[ The stew-for-two is bubbling away on the stove, the dark, herby broth swimming with vegetables, most of them softened from the cooking process. The meat is Alkaali, a medium-sized, grassing mammal native to the planes further south on Nuralee. It gives the broth a weightiness that makes it feel more filling. Consequently, they have portions enough for tomorrow, too. Anakin picks up a small spoonful for a taste-test, mostly to ascertain that it's somewhere in the region of what he thinks he's going for. His taste buds, as everything else, are not too functional and honestly, they weren't anywhere near his list of priorities while he orbited Kamino.
It's fine, though. He thinks Claude will like it.
He glances sideways as Claude fixes up his caf - something he's become extremely proficient at - and puts out two bowls on the wooden counter top, expecting Sabé to pick up her own portion when she'd done with her perimeter walks. He's offered to do them for her. It didn't go down very well.
Good thing he's useful for other things, then. ]
Alkaali broth. I had to mix and match - we're nearly out of supplies.
[ He stirs the pot a couple of times before pouring a bowl for Claude, picking it up along with a wooden spoon. He turns the heat down on the broth, leaving it to simmer quietly behind him. Putting the bowl down in front of Claude, he finds his own seat and folds his hands around the cup. He slips off his mask and takes a sip, eyes drifting shut for a moment at the taste. It's just a nudge, really, and nothing like he used to drink it but it's caf. It's sharing what constitutes as a meal for him now, with Claude. Not alone.
[ To have Anakin back like this, preparing food for him like he did that first morning after their first night together, is surreal enough that Claude takes a moment to just -- be present in it as Anakin puts his bowl down in front of him and eases down on the chair opposite with the caf that Claude has made, because it's still the only foodstuff he knows how to make. Privilege showing, he knows, but there hasn't been time. Or energy. In a number of combinations of the two. Now, there's Anakin and Claude gets Alkaali broth with semi-fresh vegetables and herbs, spicy the way Anakin has made food from the beginning. He'd gone a round through their storage this morning himself, he'd seen they'd need to go to the market soon to stock up. Usually that's been Claude's job, with Sabé making a list with things they'd need. Now, with Anakin here, they're sharing that job. Providing.
Taking a spoonful of soup, he looks over at Anakin while blowing on it to cool it down slightly before swallowing it down. Kriff, he was hungry, he always gets like this in the evenings, eating only sparsely throughout the day, just because there are so many other things, even laying low comes with work, huh? Who'd have kriffing thought. It isn't a galaxy at peace they're hiding out in.
He keeps thinking about Padmé's emergency stopover. Their temporary visitors. There's no use in hiding it from Anakin any longer, even if he doesn't use his powers on Claude, which he doesn't, he'll be able to tell. He's highly sensitive to these things. Claude knows, he's learned. And he respects that. He respects Anakin's sensitivities, the alertness they both carry with them now.
So, curling his fingers around the bowl to feel the heat of its contents, he looks directly at Anakin who's enjoying his caf, eyes closed and Claude hates having to cut through that, these rare moments of calm, hates being the bringer of bad news.
If you can really call it that, four clones trying to survive, the same as everyone. ]
Talked to Padmé today. [ Anakin knows this, it's just a preface. Claude waits only a second, then he just says it like it is. ] Four deserting clones will be dropped off here tomorrow. Temporary housing. Just until their contact has secured them free passage.
[ Talked to Padmé says Claude, having swallowed his food without any signs of distress and Anakin has a second to feel a burst of satisfaction - he doesn't really know the herbs on this planet very well yet and with his reduced sensory systems, it's not exactly easy to cook - before the rest of the man's sentence lands. He blinks, putting down his cup. The caf tastes slightly bitter on his tongue, enough to be noticeable. He thinks about the quiet around them, the shadows stretching languidly across the floorboards and the sound of Claude's breathing when he sleeps. He swallows something that isn't really there. ]
I see.
[ Clone deserters? From the Empire. Meaning either they've been put to tasks below their skill levels or they're fleeing from what remains of the 501st, a thought that makes his chest tighten. He looks down at his caf, watching the liquid swirl around slowly within his cup. ]
Some of them worked under me, you know. The clones.
