A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you so much to everyone who read, favorited, followed, and as always REVEIWED! I hope the long chapter makes up for the wait. As usual, I am not really happy with a little of it, but you guys deserve a chapter.

Reader: I'm sorry. :( I really wanted to replace it. I hope that you continue to enjoy the fic itself moving forward. Kyuubi7: We discussed yours, but for everyone else, no need to worry. Anakin has lost none of his abilities. It's going to take time for him to adjust and heal (especially mentally) but he is still just as powerful as he has always been. BlueRosette23: Always great to hear from a lurker! Thank you so much. I'm thrilled that you like this. Well, here's the next chapter. MossyMeow: Haha! Im The Person: No. There will be no Luke x Ahsoka in this fic.

I do not own Star Wars or its characters.

Chapter 14

The weeks passed slowly. Ahsoka spent her time working hard training Luke, trying fruitlessly to keep her mind off of Anakin, still sedated and comatose in his medbay room. She found quite a few Jedi training supplies for the purpose: Obi-Wan's things were still hidden on the Falcon and Hera hadn't gotten rid of anything.

Luke invited his sister to train with him, but she refused, citing complete disinterest in the Force or learning to enhance her abilities in any way. He was certain her decision was based more on her continued focused rejection of their father than any real opinion, but wisely elected to say nothing about it. She did come to watch from time to time, and Ahsoka sometimes grew frustrated at the way he would start trying to show off for the audience.

The Rebellion went on much as it had before. They hid and waited, planned and watched, with one great change. Rumors flew throughout the Galaxy; with two major victories in such quick succession and the Emperor dead, moral was starting to crumble in the Imperial ranks. Desertion was becoming almost commonplace, with many of the defectors switching sides to the Rebellion. Some didn't even care for ideals or who won, but they were certain of who the winning side would be. With them came intelligence and supplies, and lifted spirits each time another new, confused face was seen on the fleet.

Nothing had been heard from Coruscant. Someone high in Imperial Command had taken control the rumors said, but if that was the case, he was avoiding attention.

Meanwhile, in the training room, Luke bumped into the wall yet again.

The togruta leaned against a mannequin in the middle of the room, one that he was supposed to have located and walked to. "Focus. Reach out. Try to sense your surroundings. You have yet to reach the target."

The blindfolded young man turned in the direction of her voice. "I'm sorry, what is the point of this? I just don't understand."

Ahsoka crossed her arms. "It helps you increase your perception of the Force and your surroundings. Besides, not needing eyes to see is a useful skill. I have known blind Jedi who were able to function almost entirely normally with this technique."

She didn't mention that she and the other younglings had played hide and seek like this, with the seeker blindfolded. Come to think of it, that had been Yoda's idea. Maybe it had been training all along.

"I'm not blind." Luke pointed out.

"What about when it's dark?"

He had no comeback for that, but continued to mutter mutinously; he thought too softly for her to hear. "You'll be wanting to ride around on my back next."

Ahsoka resisted the urge to roll her eyes. For the most part training was going remarkably well; Luke was making good progress and they were slowly filling in the gaps in his knowledge. Unfortunately worry was starting to get to them both. There had been no updates on Anakin's condition, and no amount of distraction could allow them to ignore that. Frayed nerves and petty snark had been inevitable.

She was just about to cancel the rest of the lesson and give Luke the rest of the day off when a droid rolled up. It was a medical droid, from the medbay. Hope and fear rose simultaneously in her chest.

"Dr. Garul would like to see you both." It whirred.

She made eye contact with Luke, who had removed the blindfold, and in a silent moment of absolute agreement they made like a shot for the medbay.

The pair had hoped that they would be allowed back into the room, but instead the droid led them down a different hallway and ushered them into Garul's office. Rex was absent; his duties not having allowed him to leave.

It was a long, low room; an office repurposed from crew bunks and still showing it in its cramped, narrow feel. Cabinets lined the walls where bunkbeds had been, reference pads and supplies carefully secured against the unpredictability of space travel.

Despite all this, there had been some effort at warmth. There was patterned carpet on the floor, the cabinets were some sort of dark wood, and the wall sported a small revolving projection of various outdoor scenes. On the desk, a pair of well-secured lamps with reddish shades cast a warm light through the space, a strange contrast with the harsh shipboard lighting of the rest of the ship. It looked more like something one would see planetside in the Core Worlds than on a medical frigate in the Rebel fleet.

