PathName

In the Path of His Namesake

Telepathic thought is indicated <like this>.

It began as a mild headache behind his eyes. A brief session of self-healing was enough to obliterate it utterly, and he returned to his breakfast with no ado. The first prickling of unease came around an hour later, when the pain returned more viciously than before. In the midst of a saber exercise, he took a moment to down a pill, thinking that he had seen the last of this ailment.

Not so. The drug seemed more effective, but by lunch the headache had become a throbbing pain from his eyes to his ears; more medicine was consumed, but three hours later, it was a searing heat along his skull.

The pain finally ended long after Anakin Solo had fallen asleep, his system inundated with pain killers. It ended with a whisper and a gentle, psychic sound that can only be described as a pop, followed by a deep silence and a soft curse in the recesses of the boy's mind.

"Sith spit."

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<Wake up>

<Huh> Anakin was only vaguely aware that it was before dawn, and that he was in the med unit. That was a mild shock, because he had not been sick or injured . . . wait. The headache. Okay. He touched his temples gingerly, discovered his skull was intact, and rejoiced.

<You awake yet?>

Now he made an Olympic event out of the sitting jump. That _had not been his thought_! <Oh Force I'm going insane!>

<No you're not. Calm down.>

<Who are you?>

<I'll tell you in a minute. Right now just sit still and stop whimpering.>

<Hey! I'm not whimpering . . . Sorry. Guess I was.> _I'm apologizing to a FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION!!_ He fought the urge to cry and covered his head with a pillow.



<Them? Them who? Are there MORE people in my head!?>

<Anakin Solo! You are NOT insane and I am NOT a figment of your imagination. I am, if you must know, a ghost, or a Force spirit. I was once very much alive, thank you.>

There was a long, long pause as Anakin digested this. He was, perhaps, the first person in the galaxy to cheer when he realized he was being possessed.

<You are a strange child.> The foreign voice observed mildly. Now that he was not panicked, he took a moment to observe the voice. It seemed to originate in the back of his brain, then float along the entire surface. It was comforting, almost. Anakin knew at that moment that the being in residence was benign. It would be a gross understatement to say he was relieved.

<Now will you tell me who you are? Are you the ghost of a Jedi? And why are you in my head?>

<You must promise me that you will not scream or do anything rash. Like tell anyone.>

<Uhm . . . okay.>

<My name is Anakin Skywalker.>

Despite his promise, Anakin fell completely off the bed, and said out loud, "WHO!!!?"

Another occupant of the med bay stirred and the droid on call glanced up, but by that time, Anakin had replaced himself in bed and was pretending to sleep.

<Really?> he finally asked, almost timid.

There was a warm wave that Anakin interpreted as a chuckle. <Yes, really.> Another observation: the voice was young, almost adolescent. <Because _you're_ an adolescent, Anakin. I must admit, it is an interesting feeling.>

<Can I ask you something?>

This time the voice rang with sincerity and a depth of love that shocked him. 

<Why . . . why did you turn?>

<Had to start this on a negative turn, didn't you? Oh well. Can it wait a little while? You're tired and need to rest. Aren't you supposed to spar with my son tomorrow?> When Skywalker said 'my son', Anakin caught a glimpse of pride and love and dedication that awed him.

<Yes, Grandfather. Good night.>

There was a long pause. <Good night, Anakin.>

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Anakin met Luke�s lightsaber with practiced ease; he was good, not quite as good as his uncle, but better than most of the others. When he fought, his lightsaber was a part of him, and he of it; it was an extension of his body. The Force flowed through him, amplifying his senses, creating peace in him. Grandfather had locked himself away inside Anakin�s mind; there was a tiny weight there, but no presence, certainly nothing that was discernibly Anakin Skywalker.

Luke grinned at him as he called the session. �Very good, Anakin.�

�Thank you, Master,� Anakin said, bowing. He felt Anakin unfurl in his mind, almost like a flame coming to life suddenly. <Luke.> the presence said once, combined with an image of Uncle Luke leaning over him, features haggard and eyes raw and red. <Oh, my son.> The fire dampened itself and was gone.

�Are you alright, Anakin?� Luke asked, concerned. He took a step forward, looked like he was about to lay a hand on the young man�s head. Anakin ducked back; there was no way to know what the Master might find.

�I�m good.�

�The headache?�

�Huh? Oh, that.� He�d forgotten all about it. �It went away last night while I was asleep.�

�Good.� Luke wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel. �Don�t ever hesitate to call a session if you�re ill, Anakin. I don�t expect you to learn while you�re weak.�

�Besides that,� Anakin grinned, �My mom would kill you.�

Luke laughed. �Quite likely. I�ll see you later.�

As Luke left, Anakin felt grandfather return. Every time the man thought of Luke, it was accompanied by such a stream of love and protectiveness and sorrow that it hurt Anakin�s heart to hear. <Is that what it feels like to have a child?> Anakin asked his grandfather.

 There was a chuckle. <That�s what it feels like to have a child responsible for saving your soul.>

Anakin pulled his coat on and headed toward his room. <Will you tell me why you�re here now?>

The other sighed. <I am here because the other Jedi, who out rank me anyway but felt it necessary to bring up certain sins of my past, felt I was needed. They think you are approaching a juncture, Anakin, and that without help, you might fail.>

<You guys don�t butt in with other stuff, though. Like with the Vong. We came _real_ close to failing then.>

<The Vong? Oh, them. You�re right, we try to stay out of this unless there is tampering from the other side, which there has been, or will be. I don�t know what, and neither do the other Jedi. I think I�m supposed to stop the tampering, though.>

<Oh.> A beat. <So. When do we start?>



<But someone else wouldn�t accept you the way I am. Heck, I�ve wanted to meet you since I found out I was named after somebody.>

There was a wave of pride that died as soon as it appeared, along with the sensation that Anakin Skywalker did not deserve to be proud. Anakin Solo began to suspect that his grandfather had the self confidence of strained peas, no matter how he talked. <Anakin . . . you know what I did.>





<The operative word being �was�.>

There was silence that quickly became unbearable. <Tell me about my grandmother.>

The shame that followed was enough to bring Anakin to a halt, trying to find his center and not eject his breakfast. <I�m so sorry, Ani, I didn�t . . . Force, I�m sorry . . . I�ll put up shields now. Leave you alone for a while.>

<No! Please! It�s okay. Tell me.>

More silence, and as Anakin resolved to just leave his grandfather alone, the man answered, 

Anakin did not reply.



