling and it’s the first time someone has touched it willingly. No one has ever said his name so adoringly either. It’s… strange.
“Orangenwasser?” he asks, pointing at the lava.
Vader has no idea what he’s saying but the excitement over lava rivers is an immediate cause for concern. “That is dangerous. It will hurt you. Stay away from it,” he replies, trying to keep the sentences simple to convey his meaning.
The boy deflates a little, but he keeps staring at it curiously until he leads him inside. He takes him directly to the floor of the castle where no one but Vader goes because he doesn’t want anyone seeing this.
But now that he’s here, he doesn’t know what to do with him.
Sidious called him on the way here, saying he wants him on Coruscant for a meeting so Vader has to go. He’s already on edge from that though he doubts it has anything to do with the child.
“I need to go,” Vader tells him, “You can stay here until I return.”
Ulrich looks disappointed, but he nods.
Vader takes him to one of the countless empty rooms in the halls, one with a window but that definitely doesn’t open. There’s no bed either – setting this up will be a lot of work, and he’ll have to do it fast.
Ulrich won’t have anything to do here either, but he doesn’t know what he could do about that, at this point.
He finally settles for giving him a datapad so Ulrich doesn’t immediately try to follow him when Vader goes to the lower levels of the castle to get what the boy will need. Food for a couple of days, bottles of water – none of this is food a child will probably want to eat, but he doesn’t have anything else here except rations for stormtroopers. Not exactly the best food for a child.
In another lifetime, he would have been taking care of his own child like this. Helpless yearning for what he’ll never ever get back floods him full force when he thinks about it. He gets blankets for a makeshift bed finally since there’s nothing else he can use, and goes back to the boy’s room.
Sleeping on blankets on the floor is how he slept for most of his life before going to the Jedi Temple, so… It’s not that bad. He knows many people who did it and survived, even if it’s not considered good. Though, there will be no way the life Vader can provide this child will be even something resembling good.
Ulrich doesn’t seem to mind, either. He’s positively enthralled with the blankets, actually. When was the last time he had something like this?
Oh, and he’ll have to get him a clothes change for later, even if he’s not going to be here long but that will have to wait or Sidious will be wondering what he’s up to.
Hopefully Ulrich won’t get into any trouble while he’s gone. Because there’s no one Vader can leave to watch over him.
He hasn’t taken care of anyone in a long time. It’s a strange feeling to have again.
He can’t help the tiny part of him that misses when that was normal.
***
The meeting with Sidious goes better than Vader thought it would.
He was going to head back to Mustafar immediately but when he was walking the Senate halls, he runs right into one very familiar protocol droid.
Threepio.
He hasn’t seen the droid since – since –
What is it doing here?
A brief investigation tells him that the droid and Artoo are now Senator Organa’s. He’s not surprised since he was Padme’s friend, even if he doesn’t understand how they got to him when they were last on Mustafar. But that’s not what’s really important.
He needs a protocol droid desperately right now. Convincing the Senator to give them up isn’t hard when he mentions that they used to be his; he didn’t mean to imply his former identity but he needs the droids right now.
Artoo remembers him, or rather he remembers Anakin, but that’s not who Vader is anymore.
Threepio doesn’t remember him. That shouldn’t matter but it still leaves him feeling empty.
But at least he has a translator droid and he asks Threepio to give him a crash course on the Fuast’s language – apparently called German – on the way back to Mustafar.
He also looks up a little about where to take orphan war refugees. But all organizations for that are still swamped from the war and continued unrest even under the Empire. The chance that Ulrich will find an ideal home is limited. Vader… doesn’t quite know what to do about that.
***
When Vader returns after leaving the child virtually unattended – aside from strict orders to the stormtroopers to ensure he is cared for – it’s to a mechanical nightmare.
Somehow. Ulrich got into Vader’s personal workshop – not that he has much time to work on his ships and designs anymore with how much damage the rebels throughout the galaxy are giving the Empire, and how long he needs to be in his bacta tank – but he has maintained some level of building.
If he can design a ship that will aid the Empire, his master would appreciate it.
“This is an impressive display,” Vader remarks dryly as he scans the disaster of machine parts scattered across the quarters he picked for the boy.
Ulrich looks up at him, smiling brightly. He’s five years old with still the entirety of life ahead of him. If the Force wills it, perhaps he’ll get to live it to completion. Vader is not familiar with children.