Garul was at the end of the metal tube, sitting at a beautiful desk of the same wood as the cabinets, typing away on a terminal on her desk with a pad nearby providing notes for consultation. "Please, sit down. I'll be with you in just one moment…"

Ahsoka gracefully sat in one of the cushioned chairs in front of the desk. Luke followed a moment later, still preoccupied with staring at the room around him. He hadn't seen anything like this since his brief time on Cloud City, and that had been much more utilitarian.

The soft clicking of the keyboard continued. "Sorry. I just have to get these records done and then I'll be… right… with… you… There." A quick motion of the mouse closed out the file, and she turned to the two Jedi.

"I'm sorry for making you wait so long for news. I didn't want to have to answer 'I don't know' to every question." She started to explain what had been done. "…I had hoped to salvage his lungs. This was, unfortunately, impossible. Thankfully we were able to send off for cloned replacements. The risk isn't entirely removed, but cloned organs do have a much lower rejection rate when compared to donor or artificial options. So far we have had no issues, and I believe we may be able to safely say that his body has accepted the replacements." She paused, seemingly taking a moment to check notes on the pad, then continued. "There was significant tissue damage otherwise, so we repaired what we could and introduced microdroids to continue the process during the medicated coma. Microdroids also help reduce the risk and severity of complications from bedrest, always a concern when a patient is off their feet this long."

Ahsoka broke in, confused and sounding vaguely suspicious. "I thought medical microdroids were only found in high-level Imperial hospitals, and even there only experimentally. How did you have access to them?"

Garul smiled to her slightly accusing face, and responded. "We all have our sources." She continued, still smiling as she put down the pad and turned her focus properly back to the pair. "The surgery went remarkably well, and we haven't had any major complications. Overall, I am very happy with the results."

Luke gazed at her hopefully. "So… He's going to live?"

Garul paused. "I think… If everything keeps going the way it has, that he has a significant chance of making a good recovery." She smiled, "We took him off oxygen yesterday, without incident. We have also decreased his pain medication, also without issues. That is a very good sign."

"What's the next step?"

She sighed. "Well, we have the internal injuries largely healed, and I went on ahead and replaced the prosthetics at the same time, so we can finally move on to external issues and scarring. Even though we have taken measures to stave off the worst, the longer he is on bedrest the greater the chances of complications. We need to get him back on his feet and off IVs as quickly as possible. You don't need to worry about the physical therapy, a droid will handle that, but for him to get off the nutrient feed his stomach needs to be stretched back to useable condition. That means eating and drinking according to the schedule I've drawn up, even if he doesn't want to, and even when it is inconvenient. Also, after six weeks in bed, he is going to be more prone to falls and his bones are more likely to fracture. He has lost a lot of muscle mass and is going to be quite weak, but it is important that he not fall."

Ahsoka spoke excitedly. "Did you say you can fix his scars?"

"I think they can be reduced, yes. There will always be some, but I have hopes that a combination of strong steroids and Bacta therapy might repair a great deal of the damage." She paused. "It is possible that he might even grow hair again."

"When do you think he might wake up?"

"We ended sedatives a few hours ago, so… any time now."

"Can we see him?" Luke asked.

"Not yet. There are some details to be addressed after he regains consciousness. They should only take a few minutes. He will be very tired, so when you do go in, I recommend that you keep your visit brief."

Anakin slowly became aware of a soft rhythmic sound from somewhere outside himself.

Beep... Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…

It was his communicator. His fighter had crashed and Obi-Wan was trying to reach him.

No… that wasn't right… He was in Padme's apartment on Coruscant, and that blasted alarm clock was telling him it was time to return to the temple, early before he was missed.

No… still wrong… He was in his Bacta tank on Mustafar, and the Emperor was summoning him to an audience. He needed to hurry to avoid his master's wrath.

It was…

It was…

As he swam slowly up from the dark abyss, Anakin became aware of other things.

Something soft around him.

The whirring of basic single-purpose droids.

A bizarre absence of pain.

Finally one eye squinted open, then the other, still bleary from long sleep, and he could once again see his surroundings.

The room was dim and cool, with a few scattered droids quietly going about their tasks. As he stared upward, he could see the plain metal panels that made up a shipboard ceiling. The beeping resolved into the now-familiar rhythm of monitors, and he could see their blinking, multi-colored lights vaguely reflected in the metal above him.

