Vader watched in fury as the boy was shunted up onto the platform. He knew he couldn't end slavery in the galaxy, that had been a child's naïve, innocent wish, but was it too much to ask that he would be able to avoid it on planets ruled by his Empire? And apparently it was, because here, on this highly respectable planet, a child was being sold like livestock.

As Vader watched, the boy wrapped his arms around himself, reaching into a pocket with one hand.

Vader felt another twinge as he realized that the boy was being sold alone. If the boy's parents had not already been taken from him, the child would not be given a chance to say goodbye.

The hand in the boy's pocket clenched, and Vader wondered what the poor child was clinging to so desperately. It could have been almost anything, he reflected. Perhaps a small, pathetic gift from one of his parents. At best, a few credits the boy had managed to earn, which he hoped would be enough to buy him his freedom.

Suddenly, though Vader was unaware of having searched for them, the boy's emotions spilled into him. He felt fear, sadness, desperate hope, and something which was almost like… probing? Was the boy searching the crowd for good intentions? Vader clamped down his own emotions, not wanting the child to find false hope in his sympathy.

From the crumpled look on his face, Vader thought that the boy had sensed as many good intentions as he had. Most of the crowd was out for a whipping boy, with others there for cheap help in their various business endeavors. The kindest thing Vader could sense was what felt like a woman, whose emotions caused Vader to assume that she was looking for a live-in babysitter. But when he found her face in the crowd, he saw her sitting next to a large, burly man, whose intentions were much crueler.

Yes, Vader concluded sadly, the boy was at least slightly Force sensitive, using his powers instinctively.

He reached tentatively into the boy's mind, searching for just how much power he possessed, but was surprised to find himself flung back by mental shields stronger than any he had ever sensed, even in trained Force-users. The last gave him a rough idea of the child's powers, but the first made him wince inwardly, wondering what had caused the boy to lock his mind so tightly.

As he was thinking those thoughts, the child's eyes snapped to his mask. The boy gazed at him so piercingly Vader checked his own mental blocks, not wanting the Force-strong boy to see into his past. He felt a gentle nudge at them, one that suggested the boy was not trying to force entry, merely to see if he would be allowed in. Vader maintained his shields, and the child's consciousness moved back away from him, back to the scared body tottering on the stage.

The auctioneer looked down at the list of slaves he was selling and read off in a loud, clear voice, "Jedi boy. Force sensitive child, young enough to be taught to respect and fear you, also with some work could be taught to act like a Jedi, for substantial Imperial rewards. Dangerous child: has been known to defend himself."

For substantial Imperial rewards? They hadn't noticed him yet. Vader wanted to keep it that way, but when the suggestions of teaching the boy to respect and fear his masters had come up, Vader had sensed a stir in the audience. He had felt even some of the kinder slavers decide that the boy would be worth most trained as a Jedi and turned over to the Empire. Vader shuddered to think what his master would do to such a strong child. He could imagine anything between turning him, killing him, and even trying to steal his body.

Vader wanted to wrench himself away, run away from the helpless child. But now the boy was crying, his little body shaking frantically, apparently having some idea of the consequences of being turned in.

Vader reached out in the Force, nudging gently at the boy's barriers, as the child had done to his. He felt the boy sense his presence, and the first wall was lowered. Vader moved his consciousness into it gently.

"Jedi child?" he murmured into the boy's brain.

He felt the child probing at his shields again, and returned the favour of a little sight in. He felt the child brush up against the next shield, but kept that one firmly up.

"Jedi child?"

He sensed the boy turning him around and around, looking at his shields, searching for a way in.

"Child?"

"Master?" the boy returned.

"I didn't come here with the intention of buying a slave," Vader told him.

Disappointment swamped him, crashing in tidal waves from the boy's springs of hope. "Oh."

Before Vader knew what was happening, he found himself responding, "I'm sorry."

"I have money."

"Is that what you were holding?"

"Yes."

"I see."

"Would you bid on me, please?"

"How much have you earned?"

Vader was just aware enough of the visual world to see the boy's hand shifting, as though counting his credits for one last time.

"I have seven credits and some loose change."

"Child, that will not be enough."

"I know. But please, please try. I have a terrible feeling this is my last chance."

"We will see." Vader promised, drawing back, throwing up his shields once more. He looked up at the stage, at the little boy.

His head was bowed, his little shoulders shaking. Vader wanted to reach out to the boy again and promise him it would be all right, but he resisted the urge.

He knew he didn't want them to know he was there. He didn't want word making its way to the Emperor that he was buying Force sensitive slaves, but he couldn't abandon the boy. Not now. He had taken a liking to the child who had talked to him like an equal for the first time in years.

He realized he didn't know the boy's name. Looking up at the boy, who was shifting from foot to foot, waiting for the bidding to start, he thought how familiar the child looked. He had the same blonde hair, the same blue eyes. But he couldn't possibly have been Vader's child. The baby had died with Padmé, he knew that.

Still, he was someone's child. He had all the same needs and emotions that Vader's child would have had. And, as Vader had no one to care for, this boy had no one to care for him.

Then the bidding started, and Vader watched in horror as the price shot through the roof, knowing there was no way to keep his actions secret at the rate they were going. There would be no chance of simply meeting the minimum bid after the auction.

He thought again of his fears for the boy. Tortured. Exploited. Hated. Unloved. Uncared for. Broken. Lost. Unwanted. Sold. Killed. Turned to the Emperor. His mind lost. His body broken. His corporeal form stolen.

He reached out in the force, and snatched control of one of the cruelest slaver's minds. The man was bidding furiously for the Jedi boy, and Vader allowed him to continue, allowed him to keep trying infinitely.

At last, the man Vader controlled was the only one bidding. Vader smiled grimly to see the price the man would be paying for a boy he wouldn't get to keep. A lesson in how dirty slavery was. He guided the man up to the stage to claim the prize. He was just about to force the man to have the boy's detonator deactivated when he felt a terrified pounding on his mind. The boy was scared, demanding to know why Vader hadn't even tried.

For a split second, Vader's grip on the man's mind slipped, and he came back to his senses. Vader snapped down on him again, but he knew better than to try to reassure the child.

Unaware of what was happening, the boy fought. He was kicking, sobbing. Vader lent strength to his puppet's limbs, and the man held the young slave to the ground as the seller swiped the deactivator over the child's body.

As soon as he was done, Vader's puppet wrenched the boy to his feet, marching him into a back alley. Vader followed as quickly as he could, wiping the memories of the last few minutes from his mind. Let him ponder the loss of those credits for his whole life.

Vader ran into the alley, tearing down shields, showing himself to the terrified young boy.

The flicker of comprehension that crossed the boy's face was so brief, Vader almost questioned its existence. It was almost as if the boy had known all along. In the safety and concealment of the alleyway, Vader held out his arms to the little boy, who ran straight into them, burying his face against Vader's chest.

At last, Vader released the boy, who stood up straight, looking up into his mask.

"You saved me, and I thought you weren't trying."

Vader shoved away the gratitude; he'd forgotten how to accept it in the ten years since the Clone Wars. "What's your name, Child?"

"I'm Luke Skywalker."