Work Text:
Fathers
by Sue
He was going to be a father. Even to his own ears, Anakin sounded breathless when he spoke the heady declaration aloud once again. His mind reeled. "Father. I am going to be a father..." 'When he or she can speak,' he thought, 'the little one will call me Father.' The import of it all stunned him over and over again. His knees were wobbly, and the pit of his stomach felt as if it had dropped lower.
Telling himself to quit being tense, Anakin wondered how much longer he would be made to wait. He sat, anticipating, rehearsing what he would say to the man who offered to help them. Fondly, Anakin remembered that he had not kept his lovely Padme waiting long when he had returned from Grievous' cruiser. He had not seen her for such a long time, and needing to had pressed in on him, whispering that he must not keep her waiting one moment longer.
On his arrival, he had been paid a hero's welcome. That had mattered little to him. The battle to pluck the Chancellor had been hard fought. Dooku was no more at Palpatine's request since the
Chancellor had insisted that Darth Tyranus was too dangerous to live. At that split second of indecision, Anakin had seen it his mentoring friend's way and had ended the Sith's life.
Very soon, the misshapen Grievous would be dead too. He would never get his monstrous hands on Palpatine ever again, the young Jedi vowed. The Chancellor's safety was his personal responsibility. Anakin saw it no other way.
His heartbeats quickened as he kept thinking. Tears welled in his eyes. He thought back to his beautiful wife and her delicate disclosure she had made in the Atrium that would change their lives
forever. He glowed when he recalled how they had divorced themselves long enough from the turbulent politics of the day to find rebirth in what was thriving in her womb.
Padme was truly his. She was the woman he had always dreamed of possessing. Their wedding day on Naboo had been the happiest day of his life, and that included the day that he had passed his Trials of Knighthood. She would be the perfect mother, already nurturing their pride and joy within her. The compelling thought made him smile. She was an instinctive nurturer.
The barest nudge of provocation transported him back to his stepfather's partly subterranean home on Tatooine. He thought about that grimy workshop where she had comforted him after the slaughter that he had visited on his mother's murderers. She had applied her words like salve to his wounded conscience, nursing him back to sanity. Her honesty laced with love had reclaimed him from madness. She had rescued him from sundry stylizations of mania many times. Her love was his salvation, and she was his obsession.
By the Force, they were really going to be a family, one that was whole. He swore that he would be the best father a little boy or girl could have. Anakin could think of nothing else. The more he
thought, the surer he felt about the rightness of his decision that would guarantee their happiness for all time. The loss of his mother was his fault. He should have been there for her, to save her from the blight that had robbed her of life. An overwhelming sadness rushed in on him, redounding within, that Shmi would never know her grandchild. His mother would have been a superlative grandmother!
This compulsion of his had evolved into a grueling taskmaster. By the Force, he must save his dear wife from the brutality that had ripped his mother from him. His dreams about Padme dying while giving birth to their baby were conclusive; she was going to die. What other recourse was there? There was a way to save her, and her salvation depended upon Palpatine.
Padme thought that she was helping her husband by telling him to forget about his agonizing dreams. "Just like that?" Anakin would mildly, but firmly, scold. Regardless of what she said, dismissing them was impossible. His dreams were the future. They were the truth. Again, anger billowed in Anakin like a dark sail on a barge.
Pressing his lips together tightly, sullenly, he glared at the sculpted piece of Coruscantan art resting upon its support. The rigidity of his posture was the measure of his ire. He was a furnace
of rage. Dark, ominous feelings washed through him. It galled him that he lacked the power to save her. Palpatine must help him accomplish his heart's desire. This time Anakin was determined to be way ahead of the future.
Palpatine liked to stress that he was truly an ally. He was going to be given an ample opportunity to prove it. Having spent yet another long, fitful night tossing, turning and yammering for Padme not to die, Anakin knew that he could not go on this way. It was time to put his friend to the test and hear him out.
Palpatine's words of advice whispered to him yet again. "Not from a Jedi..."
