"It's been nearly four weeks since the arrest of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine by the Jedi Order and tensions are running high in the galactic core. Our correspondents in the Executive Building on Coruscant report that investigative committees have been working tirelessly to collect evidence for and against Chancellor Palpatine to bring before the Senate in his upcoming trial. Sources from the Galactic Times and Republic Infinitum are here today to discuss Chancellor Palpatine's arrest and we will be hearing from them momentarily. My name is Jar Fitzer and this is Coruscant News Nightly."

Anakin was able to hear some of this from the holoscreen but it was mostly drowned out by the sudden burst of a newborn infant's surprisingly loud wailing. He must have fallen asleep again, which was hard not to do at random when he couldn't make it through the night without hearing that exact sound at least four times — or, double that, actually, because, well. Twins.

He heaved a great breath and fumbled around to shut off the news before he could open his eyes and have to see Palpatine's face on the holo. He glanced at the chronometer — fourteen twenty-five hours — before rolling off the sofa and stumbling his way over to see which baby it was this time, reminding himself blearily that he was supposed to be cherishing this time and this life and these children, both of whom he loved more than anything or anyone, and both of whom would not stop cryingany reasonable stretch of time.

Padmé had gone back to work about a week ago, reluctantly shouldering the responsibility of trying to expose to the Republic the things that Palpatine had done, the crimes that he had committed, for the last thirteen years of leadership. Anakin didn't know which one of them it was harder for — probably her, to be fair, but he wasn't having a good time of it either. Yes, he got to stay home, which was something he'd never been exactly good at, but at least he was too tired to feel jittery. But the twins were so much work, and in his most exhausted moments Anakin sometimes found himself wishing they had shut off switches on the back of their necks like C-3PO, or power sockets where he could plug them in for recharge instead of having to feed them every two hours —

But perhaps unfortunately, they weren't droids, but rather very vulnerable and helpless humans that he had helped to create. And he loved them. Very. Very. Much.

All things considered, being thrust into a state of fatherhood (for which he was entirely unprepared, by the way) was not, surprisingly, the worst case of culture shock Anakin had ever experienced. After all, as someone who had once been a nine-year-old freed slave from Hutt Space who couldn't read Basic and had never seen a body of water bigger than the tank of a moisture vaporator — fatherhood had to be a piece of cake, right?

Actually…not right. Not right at all. Not even in the slightest. Nope.

Parenthood, it turned out, might be the thing that would do him in. And he didn't mean that in a dark side-y kind of way — been there, done that, sort of — but in more of a 'learning a whole new meaning of sleep deprivation' type of way. A decade of Jedi training and three years serving as a leading commander in the GAR had not in any way prepared him for changing diapers, burping babies, trying to figure out what the hell they were crying about this time because it wasn't either of those first two things and he really, really had no idea what to do —

They couldn't have done any of it without Obi-Wan, and they really couldn't have done any of it without the Naberries. Talk about culture shock — a loving, living, tight-knit family unit that was alive and present and eager to help a wildly unprepared couple who had no idea what they were doing. Padmé's father had had to return to his teaching position over a week after the Naberries had first greeted them at the temple, and her sister had followed shortly thereafter to be with her own daughters, but Jobal stayed with them on Coruscant, helping them both to learn the ins and outs of parenthood with a patience that rivaled the most experienced of Jedi Masters.

Like, seriously. Anakin didn't think he'd ever missed his own mom as much as he did now that Padmé's was here. And that was coming from a man who, after his mother had been kidnapped and violently tortured for a month, had slaughtered her captors with an undying rage and a fire in his heart more heated than the surface of both twin suns of Tatooine combined —

Uh.

Fatherhood.

