Hi all! ... yeah... I know I have TON of stories I haven't updated yet... (Sorry!) But this idea has just been swimming around in my head and kept getting in my way when I wanted to work on some of my other stories and it just couldn't be ignored! So... here it is. Next chapter of this should be posted soon. Hopefully followed by updates to my other stories.

Happy Reading!

Chapter 1

The small one-bedroom apartment granted to him by the state was a step down from the apartment he had shared with his wife, but it was a major improvement from the small cell he shared with his two cell mates that didn't even have a partition separating the toilet from the rest of the space. Boxes littered the floor of the apartment filled with his personal items and clothes from before. Nothing fit him right any more, his shirts were too tight across his chest, and his pants hung loose at the waist. Prison had been a hard life with an unspoken law that he had learned quickly to obey at all cost. Loyalty and friendship was something that had to be arranged prior to the conviction, something Anakin had not been aware of before arriving. Having no ties inside, it made him an easy target, and the crime he had been charged with didn't make things any better. He'd had to learn quickly how things worked, learn how to watch out for himself, learn how to protect himself. The lessons had been hard and he had spent quite a bit of time in the infirmary his first few months as he got used to things. But as the years passed, he learned. Prison had changed him. Eight years behind bars had transformed him from the lanky boy-next-door he had been to the cautious hardened man he was now.

Anakin went about unpacking his things, finding space for old photos on the shelves dresser tops, storing the few pieces of clothes that fit well enough until he could go out and get new things. He memorized the creaks in the old floor boards, shifting his weight over them as he found them, committing the sound to memory as he had for the sound of specific guards as they walked along the gangways in the prison. He told himself that it was for his safety and peace of mind, but deep down he knew that it was more than that, maybe even a little bit of paranoia, but he didn't want to think about it right now. He worked until he was satisfied with the living arrangements, feeling a little more at ease with his old stuff set out prominently as if a constant reminder that this was real.

Sinking into the couch, he stared straight ahead at the still black TV screen. It was silly, really. TV had been considered a privilege in prison, something that could only be viewed maybe an hour or two a day, and which the programs were limited and reserved though the unspoken hierarchy of the inmates. It was strange for Anakin to now have access and choice to watch it whenever he wanted. His phone vibrated from his pocket, alerting him to a new email. Anakin dug into his pants to pull out the phone, yet another gift from the state. The email came from his case worker, the one assigned to oversee his transition from prison to civilian life. Due to the complex nature of his case, the man assigned to him was some state official who oversaw prisons — a man named Obi-Wan Kenobi. The name sounded like it came out of an old Flash Gordon comic book, and the man himself sounded like a posh prick but from the few interactions he'd had with him, he did seem to genuinely care.

The email started off with another profuse apology for his false conviction for the murder of that Caleb Dume kid. And outlined Kenobi's commitment to getting his life back on track. It was the same thing every police officer, judge, and lawyer had said at the press meeting earlier that morning. By now he was numb to the sentiment that was behind the words. The rest of the email reminded him about how long the state would pay the rent on the apartment, how much the state would give him as a stipend until long term work was established as well as the state compensation he was due to receive in his bank account by the end of the month — all the things they had gone over in their meeting the day before. He gave a sigh as he closed the email and placed the phone on the coffee table.

Leaning back he kicked his feet up onto the table and let his body sink into the soft cloth of the couch. $500,000. That was all they would give him for eight years he spent in prison for a crime he was innocent of. It was more money than he ever thought he would ever have to his name and yet it felt so small compared to everything else he had lost because of it. The money probably covered lost wages, but the conviction had also come at a personal cost to him. His mother had died believing he had been guilty of the thoughtless murder of a child. His wife had divorced him, and his children… he'd never even gotten the chance to see them let alone hold them as they had been born three months after he had been locked away. No amount of money could ever fix that. When he had heard that his case was being overturned, that his name was to be cleared, Anakin had debated maybe suing the state for their negligence. But as quickly as the thought came, it left because the last thing he wanted was his name all over the papers again. He'd had enough of it to last him the rest of his life.

His phone vibrated again, this time with a text message, also from Obi-Wan. The message was short: 'Here is the address you asked about.' Below, it listed an address in Massachusetts. Anakin knew what the address was. It was her address. Padme. His wife— ex-wife. Part of him knew that she would move back to Massachusetts after his sentencing. There was no point in her staying in Chicago, especially not when her face and name was all over the news with his when the trial was going on. It was obvious that she would need to carve out a path separate from his infamy. Rising from the couch, he went over to the small office box that had his things from prison. He'd thrown most of the stuff out, but there was still a large manilla envelope bulging with its contents. Peering inside, he pulled out the stack of letters, all marked with the red 'Return to Sender' stamp. All the letters were addressed either to Padme, her sister or her parents, all in the hopes that one of them might pass his letters along to their intended. None of them were. Padme it seemed didn't want anything to do with him. But now, maybe she would at least listen to him.

The moment Obi-Wan was assigned to him, he knew what he wanted. He wanted to find his ex-wife. He wanted to see Padme. Even though there was a good chance she had moved on by now, he at least wanted to see her. He wanted to meet his children even if it would only be one time. Obi-Wan had warned him that it might not be a good idea, that if he was expecting things to go back to the way they were, there was a good chance that it wouldn't happen. But Anakin knew very well what he was asking for. He didn't expect things to go back to the way they were. He just… he wanted to hear it from her. Hear directly from her that despite him not being guilty, that things were truly over as well as maybe come to some kind of arrangement so that he could have even a small part in the lives of his children. Obi-Wan hadn't looked fully convinced of his motive, but regardless still promised to look into it for him. But finding her had not been easy apparently. Old addresses were dead ends, and she had apparently changed her name. But now here it was. Clearly printed in a blue bubble. Her address. His fingers trembled as he typed a quick thank you to Obi-Wan.

There were still things he had to do for the rest of the week. A meeting with his lawyer, a lunch with the mayor he was reluctant to attend… but by the end, he would have the first stipend from the state. That would certainly be enough to cover a trip to Massachusetts. With his mind made up, he started looking for flights.