"The Jedi have their priorities, and I have mine," Anakin inflexibly reiterated for his own benefit in this executive setting. He was here to appeal to Palpatine, asking him to teach him how he could save Padme. Despite Padme's notions that Obi-Wan was on their side, and the logical one to confide in, sadly, she was naive. Obi-Wan couldn't help them. He needed to be kept in the dark about Anakin's choosing Padme over the Jedi Order.
Palpatine perceived the feculent things that lurked within Anakin, and never reproached him for them. Obi-Wan would loath him for them. With each passing day, his impossible feelings divided his loyalties. He was bedeviled by what had ever made him feel that Obi-Wan was the closest thing that he had to a real father. Under his breath, Anakin muttered, "The Chancellor wants the best for me. What is best for me is my wife and the life she carries. My first loyalty is to them!"
Anakin's mind whirled and he began thinking about Palpatine's vision of crushing all who stood in the way of unity. This weary conflict was sapping the life out of the Republic and straining loyalties to the breaking point. This wasteful conflict needed to be over, and if that required Palpatine's commanding the Senate with sterner control, along with distrusting the Jedi, then so be it.
Yawning, and wanting to stretch his legs, Anakin leaned away from the wall his back rested against. He rose from the padded stock bench and strolled past the invisi-support mirror, pausing long enough to study the scar that was burned into his facial flesh. Gingerly, he fingered it as though the injury were recent. In part, he had earned the disfigurement saving Obi-Wan from another brush with certain death. The thought made him frown.
Conflicted, Anakin sighed, hating the spot he had been placed in. Why must he choose between his friendship with Palpatine and the Jedi? Why was Obi-Wan so stubborn? "Chancellor Palpatine is a good man. Why can't you see that?"
The Force rippled through him, and he recalled how quickly Palpatine would remind him that good depended on a certain point of view.
"What makes you think Palpatine cannot be trusted? I trust him. That should be good enough to satisfy you; to satisfy all of you. Or, is it that none of you trust me? Not even you, Obi-Wan. With
each day that passes, I feel your mistrust strengthen...your fear of me too."
Predictably, anger sparked within him, hot and consuming. He was on the Council at Palpatine's behest. He was no Master in their eyes. What arrogance the Jedi Masters had, wanting him to commit espionage for them. They had asked by way of Obi-Wan, not having had the forthrightness to ask it of him themselves.
The Chancellor's view was right on the mark. The Jedi thought only about themselves just as the Sith did. Spying on Palpatine went against his grain, although Anakin had to admit that he was watching Palpatine more closely since Obi-Wan had made the solicitation.
'...Be patient, Anakin, the Council will acknowledge you as a full Jedi Master in due course...'
Granted, Obi-Wan meant well with his earnest assurances, but...
Anakin took stock, and he homed in on Palpatine again. The Chancellor's knowledge of Sith legends was vast. Why did he know so much about the Sith? That was a good question which Anakin often mulled over. Clearly, it was evident that he enjoyed holding his position as Supreme Chancellor, despite his showy displays of humility in having been retained as such.
When pared down to the core, everyone thought about themselves, didn't they? It was called self-preservation. Regardless of his modest expressions where his office was concerned, Palpatine was no exception. He enjoyed his position, and the power that went with it.
"We do what we must to survive after all," Anakin said in resignation. "The Jedi too. They have their faults. Of course they do. I have never heard one of them claim that they were perfect, let alone infallible, not even Yoda."
Shrugging, he started then, turning away from the mirror, as though something had startled him. That provoking voice...there it was again, echoing, sounding familiar.
"...Anakin...Anakin..."
Straining, he waited at the ready, listening intently. Silence intervened, and he shook his head. This was no time to let his imagination run wild. Turning on his heel, he elected to wait at the
doors of the Chancellor's impressive office. Impatient, and permitting his agitation to dictate, he leaned against the barriers, pressing his ear against one of the two doors. Hearing was no cinch,
owing to the barrier's thickness. As his hearing grew more attuned though, it was clear that speaking was definitely going on.
"What the?" Anakin audibly wondered, stunned. Amazement coupled with disbelief forced him to moan. Recovering enough to speak, he uttered what sounded like a groan, "Jar-Jar! Why the blazing suns of Tatooine are you with Chancellor Palpatine? What could you possibly be discussing with the most important man on Coruscant? You?"