<You hit her?>

<No! Never! I would _never_ hit Padme, even as Vader! No! I hurt her emotionally. I abandoned her.>

<What was she like?>

<Oh, Anakin, you would have loved her. She looked more like Jaina than Leia. She was beautiful. Her name�get ready for it, it�s really long�was Padme Amidala Naberrie Skywalker. I loved her since I was a child. She was strong and brave and smart and kind . . .> There were so many images flashing in his mind that he had to smile. They were all of a woman with dark hair, small and slim, though in some memories she wore exotic face paints and in others peasant garb.

<She sounds wonderful. Is she with you now?>

Anguish, this time more properly reined in. <No. I can�t be where she is.>

<I�m sorry, Grandfather.>

<My fault, Anakin. Don�t worry about it.>



There was another pause. <Thank you.>

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Anakin was having difficulty concentrating. Given his circumstances, he was not to be blamed. His grandfather tried to keep to himself during these periods, but, as he had said, he could deny Anakin nothing, and answered his questions. The younger wondered if Darth Vader had been this talkative.

That thought sent Anakin Skywaker into a fit of psychic laughter. When he finally calmed down, he replied in all seriousness, <No.>

The library was quiet, despite the horde of Jedi who surrounded Kyp Durron on the other side. But then, Kyp's horde was ever-present and ever-annoying. Anakin sighed and buried his head into the dusty book he'd had to levitate to reach. It was bound in leather and made of actual paper, something he'd rarely seen.

<So who was that?> Anakin asked, indicating a picture that his grandfather had expressed interest in.

<Exar Kun. He was a famous Sith.>

<That's him? He was the one that inhabited this Temple for a while.>

<Truly? I was unaware of that.> There was a pause. <The Alliance made this a base once. Did he cause any trouble for them?>



<Kun was a pile of bantha poodoo compared to Palpatine.>

<Oh. Did it hurt when you killed him?>

Skywalker laughed again. <You mean besides having millions of volts of electricity flow through my body and fry all the bionic parts I had to have in order to exist? No, it felt great.>

"Hey, Anakin." Anakin looked up to see Kyp standing at his table. Kyp was barely thirty, eleven years older than Anakin, but he still acted like an adolescent sometimes, with his groupies. He intimidated Anakin just a little, because Kyp had followed the dark path for a while. "What you reading?"

"Just an assignment for my history class."

"Ah. History. The most pointless of all studies."

Anakin saw where this was heading; Kyp and his cronies were always trying to get Anakin to side with them against Uncle Luke. He stood and walked past the older Jedi, faintly amused by his grandfather's disgusted muttering. <He calls himself a Master? He's not even old enough to have trained a padawan . . . he radiates the Dark Side . . .why hasn't he been excommunicated yet?>

<Because he'd take all of them with him.> Anakin said, indicating the group Kyp had returned to, a delighted smile on his face. 

<Rooting you out.>

<Does he really feel that bad?>

<Oh, yes. He'll cause much more hurt before he dies. Yoda was very right about that. The Dark Side does tend to dominate your destiny.>

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<You really don't want me to teach you anything.>

<Yes, I do.>

<No, you don't.>

<Yes, I do.>

<Don't.>

<Do.>

<Don't.>

<Do.>

<Don't.> There was a pause, and the image of a young man throwing his arms up in defeat. 

Anakin Solo laughed. He knew he was winning. Grandfather might not be able to deny him anything, but if he didn't like it he would try to talk the younger out of it. Like that pasta that Anakin could eat gallons of but had made Grandfather ill to look at. They had compromised on that. But Anakin was not willing to compromise here.

Grandfather had been trained in the old ways, something that was impossible now. Luke's education had been sketchy and incomplete, the more militant side of the Jedi, but Anakin now knew that there were hundreds of different occupations Jedi had held. Though the majority had been diplomats, there had also been teachers, explorers, healers, scientists, politicians, pilots, artists, and farmers, in addition to warriors and adventurers. It sounded more like the ideas Jacen had, and nothing at all like Kyp's hype. If anything, the time Anakin had spent with his grandfather was pushing him more firmly away from Kyp and his lackeys.

Anakin Skywalker's resolve was weakening. The Jedi _did_ want to teach his grandson; there were hundreds of things Luke had not even guessed at, but that he considered necessary to be a Jedi. They didn't even know the katas!

<You know,> he said, finally capitulating. 

<And?>

<Guess I lied.> He shook himself mentally and said, <Now, begin this way. Balance on the ball of one foot, the toe of the other . . . right, like that. Bring them parallel. Perfect. Now, hold your lightsaber . . .>

Anakin Solo's training had begun.
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"WHAT are you doing?"

Anakin dropped back into a normal stance and spun to face his uncle, who was staring at him, dumbfounded, from the door. Behind Anakin lay the jungles of Yavin, and he wondered just how long Luke had been standing there. And how long he'd been practicing katas, for that matter.

<Uh-oh.> Anakin Skywalker thought.

"Uncle Luke?" Anakin asked innocently, trying to put them in the nephew-uncle frame instead of the master-pupil one.

"What was that, Anakin?" Luke crossed his arms over his chest. "And who taught you?"

"It's a kata," Anakin answered. <Help me!>



"I repeat, who taught you?"

"I . . . I really shouldn't tell you, sir."

<Oh, great way to allay his suspicions.>





"I'm waiting, apprentice." So much for the nephew-uncle theme.

"I . . . uh . . . learned it myself." There was the sensation of rolling eyes. 

<Something with a little less hesitation?>

<Grandfather?>

<Yes, Grandson?>

<Shush.> There was that warm sensation of laughter.

"You're not telling the whole truth, Anakin."

"I know . . . I'm sorry, Uncle Luke. Can you trust me, just this once? I'll tell you."

"You're not . . . you're not tapping into something you shouldn't, are you?"

"No, Master!" <He thinks I'm Dark!>

<No, he's just worried. Calm down, Anakin.>

<He knows something's going on.>

<He'd have to. But not what. Don't tell him unless you must.>

Luke looked at the setting sun, then back at his nephew. "Alright, Anakin. I won't force it. Yet. But you have to tell me eventually."

"I know, Master, and I will. I promise."

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"That's very unlike Anakin," Mara observed later. She gently wiped sauce from Ben's nose and Eva's mouth. "He doesn't keep things from people."

"I know," Luke said, lifting his one year old daughter from the high chair and kissing her forehead. "That's the only reason I allowed him to not tell me. I respect his judgement."

The eyebrow raised. "Unlike others around here?"

"You read me well."

"Always have, Skywalker." She paused. "But I have felt something . . . odd. It's been going on for the past five days . . . no, six. It started the day Ben scraped his knee."

"What is it?" Her husband asked, grinning as Eva tried to stick her hand in her father's mouth.

