Sorry for the delay in getting this up! It was a surprisingly tricky chapter to write :D


"Let those who love us love us. And those who do not love us,

let God turn their ankles so we may know them by their limping." –Irish Blessing


Chapter 11 Farewell to the Temple

The HoloNet had lit up when the Chancellor announced that he was taking a trip to his war-torn home planet. Most agreed that it was too soon after his election, that he should wait until things settled in the capital. Sidious knew better—Palpatine's trip to Naboo was a well calculated political move, designed to solidify support from those who had been swept up in the original sympathy vote that had propelled him to office.

But, as with everything Sidious did, it had more than one benefit.

In this case, he would be cleaning up after the Jedi and their apparent contempt for common sense. They were shipping their greatest asset off to the edge of the galaxy to rot instead of taking him in like they were supposed to. Why were they willing to overlook such potential? Such incandescent power? Even with foresight wrenched from the Force, sometimes the Jedi made unexpected choices.

Sidious was not a man given to overestimating his people—enemy or pawn—but such disregard for Anakin Skywalker's power was utterly inexplicable. The illogic had him reviewing his plans, rethinking the possibilities of raising the Chosen One by his own hand instead of imbedding him in the Temple. Sidious touched his chin with a finger, weighing his options in the well-hidden deeps of the Force.

His influence over the Chosen One would run deeper, manipulating the child on a daily basis and using his desperate need for acceptance and love to craft him into a weapon for his specific purposes. The child was young and ill-educated—with time, it would be easy enough.

And it was wonderfully tempting, images of Skywalker's tortured face blossoming to the front of his mind, Sith lightning crackling in his hair, agony twisting his face into a pained rictus, his screams vibrating the air. A lesser man would've shivered at the sensual pleasure the sight of such pain afforded him, but Sidious maintained his Palpatine exterior, staying calmly seated, looking over the reports spread across the table. The image was delightful, but he had not reached the Chancellery by indulging himself. To take Skywalker for his own too early would leave Palpatine's identity too vulnerable, the Force was clear on that. Ensconced as he was in high office, he now lacked the time to devote to Skywalker's full-time training, and none of his subordinates had the finesse required to navigate the Chosen One's neediness long term.

So, with his practical nature, Sidious abandoned the idea, replacing it with the one he had foreseen in the Force—bringing the Jedi down from the inside. The pain of that betrayal would leave such a scar in the Force that would outlast even his Force enhanced lifetime. It would take a little work to keep the boy under his influence, but he would be excellently trained (the Jedi had perfected THAT much at least). A few well placed, well timed words should keep such a rebellious youth from falling completely under their spell and would keep him within the Sith Lord's mighty orbit.

The Force shifted and Palpatine looked out viewport of his private transport, watching an air-taxi gently dock on the edge of the landing pad. Two figures clambered out of the vehicle, both Light in the Force, both with bold and distinct signatures that cast shadows on the cityscape behind them.

Anakin's was louder, a clarion bell ringing out into the void, bold and shining against the Darkness of the Force. It was bright and harsh, screaming with anger, though an anger far too naive for Sidious' purposes. Although the confusion and hurt in it was fuel for the Dark, there was too much untwisted love involved. It would take time and skill to cultivate his love into obsession, to make sure that this anger became rage. After all, love was so easy to manipulate, affection and attachment so easy to twist and pervert. There is time enough to do what needs be done.

Kenobi's was more muted—a softer chant, a steady melody. Where the pleasure of Anakin's pain came from its single mindedness, Kenobi's came from its depth and breadth, its quiet complexity. Guilt. Pain. Self-flagellation. Sorrow. Skywalker's untrained strength was blinding and woven so tightly into his very being that he was that power, a tapestry woven from the Force itself. It would be glorious to draw such power to his own purposes. But Kenobi…his corruption would be a work of art and a delicious seduction. A supernova was easy to channel, all flash and brilliance. Principles and strength were so much more challenging.

He watched them quietly as they maneuvered their baggage out of the taxi, reading them and figuring out how best to deal with them during the trip.

Oh, this is too easythey aren't even talking! The emotional vulnerability that dripped off them was almost too much. The Force sang around the two, binding them together, despite whatever momentary tiff they were apparently caught up in. To gain control of them, he would need to shape their relationship to his own purposes. This trip provided the perfect opportunity—their relationship was new and they weren't talking to each other. He would need to keep them apart for the moment so he could work on them individually, to plant the right seeds and to encourage the right thoughts. It wouldn't been difficult to make sure they delayed their reconciliation—both were naturally proud. A few well-placed words here and there would keep them from talking easily enough, allowing him to deal exactly the hand he needed to win the long game.