The bungling, well-meaning but consistently linguistically-challenged Jar-Jar Binks was taking up Palpatine's valuable time. Snatches of delicate recollections flooded Anakin, hitting him full force. His initial belittling thoughts surrounding the "pathetic life form," as Obi-Wan had once obliquely referred to Jar-Jar as, easily gave way to fondness. Anakin's attitude, being deeply influenced by sentimental feelings, mellowed.
'Jar-Jar has come a very long way,' Anakin considered in wordless counterpoint. 'He serves Naboo well in the Senate as a Senior Representative. He must be seeing to some Loyalist Committee matter with the Chancellor.'
Even now, it was impossible for Anakin to divorce the sincere Gungan from the noble man whom Jar-Jar had followed into Watto's cluttered shop to poke around that fateful day on Tatooine. "Hit the nose," Anakin softly uttered as a little smile in remembrance gently found its way to his lips.
During the initial phase of Naboo's invasion by the Trade Federation, this great man had saved Bink's life, as Obi-Wan had once told him. Anakin had rescued the Gungan from his ruthless nemesis Sebulba the Dugg. With a sigh, Anakin closed his eyes, growing tearful once again, and he was forced to remember how this regal man had seized Jar-Jar's offending tongue in an effort to teach the erratic Gungan some table manners in his 'cozy' home. Profound reverence coursed through Anakin. A feeling akin to deification impelled him to speak the fallen hero's name.
"Qui-Gon..." It was a true sough, and Anakin hung his head. A searing warmth gripped his heart. The memory of Jinn's words of commendation about his being hard to fool overwhelmed him. When Anakin opened his eyes, several tears leaked from them. "Why did you have to die?" He never stopped asking that question since abiding love for Qui-Gon still burned within him. "You could have taught me how to stop people from dying. I know you could have. There was nothing you could not do. You left me to be trained by Obi-Wan, but you were the one who should have trained me." Heaving another heavy sigh, he vowed, "One day I will know how to stop people from dying, Qui-Gon, and that stupid question will never ever come up again. I miss you so much, dear Master. I will use what I learn for good, I promise."
Jinn had remained the standard that Anakin held all of the Jedi to. Jinn's genuine kindness, his sweeping goodness and outright compassion had imprinted Anakin, bestowing a lasting impression. Strength had welled and flowed from the paragon, he being the living Force incarnate, to Anakin's way of thinking. Their time together had been frightfully short.
Effortlessly, Anakin thought back to his formative years. For a brief period during the war, Ki-Adi-Mundi had taken over as Master when it was presumed that Obi-Wan had been killed. Owing to his binary brain, Ki-Adi-Mundi was extremely logical and insightful, as Cereans were prone to be. He could be inexorably aloof, but Anakin admired him for his ability to weigh decisions uniquely when it came to matters of the Force. The Cerean's bravery was exceptional and inspirational. Anakin had expanded his perceptions much under this Master's tutelage, and the young man had grown close to the replacement. Obi-Wan had not been killed, of course, which had obliged Ki-Adi-Mundi to return Anakin to his rightful Master, much to Anakin's tacit lament.
Mentally shaking himself, Anakin began to pace, submerging himself in even deeper thought. Feathery impressions and coalescing faces of Jedi Masters sifted in and out of his mind, tugging at his heartstrings.
Bemused, the engrossed young Jedi cerebrally reached out until there was...Plo Koon, with his protective goggles and antiox mask, looming large in his psyche. The fearless warrior, like many Kel Dorans, tended to see most issues in black and white. His sense of justice was keen, though sometimes he was judged as being ruthless. His telepathic abilities staggered the imagination. His expert knowledge of physics, aligned with his use of the Force, gave him power to alter any environment he chose to modify. What talent Plo possessed! Many were the times that Anakin had seen him create small whirlwinds at will, materialize dense fog over a limited area, freeze sizeable ponds and compact lakes. Once, Anakin had even witnessed a feat which had absolutely floored him. Plo had raised, then in the blink of an eye, he lowered the temperature of the environ sufficiently to disable the enemy.
