"Stop!" the Jedi who had been guarding Anakin's cell called after the forms of Kenobi and Skywalker. They came streaming out of the cell without a word, putting forth Force-acceleration to speed their way through the Great Hall of the Jedi Temple. The young Jedi raced after them.

All three Jedi made it to the medcentre's reception area before they were stopped by a stern-looking Master Yoda. Putting hand on hip, the eldest Jedi of the Order assessed the situation quickly.

"Master Yoda—" began the youngest Knight, slightly out of breath.

"Let them pass, you shall," Yoda responded.

The Knight bowed respectfully and answered before departing, "Yes, Master."

"Where is she?" Anakin questioned the old Jedi Master without even an acknowledgement or thank you.

Yoda's eyes grew wide as he looked up at the ex-Jedi towering over him. "Learned patience, you have not, I see."

Anakin licked his lips and bowed his head in acquiescence. "Forgive me, Master." He raised his eyes to meet Yoda's determinedly as he continued, "But she is my wife. And she's giving birth to my children." His steely gaze bore into Yoda's golden-greenish hues as if to remind the centuries-old master that despite Anakin's own youth, he had lived a far richer life than the elder.

Yoda seemed to concede the point. "At the end of the hall, she is. In the operating theatre."

Anakin hastily brushed past Yoda, Obi-Wan on his cloak-tails.

Sighing, Yoda leaned against his gimmer stick and followed them as best as his tired old legs could carry him.

At the end of the hall, Anakin stopped cold before the room where his wife lay. Her hair cascaded around her head as a warm glow reflected off the white of her dress. Anakin shuddered. The same sense of sickening déjà vu he had experienced when he saw his mother in the Tusken camp, beaten and alone, tied against a stake, had returned.

Anakin watched the medical droid, Too-OneBee, and a Jedi healer working by Padmé's side. Where, he wondered, were the little grey creatures that attended to her from his dream? Even the room seemed different, although he could not recollect specific images from the dream to compare this reality to it.

As a child, Anakin dreamed of becoming a Jedi and returning to Tatooine to free all the slaves—most especially his mother. His mother was dead and buried in the scorching sands of Tatooine. And now, Anakin was no longer a Jedi.

Suddenly Padmé cried out, and Anakin could feel her distress ripple around him like pinpricks in the Force.

No, Anakin decided, it didn't matter about the details in the dream. Padmé was in there, in pain, on the operating table.

"Padmé!" Anakin shouted through the transparisteel that separated them. Obi-Wan's arm blocked him from rushing to her.

"Anakin!" she shouted his name clearly, a clenched hand reaching out in his direction.

Yoda hobbled his way in behind Anakin.

With extreme concern on his face, Obi-Wan looked down at his elder master, questioning, "Master?"

"Let him pass, you should," Yoda instructed.

Obi-Wan barely let his arm fall away when Anakin pushed past him into the operating theatre. The ex-Jedi took Padmé's hand into both of his own as he leaned his tall frame over her.

"It's going to be all right, Padmé. I'm here," he tried to reassure her.

The Jedi healer looked up from her meditative trance. She spoke, "There is a disturbance in the Force."

Anakin frowned at her. "But you can save her," he stated plainly, a plea hidden in the dark folds of his soul.

"If the Force wills it."

Anakin's frown turned into a scowl.

"Ani. . . ?" Padmé's voice floated up to him weakly.

He looked down at her with fear in his heart. "It's going to be all right, my love," he promised. "I'm going to make it all right."

"Ani. . .no. . .," Padmé's features twisted in pain as she spoke.

Let go, Qui-Gon's words echoed in Anakin's mind.

Instead of heeding the dead Jedi Master's words, Anakin squeezed his wife's hand tighter.

No, Qui-Gon, Anakin thought to himself. He had almost let go of Obi-Wan, of their friendship. Now their bond was stronger than before. Why couldn't it be the same for him and Padmé?