A smile played across Sidious' face, pulling his lips back in a grotesque parody of joy. He was eager for the chance this journey afforded, a chance not simply to court the Chosen One, but also the Chosen One's Force-chosen teacher.

He went out to meet them with his best grandfatherly smile. It was convenient that he had to visit Naboo at this time, wasn't it?


Anakin gratefully let the door swish shut behind him, happy to be away from stupid Obi-Wan. The man was so stuffy and stiff and...and stupid and he'd barely said a word to Anakin all morning except to kick him off the couch, to ask if he was packed, and later to say it was time to go.

Anakin kicked moodily at the wall before slumping down on the bed. He planned to spend the first part of his trip sulking there, but sitting still made it too easy for his anger to melt into fear. Instead, he set about exploring his room, jumping around on the comfy cot, playing with the various drawers and appliances that were set into the wall, and turning the desk into a couch and back into a desk.

But then he ran out of things to explore in his room and decided to explore the rest of the ship. The carpet squished under his feet, leaving footprints as he stepped through the door and into the hallway.

The corridor had the same deep carpeting, leading both aft and stern. In one direction, he could hear the quiet whirr of the bridge. He almost went that direction, before he remembered how annoyed the pilots on Padme's ship had gotten when he bothered them too much. So he turned left, heading down the length of the ship.

There wasn't much to see: a few fancy looking pictures and some locked doors. The port-to-starboard corridor that bisected the ship just ran from the main airlock to a large storage room and there was nothing interesting in there. The next door was open. He poked his head in and found an empty conference room with a long table running down the center. It was framed with a viewport showcasing the blur of hyperspace. The pictures on the long wall opposite looked fancy, but didn't hold Anakin's interest.

With a shrug, he continued his exploration. The galley was busy, the dining hall looked just as boring as the conference room, and there wasn't much in the secondary storage closet low enough for him to see (he hated being short!). Deciding that this level was boring, he headed towards the small staircase at the end of the corridor, hoping to find something more interesting below. He didn't even notice the last door until he walked past it and it swished open.

It was an office.

"Hello?"

No answer. He peered in. The light inside the room had the same soft yellow color as late sunrise on Tatooine—the point where the warmth was welcome, chasing away the chill of the night, but well before the heat of the day. There were no windows, but Anakin guessed that was mostly because all the walls were covered in books. Real books. Not holo-books, not recordings, but real, bound, flimsy books. At the center of the room was a low, dark brown desk (was that real wood?) with two comfortable looking chairs sprawled in front of it and a high backed chair behind.

The room was empty, and after a look down the corridor at his back, so was the hallway. Emboldened, he crept into the room. He ran a hand across the back of one of the armchairs, surprised at the feel of the fabric. He wandered the room, touching things and looking at them, entranced by how everything felt so expensive and so comfortable at the same time.

The greatest novelty in the room was the books. He'd never seen real ones before and the concept intrigued him. His fingers caressed the bindings as his eyes struggled to decipher the words on them. He could make out a few….

"You enjoy reading, then?"

Anakin jumped and whirled around, heart pounding.

The Chancellor loomed in the doorway. Anakin cursed the fact he hadn't noticed the man's approach, unused to the phenomenon of people being able to sneak up on him. He was angry at himself for getting caught. He was smarter than that!

The man stepped into the room and Anakin instinctively stepped back, unsure what the larger man's response was going to be at catching him sneaking. The Chancellor didn't seem to notice, settling himself into the armchair nearest the door.

"Those books are my part private collection. One of the benefits of public service—such treasures are easier to find." He gestured with a smile to the armchair opposite him. "Did any of those books catch your interest? You're welcome to borrow one."

Pretty confident now that the Chancellor wasn't angry at him for poking through his office, Anakin stepped around the desk to settle into the empty chair.

"I don't really like reading all that much. It's boring." That actually wasn't true. He wasn't a good enough reader yet to know if he liked it or not, though with Obi-Wan's help he was now a lot better at it than he'd been before. Still, he didn't want to admit weakness in front of someone he wanted to like him.

The man chuckled, "Fair enough. Though I doubt any of them would appeal to you much anyway."

Anakin shrugged.

"I am glad to see you here; I wanted to see how you were doing. I'll bet this whole affair has been a bit sudden for you," the Chancellor stated, concern filling his eyes. "Is there anything you want to know about Naboo?"

Anakin's smile melted, uncomfortable with the reminder that he was being shipped off again. He was tired of other people deciding what was going to happen to him.

The Chancellor is the first person to even ask me about all of this.

