Tincture of Innocence

A/N: This oneshot features Chazzer, because I love him to pieces, and Vader, because the potential for comedy in their interactions is so delicious.
Timeframe: Sometime between Vader's dinner with the Banais in chapter 6 and when he begins seriously considering leading a rebellion in chapter 8

On a bright afternoon a few weeks after he had dined at the Banai house the first time, Vader came into his shop from the courtyard, blinking rapidly in the dim light.

"Hi, Mr. Kraytrider," said a voice. When his eyes had adjusted, Vader recognized Banai's youngest son. What was his name? Oh, yes—Chazzer.

"Er. Yes?" Vader answered.

"Is my dad here?"

"Ah, no. No, he is not."

"Oh." The boy climbed up onto the stool beside the counter.

Vader swept to the workbench and the damaged cooling unit that was next on his list.

"Oh! What's that?" the boy said.

Vader looked up. Chazzer was pointing at the mouse droid, which had zoomed around a pile of spare parts.

"It's a mouse droid."

"What's a mouse droid? I've never seen one."

"The Empire uses them to carry messages and do some kinds of maintenance on its naval ships and military bases."

"You have an Imperial droid? Are you an Imperial?"

"No. It used to be Imperial, but it stopped working and someone threw it away. I fixed it so it can carry tools around the shop."

"Wizard!" Chazzer whispered. "Show me how to fix a droid."

"What?"

"I want to know how to fix broken droids. It looks like fun."

"No. I'm busy."

"Why do grownups always say that?"

"I didn't know they did. Because it's true, probably."

Chazzer sprang down from the stool and peered over the edge of the workbench. "What are you doing?"

Vader paid him no notice.

Chazzer climbed up on Theec's stool. "I said, what you are doing, Mr. Kraytrider?"

Vader grimaced and looked up briefly. "Replacing a cooling unit's compressor." He returned his attention to the machine.

"What's that called?" Chazzer pointed to the tool in Vader's hand.

Vader told himself that hurting the boy would be a bad idea. A very bad idea. His hand tensed on the shaft of the wrench. "It's an autowrench," he grated.

Chazzer was blessedly silent —for about 7.6 seconds.

"Why are you taking this apart?"

Perhaps if he ignored the child, he would disappear. Vader turned away from the bench—and incidentally the persistent boy—and searched through a box of gears. Behind him, sounds of scrabbling and then the small brown face appeared at his elbow again. "What are you looking for?"

Vader clenched his jaw. The shadow he had unwillingly acquired followed him until he returned to the cooling unit. The boy observed inquisitively as Vader pulled the failed compressor out of its shell. Vader inspected it carefully. Sand had pitted the fan blades. He set about removing them and pitched them into his scrap metal pile. The blades were worthless, but the metal still had some wear left. He set aside the old compressor housing to be shelved for future use and lifted the replacement compressor into the cooling unit's shell.

All the while, Chazzer's dark eyes watched his every move. When Vader began replacing the bolts, the boy begged, "Can I help with this, Mr. Kraytrider? Dad lets me tighten bolts sometimes."

Vader glanced at him. The boy exuded enthusiasm. His resemblance to Kit in that moment was astonishing. A little surprised at himself, Vader handed over the autowrench. He kept a close eye as the boy lined up the threads with care and cautiously tightened the bolt. Tongue peeking between his teeth, brow puckered, breath bated, he maneuvered the remaining bolts into place. He examined his achievement anxiously. "Did I do all right, Mr. Kraytrider?"

Vader inspected the work; it was satisfactory. He gave a curt nod. A great smile split Chazzer's face. Vader plugged the unit in, and Chazzer cheered at the ensuing hum. Vader put the unit beside the door and began tidying his workbench, with the boy eagerly if inexpertly handing him tools and parts.

"What do we do now?"

"I…Why are you here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

The boy laughed. "I already went."

Vader groped for some other pressing activity the boy should attend to. He had a vague idea that mothers were supposed to know their children's whereabouts. "Does your mother know where you are?"

"She said I could come as long as I wasn't a muisance. I'm not a muisance, am I, Mr. Kraytrider? I'm helping you."

Vader looked down helplessly into the earnest face. Why couldn't he just send the boy away? But he was so innocent. And the Banais would be upset if he hurt the boy's feelings. He was not accustomed to worrying about others' feelings. But somehow he couldn't purposefully tarnish the boy's joy—the child reminded him so much of a young Kit.

Just then, Theec returned from making a delivery. Vader looked up in relief.

"Chazzer," said Theec. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to help Mr. Kraytrider. Mom said I could."

"Theec," Vader interrupted, "return Chazzer to his mother."

A week later, Vader was toiling through his accounts when Chazzer scuffed into the shop. He stopped before the counter and looked up at Vader. "Mom says I was a muisance last time I came and I have to apologize. I'm sorry I talked so much. She said to tell you she's sorry, too." The boy's expression was downcast but his eyes did not waver from Vader's.

Vader froze. What should he do? He realized Chazzer expected him to say something. "Very well. I suppose you did not know. I shall say nothing further about it."

Chazzer continued to look at him steadfastly.

"What more do you want?" Vader said gruffly.

"Are you mad because I talked so much?" His voice was small.

Vader blinked. "No." Why did the boy think he was angry? He checked his shields, but they were impregnable as ever. He double-checked that he was not projecting his emotions. "Why do you say that?"

Chazzer sighed. "Because you aren't talking. When grownups don't talk it means they're worried or angry. And you're not worried."

"I'm not?"

"No. Worry is different than angry." He angled his head to the side in a gesture that recalled his father. "You don't seem angry either, but Mom says when you're not sure, it's better to ask. Then you can make it right."

"Oh. Um—no. I'm not angry." Uncertain why he wanted to explain himself, Vader continued, "I don't talk very much."

Chazzer's expression brightened and a feeling Vader didn't recognize radiated into the room. "That's okay. As long as you're not mad. If I promise not to talk very much, too, can I help you?"

Vader opened his mouth to say no, but before the word could emerge, he identified the feeling. It had been so long since he or anyone he encountered had felt it that he barely knew its name.

It was hope.

"Very well," he said and sighed.

Chazzer beamed.