Just now? Athara was torn.

On the one hand, she wanted nothing more than to sleep for a standard month, she was so exhausted. Not to mention sore and achy. Athara had experienced a lot in her life, enduring things most people could never even dream of surviving. But the way she felt just now was something entirely different from anything she'd experienced before.

But on the other hand?

As much as she loved Han—he was the big brother she'd never had, really, and arguably her best friend—and despite the way she and Leia had come to tolerate each other since their truce, she just wanted them to go away. She couldn't even say it would hurt her feelings if Padme were to leave as well, fond as Athara had become of her mother-in-law. Even Ben, her beloved nephew, was getting on her nerves where he sat next to her knee, face alight with curiosity.

She just wanted to be left alone with Luke...and their brand new daughter.

Their perfect little baby girl.

She had a daughter. They had a daughter. A surge of fear spiked through her, causing her breath to hitch painfully.

And considering the sudden wave of apprehension she could sense from Luke? The feelings she could see clear as day in his eyes as he met her gaze? He felt the same fear.

How were they going to protect this precious little life they were suddenly responsible for? Especially from the demons they both bore? Especially Athara...

But then her daughter mewled softly, her tiny little fist escaping from the soft swaddling and the fear in Luke's eyes—the fear for their child—was gone, replaced by feelings so potent they took Athara's breath away. And her own gaze dropped to her baby.

Athara felt like her heart was about to swell right out of her chest as her attention narrowed in on the tiny being nestled safely in Luke's arms. She just couldn't help it. Her very existence now inarguably revolved around the precious bundle held by her Farmboy.

She was happier than she could ever imagined possible. Incandescent was the word that came to mind when she tried to find one that would suit. And even it came nowhere close. As she looked to her husband—part of her still couldn't believe she had him in her life either—and her newborn daughter—that she definitely still couldn't believe—her aches, pains, even her exhaustion seemed to fade, melting away. Just now? She felt like she never wanted to sleep again. And never had she felt more satisfied to feel the physical toll of her ordeal. More than that, she felt like her body couldn't possibly contain her emotions, she felt so much in that moment.

Even the overwhelming anxiety and crippling fears she'd been battling since she first became aware of her pregnancy paled in the face of the love and joy she felt just looking to the child she'd just brought into the Galaxy.

She was tiny, and she was beautiful. She was the most beautiful thing Athara had ever seen. And judging by the awed brightness in her Farmboy's eyes, it was the same for him.

She couldn't stop smiling, the emotions coursing through her overwhelming to say the least.

"You did good, Athara," Han said, settling on Athara's other side, an arm wrapping around her shoulders as he too looked over to his brand new niece. Athara smiled, leaning into her dearest friend's side.

"Thank you, Han." The smuggler smiled down at her before giving her one last squeeze and rising to return to Leia's side where she stood next to Luke. They still weren't close by any means, but even Leia had embraced Athara in congratulations, stiff and restrained as it may have been. On the other hand, it was obvious that the former Senator adored her little niece already, her dark eyes having lit up as soon as she saw the soft-swaddled bundle. She was still smiling down at the newborn, her arm around her brother's shoulders as the other tenderly brushed against the tiny hand that had escaped the blanket.

"We should leave them be," Padme spoke up then, looking to Athara and Luke with knowing eyes as she laid a hand on Han's arm before giving Leia a pointed look. Understanding immediately bloomed on the Alderaanian Princess' face and, despite her reluctance to leave the newest member of their family, she laid a kiss on her twin's cheek and smiled down at both Athara and the baby before allowing Han to lead her from the room, the smuggler only pausing to snatch up his reluctant to leave and therefore squirming son.

With a beaming grin of his own, Luke carefully laid their daughter back in Athara's arms so he could see his mother, sister, brother-in-law and nephew out. Leaving Athara alone with their daughter. She ran her finger along her daughter's soft cheek, blinking away the damp sensation in the corners of her eyes as the little girl nuzzled into her touch, her baby-blue eyes blinking blearily as she settled back to sleep after being disturbed by her father handing her back to her mother.

"He is right, Athara. You have done well." Athara looked up at the fond voice that broke the silence, her smile growing at the familiar voice. Qui-gon stood not far from the end of the bed, his glowing form barely visible in the bright light of her private med-room. And next to him?