[ He looks up at the other man, feeling out of breath all of a sudden. Quickly, he snatches his mask and secures it across his face, his gaze never leaving Claude's. He wonders whether it's anyone he knows. Whether they marched with him on the Jedi Temple, though as far as he knows, not too many of the original legion remains. ]
Do you know - are they running from...
[ He can't finish the sentence. From me, he might say but that's not exactly what he means. Instead, he trails off, his fingers clutching the cup a bit uselessly. ]
[ Claude waits for the whole vast context of it to sink in, watching as Anakin secures his breahting mask once more and looks at him over the top of it, a little bit like an animal caught in a flashlight. His fingers remain gently curved around his bowl that he raises to his lips to drink the broth out of, like water, wiping at his mouth afterward, droplets having gotten caught in his beard, which he is slowly getting used to, mostly due to Anakin's fondness for it. It's a painful reminder, about everything they're running from as well, but also the fact that everything they're running from is to some degree also of Anakin's doing. They have their moments where they can forget, this isn't one of them, evidently.
Claude shakes his head, not as a way to say no, not from you, but to imply that it's bigger than just that, just him. These clones are running from the Empire, trying to put them out of commission entirely, leave them to their own fates, unaided. No one can bear to stand alone these days, not even the old Clone War veterans who've faced so much already. Not even Anakin, who has the same.
So, Claude places his bowl back on the table, holding Anakin's gaze, bluer than blue, and frowns, picking up his spoon with his free hand, gesturing lightly with it for a moment. ]
Not from you as much as from the lack of you, I guess. The Empire isn't a place for clones, when there's no one left to favour their skillset. [ A small pause. It isn't said accusatorily, but with a soft sense of... They have to address this. It can't be left untouched. ] The Empire isn't a place for the marginalised in general. It's the opposite.
[ They used to talk about these things, before, right? They used to talk about the plight of the people who had too little, compared to the powerful who had too much - and too little empathy for the rest. They used to discuss these things, and Anakin went and worked for its perfect embodiment, the unfairness of the galaxy.
Like the loveless parent can't pass love on to their child. After all, how would they know? But Claude is here to teach him. Still. ]
[ He nods, his body curling in on itself somewhat as he crosses his legs under the table, metal screeching against metal. He holds onto his cup like it's a lifeline for a moment, though he doesn't look away from Claude who isn't looking away from him. For some reason, he still isn't. The other man is determined to hold onto him, it seems, through every awful little detail; even when Anakin has managed to help create the exact kind of world that he's been fighting against his whole life. That they promised each other they'd challenge. It feels like yet another betrayal - because it is.
Claude's voice is gentle, still, and Anakin can listen, at least. ]
I thought as long as you lived, we could do anything. The price didn't matter because...
[ His voice is quiet, scratchy behind the mask. He takes another breath, then removes it once more. He feels a persistent urge to defend himself, like an itch that you can scratch until you bleed, until there's nothing left of you and still, it won't stop. He resists. It's not what either of them wants. ]
But in the end, what really saved you? A good man, doing what he promised to do. [ He finally picks up his caf and sips it, straightening in his seat as he swallows it down. ] I just left them, Claude. My army. I haven't even looked to see what happened afterwards, what'll happen to them.
[ Meeting Claude's eyes, he gives him a slight smile. ]
[ Yes, Anakin just left them, because at the time he had eye for nothing else, he hardly even had eye for himself. Claude won't tell him it was good, that it was the fair choice to make, but maybe it was necessary - to get here, to this point where he's less bound and less trapped inside himself. Feminism isn't about ignoring the little steps on the journey in favour of taking down the mountain, both the mountain and the little steps there are equally important, for different reasons, they end at the same outcome.
They talked about that, too, once.
Swallowing heavily, he eats a couple of spoonfuls more of the heavy broth that tastes like wildlife and forest, it's good. And Anakin is taking care of him which counts for something, even when he still needs to extend the same kindness to himself. Claude can understand how it must be hard finding that forgiveness in yourself.
But there's honestly nothing to forgive, what happened can't be forgiven, only understood.
He puts the spoon down, reaches across the table and pushes his fingertips to Anakin's knuckles, knowing he'll feel him in input and sensory translations. That's the barrier they have to live with now, some things can't go the direct route any longer. ]
There's still time, Anakin. Rex is their contact. He'll be dropping them off. [ Claude knows he needs to be completely forthcoming now, not to pressure Anakin needlessly. ] You don't have to do anything you're not ready for, but you're not out of options.