Indisputably, Plo excelled when it came to telekinetic power, adeptly maneuvering objects without having to face them. What Anakin liked best about him was his willingness to drop everything and give him his undivided attention regardless of the concern. The mesmeric Kel Doran was never too busy for Anakin Skywalker.
Anakin aimed antagonized eyes at the doors barring him from Palpatine, raking the imposing barriers. His wanting to see the Chancellor had been announced some time ago. Why should this fatherly man, who systematically reminded him of how he had befriended him, keep him waiting here like this? Were they really as close as he claimed?
Heady anger soured Anakin, and his incendiary style of thinking focused on Mace Windu, the Korunnai human from Haruun Kal. Regarded second only to Yoda, Mace was a visionary. He saw the minutia of the shatterpoints in the Force. It was second nature for Windu to perceive how they would affect all of his future actions as well as analyzing the vulnerabilities of his opponents.
Anakin's relationship with Mace was stormy, to say the least...
'I've tried, Master Windu, but my shortcomings are what define me in your eyes. You believe that I am the sum total of what you believe I lack...'
Anakin was keenly aware that Mace, the only Master to thoroughly master the deadly form of combat, Vaapad, had deep-seated reservations about him. Despite Anakin's good deeds and intentions, Mace's true feelings of distrust and suspicion regarding the young man from Tatooine shone through in the Force. When Anakin had been younger, the eclectic warrior's attitude toward him saddened him. It had been frustrating never being able to measure up. With childhood's loss, Mace's prejudice had only lent more fuel to Anakin's anger.
One day, Anakin recalled, he had asked Mace if he would school him in Vaapad.
Rolling his dark eyes, Mace had flatly told him, "Out of the question, young Skywalker. Your challenge is gaining mastery over that which lures you. First you must concede that the Dark Side attracts you. Unless you spurn its appeal, and yield wholly to the light, challenged you will remain."
"I remain what I am meant for," Anakin stridently carped to the empty waiting chamber, "...greatness! Thank you, Master, for teaching me clarity and locus of purpose. Realizing that I will be a constant disappointment to you, no matter what I do, keeps me focused. I do what I must to protect what is all important to me, Master Windu...my family."
His jaw set, Anakin fought hard against what he felt was twisting him up inside, dragging him down...failure.
Angrily, he succumbed, despite his staunch resistance to cave. The moisture on his cheeks confirmed what he grappled with, and was adamant about never admitting. He wanted the Masters to accept him for who he was. Though their smiles of approval were often faint, he hungered for them. He paraded around as though he would be better off without them and their high and mighty criticism, but bare bones reality was a bantha on his back.
He burned for their love...
Anakin squeezed the heavy lids of his eyes shut, demanding that he stop crying like some gutless child. He was hardly that! He was a Jedi Master regardless of the Masters' not making him one officially. He was going to be their greatest.
Movingly then, the sage wizened Grand Master of the Jedi Order materialized in Anakin's mind's eye. With subtle shadings, the Force calmed the young man's tangled, embittering feelings which often kept him at odds with himself, and largely with everyone.
"Master..." Anakin breathed in reverence with a slight choke in his voice. Yes, that tone was reserved for Yoda. True, Obi-Wan was his teacher, the Master to whom he had been entrusted to, but Yoda was 'thee Master.' He sought out Yoda whenever his troubles were far too much for him to bear alone. The diminutive Jedi Master was the closest to being flawless. That in and of itself wasn't why Anakin felt more rooted to Yoda than any of the others. The sagacious gnome inspired him.
Constantly, Palpatine insisted that one day, Anakin would be the most powerful Jedi ever, more powerful than Yoda even. That thought was appealing and staggering at the same time.
Again, he grappled with what gnawed at him. "Do you know, Master Yoda? Do you know about Padme and me? I feel that you do. Sometimes, I feel that you already know, but you want me to come to you. You want me to reveal my true self by telling you face-to-face, even though my telling will mean the end for me with all of you."
Yoda had told him to let go of everything that he feared to lose. Anakin frowned, intently wishing that the well-meaning Master had never advised him to do that. If he lost Padme, he would be truly and utterly lost.