On either side of her ghostly mentor stood the Force spirits of her father and the man who had been her father in all but name. Obi-wan smiled softly at her, his pride and love for her nearly tangible, his eyes bright despite being non-corporeal. And her Master beamed, looking nearly as incandescent as Athara felt.

"She's beautiful, my apprentice," Anakin said, his voice thick with emotion. Athara's throat threatened to close as her gaze fell back to her daughter. She adjusted the blankets, revealing the little girl so her ghostly visitors could see her more easily. When she looked up again, Anakin had edged around to stand next to her. Smiling down at her, he reached out, cupping Athara's cheek tenderly. Though she didn't exactly feel a physical touch, her skin tingled warmly at the contact. She blinked furiously as Anakin lowered himself to sit at her side, peering down at his granddaughter in unrestrained awe, the prickle in her eyes beginning to feel familiar given how repeatedly the sensation had appeared over the last several hours.

But then the faintest of movements caught her attention, and her gaze was drawn to her father. And her vision threatened to blur for a different reason. The depth of emotion from a moment before hadn't lessened, but there was a thread of sadness and regret there that had emerged when her Master had settled so comfortably next to her. The way a father would have. And despite the joy still overwhelming her, her heart suddenly felt on the verge of breaking.

So she held out her hand to her birth father. And one of her tears managed to fall at the way his shoulders hitched as though he suddenly couldn't breathe.

And her own breath catch as his hand brushed against hers; for a split-second she swore she could feel it. Not just a tingle approximating a touch, but the actual, warm touch of his fingers over hers.

"Hello, Father," she murmured. The sadness faded, and his already bright eyes grew brighter still.

It was then, looking up at the father she barely knew, that a breath painfully like a sob caught in her chest.

"How am I supposed to do this?" The words, frightened, small and nearly desperate escaped before she could stop them. And she couldn't even bring herself to feel angry at herself for allowing them to; the cold, clawing fear was back. Biting her lip as tears spilled over, her gaze dropped back to her daughter.

"We might not be the best ones to ask," Anakin said wryly, attempting to cheer her with the self-effacing comment, even if just a little. Despite herself, Athara felt her own lip quirk, even though the fear didn't abate. But he still sobered, growing haunted. "Neither Obi-wan nor I were truly allowed the chance to be fathers to our children...and I didn't exactly prove myself the best father-figure when offered a second chance." Athara forced herself to exhale slowly, the breath long and shaking, in an attempt to rein back her quickly spiralling emotions. A warm, comforting touch through the Force brushed against her consciousness, then.

It helped. Greatly.

She looked up to her father with more gratitude than she could put into words. Obi-wan smiled gently down at her, his hand ghosting over her hair. The comforting feeling intensified. It was soothing. It left her feeling safe.

It seems the least I can do, she felt more than heard him say. Her breath hitched again. Then she sighed, stroking her daughter's cheek, letting the warm, soft feel of her baby-soft skin sooth her fears further. A tiny sound of content came from the newborn, the little girl nestling deeper into her mother's arms.

"How am I supposed to protect her from what happened to...to us," she whispered, glancing to her Master, "to you and...and me..." Anakin sighed, looking sightlessly down at his granddaughter.

"I don't know," he said softly. "I don't even know how I managed not to completely corrupt you, consumed as I was with the Dark Side."

"By taking what you have learned to heart and passing it on." Athara and her two fathers all looked up to Qui-gon, who smiled serenely if sadly at them all.

"Master Yoda said something similar to Luke before he died," Athara said. Qui-gon nodded slowly.

"He did. You have both endured and learned so much, my Padawan," said the older Jedi, his eyes betraying his pride even though his tone was solemn. "The challenge is going to be how to use and share that knowledge. Teach her all of it. The good—" he shared a long glance with both Anakin and Obi-wan, each matching his sombre look with one of their own, "—and the hard. Just as much can be learned from failure as success, if not more."

