"All men have stars, but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems . . . But all these stars are silent. You-You alone will have stars as no one else has them . . . In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars will be laughing when you look at the sky at night. You, only you, will have stars that can laugh! And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me . . . You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure . . . It will be as if, in place of the stars, I had given you a great number of little bells that knew how to laugh"

― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Chapter Fourteen

A figure stands alone in a field. His face still holds a youthful vigor, but it has been marked by trials. The war had been over for many years now, but these scars lasted for much longer. The warm wind wafts and ruffles through his shoulder-length hair. Sorrow has marked this man, but also acceptance.

And the stars, oh the stars. The brilliant pinpricks of light shining down on all who looked up. Always giving, never taking, the forget-me-nots of angels.

The figure stands still, head tilted toward the sky. The place is beautiful, almost heavenly. The hushed sound of falling water floats in the warm breeze as all around the glowing trails of fireflies twinkle in the grass. The hush in the air is almost reverent as the man reaches out a hand to touch a trailing line of light. A small smile flickers across his face.

"I know you would like this place, Master," Anakin says softly.

The chirping of insects and the laughter of the breeze are the only audible responses to these words. Slowly, deliberately, Anakin settles to the ground. The smell of the damp earth fills his nose. Still gazing into the emptiness surrounding him, Anakin's eyes turn introspective, thoughtful.

"The twins are much bigger now," he says suddenly into the empty air. He chuckles, thinking of the handful that both boisterous children could be even for his vivacious wife. "I think Luke will be a great Jedi in the future. He is learning more every day." As he talks, something loosens inside of him and the words just seem to flow.

"And Leia," he chuckles again, thinking of his spirited daughter, "I'm sure you would be pleased to see how well she already understands the art of politics," a hint of dryness colors his voice. "She could negotiate her way out of a Sarlacc's stomach."

Abruptly he stops, the air around him turning melancholy. "In many ways, she reminds me of you." Suddenly his throat closes, the familiar ache setting in low as he feels tears gathering on his lashes.

"Oh kriff," he whispers, his voice gravelly from unshed tears. "It's been seven years, and you think I wouldn't care anymore, but I do." He dashes his hand across his eyes, leaving a smudge of fresh dirt on his face. "I think I'll miss you forever, like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky."

It had been seven years since that day, and almost six since the ending of the war. Even now, some days Anakin could hardly believe he no longer was in a war zone. But the war was over, and so much had changed.

The news of the death of the Republic's leader and Chancellor shocked the galaxy, but not as much as the revelation that he had been a Sith all along. The Republic and the Separatists were thrown into chaos, both losing their leader the same day. With Dooku and Sidious both gone, the remaining Separatist generals quickly surrendered to the Republic and the interim Chancellor.

The instant Anakin defeated Sidious was as if a fog had lifted from the Force. Even before Anakin's shaky, reserved call to the council to inform them of what he had done, every Jedi on Coruscant knew. The prophesy had been fulfilled.

It was a different Anakin that stood before the council several days later, but he stood before a different council as well. The Jedi were reeling to realize how deeply they had been deceived and how easily they had been manipulated. Their roles had been to be the keepers of the peace, but they had allowed themselves to be pulled into a war—one that had been orchestrated by their darkest enemy and had almost destroyed the Order and the Republic they served. They had never been so wrong, and for so long.

"Anakin," Master Windu's voice reverberated around the chamber. "For so long you have lived under the weight of the Prophesy. And now, you have fulfilled your destiny." His level voice reveled none of what he was feeling, but his eyes spoke volumes.

"Proud, Master Kenobi would be," Yoda voiced softly, "and proud, we are, to call you a Jedi."

Only a few months ago Anakin would have swelled up at hearing those words, words he felt he earned, felt he deserved. Yet everything was different now, and he knew he could no longer live in his lie.

He bowed deeply to the council members. He could feel his pulse thudding in his throat, a thin sheen of sweat coating his palms.

"Masters," he began and stopped, swallowing the fear rising up in him. He closed his eyes and pictured Padmé and their children and began again.

"Masters, I need to inform you of something. I have broken the Jedi Code." He ignored the subtle glances around the room and the slight shifting in the chairs. He refused to hide who he was any longer. "I am married to Padmé Amidala."

