Father Figure
"Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid."
He is old, his face wrinkled, smiling as if he were someone's congenial grandfather, and if Anakin can forget that the man in front of him is the leader of the Galactic Senate, one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, maybe Supreme Chancellor Palpatine is only that, the lighthearted patriarch of a family tucked away on a far planet.
But as it stands, he is not.
"Come here, Anakin." He walks closer. "How is your training coming along?"
"Good," Anakin mumbles in reply.
The Chancellor bends down so that he was eye-level with the boy. Anakin trembles, wanting to step backwards and out of his office forever, but that simply wouldn't be acceptable. The Chancellor places a hand on his cheek. It feels like his mother's farewell – quiet, solemn, and stoic. No emotion, Anakin reminds himself. No emotion.
"I sense a longing in you. I understand that you are much older than your youngling counterparts and considered to be past the prime age for Jedi training. Do you miss your mother?"
Anakin does not think of how the Chancellor might know of her and simply lets images of Shmi's warm eyes and mouth overwhelm him. Maybe the Chancellor can see them too.
-
He sits there, on that oversized black chair, when he is lonely, his life as desolate as the deserts of his home, and in his head, he plays the Jedi's lessons until they recede into the background. No emotion. No attachment for attachment leads to fear, fear leads to greed, greed leads to the Dark Side. The Dark Side throws the Force off balance and must be avoided. How? No emotion. No attachment. No emotion. No attachment.
He sits there and thinks. Her plaintive brown hair (Does she look up at the stars each night and think about her Ani?). Her coarse fingers (Does she remember him?). Her love (no emotion, no emotion, no emotion).
Sometimes the Chancellor is there, and sometimes he is not. A busy man, Anakin says silently. Leader of the Senate with great responsibilities, responsibilities that take up time, just like training and missions with Master. The Chancellor rarely talked, usually focused on a stack of papers and forms and letters and requests that had piled up during the day. The Chancellor rarely looked his way; Anakin became an established feature of his executive office.
But he likes having him nearby, so close that Anakin could pluck his sleeve and be greeted by that never-changing, always jovial face.
-
There is a dark and blossoming secret in Anakin's heart. It consumes him when he is back in his quarters, the dusky shades of Coruscant fallen into night, and he lies on top of his covers. He wonders if any of his fellow Padawans, too, are afflicted, but no, he is the special one, the different one, the chosen one.
Skywalker. He had always told her mother how his surname was his destiny. I will walk in the sky, he said.
As he watches the lights flicker out in neighboring buildings, he allows the blasphemous thought to penetrate the surface of his consciousness.
No emotion.
I still love, he admits to himself. He tries to push aside the gnawing within but it rips deeper and deeper into his flesh. And he cannot get it out.
No attachment.
-
It is another day. He visits the Chancellor less and less as missions with Obi-Wan absorb more and more of his time. Anakin is growing up. He can sense it in the way his bones creak, in his ravenous insatiable hunger, in the way things look suddenly seem so different. Tell Obi-Wan, his minds urges, recalling more catechisms from his training. The relationship between Padawan and Master is essential. It must be built on reciprocated trust, honesty, and compassion.
"Chancellor?"
He looks up. He seems older, Anakin thinks. "Yes?"
Anakin gets to his feet and slowly, deferentially, approaches the Chancellor's desk. "May I talk to you for a moment? I don't mean to distract you from your work, Chancellor, but it won't take long."
The older man grasps him by the shoulders. "Anakin, my office is always open to you. I am always open to you."
"My mother died." He swallows back the tears. "And it hurts."
"Oh, my boy, it will hurt. Do not try to suppress that hurt. Let it come out and you will be released from it."
"That's not part of the Jedi code. I am supposed to feel compassion and love but never emotion because emotion and attachment are one and the same, and attachment leads to fear, fear leads to – "
He breaks off and steps away when he sees the Chancellor's indecipherable face.
-
"Give in," the Chancellor whispers from across the room. "Don't be afraid. Restraint will only make it worse."
He slumps over in the chair, his mind dull and his eyes blank. "I can't. Blocking it is the only way that will make it go away."
"That is a falsehood spread by the Jedi Order. One cannot reason with emotion."
His mouth falls ajar, almost physically pummeled by the unhesitant criticism of one of the Order's founding precepts. Yet it rings clearly with him.
He cringes. In one innocent thought he has begun removing the foundation of all that he has worked towards.
"Anakin." The Chancellor rises to his feet and walks to the younger man's side. "Look at me. You must live the grief, let it permeate every inch of your being, let it consume you, and then you will find peace. Bottling it up will do you no good, do you understand?"
Anakin nods.
"You must know, my boy, that I have always had your best interests at heart. I am aware that becoming a Jedi Master has not been simple, especially for you, but oh, you have excelled, Anakin. I have only ever wanted for your happiness. You get so little of it from your training."
"Thank you, Chancellor."
"Now come and embrace me."
And so Anakin permits his friend, his mentor, his surrogate father, to wrap his arms around him and to press him tight to his chest. The thought of his dear mother floats through his head but it soon dissolves as the Chancellor's lips pass chastely across his forehead. He feels loved again.