[ 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
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.