His disorientation slowly cleared, and he at last remembered where he was. He was in the Rebel fleet, on life support on the medical frigate.

Anakin stretched slightly in bed, and he felt the cool weave of the sheets brush against his fingers.

That unfamiliar sensation thoroughly woke him faster than anything else could have. He pulled himself higher in on the pillows, brought his hands out from under the covers, and stared in shock.

A real, actual, flesh and blood hand was before him. Two, actually. Hands that looked real, that could touch and feel. He turned them over to see the backs, turned them back, then tried to move the fingers and grinned in utter joy as they twitched as instructed. It was real then. He had actual, real arms, as he hadn't since he was a teenager.

Anakin realized he could feel something lower in the bed, and he could see long, vertical lumps in the sheets. Curious, he pulled back the covers.

There were legs too. Pale and inhuman as the flesh above them, but real. Working his pants leg up to look higher, he could see incredibly thin gold bands where they joined to his stumps. Not quite real then, but good enough that it hardly mattered.

He smiled as a droid came over, opening a hatch on one wrist and lightly shocking each finger in turn to check the reflexes and mechanisms. Luke had flinched away from the slight pain; Anakin just enjoyed the fact that he could feel it at all.

The air seemed somehow… staler than he remembered, less pure. Every breath hurt slightly, a vague tugging sensation like his lungs were pulling at their moorings on each inhale. It was an entirely different feeling than he was used to. On a whim, Anakin touched his free hand to his face, laughing slightly in delighted elation as he realized the absence of tubes or breathing apparatus.

Just to check, he hesitantly took a small breath through his mouth, feeling another surge of exhilaration when the horrific searing, choking pain the act normally produced failed to appear. Another, more confident inhale produced the same result.

It was true then. He was free.

Garul walked in, a friendly expression on her face, then stopped beside the bed. "Well, look who's awake. How does it feel to be off oxygen?"

"It feels pretty good."

Garul smiled as she carefully moved his shirt aside, taking an offered stethoscope from a waiting droid.

With his shirt open, Anakin could see a long smooth line stretching almost from his collarbone down the center of his chest nearly to his last rib, another deformity to join the rest of the scars marring his body.

She laid the instrument on one side of his chest. "Breathe in for me."

He did. She looked thoughtful, then moved it to the other side. "And again."

Anakin tried very hard not to mind the new mark too much. After all, this scar had allowed him to breathe again.

The doctor nodded thoughtfully, removing the stethoscope and putting it around her neck to free her hands. "How's your pain?"

"Um… I don't know. Maybe a… three?" He shrugged. "It's better. I know that."

She smiled. "That is good. That's lower than its been since you got here." Privately, she also noted that that was on a lower dose of pain medication than he had been on previously.

"Hey." The man paused, gesturing toward his chest. "There's something… odd. When I breathe there's this strange… pulling feeling. Is that normal?.. or..?"

"It is. That's just the sutures where the lungs attach to the veins and the chest cavity. It should fade with time and use as it heals." She paused, retrieving a pad for reference. "We need to discuss your treatment. I'm not going to lie to you; even now, it's a long uphill battle from here. I need to know you're ready."

Anakin gave a wry smile. "Listen, thanks to you I can breathe again; I never thought that could be possible. I'll do anything you want me too. What's the next step?"

She looked back at the pad before continuing. "Well, we repaired what we could of the internal injuries, and we gave your body a month to heal from the surgery and adjust, so the next thing is treatment to reduce your scars as much as possible, and physical therapy to help your body return to 'normal' function. Some of this will require your friends' cooperation, and I have already gone over that part with them."

"Scar reduction. You can… you can fix my scars?" His face was almost childlike, pleadingly hopeful as if he didn't quite dare believe her.

"I think we can repair a great deal of it, yes. There will likely always be some; the largest scars are unlikely to fade completely, but the majority can probably be fixed. Which brings us to your treatment. For the scars and remaining injuries, I am prescribing strong steroids, and Bacta therapy for three hours every day. The steroids will be intravenous for now, then in pill form once you're eating normally again. There are other medications as well that have to wait until then, but let's focus on this for now."

She looked at him, as if expecting some sort of confirmation.

"Okay."