Anakin's turbulent thoughts carried him to a place he disliked visiting. Despite his resistance, he thought...in all the time that he had known the Chancellor before the loss of his mother, why hadn't
Palpatine made the offer of saving Shmi? The few times that he had broached the subject, Palpatine had had the most elusive way of not allowing himself to be pinned down. He seemed to relish constantly reminding Anakin of how his destruction of the Sand People was fully justified. Revenge had galvanized the seething Jedi to take the proper action in that instance. Back aboard Grevious' vessel, following Tyranus' destruction, Palpatine had seamlessly made the connection between Anakin's exacting revenge from Dooku for severing his hand.
"What aren't you telling me, old friend?" Anakin, putting himself through his mental wringer, loudly puzzled over. "Have you always been truthful with me?" It harassed him when he began doubting
Palpatine. From time to time though, he had doubts, despite the Chancellor being his confidant, and Anakin being his. Surprisingly, one of Obi-Wan's pet insights captured Anakin's mind, and though he tried to squirm free, Anakin could not.
'...Truth is a certain point of view...'
Muttering, Anakin said, "Palpatine's belief is that good is a certain point of view. Obi-Wan believes that truth is. Could it be more confusing? What will I tell my little one?"
Dismissing all of the animosity associated with Kenobi, Anakin closed his eyes, thinking back to when he and Obi-Wan had been introduced. Pride had shone in Qui-Gon's eyes over his young apprentice. Deep commitment had been in Obi-Wan's, and something that Anakin knew the younger man had been unable to conceal, ingrained affection.
Anakin lowered his pounding head to cradle it in his hands, wanting to yell at the top of his lungs. Breathing heavily, he permitted his thoughts to carry him where they inexorably led whenever his heart and head conspired against his darker mood. What were his true feelings for Obi-Wan Kenobi? Attachment was forbidden, so where did that leave room for abiding affection?
He never hesitated whenever Obi-Wan's life was in jeopardy. He never did, and his wondering why always led him to the same conclusion. As sure as Padme was the love of his life, Obi-Wan meant a great many things to him. Denying his true feelings was futile; Obi-Wan said that denial was the surest course of least resistance.
Instinctively, Anakin had ignored the Chancellor's callous advice to leave Obi-Wan behind, forgetting about him. Abandoning him aboard Grievous' stricken Federation Cruiser, plummeting to Coruscant, was cardinally unthinkable! Single-mindedly, Anakin had replied, "His fate will be our own."
Thinking back on what he had said furnished Anakin with a droll smile. "Over our dead bodies, Chancellor. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Jedi through and through, but he was my Master, and I owe him my life too. He cares," Anakin audibly acknowledged. "I know he does, despite his hardness when he believes I am being defiant about Jedi protocol. I feel his deep concern for me. He truly has been like my father."
'I love you, Obi-Wan, even though it is forbidden,' the bemused married man wordlessly confessed with a staunch sense of pride.
Chaotic feelings transported Anakin back to Cato Neimoidia's western hemisphere, which had been shrouded in the thick gloom of dusk on that day when Anakin had rescued Obi-Wan yet again. The fighting had been especially fierce, the casualties numerous. The sketchy image of the stalky battle droid, Obi-Wan's would-be killer, gradually took form in Anakin's mind's eye. Admittedly, his blade had swept far too close for comfort, but Obi-Wan had ducked in the nick of time. The point had been well made that Anakin's quick thinking and response had saved Obi-Wan so that they could stand together to fight another day.
If Obi-Wan needed saving, Anakin knew up and down, backward and forward, that he would save him, just as Obi-Wan would surely return the favor. "They haven't invented the legions of battle droids that can defeat us!" Anakin declared in ardent satisfaction. He smiled at himself in the mirror. "We're the duo to beat, and they never will!" he softly crowed.
Thoughts collided and overturned in his mind as Anakin took his eyes from his reflection and trained them on the office doors. Squinting in agitated conjecture over when he would be granted admittance, he returned to the Genosian hangar with Obi-Wan, preparing to battle Dooku. With reflection came greater discretion, as Obi-Wan often reminded him. For the most part, Anakin had come to terms with his rashness having cost him his hand. What always stood out was what Dooku had nearly succeeded in doing if he had not intervened.
