(A/N) So yeah, I made a part two. One, this was where my inspiration was: Two, I was not happy with the ending of the last one: Three, I felt like there was a lot of ground that could still be covered. This one may include some different pairings, both romantic and platonic, but also continue the exploration of things from LKIC. Excited to write it!

Hope you all enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think!

His comlink was beeping. For the first time in a while. He simply looked at it for a minute before coding the end of the Hologram in front of him, the final battle plans for Utapau disappearing back from the projection screen. "Ahsoka? What's the problem?"

"Nothing to worry about Master," but her voice was high pitched, she was practically panting. "Go to the meditation room." And then, as quickly as she had come, her voice disappeared as she severed the communication between them. He stepped back from the computer, nodding at the temple guard who stood by the doorway who acknowledged him with a slight turn of head. He was close enough to the meditation room, and even though the halls were bustling with Jedi, he wove his way between them with easy determination.

They stared at he walked by, some voices dropping to low whispers. Such had been his life for the past two weeks. He had almost forgotten what it had been like when he first arrived at the temple and their whispers and stares seemed to follow him and Obi-Wan each step they took. "Chosen One" "Sith-Killer" both were unpleasant remnants of a time he would rather not relive, but seemed to have come full circle now.

The Order was in gridlock because of him: his defeat of Palpatine, the great Lord of the Sith had also led to the exposure of his marriage to Padme and her pregnancy, which she was now eight weeks into. The council had, for now, allowed him to stay a full member of the Order as the war began to wind to its close. But there were others, Masters who were staunchly opposed to his staying a Jedi after having so blatantly broken the code. Others, Yoda included, were now petitioning for a change of some of the guidelines that they had lived with for so long. Their refusal to accept love in the first place has almost been their destruction, if the Order was to survive, they saw the need for change. This did not help Anakin in his quest for anonymity.

Layered on top of that, where his fate was hanging in the recourse of diplomatic discussions of an idealistic code, he had been grappling with Obi-Wan's injuries. After their fight with Sidious, the man had not opened his eyes for four days, he was basically Comatose, except Anakin could feel the physical pain the man felt resonating through their force connection. On the fifth day, he had opened his eyes; on the sixth, they had closed again but they had managed to get him stable enough to soak him in a bacta tank for what seemed like forever. The last week had shown little improvement except Anakin had managed, only the day before, to have his first conversation with the man in what seemed like a lifetime.

He had told him, at Obi-Wan's insistence, what the council was debating. He could see in his old master's eyes, the desire to be present, to be fighting, but in his state, it did not seem possible. He had asked of Rex, who was now preparing a group of clones for the seizure of Utapau where some of the remaining Separatist forces were gathered under General Greivous. He had tried to stand, and had made it into a sitting position before tearing one of his only newly healed wounds and collapsing backwards for the blood to soak into the bedsheets.

Anakin stepped through a short hallway, where he could start to hear the roar of the fountains in the meditation area. Even as Jedi were being called back every day, this part of the temple was not busy at this point in the afternoon; there was other business to attend to, missions to be briefed on. Finally, there were no eyes staring at him as he walked quickly towards his destination, wondering what Ahsoka could need.

The Senate was changing. There was a power vacuum, and many were scrambling to fill it. Bail Organa had convinced them to abstain from nominations and votes for Chancellor until Obi-Wan's Senate testimony in two weeks time, in which the full details of the Chancellor's plot would come to life. Anakin had already testified, along with Yoda, Padme, Rex, Master Rancises, Ahsoka, and Master Windu. But for legality, Obi-Wan was a survivor of War Crimes, and his testimony carried far more weight than theirs. Anakin didn't care for it, he thought it cruel that a man who had lived through War Crimes would be forced to re-endure them simply so the Senate could have its proper procedure. Padme came home each night, exhausted and upset by the behavior of the other Senators, none of whom cared for Obi-Wan at the capacity she thought proper.

He pushed through the door to the fountain room. A cool spray of water hit him, and he blinked it away, looking for Ahsoka in the green planes, on one of the benches, or in the white spots of sand that he typically avoided. But he didn't see her. He stepped further in, but she was absent from her favorite spot. He let out a sigh, exasperated that she hadn't had the patience to wait the five minutes on him to get here.

He turned to leave, when out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of someone else, sitting, legs extended and head leaned back on one of the benches.

"I managed to escape." Finally, after so long seeing him only in pain and in suffering, that small, infallible glint of humor had returned to Obi-Wan's voice as he turned his head to Anakin.

"Welcome back, sister." There was green smoke filling every corner of the room, the low smell of spice and swamp cutting its way through the air to her nostrils. She had been called to return, there were things for her here. "We have been expecting you back for some time."

"I didn't know I was needed, Mother." She wasn't lying. Nothing, until very recently, had informed her of the need to return.

"The traitor, Dooku, is dead." It was a lulling whisper, one that simultaneously made her want to sleep and attack. She stared through the mist, being manipulated by the Dathomirian witches hands. "Along with his Master."

"I had heard this news." She watched the Mother's eyes flare with some emotion, perhaps anger. "I know this is not why I have been called to return."

"No." She spun her hands and the smoke twirled with them. There, in the cauldron that she moved over, was the sound of a hundred whispers, mixing with the smoke, and the sight of a thick, bubbling brew that threatened to overflow but never risked it. "Your destiny has changed, sister. You, who are learned in the dark side of the force."

She felt a prickle along spine, some suspicion of where this was headed, and she, for the first time, wasn't sure if she wanted to follow it. "Though Dooku is dead, this power is not. There is another. Others who can help you on this path to greatness. You, who have been both the sacrifice and savior of our clan." And with that, the smoke cleared completely, only to instantly shroud her completely.

Her view of her surroundings disappeared, her vision muddled, her voice connection fuzzy and evaporate. A clear path but to the cauldron, where she was forced to turn her attention. In the bubbling water, she saw the words of Mother Talzin ring true, shapes flitted back and forth from her vision.

Those who would be her allies: the droid general, she noticed with a flit of disgust, a son of Dathomir, his yellow skin tight around cruel features, and another, his skin red and black and disfigured. Her vision of him came clearest, burned into her mind, making her focus on him. She felt the feeling that now connected them, though now he seemed to be in constant pain, his face drawn into a sort of indistinguishable mask. She could feel the dark side flow though him, feel his power through the vision of the Mother. She found herself being drawn to it, ignoring the brief warning that flitted through her mind at the thought of allowing herself to again be coveted and entrenched by the power he seemed to be expelling.

But even more than that, as she watched his face disfigure from fear and confusion into something far stronger, she felt something else connect them. Through their brief bond, artificial as it was, she could feel the undercurrent of seething hatred that united them, pulling them together despite his distance and unknown identity.

"It is time to begin your real destiny, sister."