The Naboo had abandoned him at the Temple and now Obi-Wan and his precious Council were dumping him on Naboo. When the Naboo decided they didn't like him anymore, where would they leave him? The rest of the galaxy was turning out to be worse than Tatooine—at least when everyone bossed him around there he had his mom. Now, without her, he felt more lost and alone than ever. His mom hadn't wanted to abandon him. Obi-Wan did.

What did I do wrong? Why does everyone keep leaving me?

He shrugged at the Chancellor, worried that if he said something out loud he'd start blubbering like a big baby. He was tired of feeling scared all the time. Because it wasn't just fear for the future, it was all the hurt he'd felt right after his mom died, all rushing back, but in different ways.

The Chancellor settled back into his chair. "Naboo is a lovely little planet. Quiet. Peaceful. That's why I became a Senator, you know. So I could share that safety with rest of the galaxy. It's nothing like Coruscant of course. Then again, in all my travels, I've never found a planet quite like it."

"What's it like, then?" Maybe if the people there were all as nice as Padme, they wouldn't send him away. Maybe if it was so different than everywhere else, they'd like him.

"Naboo prefer the simple things in life. Although they use technology, they hold beauty in much higher regard. They are known for their architecture and art," Palpatine smiled. He kept talking about how peaceful they were, how they preferred to be left alone, how the Naboo rarely traveled, and how important family ties were.

As excited as Anakin was to see Padme, he wasn't sure how much he was going to like Naboo. Every word Palpatine spoke painted a dull picture, one where Anakin was sure he'd never be able to fit in. Something bitter and tight squeezed tighter in his chest.


Obi-Wan wasn't avoiding Anakin, thank you very much. He was meditating on attachment.

It was a topic that had kept him busy since he'd boarded the Chancellor's yacht. Attachment.

Attachment leads to suffering.

With the death of his master, those dangers had been thrust once more into his face, underscoring a tendency in himself that had always prevented him from being the best Jedi he could be. It was past time he confronted this issue. Why not face it now, when he had little else to do?

Attachment leads to suffering.

Anakin's pain was something that had surprised him. Not the hurt itself, but its duration. A child with his nature didn't seem capable of harboring anger for so long, but somehow he'd managed it, and sometimes, it was so deafening Obi-Wan could feel it seeping through the bulkhead that separated their cabins. Obi-Wan had attempted an overture the morning they'd left the Temple, but Anakin had pointedly ignored him. The Chancellor, who had taken Anakin under his wing, had advised Obi-Wan to wait until the boy was ready to come to him, and since Obi-Wan had never been one to pry into other's emotions, he had taken the advice. He wasn't the pigheaded child's master and if Anakin wanted to throw a tantrum about going to Naboo, Obi-Wan wouldn't interfere.

Besides, what was he supposed to say? The Council was right: Anakin couldn't stay at the Temple (despite his sensitivity to the Force; despite his interest in the Jedi; despite the fact that Obi-Wan would've been honored to be the boy's master if no one else would take him).

The Council was right: it was far past time for Obi-Wan to let go. He hadn't let his Master go, hadn't accepted his emotions, hadn't released his attachment to the Force. He'd been too distracted and he'd used Anakin as a crutch (no matter how much it had felt like he was slowly healing, no matter how much Anakin had stopped him from hiding from his grief and had made him face it like a Jedi, no matter how much he'd helped by giving Obi-Wan a new purpose) for his own inadequacies.

The Council was right: he'd simply replaced one attachment for another instead of relying on the Force.

Attachment leads to suffering.

It had been an entire month. He should be at peace with his master's entrance into the Force. He should not be grieving like this, like Anakin still did for his mother. Just because Anakin was leaving didn't give him any excuse to fall apart like this.

So he was meditating.

Attachment leads to suffering.

It was a mantra he was well acquainted with and he would've thought it had been driven home with his Master's death. Apparently not—he'd gotten more attached since! What is wrong with me?

Irritated, he decided to take his master's well worn advice and approach his problem from a different angle. He stood, letting the blood flow back into his stiff legs. Taking care, he left his room, hoping that a turn about the ship would bring new clarity to his thoughts—or at least quiet them down. Idly, his feet carried him to the conference room down the corridor, the one with the wide sweeping window that lit the room with the floor to ceiling glow of hyperspace.

The Force drifted around him, the cords and patterns stretching out shifting and staying the same even as he watched them change. Threads snapped, lines bent, and colors changed, but there was nothing concrete to learn, nothing he hadn't seen in the Force a hundred times before. He was no closer to releasing his attachments either, and he felt too worn out to care as much as he should.

A pull shifted his attention outward, as the door behind him opened. Obi-Wan turned.

It was the ship's droid. "Jedi Kenobi? The Chancellor wonders if you would like to play another game of chess?"

"Now?" I should keep meditating.

"I believe so, sir. He was setting up the board in his office."