"It's nothing dark, I know that, but it is familiar. It makes me sad, when I feel it sometimes, and others, I'm just happy to be breathing."

"Hm. I know what you mean, Mara, and I've felt some of the same things."

"Daddy, can I go play?" Ben asked, hopping from foot to foot as Mara tried to get the rest of the sauce off his face. Some had ended up on his ear, somehow. "With Anakin?"

Luke and Mara exchanged a glance, but Luke's gut and all the Force sensitivity he had screamed at him to let the child go.

"Sure," he answered, unaware that he was changing his life.

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Ben Skywalker hopped from stone to stone along the broad, open hallway. He sang softly under his breath, "Don't step on a crack . . ." and laughed with delight at the simple game. Like most young Force adepts, his favorite toy was the Force, but he could amuse himself without it.

Which he was often forced to do. There was only one other person at the Academy his age, but Ben was wary of her. Daddy said that it was just because she was a girl and he was going through a "phase", but Ben didn't think so. After all, Mommy and Eva were girls, and he loved them.

"Hello, Ben."

Ben turned to see Kyp Durron standing just behind him. Ben didn't like Kyp either (he gave off the same feeling as the little girl), but he was not rude or brave enough to run away. He was, after all, only five.

"Hello, Master Durron." He bowed a little, like he had seen the older children do, and felt very grown up when Kyp nodded in acknowledgement.

"Where are you going?"

"To play," Ben answered. He clasped his hands behind his back and wondered when he would be allowed to go.

"Come here, little one. I have something for you."

_I don't want it._ he thought, but could not disobey. He stepped very slowly forward, deep blue eyes downcast and almost hidden under a tumble of red-brown hair. Kyp knelt before Ben and held out his large hand for the boy to inspect. Ben wanted to cry.

There was nothing in the galaxy that could frighten Ben Skywalker . . . except spiders. And Kyp Durron held an enormous spider in his hand, a spider so large that Ben coud count each and every hair on its nasty little body.

Kyp grasped the boys hand and dropped the spider into it.

Ben screamed. "Please take it back! I don't want it!"

Kyp grinned, an expression so evil that Emperor Palpatine would have stood up and applauded him. "Why not?"

"'Cause I'm scared . . ."

"Ah," Kyp said. The spider disappeared. Ben felt very foolish; it had been an illusion. "You don't like fear?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it makes me feel bad."

"I see. I like fear."

Ben swallowed very hard. "Why?"

"Because, little one," Kyp told him, smiling that cruel smile again, "fear is my ally."

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Anakin looked up just in time to see a weeping little person heave himself onto his legs and hang on for dear life. "Benny? What's wrong, kid?"

"M-m-m-m-m . . ."

<He's hysterical.> Anakin Skywalker said, a strange tone in his "voice." <Use the Force to calm him down.>

In a moment it was done, but Ben's lip still trembled. "What happened?" Anakin asked again. He sat unceremoniously on the floor and pulled his cousin into his lap.

"It was Master Durron and he-he had a spider, a real big one, only it wasn't a spider it was one of those illushuns and he made me touch it--"

"Whoa! Slow down. He had a spider."

There was a solemn nod.

"But it was an illusion."

Another nod.

"And he made you put your hand on it?"

Ben's head bobbed once again.

<That b------.> Anakin Skywalker growled.

"Did he tell you why?"

"Uh-huh." With a little prompting, Ben said, "Because he said that fear was his all eye."

"He said 'Fear is my ally'?" Another affirmitive nod.

<Sith.>

<Grandfather!>

<It wasn't a curse, Anakin! That's a Sith maxim!>

Anakin suddenly felt cold all over. He pulled Ben closer and stood, moving quickly in the opposite direction he had come from. <What now?>

<We have no choice. We've got to tell Luke.>

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Anakin found Luke and Mara on the roof, their usualy spot during sunset, with little Eva on Mara's lap. Ben's eyes were still red and puffy; Anakin set him down when he started to squirm and the boy ran to his father.

After Anakin related Kyp's cruel prank, there was the expected reaction. Mara bit her lip to avoid cursing, but did say, "When I get my hands on that little b--, ur, jerk, he'll regret the first kiss his parents ever shared. I'll ring his neck the nasty little--"

"Actually," Anakin said, trying to get to the really important part, "It wasn't what he did, but what he said, that concerned us."

"Us?" Luke asked.

"Uhm . . .yeah. Us." He paused. <How do I go about this?>



"Well, Uncle Luke, you see . . . uh . . . well . . ."

Luke raised an eyebrow.

<Oh, just give me the body.> Grandfather said. Anakin nodded and "stepped back", allowing his grandfather's consciousness to step forward. They'd done it a few times while they were learning the katas, and it was no longer awkward. Anakin sat back to watch the fireworks.

Anakin Skywalker lowered his sheilds completely.

Eva, who had been playing with some blocks, looked up and grinned suddenly. She gripped her father's leg and hauled herself to her feet, and with determined steps approached Anakin. "Gampa," she said quietly. Anakin Skywalker, now in control of the body, felt his mouth turn up in a smile as he knelt to lift the child.

"Hello, little one. Eva? It's very nice to meet you."

"What?" Mara appeared confused, then her eyes cleared and went hard as agates. "Vader."

Anakin kissed Eva's cheek and smiled.

"No," he said casually. "Anakin Skywalker."

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While Anakin continued to play with Eva, Luke simply stared, somewhat open-mouthed. He reminded himself that Jedi were supposed to be serene; it did not help. He threatened himself with meditation to no avail. Mara silently wrapped her fingers in his and watched as Ben pulled on Anakin's pant leg. He sat on the ground, Eva in one arm and Ben in the other, and looked more content than a nineteen year old can.

"Aw, man . . ." he whispered, touched Eva's nose and hand. "Wow."

Luke knelt in front of them, at a loss for words. "Why . . .why are you here?" he asked finally.

Anakin looked up; tears came to his eyes. "Force, Luke. You have no idea how much. . ." He paused, seemed to gather himself. "I'm here because the Jedi sent me. I don't know why, exactly, because they wouldn't tell me, but it has to do with Anakin. That's why I came to him, and not you. I wish I had been able to . . ."

"How long do you have?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Not very long if this means anything. What Kyp Durron said to Ben here was, 'Fear is my ally.' That's an ancient Sith philosophy: it's either fear, rage, or hate that a Sith uses." Luke did not ask the obvious question, for which Anakin was profoundly grateful. Vader would always be between him and his progeny; him and the Jedi; him and his wife, forbidden to him, now, after all those years of waiting and wanting . . .