"Am I going too fast? I'm just reading what I have here; stop me if you need me to slow down."

Anakin shook his head.

Garul continued, "Since you haven't been using your digestive system, it is seriously… well, I guess the best term for it is 'completely screwed up.' We have taken steps to fix most of the issues, but your stomach will have to be stretched over time." At his confused expression, she stopped to explain. "All right. The stomach changes size as part of normal function. It is completely ordinary, simply a way for the body to adjust when it feels full according to food intake. However, when a person doesn't use their stomach for an extended period, in cases of severe starvation or – in your case – long-term intravenous nutrition, it shrinks far past the point of normal size fluctuation. I have seen many cases where a starving individual was given food, then died because they ate more than they should have and their stomach ruptured. It is a horrible way to die." She didn't particularly want to dwell on this topic, but he needed to understand the seriousness of the situation. Right now, if she could have brought out photos of those bodies for shock value, she would have. "This is why you have a schedule, and you are to stick to it. It is incredibly important that you stick to it. We aren't taking you off the nutrient feed right away; we're going to wean you off as your food intake increases, so you shouldn't have to worry about not getting enough. You will start feeling hungry again fairly quickly; you are to ignore that feeling. It's good, of course, it means everything is slowly getting back on track, but it doesn't mean you need to eat." She eyed him intensely. "Tell me what I just said."

"If I eat too much, I could die. When I get hungry, ignore it. Just stick to the schedule and I'll be fine."

"Promise me you'll stick to the schedule."

"I promise."

"No drinking alcohol, no unauthorized medication or drugs; it will contradict your medication. Nod if you understand."

He nodded, and she finally relaxed. "Okay, good. Apart from all that, there is intensive physical therapy to get you back on your feet as soon as possible. That will also likely be several hours a day. You won't be out of bed quite yet, but I am working on getting you a chair so hopefully you'll be more mobile in a few days."

That sounded good. Better than the rest anyway. Even if he already felt exhausted just listening to the litany of tasks.

"And of course," she added, "The Jedi have made it very clear that you need to resume whatever work they have been doing with you as soon as possible. I don't know what that looks like, but I don't want to put too much pressure on you. Get a lot of rest and do whatever you can." She paused. "Any questions?"

His brow wrinkled, "You're clearly talented, and really good at what you do. How did you wind up here?"

"That's not the type of question I meant." She paused, then sighed, "It's not that exciting a story. I interned at a hospital on Coruscant, then joined the army as a medic when the Clone Wars came along. I worked on a medical frigate, you know, treating clones mostly and a few Jedi. Then the Empire came along and well… I'm not exactly the 'type' they're looking for."

The Empire's racist policies went unspoken. Anakin threw her an apologetic look. "Ah… yes…"

Garul smiled. "No. Believe me, I'm glad. Getting pushed out was the best thing that ever happened to me. I would much rather be here, fighting for a cause that matters, than on some cushy Imperial posting caring for men who are fighting and dying for nothing." She paused. "Besides, it's been an interesting challenge finding new sources for supplies and new methods when those supplies don't materialize."

She handed off her pad to the droid and turned back, seemingly changing focus. "All right. Well, that's pretty much everything for now. Ahsoka and Luke are outside. They wanted to see you as soon as you woke up. Now, I don't want you to exhaust yourself; you don't have to say yes if you don't want to. Do you want to see them?"

"Yes, of course! Please."

As Luke entered the room alongside Ahsoka, he couldn't suppress a pitying shudder as he laid eyes on his father. It was different looking at him now, after seeing that recording. Academically, of course, he had been aware of his father's injuries and known he must have been different before, but this had simply been what the man looked like to him, the way he was. Now he couldn't help drawing comparisons between the two.

Besides the obvious: the pale skin, the scars, the lack of hair or eyebrows; all of which stood out so much more than before, there had been a light in the hologram's eyes that was missing now. Even now when he seemed so happy, his eyes looked tired and hopeless beneath it. The smile he gave them was quiet and sad, a sharp contrast with the bright, cocky smirk in the recording. Luke's growing bond with his new Master allowed him to sense her own spike of discomfort on seeing her old friend.

"Please, keep your visit short." The doctor reminded them.