"Though, if my son is anything like I was, he will need reminding of that fact," Anakin added with a wry look to his own Master. Obi-wan huffed in exasperated agreement. As her grin faded from the nostalgic moment between master and apprentice, Athara bit her lip once again as apprehension gripped her anew. A tingle warmed her arm and she looked up to see Anakin's serious, sorrowful gaze fixed on her. "Learn from my mistakes, my dear apprentice," he murmured, reaching out to lay his hand on her hair, nearly cradling the side of her head as he had when she was a child. "Do not dwell on your fears. Do not...do not fear your fears as I did." The words resonated deeply and Athara could only nod in understanding as her gaze dropped back to the soft bundle in her arms.

"And treasure her." She looked back up to Anakin, taking in his once again tender smile. She couldn't help but smile back.

"Yes, Master," she said, her voice thick.

"So," Qui-gon said after a moment, his voice taking on a playfully officious tone, as his eyes once again began to twinkle merrily. "Now that we have covered more serious topics," his two ghostly companions chuckled and Athara rolled her eyes fondly at his cheerful dramatics, "are we permitted to know her name?" Athara glanced to each of her and her daughter's ghostly visitors in turn before settling on her Master.

"Ana," she murmured, smiling tentatively up at Anakin. "Ana Adyé Skywalker."

Next to her Anakin's shoulders hitched, his gaze growing misty and full of too much emotion. Athara beamed at him, her chest feeling tight at just how moved he was. She could feel it just pouring off him; the awe and the love and just how overwhelmed he was. It was a potent well of emotions to sense.

"I—Athara," he objected thickly, "how could you want—after everything I've done—especially to you, to Luke...all the monstrous—" but Athara shook her head, cutting him off with a firm look.

"You saved us," she said gently, earnestly. "Despite all the monstrous things you did as Vader—even what you did to us—you fought back against the Dark Side and saved us, Luke and me both...the Galaxy, even. And you protected me, loved me, when you shouldn't have been capable anymore. So Luke and I want you to be our daughter's namesake." Anakin looked pleadingly from Athara to Obi-wan.

It was then that something in her gut clenched. Her father...how was he going to feel that she'd named her child after the man who'd—not replaced, but had still raised her when he should have...and the man who had taken her away from him in the first place. But Obi-wan was looking to Anakin with the fond exasperation due an overreacting apprentice from a patient master. And the uncertain feeling eased. Especially when Obi-wan spared her a fond, approving—if still faintly sad—glance.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not up to me, Anakin," the older Jedi said wryly, "it's your doing, going and endearing yourself to both by being a hero one last time. Not to mention, you are Luke's father, and near enough one to my daughter." Anakin swallowed thickly, looking very much like he didn't believe he deserved the tribute. But then he looked down to little Ana and his expression softened instantly.

At the foot of the bed, Qui-gon chuckled, shaking his head fondly. Athara breathed out a sigh of relief before she too looked down to her daughter.

Anakin had tentatively reached down, running his ghostly finger against Ana's delicate hand. In the time they'd all been talking, the tiny newborn had woken and was now looking blearily around, her eyes not focusing properly just yet, new and unused to use as they were.

But as Anakin reached out to his granddaughter, Ana's baby-blue eyes—already nearly the same shade as her father and grandfather's—seemed almost—almost—fixed on Anakin. Once again, Athara felt her chest swell with too much feeling, the sensation beginning to feel familiar. But then next to her, the youngest of the three Jedi Masters grinned smugly.

"She's going to be a heck of a pilot," Anakin said proudly, a mischievous glint in his eye. Athara snorted.

"Considering who her father is? Her grandfather? It's in her blood," Athara quipped back dryly. Anakin chuckled at the tone, glancing wryly to his own master. Obi-wan huffed.

"I wasn't so bad myself," his gaze grew proud then as he looked to Athara, "and neither are you." Athara made an exasperated sound before glancing to her master.

"Well, you did have a good teacher," Anakin said with a laugh before his apprentice could respond. Athara chuckled while Obi-wan all but rolled his eyes.

"And I had an apprentice who always kept me on my toes," the older Jedi countered with the same dry tone as his daughter, shooting a pointed look to Anakin. Anakin just chortled.