"You're saying Kyp is a Sith?"

"Seems awfully suspect, doesn't it? I mean, he uses the Force to terrify Ben, then threatens him with Sith beliefs. Besides, Anakin told me that he'd been Dark once, so . . ." Mara had come to sit beside her husband, and Anakin grinned at her. "Hello, Mara. I'm glad to see you ended up somewhere wonderful."

"Thanks," she replied. Luke might have recovered a bit, but she was still shocked. She bit her lip, then said, "Eva likes you."

Anakin kissed the child's forehead, then pressed his nose into the soft hair of her head. "Yeah. Kids do, for some reason. At least, until their parents pull them away from me." His eyes flickered between Luke and Mara. "Sorry. I've been brooding lately; my grandson has made me answer some very tough questions."

"Oh?"

"He's held me accountable. Don't let him get away from you, Luke. He's wonderful." He laughed suddenly. "And he says it's becoming overly sappy out here."

"Father?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you turn?"

"Is there some genetic fascination with this topic?" Anakin asked. "It was the first thing Anakin asked me, too."

"There are no records . . ."

"Yeah there are. You just have to look in the right places. I'll show you sometime."
He straightened. "Well, I guess I'll answer both of you, then."

"You haven't told Anakin yet?"

"No. It's . . . it's not very pleasant."

<We're here, Grandfather.>

Profoundly, <Thank you.>

"Let me tell you how I met your mother."

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"Very near the Outer Rim, there is . . .was a tiny planet called Naboo. Amidala, my Padme, was the Queen of the Naboo. When she was very young, fourteen, but already the monarch, the Trade Federation, an entity that fell to pieces long before the Old Republic did, but a blockade around the planet. Things elevated very quickly, and of course, two Jedi Knights were asked to help.

"The Jedi were Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his master, Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan was an apprentice then. But anyway, their ship was destroyed by the Federation, but they managed to get to the surface of Naboo, where they convinced Amidala and her staff to run the blockade and go with them to Coruscant. As they broke free, their hyperdrive was damaged, and they were forced to land on Tatooine.

"Qui-Gon and Padme--"

"Padme and Amidala were the same person?"

"Yes. Padme was an alias she used when she wanted to travel incognito. Anyway, she and Qui-Gon came to my owner's shop--"

<OWNER!!!>

"OWNER!!!"

"Yeah, I was a slave to a Toydarian named Watto, me and my mother. I'll cut it short and say that I was able to help them, and in return, Qui-Gon freed me and brought me to Coruscant. I was tested by the Jedi Council, who told me that though I was strong, I would not be trained as a Jedi because I was too old. I was nine years old at the time."

"Nine? Force, I was in my twenties."

"Yoda must've done a backflip, the little gnome." But it was said affectionately. "Anyway, we went back to Naboo to stop the Trade Federation, and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were attacked by a Sith. His name was Darth Maul; he was Palpatine's first apprentice. Qui-Gon was killed in the duel, but Obi-Wan killed Maul and defied the Council. He took me as his apprentice, and began to train me.

"I was nineteen when the Clone Wars broke out. Ben and I led a team of Jedi fighters through the worst of the war zones; the Jedi should never have been involved that way, but Chancellor Palpatine played politics so well that we would have appeared as apathetic recluses if we hadn't done something.

"So, Ben and I scoured the galaxy, doing a lot of good and being very visible. When the wars ended, Chancellor Palpatine complemented me and reminded me of how powerful I was and how powerful I could become. I don't like admitting it, but it was vanity and pride that led me to the Dark Side first.

"So that took four years, and I was twenty-three when I returned to Naboo, finally, and met Amidala again. We were married very, very shortly afterward. Ami resigned her position and became a Senator so she could keep an eye on galactic politics, and we lived in the Jedi Temple for then next two years." Anakin went quiet for a long, long time.

Luke put his hand on his father's, lending him all the strength he would ever need. "It happened very quickly, then. Palpatine had kept in touch over the years, and I counted him as a friend and he gave me a holo of Ben and Ami . . . I couldn't believe it. I was infuriated.

"He said, 'And I wish I were not the one to tell you, but your mother walked in on them. Ani, Ben killed her . . .' I didn't hear much after that.

"I went after Ben. My dearest friend, my Master, and I attacked him. I wanted nothing more than to kill him. I was very, very much with the Dark Side. We fought . . . there-there was a smelting pit full of molten metal. And I fell in it. I should have died. I wish I had. There wasn't enough left of me to be human when Palpatine pulled me out. No legs; one arm, my sword arm. A head, and a heart and stomach. Nothing else. Everything else was bionic. I was in a coma for, I don't know, months. When I woke up, I was already in the mask. There was no turning back.

"I can't describe the rage and anger and hate I felt. I was twenty-six and more feeble than a ninety year old man. I went a little crazy."

"There was reason."

"No. Nothing can excuse what I did to the Jedi. My only source of pride and happiness, Luke, was you." There was a short laugh. "I found out as soon as you, Han, and Leia escaped the first Death Star. I watched the tape from the detention block. 'I'm Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you.' Force, I played it over and over again. I couldn't believe it. But then you destroyed the Death Star, and . . . You are right, Luke, I don't think I would _ever_ have let Palpatine take you.

"You saved me."

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Only when the story was finished had Anakin realized that his face was covered with tears.

_But I should have cried a long time ago. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't have to tell it now, like this. Maybe I would be able to hold my grandchildren with my own arms. Too late for maybes. I have to protect them now._

Luke was crying, too, though with more dignity than Anakin had ever been able to manage, and for an instant he was unspeakably proud of the boy . . . his boy, though he had been a man for nearly twenty years and had his own children . . . his boy.

"So. Now what?" Mara asked, trying to move past the emotional moment. She had been moved by his tale, too, and knew from experience how persuasive Palpatine could be, and how lingering his effects. How powerless someone could be when they hated.

"I'd say Kyp Durron is the first priority," Anakin replied easily, looking fondly at his grandson, who had curled up in his lap and gone to sleep. Anakin's legs were beginning to cramp, but he stolidly ignored it. _But it's not my body_ he thought, but grinned at his grandson's answer.

<Don't worry, Gramps. I'll let you keep it until you can work out the cramps.>

<Thanks. I mean that.>



Luke was shaking his head. "One problem--we can't go against him with the word of a five year old." He stood abruptly and started pacing. "No. We need some kind of evidence, something that can hold up to questioning."

"You can't, maybe," Mara growled, and Anakin thought of the many times she had amused him--Vader--with her spirit. "But I can. I'll go against him and fr--uhm, really break him."

"They're asleep," Anakin reminded her.

"I'm trying to break the habit."

