Anakin lay in his own bunk aboard the Millennium Falcon, his back against the cold plating of the bulkhead, his bare legs interwoven with Tahiri's, one arm wrapped gently round her middle - under her own arm, below her breasts. Her hand was over his, holding tight. He was smiling sleepily at the bronzed nape of her neck, and the wayward whispers of golden hair that drifted in the soft breeze of his breath. He was, momentarily at least, home. Waking up in his own bed, with his girlfriend wrapped up in the safety of his arms, for the first time in five long and muddled years. In the Force, he could tell that she was dreaming happy dreams. Even the ache that came with every breath seemed to have been transqualified into a shimmer of bright and sparkling happiness, a pure, vibrant pulse of life itself. He could feel the tender memory of his Mom and Dad, but so long as he didn't touch, even that was somehow in perfect accord with the moment. Then, he caught a movement in the corridor, a quiet swish of brown homespun as his brother stepped into the open hatchway, and looked into the bunkroom. Jacen still wore his Jedi cloak, his tan tunic and breeches, his stormtrooper boots. His expression was quiet, level-eyed, outwardly serene. He looked across the cabin at them in total silence, standing very still. He didn't seem to be so much as breathing, and Anakin felt a wince of pain in his own chest. He traced the twinned curve of their shoulders above the sheets, stared at their two heads resting on the pillow, dark and fair, side by side, and finally, dropped to look at the interlaced fingers nudging out from underneath the blanket at the edge of the mattress, gripped tight like a love-knot. Anakin looked away, unwilling to meet his brother's ember-bright eyes. I'm sorry, he whispered, clenching his brow. So very, very sorry... Then - slowly, sorrowfully, eventually, he looked back up at his brother. But by then, Jacen was gone. And still, Tahiri did not wake. Instinctively, he leaned forward, and laid a gentle kiss on the back of Tahiri's neck, bringing a sleepy smile to her lips. "Anakin," she murmured. "Anakin?" It was another voice. Anakin blinked, and shook his head, and woke from the dream. He was crashed out on the couch in the main cabin of the [i/]Ghost[i]. Khovrekhar was standing in the hatchway opposite him. "Lord Vader," the Noghri said, his voice a granite whisper. "We are coming up on Denon"