A mild shaking of her shoulder awakened Ahsoka to the conviction that she could sleep for another two days and not feel the least regret about it. Obi-Wan, however, seemed to have other ideas—for it was he who was doing the shaking.

"What?" she grumbled, swatting his hand away.

"Kix is awake. We thought you would want to know."

Well, that was different.

"Thanks."

She dragged herself to her feet, to Obi-Wan's evident consternation.

"Really, Ahsoka, what did you do back on Kamino?" he asked. "You slept for hours afterward, and you kept muttering something about porgs and deathsticks."

"I did? Well, that must've been entertaining," she said through a yawn.

"Do I want to know why deathsticks would feature prevalently in your dreams?"

She shrugged. "I have a contact on Daiyu. It's pretty much impossible to go there without someone at least mentioning the things, if not trying to sell you some. I couldn't even tell you how many excellent bargains I've turned down. What I did, though—back on Kamino—there was a laser grid across the vent Artoo and I were going to use to get into the computer room. So I used the Force to bend the light out of the way so we could get through."

Obi-Wan responded to this casual revelation with a bemused shake of his head. Oh, the lights were in the way, so I just moved them with the Force. He wanted to tell her that her master would be proud of her, but she didn't need that reminder, so instead he said, "You're a credit to your lineage, Ahsoka."

"Yeah, well… a maverick, a darksider, and two Sith. Doesn't take much to make the dropout look good, does it?" she teased, adding, "Well, and there's you, of course."

"Yes, the one sane individual among the lot of you. Now, off you go, before Kix thinks we've forgotten about him."

When Ahsoka first stepped into the room, Kix stiffened as if he would come to attention.

"General T…."

But the Togruta's markings were not those of General Ti. They were, however, very much like the Commander's.

Impossible, she's just a kid, she's… no, she's about seven or eight years older than last time I saw her.

"Had a growth spurt, Commander Tano?" Kix asked.

Rex snorted. "More like four or five. It's a good thing you weren't with us, or you'd have been mother henning over whether she was eating enough every time she collected another inch on one of our missions."

"As a medic, it's my duty to safeguard the wellbeing of those under my care." Kix fixed him with a mock-severe glare. "I do not mother hen, thank you, Rex."

"Tell that to Obi-Wan," Ahsoka said.

"General Kenobi's opinion doesn't apply in matters of personal wellbeing."

Her snicker was cut short as he added, "Neither does yours, Commander."

"Oh, Kix, I'm wounded! Do you think so little of my common sense?"

"Knowing who taught you? I'm surprised you even have to ask the question."

Roasted to a turn, Ahsoka admitted defeat without even trying to defend her lineage. There was no point; not even Coruscant's most expensive lawyers would be fit for the task.

"You're still glad to see me, though, right?"

"Of course I am."

Which response earned him an armful of Commander.

"We've missed you for so long," she said.

"Wish I could say the same, but seeing as I've been asleep…. You two are going to have to tell me everything you've been up to since the Seppies got me. Come on, sit down."

Rex and Ahsoka piled onto the cot and began to regale their brother with a compact history of the interval. Ahsoka nodded off after a time, and when Kix followed not long after that, Rex closed his eyes, too, basking in the comfortable quiet that was punctuated only by the occasional snore or twitch from one or other of the slumberers.

When Obi-Wan returned to the medbay, he found a sight, the likes of which he hadn't seen since the war. The cot had gained several occupants, and now groaned under the weight of three adult humanoids, not one of whom was even remotely small. Indeed, it appeared to be even odds whether the cot collapsed beneath all three, or one of them simply tumbled off. Ahsoka had curled up with her head on Kix's stomach and her legs thrown over his, her feet tucked under Rex's, while Kix borrowed his brother's shoulder as a pillow, and Rex rested his cheek on the former's head, carefully avoiding the area where the chip had been.

Azi came over to hover near Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"My programming suggests that they may be making what organics call a cuddle puddle."

"Cuddle lagoon seems a more appropriate term," Obi-Wan observed, dryly affectionate.