Something like displeasure nudged at the young man at the Chancellor's assumption he would jump to and come when called, but he ignored it. After all, with Anakin not talking to him (or him not talking to Anakin—or both of them avoiding each other) that didn't leave much in the way of company on the ship. The Chancellor was a keenly intelligent man and a master chess player. Obi-Wan enjoyed matching his wits against the politician, no matter how wary he was of the man underneath the genial mask.

Besides, one didn't offend the leader of the galaxy by refusing such a small thing. Even if he really should keep meditating.

The office was only a few doors down. The door was open, but he paused in the doorway to knock politely on the door jamb.

"Chancellor?"

The man looked up from whatever it was on his desk that had held his attention, face spreading into a grandfatherly smile.

"Padawan Kenobi! Do come in!" He gestured to the two arm chairs in front of the desk, small table and game board set carefully between them. "Settle down and I'll get you your drink."

However much the two disagreed on politics (and in the course of their previous games, Obi-Wan had come to realize that the two disagreed over most things), the Jedi couldn't argue with the man's hospitality. Palpatine was civility itself, and within moments, the Jedi had been bustled into a chair and had a very fine glass of scotch in hand.

Obi-Wan had dined with powerful beings, negotiated treaties with galaxy-wide implications, and had stared death in the face at numerous occasions. And yet none of those were anywhere near as surreal as sitting aboard the Chancellor's private yacht, sipping a civilized scotch, playing cutthroat chess.

Obi-Wan was good at chess. Not a master, but then he'd never had much time to hone his skills. The strategy was pretty instinctive and he'd always had a knack for reading his opponents, even without the Force. Most opponents. Not the Chancellor. The man's genuine, grandfatherly attitude belied a keen mind and a sharp intellect that was more than his match on the game board. It was their fourth game in as many days and Obi-Wan had yet to come close to winning, though he held his own.

Still, the mood was pleasant enough. Even though Obi-Wan's initial temper was anything but genial, the focus required by both the game and the quiet conversation were enough to take the edge off. The discussion wound, as it had during their previous games, as the two debated various topics amiably (only rarely finding themselves in agreement). It was refreshing to find someone who could make an argument and believe it without devolving into pathos. The game continued, the Chancellor systematically knocking out Obi-Wan's pieces, while Obi-Wan carefully fought to save each one.

Somehow, as Palpatine carefully maneuvered a rook across the board, the topic of the midterm Senate appointments came up.

"They will be filling in my own seat soon."

Obi-Wan nodded, distracted by his trapped knight.

"I wonder who they'll chose?" the quiet tone pulled Obi-Wan out of his study. "Considering the circumstances…" Palpatine leaned back into his chair, gazing introspectively into space.

"Chancellor?" he asked after a moment.

The man met Obi-Wan's gaze with a sad smile. "Well, my election wasn't exactly auspicious, was it? The people of Naboo are still deeply shaken up about the Invasion and its aftermath."

Invasion, assassins, a vote of no confidence, Dark Jedi, dead Jedi—they boomed in the silence.

Chancellor Palpatine looked seriously at Obi-Wan, catching his gaze with all the earnestness a career politician could muster. "I have been meaning to thank you, thank you for all that you and your master did for my planet."

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably, resisted the temptation to hide behind a cough or another sip of scotch.

"We did only what was right, Chancellor." Condensation dripped down his glass and pooled on his fingers.

"But your Master did far more than that," he replied sympathetically, leaning forward over the chess game, almost knocking over his own king-piece. "Are you holding up?"

That is private, a small part of Obi-Wan growled, a private place where not even Bant or Garen or Anakin or anyone was allowed to see. He wasn't going to open up in front of a stranger, much less a politician. Still, Obi-Wan was not one to let emotion cloud his actions, so he responded politely, "I am doing well enough. Thank you for your concern." He swirled his scotch around and took a long sip.

"I want you to know that we will find him, Padawan Kenobi. The creature who did this to my planet, to your master. We will find him," his tone was assuring. Confident and comforting. Vengeful. "I will bring the creature who attacked Naboo and murdered Master Jinn to justice," he vowed.

Obi-Wan was not one to take a politician at his word, but the absolute earnestness in the grandfatherly human standing next to him was enough. Something bitter and tight in his chest relaxed.


Compliments? Questions? Concerns? Criticisms? Note them below and then click "Post Review." (Palpatine has plans for galactic domination. To prevent this, click "Review.")

(Also, heads up: there's going to be a bit of a delay in getting the next chapter up. I want to update regularly, which means I need time to finish more than one chapter at a time. Sorry! Just wanted to give you warning. When I come back, it'll be with more regular updates, I promise!)