The little stunned waves of emotions slapped against him as all the council members tried to absorb what he said. He plowed forward before a word could be said.

"I am telling this to you not to ask for leniency, but to instead inform you that because I have fulfilled my destiny as the Chosen One, I am now resigning from being a Jedi." He stood taller and gazed around the room. "Because I cannot be a Jedi and love my family, I am choosing what is most important to me, love."

If the situation had not been so serious, Anakin probably would have laughed at the look on Master Windu's face.

Yoda's gravelly voice broke the silence. "Does this mean, Young Skywalker, that if allowed you were to love and be a Jedi, stay a Jedi, you would?"

Stunned, Anakin could only stare at the little green Master. "I'm not...I mean...isn't that against the Code?" he responded stupidly.

"Perhaps wrong, we are, about the Code. Proven, these events have, that we Jedi are not always right." Yoda's eyes gazed deep into Anakin's soul. "Stronger, your love has made you. And that strength, we need it now."

After that, slowly, very slowly, the Jedi order began to change. It took a galaxy wide war and a Chancellor as a Sith to bring it about, but it was happening. The Jedi began to see the strength in attachment, in the power it can give to the people who have it. The Council asked Anakin to stay in the Jedi Order. After discussing with Padmé, he agreed to stay with her words ringing in his ears. "They are going to need your help if they are rewriting the Code...Force help us all!"

In the years that followed, Padmé became the main advocate for the clones. Now that the Republic no longer needed their grand army, genetically grown soldiers became obsolete. She worked tirelessly to find a place for each and every one. Anakin still kept in contact with Rex and Cody who had gone on to open, of all things, a bar they simply called Brothers.

The day the twins were born was one of the best days of Anakin's and Padmé's life. The twins were perfect, beautiful, and to Anakin, a symbol of hope for the future. Both children were force-sensitive, yet both parents agreed to let the children's interests guide their paths in life. Before long it was clear Luke would follow in his father's footsteps, while Leia would follow in her mother's.

There were times Anakin could hardly believe how things had changed, how different the Order was becoming, and how fulfilling his life was. Missions, meetings, birthdays, and everything else that came with their lives as a Jedi and a Senator caused the days to fly by as months turned into years.

But as happy as he was, there was always that one painful regret, a deep sadness—that Obi-Wan would never be a part of this life. And as those months flew into years, there was always those sudden moments where time would just seem to...stop. Those moments where his heart would squeeze painfully in his chest and he would find it hard to breathe, or those moments where he inexplicably found himself forming a retort to a person who was no longer there.

The sudden shrill call of a bird jolts Anakin out of his reverie. His leggings are soaked through from the damp grass. The sun had long set and the shrilling of the insects grows louder in the dusk.

He swallows, once again rubbing a hand across his eyes. Those moments, they still come and go. But there is a beauty in pain, he knows that now. Oh, it never goes away. Time does not truly heal all wounds, but it does not let them fester. Instead, it covers them with a scar that still hurts when brushed up against, yet does not leave the person broken.

He is not alone; his master had not left him. Anakin sees him in the interim between the intakes of a breath, in the pause between the beat of a butterfly's wings, in the space between the falling droplets in a fountain's glistening cascade. He would never get over his absence, never forget him, never. But he could begin to remember without pain. He could smile at a memory instead of shuddering under the weight of it.

A tear slips down his face, glistening like a reflection of the stars above.

If someone had been watching, they might have seen a slight shimmer, the smallest glimpse of a ghostly hand caressing his cheek.

As if waking from a dream, Anakin shivers slightly and rises to his feet. He sighs, looking around once more at the deepening dark.

He speaks up suddenly. "I don't know if I ever told you, Master, but I love you. Did I tell you? Because I do." Tilting his face toward the sky, he breathes in, waiting.

I know.

Breathing out, the smile flickers again.

"Good bye, for now."

Gone, but not forgotten. He would remember his friend until his dying day. Always and forever.

Then straightening his shoulders, he turns and strides back to his ship.

In the middle of the grassy field, resting on a small stone, a silver and black lightsaber glints in the starlight and the retreating lights.