Rating: No language, some violence.
Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No money is made off this story, and no copyright infringement is intended. Some (edited) dialogue from Timothy Zahn's Heir to the Empire is used in Chapter 8, and that is also not mine.
Dedication: This story is dedicated to my wonderful mother, who passed away in September of 2009.
Author's Thanks: A thousand thanks to all who reviewed Tatooinian Sunset!
Author's Notes: Non-Basic speech and flashbacks are in italics.
Characters: Major characters include Luke, Leia, Anakin Skywalker, Mara, and Obi-Wan. Other big characters include Bail Organa, Yoda, and Qui-Gon.
Recap of Tatooinian Sunset: Baby Luke was taken from the Lars to be raised by Tuskens as Chinnatah. He was found by Vader, who called him Sun, and he made friends with the Emperor's Hand, Mara Jade. He ran away and got caught up with Han and Chewie, who helped him meet Obi-Wan and Leia. Obi-Wan lived with Bail and Leia on Alderaan, training Leia in the Force. On the Death Star, Palpatine was killed and Vader converted and partially healed. Vader (now Anakin) made sure the Death Star was destroyed. This sequel is set after the celebration on Yavin IV.

"He's a cheater," Biggs Darklighter muttered. He was trying to keep his expression serious, but the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth was betraying him shamelessly. Finally giving up, he threw an amused glance toward his two shorter male companions, both of whom were, like him, wearing orange Alliance pilot jumpsuits. The color of their clothes provided a strange contrast with the rock walls of the Massassi temple serving as their temporary home, but Biggs liked standing out and was glad of it. He was, after all, someone who regularly wore capes.

Grinning at his two friends, Biggs shook his head, pulled at his mustache, and continued insisting, "I'm telling you, there's no way a one-time Tusken could defeat us both that quickly."

"I can't help it if you are both as slow as—" Biggs's new friend paused to search for the word of a Tatooinian reptavian in Basic, finally recalling it with pride and finishing, "—woodoo."

Wedge Antilles held up a threatening finger as he narrowed his eyes. "We'll get you next time, Luke. Just you wait."

"I will look forward to it," Luke Skywalker smiled. He often talked slowly or paused to find words, but none of his friends begrudged him the lost time. They knew his background. He showed improvement in Basic every day, and a few people he'd met had even been surprised to learn he wasn't a native Basic speaker. His tutor droid Opakwa was especially encouraged by his progress. Luke—against his better judgment, Biggs was sure—had saved the droid from the Death Star during the superstation's evacuation. Though Luke tried to hide it, Biggs suspected he felt something akin to affection for the machine. Biggs certainly couldn't think of any other reason that his friend would've saved the droid. Even that reason was rather mystifying.

Wedge grinned back at Luke, but his facial expression slowly became somber and pensive, and he looked at Biggs meaningfully. Biggs nodded at him, and they began to slowly escort Luke into the empty mess hall. After looking around to ensure no one was in earshot, Wedge tentatively began, "We've, uh, we've been wanting to ask you something, Luke..."

Luke simply looked at him expectantly. Sometimes, the young man didn't say anything at a time when most humans would. It was often disquieting to his friends, but they usually mentally chalked it down to an amused "That's Luke, for you." On rare occasions, however, like now, his friends were thankful for his quiet nature.

"Well, I know Vader defected with a lot of other Imperials to the Alliance, but, uh..." Wedge trailed off and looked helplessly at Biggs.

The other young man rubbed a hand nervously across his dark mustache. Vader had insisted on people's calling him simply "Anakin," but Wedge and Biggs both suspected there was something being hidden by him and the rest of the group which had brought down Palpatine. Another worry was far more pressing, however, so Biggs finally cleared his throat and spoke it out loud. "Luke, we want to know if you think Vader's really on our side."

Luke glanced at the pair briefly before averting his gaze to the floor. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with the subject, but he was usually not one to avoid their direct questions, no matter how painful they were. His hesitation was observed carefully by his two new friends as they waited for his response.

