First came the cold. And then-

Then came the water. Anakin kicked wildly, clawing at the waves in attempt to reach the surface. He felt as if a creature were grabbing him, pulling him into the darkness. He couldn't scream, couldn't do anything except kick and reach for something he couldn't have.

"There's been an awakening," a deep voice, deep as the sea. "Of the light. . . And the dark."

"No," Anakin breathed, only bubbles coming out.

"Have you felt it?"

"No," he tried repeat, again, only for bubbles to come out. His heart hammered against his ribs, he felt as if he were drowning. . .

"That's it, don't fight it," the voice said. "You know you can't."

In the darkness of the water, Anakin thought he could make out a pale figure, a scarred, twisted face. But maybe it was the lack of oxygen. What he could hear, however, was heart-stopping. He'd never heard it, outside of dreams, but everyone somehow knew that noise. It was Darth Vader's infamous helmet.

Anakin kicked harder than ever, and he thought he might be able to escape the sea creature's grasp. Then, somehow, he heard a scream.

"ANAKIN, HELP ME!" Tahiri screamed.

"Hang on, I'm coming!" he shouted, somehow able to shout again. He started to dive down after the creature, forgetting that he could not breathe and the sound of the breathing-

"GAH!" His eyes flew open to see the Sunrider in its sleep settings. Kaytoo was charging in his station, Tahiri was curled into a ball under her sheets, her lips mouthing phrases but not speaking them. Anakin sat up and climbed out of his bunk. He padded forwards softly to avoid waking up the droid or his partner, and checked the datascreens.

Three-quarters of the way to D'Qar, he thought. It had been nearly a standard week since the fall of Deyer and the Sunrider's escape. To entertain themselves, Tahiri and Anakin sparred and occasionally risked a bet against Kaytoo in Dejarrik and sabaac and lost, as they had the eighty-four point o percent chance of doing. On day five, however, the boredom had really begun to sink in, and all three occupants had taken to sleeping more and more to pass the time. Not that that was necessarily a good thing for Anakin.

He decided to go into the fresher and take a shower. He hadn't taken one in three days for some stupid reason and he reeked of the off-scent of hyperspace-most people didn't really smell it except for him, for some damn reason. Uncle Luke had always guessed it was the Force. Han always said it was his Grandma Jaina's sharp senses that had apparently skipped a generation.

Whichever it was, it was making the trip absolutely unbearable. And going back to sleep was not an option.

Anakin grabbed a fresh change of clothes and locked the fresher door. He sighed and stripped, throwing his clothes in the washer and turned on the shower head. Because they were in hyperspace, the water was regretfully cold. It still felt good, even despite the frigid temperature.

It sparked something in him, and he began to sob. Tears fell, as everything he'd felt since Han's death came out. He missed his father. He'd missed him before, for many years, but he'd hoped that when the war was over, his father would come back and they could talk. Really talk, like they hadn't since he was fourteen.

It's been six years, almost seven, he realized as he wiped his eyes. Dad didn't talk to me for seven years. And now we'll never talk again.

The mix of emotions literally brought him to his knees. He just sat there, crying in the shower, trying to confront that mixture of emotions. Grieving for his father, for his fallen brother, and anger at that same brother for taking away everything.

Finally, he picked himself up and changed his clothes, then emerged from the fresher. He was relieved to see that no one had been awakened, and he decided to go back to sleep, or try to, anyway.

He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the bunk for two hours, trying to remember the last conversation that they'd had-a real one, and not one about Kylo Ren.

"You're getting pretty big now," Han laughed over the messaging unit. "Are you sure that you aren't still nine? Or eleven?"

"Daaad," Anakin moaned, rolling his eyes, although the edges of his lips were curved in a smile. "I'm fourteen now!"

"Right, happy birthday, my lil' bantha rider," Han said, smiling affectionately. "Did you get the present we sent?"

"Not yet," Anakin admitted. "The suppliers have been late by a standard month- Luke's getting worried. He sent Ben off to check it out."

"I see," Han said, stroking his chin. "Well, you'll like what we got you, so. . ."

"Thanks, Dad," Anakin said. "I miss you. You'll visit soon, right?"

Han's concerned face broke into a grin. "You can count on it. I'm on the route to see you now."

They had exchanged pleasantries before signing off. The next time they ever talked again, it was all about Ben.

He was about to turn on his side when he heard the small whimpers. He sat up to look again, his head barely missing the ceiling in the process. He looked to see Tahiri shuddering under her sheets, making small whimpers and such.

Knowing she'd done it a thousand times for him, and he'd do it a thousand more, he gently shook her shoulder, and her green eyes flew open, her hand shooting out and wriggling around his wrist so painfully he was on his knees-

"Sorry!" Tahiri gasped, letting go. "I just thought you were-"

"A Tusken Raider?" Anakin finished.

She nodded, looking very much like the lonely nine-year-old that had arrived on Yavin ten years ago.

"I'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say. He embraced her, hoping he could be strong enough to hold them both together.