He must have been growing sentimental in his old age, because he found himself reaching for his commlink to record a holo. Stars, another couple of years, and he would be every bit as bad as Plo Koon. The thought of the kindly Kel Dor brought a shade to the pleasance of the moment. Ever one to toe the line of attachment, he would have taken no small delight in the somnolent pile of beings on the cot.

Our girl is all grown up, Master Plo, Obi-Wan thought.

In a happier world, he would have sent the holo to his fellow Councilor. Instead, he sent it to Padmé, who replied with the message, Want to trade? and a holo of their 'fresher, wherein two heavily mud-smeared children glared daggers at each other.

What happened? he asked.

I'll comm in fifteen. Still dealing with the mess.

Obi-Wan was beginning to wonder whether it had been unwise to leave Padmé and the twins alone without a Force user present to intervene if necessary.

When Padmé's call came through, the holoprojector showed her to be no less begrimed than her progeny. Her hair was escaping from its bun en masse, and there was a wildness in her eyes that he had usually only seen in crechemasters at their wits' end.

She greeted him with the harried inquiry, "Would using Force suppressors on my own children be frowned upon?"

"I'm afraid it would," he replied.

"Blast."

"What happened?"

"Apparently, Luke added too much water to Leia's mudcake batter, and things escalated."

"Have things really been that bad?"

"For my peace of mind? Yes. The day before yesterday, Leia tried to levitate Luke."

"Did it work?"

"Not really, but one of his loose teeth finally came out. Which would have been fine—but then, of course, they decided Luke should try it with Leia, to get her loose tooth out."

"I conclude it didn't go as intended."

"Oh, they got the loose one out, but they also got one that wasn't loose yet, and gave her a black eye into the bargain. Of course, she wasn't very upset about all that—just about Luke adding water to her mud. I swear, if there's an afterlife, and if I ever come across Anakin in it—Sith or not—"

Padmé threw up her hands in exasperation.

"If it's any consolation," Obi-Wan said, "we're on our way home."

"Good. Prepare to be held hostage upon arrival. I don't think I can handle another week of these two without another Force user around, not at this age, not without cataclysmic occurrences." She paused a moment to collect herself, and sighed. "I'm sorry. Maybe I'm overreacting. It just… I'm just now realizing how very little I've actually been a single parent, and it's overwhelming to be one now. There's always been someone else around, and I never really realised… thank you, Obi-Wan. Thank you for helping me from the first, and for helping with children I would have no idea how to raise, and letting me drag you into another war when you could have hidden somewhere in peace."

"It's been my pleasure, Padmé."

When he looked back at what his life could have been…. If she hadn't been there to hold the remaining pieces together, everything surely would have fallen apart. He would have retreated, defeated. Perhaps he would have taken the twins, or perhaps, afraid lest he should inadvertently send them into the dark, he would have put them into the care of the Naberries, the Organas, or the Lars. Hidden himself away from the galaxy. Away from them. Away from Ahsoka. But Padmé had been there, and everything was undeniably the better for it.

Fifth had initially protested against keeping the hunt for Ahsoka Tano secret from Vader, but First managed to talk him around in the end. It had just been a matter of pointing out the costs of failure—not that she planned to fail, but the mention of the possibility was a useful rhetorical tool. Fifth valued his neck as much as most sentients.

"And," First reasoned, "Ahsoka might very well have some connection to Kenobi. If we can kill her and tell Lord Vader where Kenobi is to be found… that ought to earn us some degree of favor."

Job security, she meant. Life security. She knew Vader wasn't supposed to kill Lord Sidious' Inquisitors, but she also knew that there was no guarantee he would follow orders if sufficiently enraged. (Especially where she was concerned. He seemed to harbor a particularly bitter hatred for her, out of all the Inquisitorius.) The best protection was to keep quiet, stay out of the way, and make oneself useful. As close to invaluable as one could get. Competent.

She was feeling very competent today. Collaboration with the ISB had finally turned up a few leads on repeated sightings of one or more female Togruta, or at least hooded individuals who appeared likely to have montrals, on worlds both with and without known insurgent activity. In about half of the areas where sightings were reported, she was able to have security footage pulled. Sometimes it was a false alarm, and the Togruta in question was plainly too old or too young, but more often than not, the footage showed a woman of roughly the right age, always moving with the grace of a trained Force user, and Ahsoka's own confident stance.