"Not to mention she'll have the Force on her side," Qui-gon added with an indulgent look to the lot of them. "I can already sense her potential." A potent mix of pride and apprehension flooded Athara at the statement. She had sensed as much herself, but hearing it echoed by her ghostly mentor?

But then Ana nestled herself deeper into Athara's arms, a soft, small sound escaping her as her eyes slid shut. Instinctively, Athara reached out, brushing her consciousness against the sleepy, content mind of her daughter. And the apprehension melted away, leaving only wonder at the presence of the tiny girl. Already, young as she was, her presence was a bright, pure spot within the Force. Reassured, she sighed, brushing a light kiss against her daughter's pale, downy head, letting herself take in the room around her through the Force as she relaxed. Only to be nearly overwhelmed by the feelings filling the room. There was just so much love and pride and adoration for the little girl in her arms already, and she was only barely a couple hours old.

"I wish you could hold her," Athara said softly, looking to all three Force spirits, "all of you."

"She exists," Anakin said softly back, "that's more than enough." It was so earnest and assured that Athara felt her throat close up at once, her eyes yet again threatening to fill with tears. One more bonus of her daughter's long awaited arrival? Her hormones would hopefully begin to calm again and she wouldn't feel so emotional all the time. And for a woman who had spent her whole life keeping careful control over her emotions only to find that usually impeccable control thwarted thanks to biology? Frustrating was a mild way to put it.

So one could hope.

She inhaled deeply she willed her tears away, drawing on the calming influence of the Force, the presence of her ghostly visitors and the comforting presence of her Farmboy out in the main med-centre to do it. Happy tears or not, she was sick of crying.

Mercifully, after a moment, the prickling sensation began to fade. She felt Luke's consciousness brush against hers, soothing and just as overwhelmed with emotion as she was. She smiled fondly, immensely grateful as she sensed he was waiting patiently outside with his mother, giving Athara some time with the ghostly visitors. She wouldn't have minded sharing the visitors in the least with her Farmboy, but she was nevertheless appreciative for the time alone with them.

Especially her father.

"There are many, many things I regret," Obi-wan said softly then, pulling her thoughts back to the Force Spirits by her side, "but this?" Athara looked up to her father as he hesitated, the ghostly Jedi looking almost uncertain as he settled next to Athara on the bed. He turned to her, a wistful longing clear in his eyes as he reached out to brush a translucent finger over the crown of his granddaughter's head. Neither of them noticed Anakin and Qui-gon sharing a look before the two of them faded from sight, leaving their fellow Jedi in peace with his daughter. Obi-wan sighed heavily then. "Right now, I regret missing this most of all. That I couldn't hold you; that I couldn't be there with your mother when you were born...that I couldn't watch you grow..." She fixed him with a tentative, assessing look, carefully reaching out with her feelings to gauge his.

"You truly don't mind," she asked softly, not entirely succeeding in keeping the nervous tremor from her tone, "that we chose to name her after Anakin?" He said nothing for a long moment, his feelings coming across as faintly conflicted through the Force.

"Perhaps a little," he finally admitted, looking up to Athara. "But—" he hesitated, choosing his words with care even as he sorted through the mass of feelings Athara could sense swirling in him. But then he smiled, the expression both sad and reassuring. "But I cannot fault your reasons or your feelings for him," Obi-wan said gently. "He is the one who raised you, and you have become such a strong, remarkable woman in his care. And I do love him as a brother. I am...pleased, that my granddaughter is named for him." She sensed nothing but pride and sincerity from him as he spoke. A tightness in her chest eased that she hadn't even entirely realized was there. As her eyes once again began to water, his own shining gaze dropped back to Ana, his expression melting into one of pure adoration. But the sadness and regret was soon seeping back in.

"How I wish I'd had this time with you," he murmured sadly, "that I could've been there to raise you myself." Once again her tears spilled over, but this instance Athara could've cared less. She smiled up at him, reaching out to brush her own fingertips affectionately against her father's cheek. A warm tingle ran up her arm. The sorrow in Obi-wan's eyes eased as he met her gaze, blue-grey eyes meeting blue-grey.

"I wish you could've too," she murmured back.

Overcome, Obi-wan could only lean in to brush a kiss against his daughter's forehead.

A/N: Thanks for Reading!

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