When You Come Home

-52-

Father did text back.

Anakin wasn't sure if it would have been better if he hadn't.

"Come 2 my office."

It was better than the dry "yes" that he had half-expected. But it was far from the excitement, relief, and joy that he had fantasised about. That he knew Obi-Wan would have received, had he ever returned.

But he was no Obi-Wan.

So what he got was as good as he would get.

So of course, he responded with a cheery, "sounds good, i'll c u soon," punctuated by the first smiley emoji he found. Father had replied at 9:01 exactly — probably just after he had started the day by sitting at his desk — so Anakin knew exactly where to find him. He was just digging through the wardrobe of rather expensive clothing that Palapatine had offered for him to borrow when there was a knock at the door. His wild mind for some reason thought it was Father, suddenly overcome with the realisation that his stepson had finally returned home, and had rushed to come see him, bursting through the door, overwhelmed with relief and joy at Anakin simply existing and dropping everything to hug him, to see him, to touch him, to look upon him one more time. To hold him at arm's length and to scrutinise him. To check out his little cuts and scratches while Anakin laughed and pushed back out of embarrassment, telling him that he was fine. To smile at Anakin and tell him how proud he was. To love him, like the father he had never had. To fill the void that Anakin had always known was there, but had somehow never been aware of. Because Anakin had never had a dad. He'd had a father, sure, but not a dad. The best guy figure he'd had in his life was Obi-Wan – not that he was complaining. Anakin had never truly realized how much he wanted, hoped for, needed Father's approval, but something about coming back, about the idea of reuniting with him, stirred a desire in him so deep that he wasn't sure how to deal with it.

But he had thought far too long, and now the door was opening, and it was not Father's hopeful, tearful face peering around, but Palpatine's — without the tears.

"Is everything alright? I've knocked a few times now, but I didn't hear an answer." When Anakin didn't immediately respond, Palpatine pushed open the door and crossed the room swiftly. He put his hands on Anakin's shoulders, twisting him to look him in the eye. "Are you okay? You're not sick? I can get a doctor ...," he was already turning to hail someone.

"No, no, I'm fine," Anakin interrupted him with a shy laugh. "Thank you, no, I'm totally fine. I was just lost in thought."

Palpatine's face softened, and he let one of his hands fall to his side. The other squeezed Anakin's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm glad to hear that. I'll admit I was a little worried!" He took a step back, smiling warmly. "I only knocked to see how you were this morning. Do you have any plans for today? Do you need a driver? I have a menagerie of staff at my disposal who frankly get paid too much for how little work they do," he added with a hearty laugh that Anakin couldn't help but smile at.

"Thank you, Your Excellency —"

"If you're comfortable," he interrupted, "call me something more informal — my closer acquaintances do. Mr. P, Palpatine, Palps, even Sheev, if you wanted! I don't like to feel so superior to someone who is so clearly talented, despite his young age."

"Oh, th-thank you," Anakin stammered but couldn't think fast enough to add on any new nickname. It would be far too awkward, anyway. "Thanks, I ... I actually do have something on today. I'm meeting with my stepfather."

"Ah, yes," he responded slowly, "Qui-Gon Jinn. I've met him a few times." He paused as though about to add something extra but then changed his mind and kept silent.