A/N: Another little plot bunny of mine. I've always liked the fact that when Anakin appears before Luke at the end of ROTJ, he is young Anakin, not Darth Vader. It makes sense to me, because once he went back over to the light side, Darth Vader was gone, and he returned to his true self. That's what I think, anyway.

Also, I have this head cannon that Padme was actually Force Sensitive. In ROTS, when her and Anakin are staring (dramatically might I add) out the windows in the Senate Building and the Jedi Temple, I believe that they can actually feel each other. I believe that Padme could actually feel Anakin's anguish. I mean, the look on her face was so sad, and she didn't even know he had turned to the Dark Side yet. Don't tell me they weren't communicating through the Force, because they so, totally, were. (It's all a matter of point of view).

And this is mainly the reason I wrote this. Please enjoy xx

He was falling. Or was he ascending? Either way, he was no longer attached to his body; broken, mechanical, terrible as it had been. The body that had struck fear into all corners of the galaxy, the body that had served the Galactic Empire with ruthlessness, the body that had saved his life. Strangely enough, Vader – or was he Anakin now? Surely he was Anakin. Vader had been left behind when he had destroyed the Sith – felt no attachment to that body. It had never been his, not truly; merely a construction of the Dark Side. Anakin vaguely remembered his old body, the body of the powerful Jedi he had once been, but it was merely a distant memory now. It had been athletic, strong, attractive. It had fought for the Light Side, it had made love to his wife, it had conceived his two children. And it had been consumed by Darth Vader.

When he opened his eyes, or at least he thought that was what had happened, for suddenly the darkness faded, and it was bright, a blinding white light that stretched on for eternity. There was nothing else. He looked down at his form, where he expected to see his deformed, mangled body, but instead, saw nothing. Was he nothing? Was he simply a conscious spirit, wandering a forgotten wasteland? He supposed that was all he could hope for. After all he had done as Vader, there was a slim chance he would become one with the Cosmic Force. A part of him wondered if this was what purgatory felt like.

And yet, despite being alone, he didn't feel alone. There were thousands of invisible tendrils reaching out to him, nudging his spirit, easing his mind. What were they? Were they like him, too? He was confused. Where was he? What was this place?

Anakin.

A voice broke through the silence, slicing through the light as cleanly as a lightsabre. It was neither male nor female, neither infantile nor mature. Yet it exuded power, he could sense it. Something very, very powerful was close by.

Search your feelings, my child. There you will find the answers you seek.

He obeyed the voice, clearing his mind, letting his conscience stretch out like searching fingers, probing, exploring. Something about this place was… familiar. The presence. He had felt it before, he had felt it his whole life. It was…

The Force.

He was in the Cosmic Force, or at least, he was a part of it. If he possessed a face, he would have smiled. He had been saved, redeemed, he had gone back over to the Light Side in time for his death.

Well done, my child.

"Who are you?" he called out into the nothingness. There was something strangely familiar about that voice, almost comforting. It caressed his conscience with a mother's embrace, a lover's, a friend's, something he had not felt in twenty-four years.

You know what I am, Anakin Skywalker. I have watched over you, lived through you. I am your life force, and you are mine.

It was clear now. He was communicating with The Force itself. A sense of reverence overwhelmed him. If this truly was the Cosmic Force, would he be reunited with his old master? Or… even her. His one and only love. His wife. His angel.

"Welcome back, Anakin."

That was a voice he hadn't heard in years. He turned to see his old master, Obi-wan Kenobi, standing before him. The light outlined his form, making him seem like an apparition, and yet he looked as real as the last time Anakin had seen him. Older. Auburn hair turned grey, face lined, robes faded, yet his eyes were still kind, strong, loyal, like they had been so long ago.

"Master." His voice was thick with emotion, guilt, sadness, longing. His vision became blurry, and a tear slid down his cheek as he gazed upon the man who had trained him, loved him like a brother, a father, the man who he had betrayed. "Forgive me." He went to wipe his eyes, when he saw his hands. Unbelieving, he held them up in front of him, turning them over. Hands. Large, tanned, sinewy hands, smoother than they had been when he last gazed upon them. He knew these hands, remembered these hands. They were the hands of Anakin Skywalker.

Reverently, he followed the line of them, where they connected to his wrists, noting how he had both arms, his prosthetic gone and replaced with real, warm flesh. His arms were hidden underneath thick, Jedi robes, robes he had not worn for twenty-four years. The fabric was soft and warm under his fingertips, and his hands continued their exploration of his body, over broad shoulders, the strong column of his neck, the hard jaw and sharp contours of his face, the thick locks of dark blond hair. It was an overwhelming sensation and a bewildered sob trembled through him.

And then, Obi-wan embraced him, and he returned it. The warmth, the love, the companionship; it poured out of his old master and seeped into his own body, igniting his soul.

"H-how?" he asked when they pulled away.

Obi-wan's eyes were glistening with moisture and he smiled softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "This is your true self, Anakin. When you discarded Vader, you returned to this form. You are once again, Anakin Skywalker."

Shame surged through him. He had been consumed by the Dark Side, manipulated by the Sith, consumed by Darth Vader. He had done… terrible things. Slaughtered younglings. Murdered innocent people. Contributed to the deaths of so many Jedi. He didn't deserve to be here. The remorse was too much and he broke down, head in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, master," he wept. "I betrayed you. I betrayed the Jedi Order… I did – "

"Fulfilled your destiny, you have." A new voice was added to the sound of his sorrow. A voice he had not imagined hearing ever again. Lifting his head, he saw the small, green figure of Master Yoda, standing next to Obi-wan, hands clasped over his cane.

