The night, however endless it seemed, had to give way to dawn, pulling back begrudgingly its dusky blue as clouds began to dapple the skyline on which it had rested. Blue turned to purple, purple turned to pink, and pink to gold as the sun rose, spreading its radiant hues. Anakin was awake, the dawn had drawn him to the vast window, when he knew he ought to be making preparations for the mission. But who, he wondered, leaning against the smooth cold glass, who could think of anything but Padme Amidala when the suns radiance reflected her own?

The dawn's listless fire drew him back to memories of years gone by, their brief time on Naboo, the pink and gold dress she'd worn by the lake. He laughed, softly those he was alone; she had looked like a goddess that day, adorned in the colors of the sun.

She was little changed since then, and her perfection had only doubled since the birth of the twins. He, however, was very much changed since the days of their youth. Almost automatically he reached up, tracing the scar that ran just over his right eye. What sort of man had he become? His thoughts seemed forever plagued with darkness, his dreams an endless descension into madness. Throughout this she had been his only respite, though he'd been undeserving of her. She truly was an angel, for she had been the salvation of many, whereas he- His life had been an endless string of horrors, how could he ever deserve her? How could he be a father to her twins?

He stepped back from the window, the glass had grown warmer with his touch and no longer held the same relief. By now, the sky's rosy hues were fading into a serene and pale blue. The lateness of the hour dawned on him and he hastily fled the chamber. He could stall no longer, his mission awaited, and the day was breaking, with a sky that seemed all too clear for the torrents of a soul such as Anakin Skywalker.

The sun's rays fell over Anakin's back as he hastened down the landing pad. It was the soft glow of a newly risen sun, but even so, the hour was late. He squinted as he drew closer to the ship, able to make out three figures in the distance; the togruta waiting anxiously, hands on her hips, the clone captain shifting from foot to foot, helmet in hand, and the weary bearded Jedi, tapping his foot, arms crossed, an impatient gleam in his eye which did not bode well for Anakin.

"Good morning master!" he called nonchalantly as he jogged up to the three of them. He knew he could never hope to avoid interrogation that easily, but it was worth a shot.

He stepped behind Rex, who'd been shooting anxious glances his way as he'd grown closer. He met the trooper's russet eyes, deep with worry, with the calm blue gaze of his own and shook his head, subtly, but it was enough. Padme and the twins were alright.

Red nodded in response, a barely audible sigh of relief escaping his lips. He'd found himself on edge lately, ever since Anakin had shared with him the secret knowledge of his hidden marriage, and now, children. He couldn't help but worry himself constantly on their behalf. He'd come to know Anakin well over the course of the war. He could hardly stand to think of the suffering of yet another one of his brothers.

Obi-wan exhaled, the exhaustion of raising this Padawan evident in his sigh, "Well, I'm sure we're all glad you had a good night's sleep Anakin," he said, sarcasm fell in torrents from his words, and pierced like daggers through his eyes.

Anakin inhaled, slowly so that the air made a hissing sound when it passed through his teeth, eyes shut as he ran his gloved fingers through his hair. He knew an explanation was expected- no, demanded, of him, and while ordinarily he would not have withheld it, no matter how extraordinary a tale he'd have to tell, only this time he had none.

"Can we talk later?" he asked, his lips pursed as he gestured to the ship, "We've lost enough time already."

"And who's fault is that?" Rex muttered as they walked up the ramp, earning a glare from Anakin,

"Sorry," he coughed.

Ahsoka frowned thoughtfully as the trio of footsteps clanked up the ramp ahead of her, her eyes narrowing as, one by one, they disappeared into the ship. Perhaps she had been gone for a long time, but not so long that she couldn't tell when her master was lying. The subtle change in tone, the shifting of his eyes from side to side. The glance, though only a moment long, between her master and the commander she'd come to respect was enough to confirm it, they were hiding something. Without words they were lying to her face.

She ought to be smiling at the prospect of discovering what they were up to, delighted at the idea of their faces when she found out. But she wasn't a kid anymore, and she knew the flash of fear in a man's eyes, that same fear that had risen and receded in Rex's eyes within a second as they met Anakin's. Those blue eyes which no longer twinkled with mischief as they used to, rather, now they were glazed with some deep and saddening secret, a thing she had noticed for some time since their reunion, but not in Rex. Until now.

The soft clank of her own footsteps echoed in her ears as she boarded. Their, the two men stood, preparing for take off and reviewing mission protocol, as they would any ordinary day.

The togruta shook her head, wartime had been anything but ordinary. Three years of raging battles across the galaxy had taken their toll on everyone. Yet, what had been three years felt like a lifetime, and she had come out of it a different person. Only seventeen but she felt so much older, for she had gained the respect of senators, commanders, jedi, and generals. She was not the child she ought to have been, those years had been robbed from her forever, but in their place stood something she could cherish, wisdom, respect, comradery. She knew people and things she could never have hoped to in peace time. And for that, in a strange way, she was grateful.

"You okay Snips?" the familiar touch of that leather glove which she knew so well rested on her shoulder.

She looked up, into the sad eyes of Anakin Skywalker, but past the terrible secret those eyes held lay the same recklessness and compassion that made Anakin Skywalker who he was. Always there for her as he had been in the past, as he had been for everyone, though he often got in over his head, his compassion was his best quality.

"This war," she began, her gaze falling and drifting as she puzzled out her thoughts, "It's changed us all, hasn't it?"

Her master nodded; he knew what she meant all too well. Surges of guilt and panic were a constant testimony to the truth of her statement.

Ahsoka bit her lip, uncertainty painted her features as she returned the nod, though more to herself than Anakin,

"Then," she continued, her voice strung tight, "It has to be for a reason."

It came out as more of a statement than a question. One painted with uncertainty and confusion, and which Anakin could not answer. His touch grew a little firmer and his padawan understood. Nothing more was said, nothing more was needed. They parted ways and went about their business, both pondering the enigma of an ordinary life.