Fatherhood was great. To be completely and brutally honest, Anakin loved it. He had a lot of other emotions about it, too, and about other various happenings, but the very essence of having twin babies, each of whom were half made of his DNA was, at its core, the most wonderful thing he'd ever experienced. And in a way, they were the greatest reminder of his mother, because Anakin was pretty sure he got all of his DNA from her, even though that didn't really make sense because of chromosomes and biology but, well, it was confusing and the Force was involved somehow and, uh —

Ok, so maybe his mind was a little scattered, but that was because he was back to having about three hours of sleep a night, if even. Actually, probably not even, because there were, again, two babies in his and Padmé's care, and they absolutely refused to sleep at the same time as the other one, even when Padmé fed them both at the same time and he changed them at the same time and why why why couldn't they both just sleep for even just one single hour at a time, please —

He wanted to scream so bad oh Force Force Force he just wanted to scream —

Anakin would readily confess it was a little…jarring. Just, all of it. A few weeks ago now they'd been on Yerbana, just another of the seemingly infinite battles of the Clone War, deep in the Outer Rim without even a trace of an idea that his wife was pregnant, that he would return to Coruscant to the absolute disaster that awaited him. A few weeks ago, he'd reconnected with Ahsoka after months and months of worry, of tuning her lightsabers in his spare time, waiting for the day she might come back to him, come back home. And now, of course, that she had come back home, he'd been forced to leave. Funny how that worked. Funny how everything in his life seemed to go wrong. One. After. Another.

But now everything was right! Ahsoka was back, the Sith were captured, the visions had stopped, Padmé and Luke and Leia were alive and he was happy. He was so, so happy. All the time, so happy. So. Happy. All. The. Time.

Life was good.

Life was great. Life was simple, peaceful, domestic bliss. No one was asking things of him anymore. Not like those few weeks ago, where everyone, everyone had been asking things of him. When Obi-Wan was asking him things because the Council was too afraid to do it themselves, and Padmé was asking him to ask Palpatine to stop the fighting, and Ahsoka was asking him for help on Mandalore, and the Council was asking him to spy on Palpatine, and Palpatine was asking him to join the Order of the Sith and pledge himself to the dark side and become evil and turn on the Jedi and his friends and he had almost, almost, almost done it, he had almost done it, he almost did it almost almost almost turned almost —

Ahem!

Life. Was. Great!

He was so happy. So happy! He had a family now, and that family was alive, and he spent his days being alive with them, and everyone was happy and nothing was in shambles, he changed diapers for a living and cradled his children, staring at their faces for hours on end to escape from the chaotic dissonance in his head at all times of the day. His only obligations now were to keep these two children alive and safe and healthy, which wasn't stressful at all, and honestly he was used to only getting two hours of sleep a night, so that wasn't even really an issue, it was fine, he was good, really good, really fine —

So why did everyone keep acting like he felt otherwise?

He did not feel otherwise. As a matter of fact, cold hard facts, in fact, Anakin factually felt great. It was a fine life. And it was fine that he had to remind himself of this twenty (thousand) times a day, when his mind had wandered off again and again to some words spoken by someone that he had trusted implicitly with all of his deepest, darkest secrets, and not once, not ever at any point did Anakin ever obsess privately over what his Darth name might have been. That was not a thought that crossed his mind ever, not even once.

And yes, actually, he was going to get therapy at some point. He would. He'd said he would, and in fact he kept saying he would, so why did everyone keep asking? Wasn't it kind of obvious he was a little busy right now? Maybe, just maybe, people could give him more than four solid weeks of fatherhood before freaking out, because he would do it, okay? So would you just lay off, Obi-Wan?

"Look, I'll be the first to say it," Ahsoka said to him one day, as he stood with Leia in his arms and a spit rag on his shoulder, and very probably dark circles under his eyes. "You know you're in denial, right?"

Uh, actually, Snips, how could he be in denial if he had already admitted to the abuse? The abuse that he definitely believed was abuse, and did not in any way struggle to comprehend it as such? Because it definitely, fully made sense to him that that was what Palpatine had done to him? He definitely was not in the slightest bit of denial, and frankly he did not appreciate the accusation, so would everyone please please please just leave him alone —

Ugh.

Fine!

Okay.

Fine.

So he was in denial.

Well, what was he supposed to do about it?

And don't say therapy, because he was definitely, eventually going to get there at some point. For sure. Yeah.

Just…maybe not right now.