The sitting man nodded and returned to his contemplation of Eva's hand on his.

"So. We get proof," Mara finally conceded. "Then what? What do we do to Sith?"

"Well, hopefully he'd confront us at that point, and when we duel, and kill him, we can claim it was self-defense."

"Okay. Now, the hard part. How and where do we get evidence of a belief structure."

"Watch him," Anakin said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Watch him. It's a Sith tendency to mutilate the body to make it fearsome, espcially those following the Fear path. And I mean extreme mutilation."

"Like what?"

"Hm. Like a gargoylish mask?"

"Ha. Ha. Seriously."

"Alright. Note: no more attempts at Vader humor. Got it. Okay. Uh . . . Darth Maul. Let's see. He had all his teeth pulled out and replaced with silver ones; he had horns surgically implanted into his skull; he had his face tatooed in a red and black pattern. I don't know that he could have done anything else to himself, honestly."

"Right. Look for mutilation. Anything else?"

"He'll try to take an apprentice. Someone who is not entirely secure with their place in the galaxy . . . someone who's been hurt recently, or is very young. Look for someone that he is very protective of; he'll keep them close; do most of their training himself, most likely.

"He's might be redeemable. Maybe. Slim chance. Infintesimal. Tiny. Practically nonexistant. And even if he can be turned back, he'll still relapse from time to time; even I do."

"This is going to be dangerous." It has been said that Mara posessed an incredible grasp of the obvious; however this is not done in her hearing, so we shall not comment.

"That's why I'll be doing it. Alone," Anakin said, quite firmly.

"You can't do it alone; you're in Anakin's body."

Anakin grinned. "I can come out, you know. And I can be transparent." He laughed shortly. "The proverbial 'little blue ghostie.' I'll let you know when I find something."

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It was odd, being without a body on this plane. He'd become accustomed to Anakin's blood and emotions, and simply the warmth of his presence. It had been a while since he'd been constantly in someone's company, and he'd forgotten how wonderful it could be.

He floated on spiritual aircurrents, keeping his presence carefully hidden. It was easier to do than he had anticipated. The Academy was filled with Force-adepts, some of them quite powerful. Only a few of them knew the rudiments of sheilding.

Sometimes he saw other Jedi spirits. They watched over the pursuits of the young trainees, making sure they didn't injure thimselves too badly; gently leading them in the right directions. This was how they had to rebuild the Jedi Order to its former glory; subconscious nudging. It was frustrating.

Anakin avoided those spirits as much as he did the probing minds of the living. It would not do to be discovered while supposedly incognito.

Then there he was. Anakin remembered him from the time in the library, though he saw more now than he had though Anakin's eyes.

He had no more than confirmed his suspicions when the energy around Kyp coallesced and struck out--

He knew no more.

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Luke and his nephew were talking quitely--though quite excitedly--about Anakin Skywalker when the younger stood abruptly, his eyes wide and his face pale. "Grandfather--" the boy managed to choke out.

Then he collapsed, trembling and shaking, almost as if suffering from a seizure.

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Three corridors away, Kyp Durron walked quite casually toward Luke and his family. Behind him, looking much more reluctant, almost tearful, was five-year-old Chloe, the little girl Ben Skywalker was afraid of.

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Anakin was propped against a wall with his aunt holding a damp cloth to his forehead and his uncle kneeling at his side, a look of concern on his face. It was obvious almost immediately that his head was in no condition to do the most basic things--like think or talk--but he eventually managed to emit a sound that was almost, "What happened?"

"You passed out," Mara told him gently. "You said 'grandfather', then you collapsed."

He remembered, then. The feeling of horrible understanding and then a white hot pain underlaid with the remembered smell of sulphur and the image of hot molten metal flying up to meet him--

"He's hurt," Anakin said shortly. He closed his eyes--Force, but it hurt so much to even _think_ with his head like this, but there was nothing to be done for it now . . .

He found his grandfather in the "back" of his head, curled into a tiny ball that was . . . smoking? _He thinks he's back there, back when he turned. Oh, Sith, what happened?_

<Grandfather?> The tiny knot that his grandfather was did not even stir. <Grandfather? It's Anakin! Please, answer me! What happened?!>

There was no response.

Anakin silently withdrew.

"He's hurting," Anakin finally managed. His uncle sent a strong wave of healing energy through him. "Thanks. Something hurt him badly.

"Did he tell you what it was?"

Anakin shook his head slowly. "No. He's . . . he's incapacitated. I think he had to relive when he, uh, fell. Into the pit. He doesn't know where he is."

"We've got to wake him up," Luke said.

"That won't be necessary."

Luke stood slowly and looked across the roof. There stood Kyp Durron, lightsaber in hand. Without a word, he pulled Chloe in front of him and ignited the blade. "Tell the Chosen One to stop cowering, or his little Padme will be hurt more than he can imagine."

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There was a long, pregnant silence. Kyp's face was dispassionate, almost casual as he stood there, with the deadly blade at the child's throat.

"Kyp, this is the Dark Side talking," Luke tried gently. His mind was reeling--he knew that Padme was his mother, but what did Kyp mean by 'Chosen One'? And how had he chaged so suddenly and unexpectedly?

"The Dark Side? Ah, Luke, the Son of Skywalker. What do you know about the Dark Side?" He laughed cruelly. "You are as ignorant now as you were when Obi-Wan found you in the desert. Stand aside. My business is with your father."

"My father is dead," Luke told him. He drew deeply on the Force, cleared his mind of all tension and confusion. It would only hinder him. Now he stood ready, tall against the sinking sun, lightsaber a comfortable weight on his belt.

"Yes, dead. But still here." Kyp looked past Luke, to where Anakin lay, still unable to move. "Well, boy? Have you told your grandfather what I said? Be sure to mention Padme. It always caused him pain."

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<Grandfather, please wake up.>

More silence from the Jedi, but the shivering form that he had been was now still, and no longer smoking. Anakin hoped he had passed to another time in his life, a happy time, somewhere he could be reached.

<Grandfather?>

<Go away.>

It was spoke so quietly that Anakin doubted it had even happened. His instincts told him to go on, to press the subject. <Grandfather, will you please listen, just for a second?>

There was no answer.

<Kyp is here. And . . . grandfather, he's got a lightsaber against a little girl's throat.>

<Leia? Princess?>

These were not the memories Anakin wanted his grandfather to focus on.