Two Force users sat in physical silence. Their minds, however, were anything but silent.

The older Jedi was focused on the past—on mistakes, on tragedies...

The other...was focused on the present.

He was thinking about his son—it was too painful for him to think of his daughter, so it was only thoughts of the boy that filled his mind.

His son was slowly changing for the better. He wanted to be there for the boy, but it was not the time or place for that yet. His son needed to spend time with other males his age, and Anakin was glad that he was getting the opportunity to do so. The boy needed the chance to feel young and carefree...He needed time with others.

Luke, whose harsh life had caused him to mature too quickly, might have always subconsciously leaned toward loner tendencies, but Anakin knew the boy was destined to make connections with others. There was just something about him that radiated a need for companionship.

Anakin lightly clenched his fists, berating himself for all his failures. Because he had been pushing everyone away—Obi-Wan, the Jedi, Padmé, even his son—because of his choices, Luke had not been given the chance at a normal human life till now. Anakin wanted desperately to correct his wrongs and help his son.

Unfortunately, he wasn't sure he knew how. He wanted to—he needed to—but actually doing it...

He sighed, running a hand on the coarse material of his sleeve.

He had been fitted for a new set of armor. The black suit had been fear-instilling…He was certain that was what the Emperor had intended. In his grief over Padmé, he had never really questioned its dark appearance until he had worn it so long it had become a part of him. Now, however, he didn't need the helmet, though the suit had served other functions that he still required.

His new suit was fashioned in the way of Jedi apparel, having been designed to look like a Jedi's off-white tunic. His outfit was completed by light-colored trousers and a light gray robe. He didn't want to wear black any longer, but he felt uncomfortable at the idea of appearing as a traditional Jedi with an earth-colored robe. He didn't think he had completed the transformation from Sith to Jedi yet—he was still making that journey and might never reach the end of it. The appearance of his uncovered head still inspired discomfort—while he had begun (against all his hopes and expectations) growing a thin layer of hair, his scarred head remained easily visible, and his skin was pasty white from lack of exposure to light. He still looked like a monster out of legend, and though he no longer went by his Sith name, he felt it would be a while before people could truly accept him because of his monstrous past...It would certainly be a while before Anakin could accept himself.

That was, if he ever could. Doubts reverberated through his head every day, and perhaps they always would. He couldn't change the past, no matter how much he wanted to.

He had been spending a lot of time with Obi-Wan recently. They meditated, sometimes for hours on end, and Obi-Wan had even taught Anakin some advanced healing techniques. Still, Anakin suspected he would never be completely rid of his suit. But perhaps that was best. It would serve as a reminder of the past, of what had happened with Obi-Wan...

Anakin looked over at the Jedi. The gray-haired man sat with his eyes closed and his fists gently clenched. Anakin's heart wrenched at the sight. Both he and Obi-Wan were caught in an agony which tore at their souls, tangling their thoughts, obscuring their dreams...It was a web of pain and memories and regrets, and it felt as if it were inescapable.

Anakin took in a choked breath, trying to push through the pain. "I am…sorry."

It was finally out.

For days, the apology had been in the air—almost tangible, completely understood, and yet desperately needing to be voiced. Finally, it had been, and Anakin was glad for it, though he felt no better. He still hurt just as much. He was still filled with tremendous anger over his past. Words could not soothe him—he wasn't sure if anything could.

"No," the older man replied softly, shaking his head. "I am sorry." He opened his eyes. Anakin could see the tears shining in them. "I failed you and your daughter."

"No," Anakin interjected gently. "You did not fail Leia. She has grown up to be a wonderful young woman." Like Padmé, he thought with a pang of regret. Oh, Padmé...

"I did fail her." Obi-Wan's voice was serious and firm, and his gaze, though watery, was strong. "She has such anger in her. Anakin, I worried so much about you and Luke that I was unable to guide her as I should have."