Found you.

It irked her that Ahsoka failed to disguise her movement. She was so confident in the report of her own death. She thought there was no one who could recognise her. She had forgotten about First. Forgotten her as a friend, and even forgotten her as an enemy.

Well. She would soon be reminded. As soon as First figured out on which of her habitual worlds it would be easiest to arrange a capture.

The months drifted past. Existing Rebel cells were discovered by the Empire, and new cells were formed elsewhere. The Alliance carried out a successful strike on an Imperial fuel supply depot. The Empire eliminated one of the Alliance's primary suppliers of spare parts, and so resources had to be redirected from offense into scrounging for repairs. Progress, always slow, sometimes seemed imaginary, cheery observations made only to keep them all moving forward in the pursuit of a major victory. Before anyone knew it, Empire Day was upon them. While most of the base toasted the regime's future demise and burned its leadership in effigy, both Padmé and Obi-Wan were unusually subdued. The twins, however, were possessed by irrepressible high spirits, for Empire Day was really nothing more than a dull prelude to their birthday, when the grownups were more sad than normal, and Mama fumed about how the Emperor's festival was always held on her homeworld, and Uncle Ben avoided the HoloNews coverage of the festivities in Theed like a plague.

That was the bothersome thing about Empire Day: it made everyone all dull and gloomy, and the glumness was never quite gone by the time their birthday arrived. This year, though, was different. Instead of Mama coming in to wake them, not quite managing to hide her sad-wishing-feeling, it was Aunt 'Soka who stepped into their room as the sun began to fight its way through the jungle horizon.

Heads buried under their blankets, they feigned sleep.

"Still asleep?" Aunt 'Soka asked. "Younglings must have changed since I was in the creche. If we weren't awake, then our crechemasters would—" here, the Force chimed with mischief, "they would do this!"

And she ran her finger down the sole of Leia's foot, which dangled off the bed, unshielded by blankets. Leia bounced up with a squeal, and her aunt narrowly dodged the pillow that went flying at her head. (Ahsoka wasn't sure whether her niece had used the Force, or whether she had just inherited her mother's wicked aim.)

Leia frowned severely. "It isn't nice to tickle a person on their birthday," she informed the offender. "But now you have to do it to Luke, too."

Hearing this, Luke also sat up, swiftly tucking his feet under him. "No, she doesn't!"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Aunt 'Soka mused.

"You really don't!"

"Mm, okay… then maybe I'll just…."

She swooped in, scooped up both twins, hoisted them over her shoulders, where they dangled like wriggling, squealing sacks of vegetables, and carried them out to the kitchen.

"Help!" Leia shrieked. "Let go! Help me, Uncle Obi!"

Uncle Obi merely glanced up from his tea-making with utter unconcern and said, "I'm afraid I'm off-duty this morning, as far as rescues are concerned," at which Leia redoubled her squirming.

"Unhand me, you… you… you brigand!"

With a choke of laughter, Aunt 'Soka finally deposited both Leia and her brother on the floor.

"Force," she said, "it really does sound terrible, doesn't it?"

[Yes.] said Artoo from his spot near the table.

"No wonder Anakin never let me forget that."

"Forget what?" Padmé appeared in the doorway and was immediately descended upon by a swarm of two.

"Mama! Aunt 'Soka 'ducted us!"

"Yes, and I'm sure she did a very fine job of it."

"She did. She should get a job being a 'ductor when she's done being a Rebel."

"What do you say, Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan asked. "Hondo might be hiring."

The twins pricked up their ears. "Yeah! Then we could go with you n' all be pirates n' explore the galaxy!"