<Wouldn't talk . . . tried everything. Tarkin--the idiot. He destroyed Alderaan, made her hate. Bad idea. Never make anybody as strong as Leia Organa hate you. You only make an enemy.>

<No, not M--er, not Leia. It's a little girl named Chloe. And Ben and Eva are up here, and Mara and Luke . . . and I'm up here too, Grandfather. You've got to do something, or Kyp will hurt Padme-->

A white hot rage flared in Anakin's mind, in his eyes, and he backed away instinctively, but the rage and pain and shame followed. <Padme is dead. She died in my arms--IN MY G--DAMNED ARMS! I let her DIE!>

<Grandfather!>

<My fault she's dead! My fault she hurt so bad! My fault! My own stupid fault!>

A flash of Skywalker's memory, Padme as a teenager in a dusty shop. Smiling gently. "You're a funny little boy," and a remembered glow of happiness at those words.

The scene solidified. Anakin turned--it was almost like he had a body. He appeared to be in some sort of parts store; beyond the arched doorway he could see a desert street. It reminded him of Mos Eisley.

Turning again, he saw a small, dusty haired boy perched on a counter, staring, the moment frozen, at Padme, while an amphibious creature tried to catch something.

And beyond the boy and the girl, Anakin Skywalker knelt in despair, shoulders hunched and and shaking. He wept openly as he extended a trembling hand toward Padme.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

And Anakin wondered how the hell he was supposed to get out of this.

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Anakin Skywalker in his youth had been tall and lean; he was not incredibly strong (as he would become as Darth Vader), but there was a definite power in his long-limbed frame. Blonde hair was shorn and spiked in a style that must have been popular during those years. His face was open and warm, eyes the color of the sea stared out from beneath a smooth brow. He had been beautiful, and a beautiful woman had loved him.

The woman was frozen, captured in a moment. She wore a simple peasant's smock and trousers. Chocolate colored hair hung to her waist; braids were looped through it most attractively. Deep brown eyes, eyes a man could easily drown in, were smiling as much as the full mouth. Her body was small and lithe. Padme Amidala Naberrie Skywalker . . . Queen of the Naboo, mother of Luke and Leia.

Anakin Solo took in all of this in the heartbeat it took to pass between the frozen boy on the counter and the girl standing before him and reach his grandfather, who wept still. He had to admit that this was not Kyp's fault, not entirely. He had mentioned Padme's name and sent his grandfather into this spiral of greif and remorse. It was foolish to do as your enemies asked.

"Grandfather?"

"Oh god what have I done?" was Anakin's only reply. He looked down at his long-fingered hands, which were suddenly covered with blood. "What have I done? What have I done?"

Anakin wrapped an arm around his grandfather. "Please, please, just for a second, please. I love you, Grandpa, and Luke and Eva and Ben love you. Please. Just a minute to explain. They're in danger."

"Luke . . ."

"Yes, Luke, your son--"

"I tried to turn him. I tried--oh my god, I cut off his hand. My son's hand. I tried to damn his soul and I made him hate me--"

"He needs you now; his children need you now."

"I wasn't there when they needed me--"

"Grandfather?"

"Padme had the babies on her own. I should have been there, I should have been beside her. I couldn't find her. Then I did, and so did Palpatine, and she was dying when I got there . . . she died in my arms! My angel, she died in my arms! Her blood was everywhere and she died in my arms!"

Anakin did the only thing he could think to do. He slapped his grandfather with all the force he could muster, knocking the other man back and away. He blinked once, twice. Looked around in wonder. "Padme," he said quietly.

"Don't start that again!" Anakin growled, standing quickly and preparing to hit him again. "We don't have time for this!"

"Anakin? What are you doing here? This is *my* head."

"No, it's your head in my head, and my head won't be there much longer if you don't snap out of it."

Anakin's expression darkened. "You came in after me? Do you know how dangerous that is? What's going on?"

"Kyp is on the roof with Luke, Mara, and the kids. He said something about Padme--and what the hell happened? You flew into my head like a blaster bolt!"

"Huh? What was I don't out of your--wait, I remember. I was trying to find evidence of Kyp's Dark Side." His eyes hardened. "I found it."

"Luke needs help. Kyp has a little girl in front of him with his lightsaber at her neck."

"Is it Eva?"

"No."

"Okay. Then I won't castrate him before I kill him." He suddenly remember what Kyp had done to Ben. "Forget that. But I'll use a sharp knife instead of a dull one."

Anakin grinned a little. "Do you know how to get out of here by any chance?"

The other scoffed. "Of course I do! This is *my* part of the head, you remember. Just walk out that door; you'll be back where you need to be."

Anakin grinned wider and turned to leave.

His grandfather gripped his arm tightly. "Wait! Just a second!"

Without another word, he pulled the boy into a tight embrace. After a shocked moment, Anakin raised his arms and returned it. "Grandpa?"

"I love you, Anakin. I'm sorry you have to carry my name."

"No--"

"Please, just let me speak for a moment." When Anakin made no more protests, he continued. "It wasn't a fair thing for your mother to do. I wish I'd left a better legacy. But I love you. All of you. And there's not a day that goes by that I don't wish I'd done just one little thing different so I could be with all of you and watch you all grow up. I love you so much."

Grandfather pulled back and looked at the boy. He turned him gruffly about and gave him a push. "I'll meet you out there."

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It seemed to Anakin that several minutes had passed while he tried to lure his grandfather out of depression, but when he opened his eyes, his uncle said simply, "That was fast."

The scene was exactly as he'd left it, only Ben and Eva were inching farther away from Kyp, who wasn't paying them much attention. His eyes were riveted instead on the swirling blue light that appeared between him and Luke; a light that gradually took the shape of the young man Anakin had seen earlier. Grandfather's spirit was covered over with a coruscating white light that flamed when he looked at Kyp.

"Anakin Skywalker. It has been a very long time."

"Not nearly long enough, Darth," Anakin answered. "Why don't you take the lightsaber off the girl and fight with me?"

"Me? Little old mortal me, fight with the Chosen One, who happens to be one with the Force? Hmm--tempting, old boy, but no."

"Step away from the door and let my family go past."

"Once again, no. All this redundancy is starting to annoy me."

"So what do you want?"

Kyp smiled evilly. "I want you to witness the destruction of the Jedi--for all eternity. There was a small hole in Yoda's plan, you see. Leaving all the responsibility, all the knowledge, to Luke there. It's quite simple: he dies, the Jedi fall apart, and the Sith who have been quietly training will come to power, they way they were meant to. That's right, Skywalker. Just as the dead Jedi have been gently guiding the living, so have the Sith."

Anakin smiled sadly. "If only it were that simple. I'm afraid my father doesn't agree with you."

Kyp blinked in surprise. "You don't have a father. You're a bastard."