"You don't have to do anything other than show up," Obi-Wan told him from the other side of the twins' cradle, arms folded over his chest in that stern masterly position of old. "The Jedi doctors will set it up for you. They've already found someone, they're just waiting for you to give the okay."

"I'm busy," Anakin said, rocking the bassinet gently, staring at Luke so he wouldn't have to meet Obi-Wan's eyes.

"I see that."

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Well, Padmé's always at work and someone has to watch the twins. I'm someone."

"So am I," Obi-Wan said, "So is Jobal, who is more than qualified to watch two infants for an afternoon."

"Well…you ever heard of separation anxiety?"

He could feel Obi-Wan's wry smirk boring into him like a laser. "I'm no expert of course, but I think they're a little young for that. Or were you talking about your own? Because therapy would be an excellent place to address that."

"All I need is some peace and quiet."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Anakin…."

"Don't," Anakin said, feeling like a Padawan again. "Don't use that tone."

"What tone?"

"Any of them. I've heard them all."

"And yet you still don't listen to me," Obi-Wan said gently, coming around the bassinet and sitting beside him. "You know I'm only trying to help you."

Anakin sighed, slumping back in his seat and rocking the cradle with the Force instead. "I don't want to talk about my feelings. There's too many."

"I know," Obi-Wan replied, and the lines around his eyes showed a hint of a smile. "But the trial is going to start soon and I just want you to be as prepared as for it as you can be."

They fell into a mostly comfortable silence, and after a minute Anakin couldn't help but think how utterly bizarre this whole situation still felt. A month ago his life with Padmé had been a carefully guarded, tight-lipped secret, and he'd lived in constant fear of Obi-Wan's inevitable disappointment when he found out the truth. But Obi-Wan hadn't reacted like that at all. It had just been…accepted. Without question, and judgement, and disapproval. It was different, Anakin was sure, than if he'd told the truth before Padmé's pregnancy, before he'd almost fallen — uh, not thinking about that, not at all — but now it was just…life. It was just how things were now. Two friends with severe communication and trust issues that were sitting here together in silence before his newborn twins.

Life was weird, sometimes.

"Speaking of the trial," Anakin said distantly, staring at the bassinet without really seeing it, "We're thinking of leaving after it's over. Going to Naboo, raising them there. Getting away from all the politics."

"That's a good idea," Obi-Wan said. "You could both use a change of scenery."

Fiddling with his glove so as not to look at his Obi-Wan's face, Anakin said, "You could come with us, you know. I mean…if you wanted to."

He felt Obi-Wan looking at him, and forced himself not to overthink his master's reaction. There was another, shorter length of silence before Obi-Wan said, quiet, "You want me to come with you?"

Anakin gave a half shrug, shifting in his chair as if it was of no real importance. "I mean, I know you probably don't want to, but…after all the fighting, the war, all the lies…from both of us…maybe we could all use a new start."

He wasn't sure if he'd fully realized that this was a thought he'd been having until he actually said it aloud. And suddenly he was embarrassed, and he wasn't sure how Obi-Wan would react and wasn't sure he really wanted to know, until —

"I think…one day, maybe," Obi-Wan said, himself staring off into the distance now. Anakin looked at him. "You've heard me say before that I've thought about leaving the Order. Not recently I haven't, but…before. Truthfully I never thought I would feel that way again…but you're right. After everything that's happened, I could use a break myself."

That was honestly a better answer than Anakin had ever thought he might get. Sometimes he had to consciously remind himself of all the things Obi-Wan had done for him…sometimes even those very memories didn't feel like enough evidence that Obi-Wan actually did, in fact, care about him. Even after Obi-Wan had haphazardly abandoned the battle of Utapau and had physically dragged Anakin away from his — his abuser, apparently…even now, Obi-Wan's affirmation of loving him beyond obligation as Anakin's Jedi master was nothing short of astonishing.

And Anakin didn't know what the hell was wrong with him for thinking like that.

Just how kriffing messed up was he?

"I know I said I don't want to talk about my feelings," Anakin said, "And I don't. But, Obi-Wan — I'm sorry for lying to you. I'm really, really sorry."

