"I can't believe they let you teach."

He'd arrived home very late the night before, still half-expecting to find Rory dead. At the time, all he'd been up to doing was holding his daughter and his wife and trying not to fall asleep.

Since it had been a really, really long week, that plan didn't last, and Anakin had fallen into a deep, troubled sleep, full of horrible memories--parts of the Clone War mixing with life as Darth Vader merging with time in a Fandom full of death and pain.

He woke up late in the afternoon, screaming.

[OOC: For the wife, great SP justice and a time where we pretend that my computer didn't die during a BDE...]

Anakin never napped. During the worst parts of the Clone Wars, he'd used healing meditation techniques to go almost a week without sleep.

Which was why he was getting more than a little annoyed by his new habit of catnapping whenever he sat down. And as for the dreams that went along with them? Well, he couldn't imagine what his mind was thinking to give him images of saving Toby of all people, or throwing kriffing Force lightning with Peter Petrelli, or, most unlikely at all, having a civil conversation with Parker.

He was on the sofa watching Juliet gurgle to herself in her swing when he'd nodded off again, waking up an hour later in a cold sweat and looking around rather desperately for his wife.