"No, I have no physical father. The Force created me, and it speaks to me and through me, and it tells me that you are going to fail. Again."

Kyp set Chloe on the floor. "Ah. But there is one thing you haven't considered. If you strike me, I will kill the girl. I think you'll know her if I just . . . remove the shields for a moment."

He did so, and the instant they were lowered, the child screamed, "Anakin! Don't let him hurt our son! Don't let him--"

"Padme?" He started to walk toward her, but Kyp pulled the tiny body against his. "How? She wasn't a Jedi; she had no--"

"But you are wrong. She had enough Force potential that we could take her soul and force it into a stillborn baby. As we did. Now here she is, Padme Amidala Naberrie, locked in a child's body long enough for me to hold her against you. For you see, she will feel everything this body feels--like this, for example." Without batting an eye, he yanked the child's head hard, ripping out a hank of hair. Padme screamed and fell to her knees.

_He's holding my entire family hostage._ Anakin thought, misery eating at him.

"So why you?" Anakin had to ask. "Of all the Sith Lords, why you?"

"Because I wanted a personal vengeance."

A black and red aura formed around Kyp, and he shuddered as the spirit possessing him stepped out. Kyp glanced from Luke to Chloe, then to the Sith spirit.

"Your orders, Master?" Kyp asked.

"Kill Skywalker. I will take the Chosen One."

"Yes, my Master." Kyp slammed the hilt of his lightsaber into the girl's head, and she fell into unconsciousness.

The Sith ignited their lightsabers, one glowing a muted red, the other the color of blood on snow. The spirit smiled at Anakin, showing all of his straight, silver teeth, and ignited the other end.

"Come, Son of the Suns. Let us see who is the stronger," Darth Maul bade Anakin.

Anakin looked down, even as he heard the snap-hiss of his son's lightsaber igniting and the buzz of it meeting Kyp's.

"Mara."

"Yes, Anakin?"

"Take my grandchildren off the roof, please," he said.

"But Grandfather--"

"Just do it, Anakin, please. Don't make me responsible for your death, as well." His own weapon formed in his hand, the blade a blinding white light. Without another word, he charged, his lightsaber meeting the double blades of Sidious's apprentice.

Their sabers locked; Maul glared at Anakin from across the light, but Anakin only looked at him with a great sadness.

"If you only knew how deep the dark truly is, brother," Anakin whispered. For Maul was his brother, in the Darkness, by virtue of their master.

Maul grimaced and pushed Anakin away. "You were the greatest mistake our master ever made."

"Glad of it, too."

Then the roof came alive with the heat of their battle; of one's hate, and the other's sorrow for his lost brother.

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It was the longest battle of Anakin's existence. If his arms had been made of flesh and bone, they would have ached. Had he ribs, they would burn from the passing stroke Maul had sent against him. But he had neither arms nor ribs, and only if he allowed himself to believe that he should ache would it actually happen. Belief was a very powerful thing for spirits.

Beyond them, Luke and Kyp duelled still; Anakin felt a hint of worry. That should have been over a long time ago; Luke was five times the fighter as Kyp. What was he doing? Oh. Of course. He was trying to convince Kyp that he was wrong, that the Dark path was hollow and lonely--

He forced his thoughts to return to his actions. This was going to be rough.

He could have killed Kyp a half dozen times in the past few minutes; his rage was making him careless, slow and stupid; he was putting too much energy behind his swings and would wear himself out shortly. Then he'd do something stupid.

"Kyp, listen to me. You don't know what you're . . . doing." A flurry of strokes forced him to take a step back, closer to the edge of the roof. Luke knew that if this continued, that in a few minutes he'd have to lash out offensively, and that would only push Kyp farther away.

How was Luke to know that Maul had ripped away parts of Kyp's brain, that he was an unthinking machine that lived only to serve Darth Maul? How was he to know that his father had been the exception, that when people fall to the Dark Side they fall completely? In many ways, Darth Maul was correct when he called Luke ignorant: knowledge that had been common among the Old Jedi was unknown to him.

The duel continued as Luke tried to get Kyp to understand, just to listen, to respond with something other than a growl.

It was at that moment, when Luke was on the verge of striking a fatal blow, that Darth Maul dealt his own hand. He gathered the Dark Side around himself, its auras sickening to behold yet strengthening him, and lashed out a Luke, striking him with Force lightening. Luke fell, agonizing memories of Palpatine filling his head . . .

"LUKE!!!" Anakin screamed.

Kyp grinned--and Luke saw that some of his teeth had been replaced with silver--and raised his lightsaber straight into the air.

And he screamed himself as tiny teeth latched onto the back of his neck. It was Padme--or Chloe, the little girl--biting and distracting, clawing, ripping her fingernails out as she dug into Kyp's flesh, desperate to save the life of her son.

Luke was forgotten as Kyp whirled around, shaking the child from his back. With a sneer, he brought his glowing lightsaber down on her defenseless body, destroying it.

Anakin watched his Padme die--again!!--and rage carried him. He took the offensive; the sadness abandoned him, and he struck out with the Force, with his blade--but there was no Dark Side around him. Instead he glowed with absolute goodness, with Light. Darth Maul flew backwards across the roof, overwhelmed.

"You should not have come back," Anakin said as he approached the ghost. Maul shook his head, tried to clear it. When he opened his eyes, he saw Skywalker, the Chosen One, only a few steps away. Dread filled him.

"And you should never have bothered my wife."

He raised his lightsaber.

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Anakin had built his first lightsaber when he was eleven years old. He had been so proud of it; he'd not had time to build much, and it was the first thing in his life that he could truly call his. He built it, he picked out the parts, and there was no Watto to take it away and sell it or gamble with it. It had amazed him how something so powerful could emerge from a few parts, no matter how complex the construction.

And it had amazed him how simple a thing it was to kill with it. Even on the lowest setting, a lightsaber was lethal. On the highest, it could melt metal.

At any setting, it could rend flesh.

Anakin was one with the Force, perhaps more in tune with it now than any being had ever been. It was his father; it embraced him and made him whole. He moved with it as he swung his blade in a wide arc; surrendered to it as power surged through his limbs and made the blade sharper, hotter, stronger; rejoiced with it when it sung through Darth Maul's flesh, through his neck, bringing his soul to permanent death.

Death dealt by one spirit to another was not something that could be undone. There would be no coming back for Darth Maul.

With the Sith's death came the typical explosion of dark energy. Anakin alone stood against it, unmoveable, and with grim determination he turned on his heel and approached the fallen body of Chloe/Padme.

"Oh, Ami," he whispered, took the girl's hand in his. He knew that Amidala was not this child, had never been, but her soul had been in the body. It was as close as Anakin had been to her since her original death. It made him ache.

