Title All Things Great and Terrible
Gift for luminations for the 2009 Jedi Mistletoe fic exchange on LJ
Summary Visits to Palptine don't always bring Anakin peace

Being in Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's office always made Anakin feel a little heady. Whether it was the deep red carpeting and walls, the comfortable chairs, or the Corellian brandy continually offered during his visits, he wasn't sure, but he always felt himself growing more relaxed, at ease, his tongue loosening to allow him to express very un-Jedi-like sentiments. For his part, Palpatine never seemed at all concerned that Anakin's ability to curb his speech failed him whenever he set foot in the office, and even seemed to welcome Anakin's thoughts.

Anakin found himself sorely lacking in people to talk to honestly and openly. Ahsoka was his Padawan, and couldn't be expected to separate her Master's opinions and problems from her actual training. Obi-Wan had always made it clear that Anakin's emotions were not to be dwelled upon. Padme... well, he wanted to protect Padme. If she knew the things he felt, the things he thought, the reactions that had become so ingrained from being in the field for so long, he feared she would throw up her hands and be rid of him, afraid for her own safety.

Palpatine, though. Palpatine did not fear him, did not have any unreasonable expectations. When the door to his office slammed and Anakin jumped, hand of durasteel reaching to his belt to grab his lightsaber, Palpatine merely put a gentle hand on Anakin's shoulder and led him to a chair. There were no recriminations to mind his thoughts or release his tension into the Force, there was simply a glass of brandy, a friendly smile, an entreaty to talk to him about anything, even things - especially things - the Jedi would not normally allow to be discussed.

Anakin stared down at the red swirls of carpet, fists clenched in his robe, feeling very much like a recalcitrant youngling, embarrassed by his swiftly violent reaction to something so simple as a closing door. "Do not fret, young Anakin," Palpatine said softly, soothingly. "A natural reaction, as I understand it." Anakin felt his breathing slow, his heart rate return to normal. "I dare say I find myself jumping at shadows myself, these days," Palpatine continued, "and I have not had anywhere near the experiences you have had."

Anakin swallowed heavily, reaching for the glass that had been set on the low-slung table beside his chair. "Well, at least I know I'm in good company, then," he said, trying to force the bitterness from his voice.

No one else seemed to react the way he did, after all, and whenever he jumped at loud noises, or started from sleep with his lightsaber in his hand, or moved to throw himself to the ground at the merest hint of a siren, those around him looked on with a mixture of pity and fear. When he was on Coruscant or Naboo, those were not reactions he should be having. His razor-sharp reflexes served him well in battle, but anywhere else they were unwanted, unneeded, a hindrance. An embarrassment.

Palpatine pressed his lips into a thin line. His was not an expression of pity, or fear; it was one of genuine concern. Anakin had never felt more grateful for that small kindness. "They expect so much of you," Palpatine said, almost regretfully, turning to look out the expansive view-wall, hands clasped behind him. Anakin rose to stand beside him, relishing the feeling of being so far above the bustling cityscape. He felt comfortable up here, in control.

"They need me," Anakin replied, the words catching in his throat. He took a swallow from his glass to try and clear the block, to try and free his words. "Once the war is over," he said, "it will be better." So much hinged on the end of the war, Anakin realized, not the least of which his sanity.

Palpatine put a gentle hand on Anakin's arm. "Yes," the Supreme Chancellor said thoughtfully. "Yes, when the war is over, things will have changed for the better." His tone brightened slightly, and he squeezed Anakin's arm. "And we'll have you to thank for it, my boy," he said.

Anakin frowned. "I'm not the only one out there, Sir," he replied. "But I appreciate the thought." And he did, too. He knew his fellow Jedi, and the clones, all were working hard to bring an end to the war, but he felt as though he, somehow, was working harder, sacrificing more.

Palpatine guided him away from the view-wall. "You are doing great things, Anakin," Palpatine told him. "And I expect you will continue to do great things, even once this blasted war is won."

Great things. The words rang in Anakin's ears. He had done great things, after all. Great and terrible things, all in the name of the Republic, the Jedi. The two terms, he had come to realize, were not mutually exclusive. "Thank you, Sir," he said, mouth dry. The brandy was no balm, either.

"I do so admire you," Palpatine said, seating himself behind his grand expanse of a desk. "Your resilience and your self-assurance. Sometimes," and here he sounded somewhat regretful, "I feel you are being wasted as a Jedi."

Anakin swallowed heavily. "The Jedi are my family," he ground out, shoving thoughts of Padme aside.

"Ah, but even families can go their own ways," Palpatine pointed out. "Children leave the comforts of home to find their own paths, after all. You did, did you not?"

Oh yes, he had, though normal children did not find their own paths at the age of nine. "I suppose so," he offered. "But I really can't imagine not being a Jedi." He couldn't, either. He often imagined what it would be like to be a Jedi allowed to be open about his marriage, to have a family and attachments and love, but in those fantasies, he still had a lightsaber on his belt and the structure of the Order to guide him.

Palpatine nodded, contemplative. Anakin settled back into his chair, allowing Palpatine's protocol 'droid to refill his glass. Seeming to sense his younger friend's unhappiness with the current line of conversation, Palpatine expertly steered them to talk of more trivial things, back into Anakin's comfort zone.

He lost track of the time, and how much he'd had to drink, until Palpatine said, "Why don't you rest here tonight, Anakin?" and Anakin found himself nodding dumbly, Palpatine leading him through the door to his more private, inner office.

Anakin settled onto the sofa lining one wall of the smaller inner sanctum, finding it very difficult to keep his eyes open, despite his best efforts. Only when he was around Palpatine could he relax enough, he thought, to actually sleep.

He felt Palpatine's cold hand on his forehead. "I foresee you will do great things, Anakin," he heard Palpatine say as he drifted off, "Great and terrible things."

In his dreams, Anakin wept.

-- end --