Quietness briefly settled upon the room before Anakin finally pushed through it.

"If that is so," he said slowly, "then we have both failed her. But it is never too late to turn away from anger." He had to believe that—it was all he had to hold on to...

He hesitated before speaking his next words, which somehow cost him something, though he wasn't quite sure what or why. "You needn't worry about me and Luke any longer. You can concentrate on Leia—you can teach her."

Obi-Wan paused for a few moments, seriously considering the chance to right his wrongs with Leia—a chance Anakin knew he had desperately desired—but he finally shook his head. "No, we are both still healing, my friend. I can be a teacher to no one...But I do not have to be Leia's teacher."

Anakin furrowed his brow, looking puzzled. "If not you, then...who—"

"Master Yoda can teach her."

The younger man gave his former master a look of surprise. "Master Yoda is still alive?"

Obi-Wan gave him a small smile. "Yes, he is. His years of meditation have served him better than mine have, and I have hope that he can succeed where I failed...I think he should train Leia."

"That would be best," Anakin agreed. The old Jedi Master was wise—Anakin suspected he had known that the supposed Chosen One was to fall. He had certainly feared it.

"Perhaps," the Jedi began sadly and pensively, "if Yoda had trained you instead of me..."

"Obi-Wan," Anakin said firmly, "it would not have changed anything...Some people are destined to fall so that they can be lifted up." But the words were filled with a hollowness Anakin could not mask—while he had not been ready to be a Padawan, neither had Obi-Wan been ready to be a teacher. Destiny had thrust them into roles they were not prepared for. Their master/Padawan relationship had begun with the discordant note of Qui-Gon's death, and Palpatine had fed Anakin's negative emotions. Doom had hung over everything. It was only now that they were able to chase away some of its tall shadows.

The Jedi Master gave him a sorrowful smile. "We should bring Luke with us. Perhaps he can be trained as well."

"He wants to—to be on our side," the former Tusken told Wedge and Biggs slowly. "He isn't against us, and I do not believe he will continue to kill people...But I think he needs some time before he will truly be on our side." He paused, mulling over the words he had chosen that referred to himself: "our side" and "us." Did he really have a side? When had he started thinking of himself as a member of the Alliance? He lifted his head, giving both his companions a look that seemed almost pleadingly eager. "You do not need to fear him."

"I do want my children to be trained, Obi-Wan," Anakin began hesitantly. "But I fear—surely you do not believe that—that they will turn out like—"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan cut in gently as he stood up and walked toward the door. "For now, do not concentrate on the past. Do not concentrate on the future. Think of what is best for the present...The children of the Chosen One cannot avoid the Force any more than the Chosen One can."

Anakin got to his feet slowly, and his thoughtful expression caused Obi-Wan to frown. The older Jedi queried, "What is it, Anakin?"

"Obi-Wan...Do you believe that the Chosen One was destined to fall?"

"It does not matter," Obi-Wan said dismissively. "The Chosen One is returning to us." He smiled and squeezed Anakin's shoulder gently. "Let's go find Luke."

Wedge could see the supplication and honesty in Luke's clear blue eyes, and he smiled, clapping a reassuring hand on Luke's shoulder. "We believe you, Luke." He didn't think he would ever get used to the idea of Darth Vader's being one of the good guys, but he trusted Luke's judgment. "We just wanted to make sure we wouldn't be finding any dead bodies lying about."

Luke hesitated, as if unsure whether Wedge were joking or not, but a glance at the expressions on the faces of his friends clued him in, and he grinned slowly back at them. Tentatively, he ventured, "Well, the only dead bodies they will find around here...will be yours."

Wedge tilted his head suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. "And why is that?"

"Because eventually...you will die from awe at my piloting skills."