As he watched, the body faded away.

Leaving a glowing blue/white soul.

"Ami . . ." he breathed, touched her hand. Her eyes were closed, her face in repose. "Ami . . ."

"I had a dream," she said, not opening her eyes, her voice slurred as if just waking from a long sleep. "that you ran away and I was dead, and we had children. Isn't that strange . . . Anakin?" He watched her face crumble. "It wasn't a dream." Deep, deep eyes finally opened, and he felt himself falling in love again. "Oh, Ani. It wasn't a dream."

He thought she would be repulsed by his presence, but instead of shrinking away, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer. Their forms blurred a little, melting into each other, a visible indication of their soul bond.

"Ani, where's our son?"

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Luke had been back for a long time. Maul's lightening had been more unexpected than effective, and he had thrown off the effects before the girl had died. He had realized in a very vague way that there was no way for Kyp to survive. Then, when Anakin killed Maul, the former glowing like a small sun, Kyp's eyes had lost all reason.

Though skill had left the other Jedi, brute strength and complete unpredictability was enough to keep Luke on the defensive. He noticed with come concern that he was backing toward the roof again. He needed to end this--

Kyp's lightsaber flew from his grasp and off the roof. Kyp howled and jumped away from Luke as Anakin stepped between them. "He's completely insane," Luke told his father, who nodded grimly. Luke wondered if Anakin knew he was still glowing so brightly.

"I'll kill him quickly," he promised, bringing his hand up. The quickest way he knew was to explode the heart in the chest--not exactly orthodox Jedi, but not Dark Side either--and as he prepared himself to do so, Kyp did something completely unexpected, so completely without warning, that Anakin's honed Force-sense did not even pick up the danger until it was too late.

The blaster bolt passed through Anakin's preternatural form and into the body of his son. "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" Anakin heard Padme wail.

Shocked, numb with anguish, Anakin squeezed, but Kyp beat him to it, bringing the blaster to his temple and destroying himself before Anakin had the chance.

On the other side of the roof, just outside the door, Mara began to weep.

Anakin turned to see his wife kneeling over their son, who blinked rapidly and owlishly as he pressed a hand to the wound in his chest. That he had survived the shot was a miracle. "Oh, no, Luke," Padme wept, putting her hand over his. Luke smiled gently.

Padme's eyes were large and vulnerable as she looked up at her husband. "Help him, Ani. Please. We can't let our son die . . ."

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Luke had heard people talk about the light at the end of the tunnel, but he had always passed it off as a delusion. Now he had to believe, for he saw it himself, and the light was more perfect than anything he had ever imagined.

For a brief instant, he felt a sharp pain, just below his heart, and wondered why. He remembered, then, that he had been shot, and realized he was dying, and wondered why the thought saddened him. Why, he would be one with the Force in a matter of seconds . . .

He started walking towards it.

"No, Luke."

Luke? Who was Luke? Oh, Luke was him! How amazing! Luke turned to thank the person who had granted him this wonderful insight.

The man was much taller than Luke, with a face so infinitely serene that he could only be a Jedi. Long brown hair framed proud, leonine features, and he gave a half smile. "That's right. Don't look at it too long, or it will steal you from yourself."

"Huh?" Luke asked.

The man pointed at the light. "It's the heart of the Force, Luke, and it is what we always knew it was--unthinking, unsentient. Simply there, radiating power and goodness. Now, take a small step towards me . . . good. The first is always hardest."

Luke's head cleared just an instant. "Who re you?"

"My name is Qui-Gon Jinn. I was Obi-Wan's master."

"But Ben said that Yoda--"

"You can ask your father when you get back to him. Now come on. You're not quite finished back there."

"What else do I need to do?"

"Train Ben for one thing--"

"Oh, stars! Ben! Eva!"

"Yes, your children. They must be trained, Luke, and though the knowledge you posess is limited, it is greater than any other Jedi living. You must do it."

Qui-Gon wrapped a long arm around Luke's shoulders. "Now, just one more step, and you'll be on your way. The light is neither so bright nor so pure there, but wonderful in its own way."

So they walked, and Luke felt himself growing heavier. The pain his his chest intensified until it was all he could do to keep at Qui-Gon's side. "You're almost there, Luke. Almost. Just a little farther."

"Oh gods!" Luke gasped, falling to his knees . . .

Sitting up against Mara's and father's hands?

Anakin let out a very large gasp for a person who doesn't have to breathe. His head fell forwards and he seemed to be trembling. Luke stared at him, finally able to see him . . . the duel had not provided many opportunities to observe his father.

The man looked up at his son and smiled gently, then positively beamed as a tiny hand landed on his shoulder and a beautiful woman lowered herself to kneel with them. She smiled radiantly. "He looks like a cross between our mothers," the woman observed mildly. "With your blonde hair for contrast."

"M-m-m-"

"Mother?" she asked, her laughter high and clear.

"Mother . . ." he agreed somewhat numbly.

Then he wished he were numb, because Mara chose that moment to launch herself at him and knocked him backwards. "Don't you EVER scare me like that again! Got it, farmboy? 'Cause if you do, you can just make yourself a p-permanent nest on the couch be-because I ca-can't handle losing--" Then she disolved into tears, and, of all wonders, reached her hand towards Luke's mother for comfort. Comfort she gladly provided.

Anakin looked from his wife to his son, looking mightily pleased with himself and terribly relieved. "I thought you were gone," his father admitted finally.

"But . . . you're 'gone'. Why does it bother you so much? I'd've been with you."

"It's the whole 'watching your son die after he f--uh, frickin' saved your life' thing I couldn't deal with."

Mara sniffed. "Don't cuss around my babies."

"Your babies aren't up here."

She shrugged as if it wasn't particularly important to her, then hugged Luke again. Her green eyes flashed brightly. "Thank you, Anakin. I think you know exactly what he means to me."

Anakin smiled gently, then finally looked at his wife. Padme's grin had split her face into two hemispheres. "I take it you're not going to let me apologize?" he asked.

"Apologize? Oh, yes," she contradicted him. "You'll do lots of that, if you don't want a permanent nest on the couch, yourself. But pout? Sulk? Brood? Anakin Skywalker, if you do any of that, I'll find someplace more uncomfortable than the couch to send you."

Anakin's eyebrows had ascended very high on the geography on his face by the time she reached the 'pout' part, then they lowered and scrunched.

To Mara's mind, unbidden, came the image of Darth Vader's mask scrunching his eyebrows in consterntion. She started laughing; Anakin joined her, and then they were all laughing helplessly because it was over.

And because they were whole.

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