The other child he knows well and is training to be an Inquisitor is thirteen now. Ulrich is only five, and this is not for the sake of the Empire. It’s for the sake of a random civilian.
“Threepio,” Vader requests, “Translate for us.” Seeing the droid again is hard. He should have been with Padme. He should’ve been hers.
“Oh dear,” Threepio frets, “I believe he is saying he is attempting to construct a ship engine out of this junk.”
“Impressive,” Vader remarks, “I can show you how to construct any engine.”
The child perks up immediately, eyes brightening.
“He is asking if he can fly your ship,” Threepio tells him.
“Perhaps tomorrow,” Vader replies, carefully stepping between the disaster and crouching beside the child. He’s trying to connect two wires but can’t quite figure out how to do it, despite having dismantled the entire structure. Evidently, children will always find a way of keeping themselves entertained.
He remembers Ahsoka did.
Ulrich will need furniture for his room. Vader must find him a bed, and evidently, a workbench would also do a lot of good, though he will need to keep any explosive items away from him.
Just as he did with Fives and numerous clones in the war. Their barracks mysteriously exploded enough times.
Vader reaches to connect the two wires himself, and something sparks a little, attempting to whir to life. He is trying to build an engine. A mini one, but still an engine. It’s connected to some sort of visibly childish-looking droid. It doesn’t have programming, but the engine is set in a way to make it walk blindly.
That would probably amuse a child.
Maybe he can find a way to give the droid memory circuits or eyes.
“I will locate a work bench for you,” Vader tells the child. “But for now, I will cook you something.” Hopefully his cooking abilities are still existent – Anakin had cooked from time to time, on rare occasions, for his men and Ahsoka when they were on the fronts. It was never much, but it was frequently nicer to have than rations.
Vader wishes he were able to eat at all.
The boy says something, and Vader pauses mid-standing, turning back to look down at him.
“He is asking if he should build a flamethrower for a toaster!” Threepio yelps.
“There are no toasters on Mustafar,” Vader tells him dryly, “Unless the orangenwasser counts.”
Ulrich giggles.
“He says you said it wrong,” Threepio translates.
“I will learn your language tonight,” he promises.
“Don’t you have to sleep?”
“I do not,” Vader informs, “Sleeping is not a necessity for me.”
“He believes that means he does not have to sleep, either.”
“I am not a good model,” Vader objects fiercely, “Everything I do, you should never do.”
He does stay up all night attempting to learn German, though.
***
As someone who has never gone furniture shopping before, he puts Threepio in charge of that and taking care of Ulrich when he’s not around. Probably not the best idea he has ever had, but he has done far worse. The droid will not harm the child more than Vader himself.
“Can I have a bedtime story?” Ulrich asks, smiling brightly.
The translations still are hard to run through his mind, but he’s getting better at basic words.
His mother used to do that, but Vader is not Shmi, and his mind is blank. Sith do not do this.
The most he can think of is…
“There is a legend,” he says very slowly as he kneels beside Ulrich’s blanket pile, attempting not to remember how frequently Shmi would sit or lay beside him at night as he tried to fall asleep. His knees are aching and burning from the pressure, the already mostly burned off skin breaking and aching. It never heals. “When the sky is dark, and the lava bubbles, the Sith Witch of Mustafar is near.”
Ulrich is looking up at him, eyes wide with fascination.
“She arises to spread fear and troubles. First you hear an angry wail, and then the woods shall shake, and a ghastly light will fill the swale.”
…That’s probably the worst story he’s told in his life.
“We won’t have to worry about her, will we?” he queries.
“It is just a legend. The reality of which is possibly warped.”
“She can’t hurt you,” Ulrich mutters, eyes slowly sliding shut, “No one can.”
He… wishes that was true.
Wishes that there was a way he could protect this child like he failed his own.
“Go to sleep,” Vader orders him, pulling the blanket up and tucking it around him in a way he hopes is comfortable.
But the child is already sleeping, leaving him alone in the gray, empty room with nothing but the mingled sounds of their breathing, and the heaviness in his heart.
He wants to protect Ulrich.
He can’t protect anyone.
And somehow, over the course of the last few days, Vader has found himself to care for him. He doesn’t know how that happened.