"Admittedly," Anakin muttered, "I killed Dooku partly out of revenge for his severing my hand...but I also ended his life because he had been intent on killing Obi-Wan, and he almost succeeded." Stroking that murky insight always made him bristle. "When the Chancellor ordered me to, 'do it,' I hesitated, but I remembered how he nearly murdered you, Obi-Wan, betraying you, his former Padawan. That forced my hand. I had no choice. I made him pay for his betrayal!"
Yoda's venerable counsel leaped to Anakin's conscience. The green-tinged wellspring of vast intelligence could not make this any finer a point. "Choose you must. The easy path is seductive; its power to deceive, limitless. Fear of loss inevitably leads to the Dark Side."
"The easy path?" Anakin irritably questioned, searching for what tore at him from all sides. "There is nothing easy about anything! I need answers, and having them soon would be great!" Answers that would satisfy him were as elusive as trying to catch moonbeams on Tatooine with the naked eye. The Dark Side transformed too much of what he sought into ambiguity. Mordantly, it clouded his perceptions, from within and without.
Yet, at critical junctures such as these, illuminating light fell upon his path, granting him clarity.
"What if I broached the matter of power over death with the Masters?" Anakin asked, challenging himself to broaden his perceptions. "I know how Palpatine feels on the subject, but I owe it to myself to test them out. Depending on their responses, choosing whom to believe rests solely with me. They are the Jedi, and despite Palpatine's insistence, they have taught me more about doing good for others than he ever has." Anakin strengthened his smile and nodded, liking the tangibility of his decisiveness.
Enough was enough. He was tired of waiting for Palpatine to get around to seeing him. He had thought that this would not take too long, but he was so wrong. This was taking an eternity with his being granted admittance nowhere in sight. Before his thoughts incited him further, Anakin's comlink hauled him up from the dregs of his present state of mind.
Obi-Wan was speaking.
"Yes, Master, I understand. I was informed about the Utapaun diplomatic packet being intercepted by the Republic's elite intelligence, confirming that Grievous is on Utapau." He deemed it wiser to keep silent about Palpatine having told him about this at the opera. These days, his merely mentioning the Chancellor's name tended to tick Obi-Wan off. "I will be in Council chambers momentarily." Anakin waited for Obi-Wan's reply before adding positive sentiments. "We will end this war soon with either Grievous' capture or his death. I'm on my way."
Kenobi aborted the contact. Tantalizing thoughts of Grievous being vanquished excited Anakin. Gripped by conviction as his caresses lingered on the haft of his lightsaber, Anakin said, "Freedom will reign. I will request of the Jedi that they charge me with leading the campaign against Grievous. By the Force, I won't fail them!"
Straightening, Anakin visually appraised himself in the mirror. Full-fledged Jedi Master or no, he was being summoned for this important session, one of the most important of the war, by all rights. His counselors, these fatherly figures who had been instrumental in his mentoring, would sanction that Grievous, the perverse amalgam of metal and flesh, be finished off, once and for all.
On his way out of the waiting area, he glowered, his eyes drubbed the office doors. "I'm out of here. Our talk will have to wait, Chancellor," Anakin contemptuously tossed over his shoulder. "Keep me waiting," he reprimanded the absent politician. "No more. You'll wait for me. I'm wanted by my Masters. They need me," he bragged, sensing how great his pride was, having spoken those words.
His place was with the Jedi who had given him a home. Palpatine had never made the offer, despite his repeated overtures of how fond he was of him. For the moment, he eschewed the Masters' reluctance to authenticate the depth of their commitment and attachment to him. Probing, as never before, Anakin sensed the special place he held within each of their hearts. Fondling and savoring this unique bond that he experienced with them all, he beamed. His smile reached into his eyes, making them shine.
"I'm coming, Masters." He was impassioned, and eager to be in their humbling presence. Respectfully, Anakin breathed, "Fathers." He had said it loud enough for his venerable tutors to hear him pledge his fidelity to the good that they stood for, the good that could still save him from the insidious blindness the Dark Side panted to envelop him in.
Would Anakin embrace what these learned Masters had espoused ages ago? Would he immerse himself in the totality of what goodness and truth meant, according to the Jedi's credo?
The Masters refused to scrutinize the future for that answer.
End