[ He pauses at Claude's initial comment. You do, too. He does? Well, yes, obviously - at the moment, he's stuck with very little to do because he's passed on Project Stardust to other hands, hands that hold better connections, better possibilities. But that doesn't mean he can't do anything else, does it? Potentially, he could offer his assistance in getting the men who used to fight for him settled in new lives, new identities. It would be fitting and his mind is already trawling through possible ways to make it happen in the practical sense when Claude adds -
Oh.
Oh, so. Yes.
He really needs to remember that he doesn't exist in a vacuum. Neither do his choices. Rex is their contact so that means either doing his own thing parallel to this operation which would be extremely idiotic, considering how limited his own range of movement has become over the past months - or finding a way to work with Rex, Rex who - even with a chip in his head - managed not to betray his own principles. He imagines meeting him now, like this, and immediately loses all interest in his caf. He isn't certain whether or not his system can, in fact, throw anything up anymore but it definitely feels like he might find out if he takes another sip.
He sighs. Loudly.
Then, he looks at Claude's fingers, resting lightly against his knuckles. Back at him, who's so busy concerning himself with Anakin that he's forgetting himself, the way he tends to - with his causes, with people in general who need help. He remembers how willing he'd been to lose his life for this, back on Mustafar. It seems like ages ago to Anakin but it isn't, not really. He covers the other man's hand with his own and nods towards the bowl. ]
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no subject
It's fine, though. He thinks Claude will like it.
He glances sideways as Claude fixes up his caf - something he's become extremely proficient at - and puts out two bowls on the wooden counter top, expecting Sabé to pick up her own portion when she'd done with her perimeter walks. He's offered to do them for her. It didn't go down very well.
Good thing he's useful for other things, then. ]
Alkaali broth. I had to mix and match - we're nearly out of supplies.
[ He stirs the pot a couple of times before pouring a bowl for Claude, picking it up along with a wooden spoon. He turns the heat down on the broth, leaving it to simmer quietly behind him. Putting the bowl down in front of Claude, he finds his own seat and folds his hands around the cup. He slips off his mask and takes a sip, eyes drifting shut for a moment at the taste. It's just a nudge, really, and nothing like he used to drink it but it's caf. It's sharing what constitutes as a meal for him now, with Claude. Not alone.
So in other words, delicious. ]
no subject
Taking a spoonful of soup, he looks over at Anakin while blowing on it to cool it down slightly before swallowing it down. Kriff, he was hungry, he always gets like this in the evenings, eating only sparsely throughout the day, just because there are so many other things, even laying low comes with work, huh? Who'd have kriffing thought. It isn't a galaxy at peace they're hiding out in.
He keeps thinking about Padmé's emergency stopover. Their temporary visitors. There's no use in hiding it from Anakin any longer, even if he doesn't use his powers on Claude, which he doesn't, he'll be able to tell. He's highly sensitive to these things. Claude knows, he's learned. And he respects that. He respects Anakin's sensitivities, the alertness they both carry with them now.
So, curling his fingers around the bowl to feel the heat of its contents, he looks directly at Anakin who's enjoying his caf, eyes closed and Claude hates having to cut through that, these rare moments of calm, hates being the bringer of bad news.
If you can really call it that, four clones trying to survive, the same as everyone. ]
Talked to Padmé today. [ Anakin knows this, it's just a preface. Claude waits only a second, then he just says it like it is. ] Four deserting clones will be dropped off here tomorrow. Temporary housing. Just until their contact has secured them free passage.
no subject
I see.
[ Clone deserters? From the Empire. Meaning either they've been put to tasks below their skill levels or they're fleeing from what remains of the 501st, a thought that makes his chest tighten. He looks down at his caf, watching the liquid swirl around slowly within his cup. ]
Some of them worked under me, you know. The clones.
[ He looks up at the other man, feeling out of breath all of a sudden. Quickly, he snatches his mask and secures it across his face, his gaze never leaving Claude's. He wonders whether it's anyone he knows. Whether they marched with him on the Jedi Temple, though as far as he knows, not too many of the original legion remains. ]
Do you know - are they running from...