With Too-OneBee's assistance, the healer began to ease the first child from the womb. Anakin could feel the healer reach out into the Force toward the child. Hesitantly, but growing stronger, tendrils of energy unfurled from Padmé's womb back to the healer.

The child was answering!

Anakin gasped in surprise and joy to feel the tiny strands of life reaching out in the Force. Instantly, he recognised the undeveloped pulses of energy.

It was Luke.

Padmé cried out again and dug her fingernails into Anakin's flesh hand. Anakin winced and looked down on his wife, the soon-to-be mother of his children.

Horror filled Anakin's eyes as he understood—he wasn't the cause of her death, not from his lack of strength nor from his unbridled lust for power. It was the strength of Luke's untrained power that was killing her.

Anakin looked back to the healer, then his wife. The Force was making him choose between his wife and his unborn children!

"No. . .," he whispered to the void. "No, please. . . ."

"Ani. . .," Padmé's voice pleaded weakly. "Let me go."

Shocked, Anakin stared down at Padmé. It was unfair! his mind screamed. He had finally released himself of the mental tortures of the Dark Vision that threatened to engulf his soul only to discover his future path remained clouded and possibly one he would have to tread alone.

No, not alone, Anakin told himself as tears welled in his swollen eyes. He blinked them away as he looked upon Padmé's sweat-drenched face, her dark curls knotting themselves around her as she tossed her head back in pain.

Realising that he could lose not only Padmé but the children as well if he continued to hold on to their souls through the currents of the Force, Anakin finally let go.

At that moment, Padmé screamed Anakin's soul's agony as Luke was born.

As Anakin's forehead pressed against Padmé's, his voice whimpering, "Padmé. . .Padmé. . .," he failed to noticed Mace Windu's entrance beside Masters Obi-Wan and Yoda.

Looking up at the taller man, Yoda asked, "The Council, a decision has it reached?"

Mace's jaw clenched beneath his stoic façade as his dark eyes regarded Anakin. "Anakin's fate depends on him," he spoke quietly. Yoda nodded in silent agreement to Mace's mysterious statement.

Padmé cried out one last time, and with that, Leia was born.

"Ani. . .," Padmé's voice was too weak to be anything above a whisper. "Ani. . .I love. . . . I love. . . ."

Anakin's features twisted in pain, his wife's final words echoing those of his mother's. When Shmi had died, she tried to tell him her life was complete. She tried to say how much she loved him. She tried to tell her son she was happy.

At the time, he hadn't been listening. What about his happiness? Why couldn't she stay alive for him, so he could be complete? He had loved her ten times more. Why did she have to die?

Selfish thoughts, all of them.

Anakin dropped to his knee before Padmé. She was so pale, a sheen of sweat covering her still form. Wrapping his left hand around her dark tresses, Anakin pressed his lips to her brow and whispered a prayer.

"Please," he pleaded with the void that had the power to create and destroy, "Please take me instead. Not her. Let the children have their mother."

Anakin closed his eyes tight, his forehead pressed against that of his wife's, his will echoing his prayer into the strands of the Force that entwined around them, and coursed through them.

Nothing but terrible silence answered his call. Once, Anakin would have responded with anger and rage. He was the Chosen One. He was the most powerful of all the Jedi. Why would the Force not give him what he wanted?

But the fight had left Anakin. If Padmé were truly gone, he would have no choice but to let her go. For the first time, Anakin understood why. He would let go not because he was choiceless, not because it was inevitable, not even because he felt powerless.

No. Anakin would let go because he had faith.

Despite all the horrors that had been his life in the Dark Vision, a ray of hope shone through it. Although he had lost Padmé, his children survived. In that horrific life as half a man, the children had been shielded from him, but they grew up in loving homes. Whether out of guilt or obligation, even Obi-Wan had lived out his final days protecting his son, Luke.

So Anakin now accepted that Padmé had breathed her last and he would likely be separated from his children forever, because he had faith—that stubborn, irrational compassion the adult Luke had bestowed upon his evil self in the Vision. Anakin finally accepted the willingness to release control to the Force, without remorse and without regret.

A soft voice called to him. "Ani. . . ?"