Biggs let out a bark of laughter and then waggled a finger in the air. "You got lucky this time, kid." He reached out to ruffle Luke's hair, but his hand was swatted playfully away. Biggs and Wedge had made it their mission these past few days (had it only been that long? it felt as if they had all known each other for years!) to get their newfound friend more accustomed to human touch and jesting, and it looked as if their attempts hadn't been in vain. "You won't be so lucky next time," Biggs reassured Luke.

"Perhaps," the former Tusken said, belatedly shrugging a second after his statement.

"When did you get so cocky, Luke?" Biggs asked in good humor.

"I learned from the best," the young man said simply. His face broke out into a grin at the sour look on Biggs' face.

Wedge laughed out loud.

Anakin paused. His son was sitting in the mess hall with two Rebel pilots—Darklighter and Antilles, if he remembered right. They all seemed happy, but after their gazes were drawn to his, somberness fell over them. He couldn't help but freeze, pained. Whenever Rebels recognized him, he could sense their fear, anger, suspicion, distrust...He knew that they had no reason to trust him, that they had every reason to fear him—stang, he often feared himself—but he still wished—

He shook his head in self-deprecation. How could he have ever expected others to simply accept him? The Rebel Alliance leaders didn't know what to do with him, so how could the average Rebel know how to act or feel around him? Why am I even here? he wondered bitterly.

Anakin nearly walked away from the mess hall right then. He would have probably gone and blasted off-planet had Obi-Wan not put a gentle hand on his elbow and guided him forward. "Peace," Obi-Wan whispered. Do not fear, he sent through the Force to the anxious Anakin.

A wild look flared up in Anakin's eyes, like that of a frightened bantha, but he forced himself to be calm and follow his mentor to the table. The fear he was facing was related to his actions—and he had to confront it. He needed to find peace.

When they were a few feet away from the three young men, Obi-Wan offered them a kind smile and said, "Greetings."

He received mumbled hellos from Darklighter and Antilles. Luke offered him a hand signal, not seeming to realize that the movement was of Tusken origin.

"We are going to see an old friend," Obi-Wan said, not wasting time with small talk, "and he lives on another planet. We intend to take Leia with us, and we would like you to come as well, Luke."

Chinnatah—for that was what he had privately gone back to thinking of himself as, at least until he figured out who he truly was—looked uneasily at Obi-Wan and his father. As he had grown more comfortable with the two pilots sitting by him, he had become less comfortable with the idea of authority figures. He had been driven to unite with Obi-Wan and his father because they had shared a common goal, but now the Emperor was dead. He knew the two Force users were not his enemies, and he didn't want them to be anyone else's enemies, but he suspected their goals differed now. They probably wanted to talk with him more about the Force, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to learn anything else about that strange energy field. He looked down at his new mechanical hand, forming a fist with it. The Force's lessons were too painful. How could he submit himself to any more of them?

Obi-Wan must have sensed his concern, for he spoke carefully. "Our old friend is a Jedi Master, but if you are not ready to be trained, he will not force you to learn."

Chinnatah studied the table in front of him, temporarily distracted by it. He was still intrigued by the idea of tables. With a table and a chair, it was easy to clean a blaster or eat a meal. A hand could be rested on a table, or a head could be placed on a table's smooth surface...It was so simple, so helpful, so easy to comprehend...It wasn't like the Force at all.

Pensively, he rubbed a finger on the table's edge. He wouldn't always be able to avoid the complex for the simple, and there were no straight paths in life. Certainly not in his.

He took in a deep breath. Only a coward wouldn't face his fears...And he wasn't a coward, no matter what Mrekln had preferred to believe.

He lifted his head resolutely. "I will go with you."

Wedge and Biggs stood up. Chinnatah could sense their uneasiness and sadness, and he was not surprised when Wedge coughed and said, "Well, we'll miss you, Luke, but hopefully we'll see you again soon."

"Bye, Luke," Biggs offered simply.

The two pilots disappeared from the mess hall, looking to Chinnatah like womp rats fleeing from a krayt dragon. His heart heavy, he moved his gaze to the two older men.

"Let's go find Leia," Obi-Wan said gently.