Luke spoke on reaching the bed. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Much better. I can breathe on my own; that's a miracle in itself. And look!" He exclaimed, holding up his arms for scrutiny. "They can touch too. There's a neural network attached into my arm. Isn't modern medicine amazing?" He paused, "I am… a little concerned about skin tone. I don't plan to stay like this."

Garul broke in, "The color adjusts to match the skin above it."

I didn't know that! Luke thought. But then, he did wear long sleeves almost every day, so he supposed there hadn't been much opportunity for that particular feature to show.

"It's honestly a bit strange seeing you with two arms." Despite her words, Ahsoka was smiling as widely as his father was, and her tone was teasing. "At least you don't look like Grievous anymore."

Luke wasn't completely certain who Grievous was, although he vaguely remembered some mention of a general by that name in the history text. He hadn't been attractive if his father's offended expression was anything to go by.

"I never looked like Greivous."

Ahsoka turned her attention to Luke. "Can we have a moment alone?"

Time was short, and they had things they needed to discuss. He nodded – "Sure." – and prepared to depart.

His father's new prosthetics had reminded him of an issue. Luke drew Garul's attention, pulling off his glove to show her the damage to his fake hand. "Hey, I was just wondering, is there anything you can do about this? It works fine, it just has some skin missing."

She studied it, then nodded. "Sure, of course. Come with me." She continued as they left the room. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Um… it's been a few months. A pirate shot it."

Ahsoka had largely taken over where his father was concerned, and Luke was fine with that. Not only did he have no idea what to do, it had been uncomfortable for both of them. He barely knew the man, they weren't really close enough for emotional support to come easily, and he had been able to tell how much it hurt his father's pride to rely on him. This was honestly a much better situation.

Once he was gone, Ahsoka studied her friend with concern, "How are you feeling, really? I know you put up a front for Luke."

The front had indeed been dropped. Anakin looked less cheery, more haggard and depressed than before. "I'm tired. After the surgery, I've apparently made all this progress, but from what she said things are only going to get harder. I don't even want to think about it."

"What about the Force? How do you feel in that area?"

"Honestly, I don't think I've been awake long enough to know. I just feel sort of… bland. Normal. I don't know."

Ahsoka sat down beside him on the bed, swinging her legs up to move closer until they were touching. Smiling, she handed him a box. "Here. I got you a present for when you woke up."

A small smile turned his lips as he accepted it. "Seriously?"

"Go on, open it."

He shook his head, did as instructed, and froze. Inside the box were Jedi robes. Dark brown and red, with a black leather outer layer and a brown cloak.

His old robes, as if returned from the past to taunt him. The robes he had last seen when they were slowly ripped piece by piece from his screaming body.

His smile dropped as he realized what the box contained, and he stared at them incredulously, "Where did you find these?"

"I reprogrammed the droid that makes the uniforms. I had pictures, and memory. I doubt they're perfect, but you can hardly go on wearing that." She motioned to the med-bay attire, and he agreed long term, but even so he closed the box and pushed it away. "I can't accept this."

Ahsoka belatedly noticed the change in demeaner. "It's not a big deal." She smiled again, joking this time, in an effort to lighten the mood. "Besides, someone needs to show Luke what Jedi robes look like. He layered strips of cloth over a turtleneck and added a belt. He's so proud of it too, and it's so terrible."

Anakin smiled faintly at the mental picture, but still made no move to reclaim the box.

She turned pleading again. "Anakin, the Order is asking you back. I'm… asking you back."

He looked down. "I'm sorry. I… can't. Not now. Please, just give me some time."

"I understand." She picked up the box to move it out of the way. "These will be waiting for you, whenever you're ready."

The horrible scene from the Temple played in his mind, carnage and destruction too horrible for words caused by his own hand. Hunted Jedi brought to Mustafar, imprisoned and interrogated before execution. What he had done to Obi-Wan.

If I'm ever ready.

He desperately wanted to change the topic. Anything, anything at all that wouldn't make him feel like this. "Tell me what happened on Gamorra. How did it go? Tell me everything."

The tension was immediately relieved. Ahsoka smiled and returned to the bed, sitting cross-legged near the end to tell the story. "Well, it went about as well as anything ever does. For starters, the divertionary attacks made them lock down the base. So then…"

They talked, laughed, and discussed the unexpected information about Luke. They continued happily for what felt like ages. Finally Garul returned and insisted he rest, at which point Ahsoka was ushered out.