[ He can't finish the sentence. From me, he might say but that's not exactly what he means. Instead, he trails off, his fingers clutching the cup a bit uselessly. ]
no subject
Claude shakes his head, not as a way to say no, not from you, but to imply that it's bigger than just that, just him. These clones are running from the Empire, trying to put them out of commission entirely, leave them to their own fates, unaided. No one can bear to stand alone these days, not even the old Clone War veterans who've faced so much already. Not even Anakin, who has the same.
So, Claude places his bowl back on the table, holding Anakin's gaze, bluer than blue, and frowns, picking up his spoon with his free hand, gesturing lightly with it for a moment. ]
Not from you as much as from the lack of you, I guess. The Empire isn't a place for clones, when there's no one left to favour their skillset. [ A small pause. It isn't said accusatorily, but with a soft sense of... They have to address this. It can't be left untouched. ] The Empire isn't a place for the marginalised in general. It's the opposite.
[ They used to talk about these things, before, right? They used to talk about the plight of the people who had too little, compared to the powerful who had too much - and too little empathy for the rest. They used to discuss these things, and Anakin went and worked for its perfect embodiment, the unfairness of the galaxy.
Like the loveless parent can't pass love on to their child. After all, how would they know? But Claude is here to teach him. Still. ]
no subject
Claude's voice is gentle, still, and Anakin can listen, at least. ]
I thought as long as you lived, we could do anything. The price didn't matter because...
[ His voice is quiet, scratchy behind the mask. He takes another breath, then removes it once more. He feels a persistent urge to defend himself, like an itch that you can scratch until you bleed, until there's nothing left of you and still, it won't stop. He resists. It's not what either of them wants. ]
But in the end, what really saved you? A good man, doing what he promised to do. [ He finally picks up his caf and sips it, straightening in his seat as he swallows it down. ] I just left them, Claude. My army. I haven't even looked to see what happened afterwards, what'll happen to them.
[ Meeting Claude's eyes, he gives him a slight smile. ]
Good thing you have something to offer them.
no subject
[ Yes, Anakin just left them, because at the time he had eye for nothing else, he hardly even had eye for himself. Claude won't tell him it was good, that it was the fair choice to make, but maybe it was necessary - to get here, to this point where he's less bound and less trapped inside himself. Feminism isn't about ignoring the little steps on the journey in favour of taking down the mountain, both the mountain and the little steps there are equally important, for different reasons, they end at the same outcome.
They talked about that, too, once.
Swallowing heavily, he eats a couple of spoonfuls more of the heavy broth that tastes like wildlife and forest, it's good. And Anakin is taking care of him which counts for something, even when he still needs to extend the same kindness to himself. Claude can understand how it must be hard finding that forgiveness in yourself.
But there's honestly nothing to forgive, what happened can't be forgiven, only understood.
He puts the spoon down, reaches across the table and pushes his fingertips to Anakin's knuckles, knowing he'll feel him in input and sensory translations. That's the barrier they have to live with now, some things can't go the direct route any longer. ]
There's still time, Anakin. Rex is their contact. He'll be dropping them off. [ Claude knows he needs to be completely forthcoming now, not to pressure Anakin needlessly. ] You don't have to do anything you're not ready for, but you're not out of options.
no subject
Oh.
Oh, so. Yes.
He really needs to remember that he doesn't exist in a vacuum. Neither do his choices. Rex is their contact so that means either doing his own thing parallel to this operation which would be extremely idiotic, considering how limited his own range of movement has become over the past months - or finding a way to work with Rex, Rex who - even with a chip in his head - managed not to betray his own principles. He imagines meeting him now, like this, and immediately loses all interest in his caf. He isn't certain whether or not his system can, in fact, throw anything up anymore but it definitely feels like he might find out if he takes another sip.
He sighs. Loudly.
Then, he looks at Claude's fingers, resting lightly against his knuckles. Back at him, who's so busy concerning himself with Anakin that he's forgetting himself, the way he tends to - with his causes, with people in general who need help. He remembers how willing he'd been to lose his life for this, back on Mustafar. It seems like ages ago to Anakin but it isn't, not really. He covers the other man's hand with his own and nods towards the bowl. ]
Eat, my love.
[ He releases him and leans back in his seat. ]
And I promise I'll do my thinking, too.