Force help them all, once the twins got a bit older. The havoc two adolescent Amidala-Skywalkers would wreak in the name of restoring justice… Ahsoka could hardly fathom it. Indeed, she was beginning to think that it really would be a kindness to the galaxy on the whole if the Alliance succeeded in dismantling the Empire before the twins reached their teenage years. Otherwise, she wouldn't be surprised if they'd see the rise of a highly effective vigilante pirate brigade with a specialty for recruiting likeminded teenagers. Well, that gave the Alliance six years before it became the bane of parents throughout the galaxy.

For the present, however, the daring buccaneers were content to set their sights only as far as breakfast.

"Mama—" Leia here made tooka eyes at Padmé, "—Mama, we don't have to have ration bars for breakfast, do we?"

"No, love. Aunt Beru sent some of her bread."

Which had been no mean logistical maneuver. One of Padmé's Handmaidens had retrieved the bread from Tatooine and taken it to a Fulcrum contact, from whom Ahsoka had collected it, along with some intel.

Breakfast was a lively affair, with every member of the motley clan having somehow managed to be present for the youngest members' celebration. Even Aunt 'Sajj deigned to put in an appearance, and, much to the twins' delight, she carried a small, mysterious parcel, which she added to the intriguing pile beside the couch. It was in good company there, with a smallish, rectangular package from Mama; a very lumpy one from Uncles Rex and Kix; a great, big one from Aunt 'Soka; and another smallish one from Uncle Ben.

No sooner were the last crumbs of bread finished than both Luke and Leia bounced up from the table.

"Can we open things? Can we?"

"What should we open first?"

"Are you guys coming?"

"Come on!"

Ventress hid her amusement behind her cup of caf as they all adjourned to the common room, while the others openly chuckled at the younglings' youthful impatience. Scarcely had they all sat down before the flimsi wrapping was already removed from the largest parcel, revealing a rather utilitarian-looking crate. While Luke set about opening the thing, Leia picked up the sheet of flimsi and draped it over Uncle Obi's shoulders.

"There, now you have a new cloak."

Rex grinned. "That's just what he needed, Leia. It's really too bad, sir, that nobody ever thought of disposable cloaks back in the old days."

"Would've saved Cody and the quartermasters a world of trouble," Kix agreed, while Ahsoka hooted, and Obi-Wan sighed.

"So uncivilized."

Meanwhile, Luke had managed to remove the crate's lid with some help from Padmé, revealing it to be a large box stuffed to the brim with droid pieces, wooden blocks, wire and string and glue, screws and bolts, and even a few electronic bits and bobs.

"We could make a pet," Leia said, fishing out a small mouse droid chassis.

"Or a new friend for Artoo!"

[Pilot(1), please do not. Threepio is more than enough.]

"I beg your pardon!" gasped the offended Threepio. "I am not the one who goes about chasing Sith Lords, Artoo—"

[Would be more fun if you were.]

"Fun! Your wires are even more crossed than usual, if you consider such a harrowing encounter to be fun."

To which Artoo responded with less-than-complimentary blat anent his companion's definition of the word.

"Hey, be nice, you two," scolded Leia. "You guys fight worse'n Luke and I sometimes."

The droids subsided, although not without some disgruntled mutterings on both sides, and the twins continued their voyage through the pile of packages.

The gift from Mama turned out to be a black market datapad of gorgeously illustrated Nubian fairytales, many of which were now censored because they contained certain sentiments that were in disagreement with the values of the Empire. From Uncle Ben, there was a blank flimsi book, and a box of drawing sticks with lots of new colors. Aunt 'Sajj gave them a holomentary about the galaxy's rarest animals, and Uncle Rex and Uncle Kix, as it turned out, had refitted a couple of old blasters to shoot water.

Accordingly, Luke and Leia spent several hours that day playing "B1s versus stormtroopers"—a delightfully raucous game which was sure to soak anyone within fifty feet of its participants, and which looked to the adults like an excuse to shoot water at anything and everything in sight, complete with not-very-remorseful (and even less credible) explanations, such as, "We didn't mean to get General Dodonna all wet, but we have to have bad aim, 'cause it's part of the game, see?" (Needless to say, after that particular incident, the game was relocated into the jungle, where it would be a nuisance to no one save the local fawna.)