"Master Yoda?"

The great Jedi Master closed his eyes, humming softly. "Chosen One, you were, Skywalker. Defeated the Sith, you have. By your son, redeemed you were. Belong, you do, amongst the Jedi, giving life to the Cosmic Force."

He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. "Forgive me, master. I lost my way. I was not the Jedi I was trained to be."

Yoda simply smiled. "In the past, this is, yes. Consumed by Darth Vader, you were, but Anakin Skywalker, you now are. Forgive you, the Force does. To let go of your anger, yourself, you must forgive."

He closed his eyes, understanding the truth in Yoda's words. Forgiveness. It had never been a virtue of Anakin Skywalker. Even as a boy, he had been driven by revenge, anger, even hate. It had been this which made him succumb to the Dark Side. It had fed the darkness within him, ultimately leading to his downfall and the rise of Darth Vader. If he was to truly redeem himself, he would need to forgive himself. It was something he had trouble doing. How could he forgive himself after what he had done?

"You ask too much, Master Yoda."

The Jedi master sighed deeply, shaking his head. Obi-wan reached out to him. "Anakin, if you do not forgive yourself, you will never find peace. You will be haunted by this guilt for the rest of eternity."

He nodded. He understood. His guilt had been his demise. In order to move forward, he would need to let it go. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, cleared his conscience, and let the guilt seep out of him. I forgive you, he told himself. You lost your way, but I forgive you. A huge weight was lifted then, a weight that had pressed down on him since his premonition of his wife's death. He had let it go. And finally, he could breathe.

"My daughter," he suddenly asked, opening his eyes. "Who is my daughter?"

Obi-wan smiled. "Her name is Leia."

He could see her then, a beautiful young woman with dark brown hair and large, brown eyes. A spitting image of his own beloved. Tears welled in his eyes as he gazed upon the daughter he had never known, as she laughed and cried, wrapped up in the arms of a young man he recognised as Han Solo. Princess Leia Organa, he suddenly realised, the feisty Alderaan representative whom Darth Vader had once captured. He had met his daughter, and yet he had not known who she was. He should have recognised the familiar features, the temperament that was akin to his own.

"Leia," he said the name, letting it fall from his lips and liking the way it sounded. His beloved had chosen well. "Does she know?"

"She does," Obi-wan informed him.

He nodded, solemnly. "I wish I could have seen her, one last time," he sighed.

"Watch over her, you can. And your son, Luke, yes," Yoda told him.

Luke. The young man who looked exactly like him, and yet was nothing like him. His son. His beautiful, wonderful son. Her son. Yes, he was quite certain that Luke was her. He was kind, compassionate as she was, he saw the good in him, as she had. He had never up on him, as she had never. The thought alone made him weep. My love, forgive me.

It was then he turned to Obi-wan, and bowed his head. "Thank you, for watching over my son, when I couldn't. You were a better father to him than I could ever be."

Obi-wan smiled. "I see much of you in him, Anakin."

"No," he shook his head, smiling softly at the memory of Luke, holding him as he approached death, the tears in his bright blue eyes – his eyes. "He is all her."

Her. Padme. His beloved wife. How he longed to see her, to hold her in his arms again, feel her comforting presence, the presence that had such a calming effect on him. But she wouldn't be here. Only the Force Sensitive could manifest like this. She would have moved on, perhaps becoming the angel she had always been to him. A sad smile graced his lips as he remembered her. One day, my love, we will be together again.

It was then he felt it. At first he wasn't sure, it had been too long, far too long, but it crept up slowly, quietly, assuredly, and then he heard her voice, clear as the day he had first met her.

"Ani."

She was there, standing before, looking lovelier than anything he had ever beheld. She was smiling, tears streaking her cheeks, arms outstretched, beckoning him. His own eyes watery, he ran to her, seizing her in his embrace, twirling her around before propping her back on her feet. The pure joy that resonated within him was mirrored in the depths of her beautiful, brown eyes. He cupped her cheeks, letting his fingers ghost over her face, her nose, her forehead, her lips, savouring the feel of her infinitely soft skin against his own. He couldn't believe that she was here, in his arms again, smiling at him again. It was too much.

They embraced, neither one speaking, conveying every feeling through their mere touch. It felt right to be in her arms again, feeling her soft, supple body pressed against his, her stunning brown curls brushing his chin, her dainty hands smoothing along his back. He held her for what seemed like an eternity, never wanting this moment to end. They had been apart too long, and yet his love for her had never dimmed. Everything else paled in comparison to his affection for her.

Pulling back, they pressed their foreheads together, relishing in the closeness of their embrace. Her hands found their way into his hair, curling themselves up in the silky locks as they had done countless times.

"My love," he whispered, tears spilling from his eyes as he gazed upon her angelic features. "Forgive me, my love. All I have done, I did for you. I lost my way, I was seduced by power… in my determination to save you. But, you must know, my love for you is endless.

She smiled, and it made his heart ache with longing. "Oh, Anakin," she said tenderly. "I knew you would come back to me." One delicate, pale hand traced his cheekbone fondly. "I never gave up on you."

He had never known how desperately he needed to hear those words, but as soon as they fell from her lips, he sobbed, and kissed her, pouring his absolute devotion for her and her along into that one, simple action. Everything was right again in that moment. He felt alive. He felt loved.

Anakin Skywalker was home.