In some ways he had been lost - so far gone the person he'd been, the man who stood on a veranda on Coruscant, lightly running his hand over his wife's belly while also holding her, had been someone he hated. A weak man who'd lost everything due to god own stupidity. But he'd never truly stopped loving even if as far as he knew, the people who he'd loved were ghosts.

He had been lost, feeling like he'd backed himself into a corner with no way out and had lashed out at those who would keep him there. But slowly he'd found ways out. Trained himself when Palpatine refused to. Reclaimed things he'd been good at, great at. Reclaimed the ability to care.

You left me, you wanted me to die, you didn't care about me! He probably would have screamed those words, could he scream, at Kenobi would have at Yoda. It had taken time but he'd latched onto the lifelines he'd found and been given. Had clawed his way back to something.

Whatever this was.