All-in-all, it was a wonderful day, and it ended in the very best possible way, for a while after dinner, Aunt 'Soka stood up, beckoning to Luke and Leia, and said, "Okay, you two, follow me."

"Where are we going?"

"To the hangar. I'm going to take you flying."

"Wizard!"

And what a flight it was! After a speedy trip over the landscape of Yavin IV, skimming so low that her ship almost brushed the treetops, Aunt 'Soka took them to Yavin Prime, where she executed thrilling dives down into the swirling vermillion gas clouds, bottoming out into spirals before pulling away toward space once more. She even let the twins take turns sitting in her lap, and allowed them to hold onto the steering controls with her.

They were well and thoroughly tuckered out when Padmé finally put them to bed that night, but blissfully happy, and if she hadn't known better, she would have sworn that even she could feel their glow radiating into the Force, as they sleepily murmured that it had been the bestest birthday they'd ever had.

In meditation, Vader stood upon a dark, misty plane, where a pitchy abyss led into an eternity of darkness.

"Hi," said a childish voice.

He looked down to find a small, blond boy standing between him and the abyss.

"I thought I commanded you not to return to this place," he growled.

The child, unabashed, merely said, "I didn't—well, I didn't mean to, I just sorta ended up here. Anyways, I dunno how to get out, so I guess you're stuck with me, 'least for a bit."

You're stuck with me… stuck with me, Skyguy…stuck with me… stuck with….

Liar, Vader told the whisper. You abandoned me.

"I just heard that echo thing again," said the child, cocking his head. "Last time I thought it was Mama, but now it kind of sounds like Aunt 'Soka in old holos."

Vader resolved to ignore him—which was more difficult a task than it ought to have been, for it also necessitated ignoring the voice that said, This is your son—my son—

He is not! This is no more than some trick of my Master's, or else the taunting of the Force. The child is dead. I destroyed him, as I have destroyed every remnant of the Jedi's life.

[My son….]

"Today was my birthday," the boy announced, oblivious of the havoc he was wreaking. "I guess you don't know that."

"You never had a birthday."

The boy rolled his eyes, and there were traces of Kenobi in his tone as he said, "Not this again, when're you gonna quit saying I'm dead?"

"When you acknowledge that you are."

Then the boy shook his head in a gesture that fairly reeked of Kenobi, and yet was—no, it was not adorable, though some fools might find it so.

"Well anyways, I wanna tell you about my birthday. It was so fun! Mama gave Leia'n me a book of Naboo stories, and Aunt 'Soka took us flying, and she even let me turn on the ship and push some buttons and things! She didn't really let me fly it, though. She says I'm still too little, even though I'm seven now."

"Silence!"

He didn't want to hear any more, not another word, not another name from this vision of an alternate world—the world that might have been, had different choices been made. A world where She lived, and where their son lived, where he was joined at some point by a daughter, where the apprentice was their aunt—where she hadn't turned her back on him, where Kenobi—

Vader lashed out at the dream-world with the Force, and the abyss behind the child yawned wider, the air chilling so that the fog crystalized and fell, leaving the plane stark and barren. Kenobi had no place in that world, traitor that he was.

The boy shivered.

"It's really cold and yucky here."

"The Dark Side is powerful. It is not necessary for it to be pleasant."

"That's silly. Hey, Dad? Where are you? If you tell me, then when I learn to fly, I can come find you someday!"

Hey, Dad?

Those two words caught him off guard, like an unexpected saber thrust in a duel, straight through the heart. The world stopped for a breath—the chill of the darkness lifted, ever so slightly—before he remembered the impossibility of it all, remembered that this boy did not, and would never exist, that there was no planet in the galaxy where he could ever find him (this one, innocent, hopeful child who offered love as freely as he might share a cookie with a friend)—

An impossibility, a torment brewed by his Master.

The cold returned, and the shadows surged forward. He rounded ferociously away from the child, cloak snapping with finality, and plunged into the abyss, just as he had the last time the boy had come to call. It was not flight from the son too innocent to be tainted by his presence. No. He was but turning his back upon the beguiling visions, proving himself a worthy apprentice of his Master.