Anakin's breath gasped as he pulled his face away to look down upon Padmé. A blush had returned to her cheeks, her dark eyes fluttering and focusing on him. Slowly, with weak but growing strength, Padmé's lips drew upward, and the dawn of her smile broke upon him.

Padmé's small hand found its way to his tawny hair. "Oh, Ani! I knew. . .I knew you'd come back!"

Anakin's breath caught again, his face twisted between elation and disbelief. "Padmé. . . ?"

"Yes, my love." Padmé smiled sweetly, her fingers delicately touching the side of his face, her eyes lighting on his face with utter joy.

A joy that reflected in Anakin's own heart. "Oh, Padmé!" he cried with elation and buried his face in her hair. "Oh, Padmé! Padmé! You're alive!" His voice was muffled as he planted endless kisses on her.

She giggled lightly. "Whatever is wrong, Anakin? You're acting as if I died. . .or worse!"

Anakin choked out a laugh as a tear fell from his eye.

Obi-Wan stepped forward and took one of the swaddled bundles from Too-OneBee's multiple arms while Mace followed and took the other.

"There are two someones I think are eager to see you, Senator." With a gentle grin, Obi-Wan lowered the white-clothed boy from his arms into hers. On the other side of her, Mace brought forth the girl.

Her mouth wide in a glorious smile that would forever be burned into Anakin's consciousness, Padmé took the children into her tired arms and kissed them both gently in turn on their foreheads.

Mace looked on the scene with personal repentance. He witnessed Anakin's power of faith within the Force—something the Council had not been able to place in Anakin. He realised, as did the rest of the Council, that they had failed to protect the Republic from the Sith's wrath because of this simple lack of faith.

"Skywalker," Mace spoke with a heavy heart, filled with regret.

Anakin looked up into Mace's dark eyes in apprehension. Padmé and the children were alive. But would they be safe from the Council's unrelenting slavery to ancient codes and beliefs?

Mace swallowed and continued, "Tell me, Skywalker. If you could be a Jedi again—would you?"

Anakin blinked. He wasn't expecting a question like that. "I live my life," he answered from his heart, "where it takes me. I am what it makes me. If a Jedi or not a Jedi—so be it."

Mace lowered his gaze and nodded, knitting his long fingers before him. Touching his first fingers to his lips, he pondered a moment before raising his eyes to the young man again. "If you are able. . .to find it in your heart. . .to forgive. . .," Mace spoke slowly as his face began to brighten, "then I promise you—there will always be a home for you within the ranks of the Jedi."

With those words, Mace finally smiled down upon Anakin with all the trust and confidence in his heart.

A myriad of emotions swam over Anakin's features as he took in Mace's words. He was being given a second chance. He had been forgiven.

Anakin felt Padmé's fingertips on his hand that rested upon the table beside hers. He looked down upon his wife, the glorious mother of his two beautiful children.

"Do you want to hold him?" Padmé asked softly, her strength sapped from the ordeal.

Anakin's eyes glistened as tears clung to his eyes, afraid to fall, as he looked incredulously at her. The children born—both of them—nestled in her arms. Padmé's life miraculously saved by the mysterious Force.

Mace had withdrawn to allow them privacy, but Anakin felt his master's presence behind him, sending him thoughts of comfort and reassurance through their re-initiated bond. Anakin clung to it like a man dying of thirst.

He felt Obi-Wan's hand rest upon his shoulder. "Go ahead, Anakin," the man's voice soothingly reassured him.

Anakin smiled at his wife and she at him as Obi-Wan lifted the boy babe from her arms and handed him to his father.

Taking the small boy in his large hands, Anakin looked down into the squinting folds of the newborn's skin. "Hello, Luke," Anakin whispered to the boy who gurgled and thrashed his tiny balled fists in the air. The Jedi's smile spread like wildfire across his face, and his eyes lifted to meet the kindly gaze of Obi-Wan who grinned back. For the first time, the two men understood the connection between father and son—master and padawan.