Obi-Wan smiled sadly at him. "Accepted. I know why you did it, and I can't blame you for it. But I hope you know I would never have turned you over to the Council."

"I do now," Anakin said honestly. He ran a hand over his face. "Honestly, Master…I don't know which thoughts are mine, and which are his."

His friend reached for Anakin's metal hand and squeezed it. "You are your own person, Anakin. He does not define you."

A wave of sleepiness swept over him as it had his children, and he rested his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder, closing his eyes. He didn't respond, because he wasn't exactly sure he believed Obi-Wan's words, even now. He wasn't sure he ever would.

He just…didn't want to think.

Soon as Anakin's Force presence began to dim, caught in the tide of fatherly exhaustion, Obi-Wan felt his face slip into a concentrated frown. Indeed, Palpatine's actions did not define Anakin, but they certainly brought to Obi-Wan a fury the likes of which he had not known since watching Darth Maul strike his lightsaber through Qui-Gon's chest. Such a fury, in fact, that if he'd not trained himself better, Obi-Wan was sure his vision would be tinted with red the same color as a Sith's blade.

For the very thought of what Palpatine had done to Anakin, the awful crushing enormous weight of it all, made Obi-Wan so dreadfully, unbearably angry that sometimes he thought he might burst. Now, fortunately he was a good deal better than Anakin at dealing with his anger. He'd had decades of practice, thirteen years of retrospection at what his anger had made him do the first time. But that didn't mean it wasn't there at all.

His Padawan. His brother. His friend. His best friend. Abused, groomed, for years and years and years, right under Obi-Wan's nose. His partner nearly stolen away by this wretched, manipulative, wily, hellishly evil old man. And Obi-Wan had nearly let him. And he really, truly, honestly hadn't known. And he should have.

He should have known.

He should have, and he didn't. And for that he was a failure. To the Force, to Qui-Gon, and most importantly to Anakin himself. To the child, and then the man, to whom Obi-Wan had pledged responsibility. He had let Anakin down, plain and simple, and there was nothing he could do about it now other than be endlessly thankful for how things had turned out, and infinitely grateful for the man that Anakin had become.

A few times in these past weeks, Obi-Wan had strongly considered marching down to Palpatine's prison cell deep within the temple and throttling the man with his bare hands. He'd wasted his time brainstorming the things he would say, the curses he would hurl at the Sith, telling him he hoped Palpatine would rot in the deepest pit of the Sith hells, tormented for all of eternity as badly as the man had tormented Anakin. He would imagine pulling out his lightsaber, or a blaster like he'd done with Grievous, and ending the man's life as painfully and prolonged as he could manage the act to be.

And then, Obi-Wan would sigh, and he would let those thoughts go.

They were certainly not productive, and frankly he had more important things to be doing. Namely, being there for Anakin, as he was right now. And even if he could do no more than acting as a literal shoulder to cry on — or in this case sleep on — then that is what he would do. Obi-Wan would be there, patiently waiting for Anakin to come to him should he choose to do so. He would be there for this new family, on standby, waiting for the call. And if for any reason Anakin decided he no longer wanted Obi-Wan's help, decided their bond had been irreparably damaged by the negligence on Obi-Wan's part as he failed to notice the psychological damage that had been done by thirteen years of abuse happening right under his nose —

Breathe out. Let it go.

Then, in that worst of circumstances, Obi-Wan would accept that punishment. If that was what Anakin wanted — and he hoped it never became as much — then Obi-Wan would accept that.

Because that was what life was really about, for him, right now. Helping where he could, to atone for his part in all of this. At the end of the day, it was as Yoda had always said about trying. There was only do or do not, and Obi-Wan had not done right by Anakin. He had tried, for years and years and years, but he had not done.

Now, he would.

By his last breath, if it was required of him, Obi-Wan would do right by Anakin. And Padmé, and Leia, and Luke. That was what he wanted. And that was what he would do.

And if he did end up choking the life out of Palpatine with his bare hands, well. He was sure Anakin wouldn't have a problem with that, at the very least.