Looking down at the delicate life in his arms, Anakin marveled at the child who would become the man who would save him. The child's life-Force energy was already evident, tendrils of light streaming forth as they reached outward through his aura. Anakin laughed in spite of himself, his spirit light as if a heavy burden had finally lifted from his shoulders.

Anakin closed his eyes, letting go of his shields, allowing the Force presence of his wife, his children, his master-father to flow through him. A greater presence grew beyond it all, like a quiet undercurrent. It lifted him, embraced him, and accepted him in a way he had never felt accepted before. This was the true light of the Force—the Ashla. Unlike the Dark Side, the Bogan, the Ashla gave of itself unconditionally, without judgment. . .with love.

Anakin felt the glow of light rise within him, carrying his spirit away, embracing him in eternal light.

When he opened his eyes, Anakin was no longer kneeling beside his wife, holding Luke in his arms. Instead, he found himself standing in a forest grove of gigantic trees, deep green moss covering the reddish bark and forming bridges between the spaces. Music played triumphantly in the distance, accentuating the sound of voices calling in laughter and song.

Looking down, Anakin found himself dressed in traditional Jedi robes. No longer did he wear the dark clothing that hid his soul's stains, but glistening white. Blue-white light streamed through him.

A familiar presence approached. Looking up, Anakin saw his son, now a man, leaning against a tree post. Luke was dressed in the same dark clothing Anakin saw him in last on the Death Star II before Anakin died in his son's arms. Scorch marks and ashes from a recently-burned fire soiled the dark cloth, but the stark white of the inner tunic showed through from the open flap.

Anakin felt the Force wrap around him like a mother protecting its young. His second chance at life, the return to the past that allowed him to put right all that he had done wrong, was given to him—a gift from that limitless power that bore all life. It had given him a chance to make the choice again. He had chosen the light, and the Force accepted him, burning away the last visages of Darth Vader to leave the pure soul of Anakin Skywalker.

Luke and Anakin's eyes met, and wordlessly they communicated through the Force. The weight of darkness had been lifted, and they were both free. The balance had been restored.

Anakin smiled to his son, Luke to his father.

The presence of Obi-Wan and Yoda appeared next to Anakin, and he exchanged glances with them of understanding.

Anakin faced his son again to watch his daughter draw Luke away, back to the land of the living, back to his friends—his extended family. With a warm but sad smile, Anakin watched them go, knowing he could let them go, knowing that through the Force, everything would be all right. Wherever their destinies took them, Luke, Leia and the rest of the galaxy would find the hard-earned peace for which they had fought so diligently.

And he was happy to give it to them.

Turning once more to his friends, Anakin looked into the old face of his former master, the face he had last looked upon before swallowing Obi-Wan with his anger and rage. Although the lines of age and worry circled Obi-Wan's features, there remained a light within his eyes, a light recently sparked anew when his burdens, too, were lifted from him.

As the Jedi's grin broadened, Obi-Wan's image shimmered and changed. Now the man Anakin remembered so vividly from his childhood, his longer reddish locks and youthful appearance, stood before him. A smile of unrestricted delight lit him from the inside out, a smile Anakin thought he would never see again for the rest of his life.

Now he would see it every day throughout eternity.

The man's colour-shifting eyes solicitously held Anakin's gaze. Holding out his arm, Obi-Wan took Anakin by his shoulder. Anakin swallowed hard, his eyes falling to his master's feet.

"Forgive me, Master," Anakin pleaded softly to his mentor, his father-figure, his friend.

"Forgive you?" questioned Obi-Wan with a playful spirit. "Only if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, my prodigal padawan!"

Anakin chuckled and smiled back, their eyes meeting as they drew closer together in a shared embrace.

Foreheads pressed against each other, Anakin's deep blue eyes met the mystic waters of Obi-Wan's gaze. The emotions each had held in check burst forth, the final barrier of the physical world broken. Waves of comfort, compassion, and devotion flowed between them, speaking the volumes that had never been spoken before.

Never again would hate or distrust enter into them.

For they had eternity.