[ They sit there, opposite one another, and if he closes his eyes, he can still feel the imprints of Claude's fingers against his cheek. That's good enough, he says because Claude was always like this - prepared to wait, to hear him out and then, to listen. He never thought he'd have that again and maybe he won't, maybe there's a limit to the things Claude will understand and live alongside. A part of him wants to remember how to accept such things - that sometimes, people want different things and paths converge only briefly before they part. He used to know about this. He told his mother goodbye after knowing nothing but her, but them, thinking that they might never see each other again.
Then, he held her in his arms, her blood pooling against the sands, and he forgot.
The pain of loss is, indeed, crippling. With all the pain he's been dealt, it still rates higher than anything. ]
I thought that Sidious - Palpatine - would help me. [ He looks at his hands, flexes his fingers slowly. ] I foresaw your death and he promised...
[ His lips tighten. He takes a breath, the sound harsh, rattling. ]
But then you died anyway or so I thought. And the things I'd done in exchange for his help were not compatible with my old life. I destroyed the Jedi.
[ Slowly, he looks back at Claude, his own gaze flat. Resigned, too, though his voice doesn't tremble. This truth is both hateful and unremarkable; he didn't like striking them down, as he generally doesn't like killing, but he'd done it willingly. He'd done it without a chip in his head and he still doesn't mourn them nor the life they lived, the life he watched from the outside, even after they stopped treating him like a stranger. Anakin never belonged. He's well-aware. ]
It doesn't fully compute. Claude looks back at Anakin, his empty eyes, gaze flat, and can't make himself look away, though part of him wants to. If only to get the facts -- right. To have it make sense, somehow. Anakin turned on his own people, for what? Because he'd thought Claude was going to die and it was preventable that way? Suddenly, for the first time in months and months, Claude remembers the large explosion on Paris that would've killed him, if not for the help of Rex, Anakin's second-in-command who'd been assigned to the mission without any real reason or precedence. Just because Anakin had wanted it like that, to keep Claude safe. And Claude thinks about this burning desire to keep him safe, that Anakin has had from the beginning, insisting on it, even. Illogically, senselessly. He knows what Anakin means to him and he's always, somewhere inside, known he means doubly to Anakin.
I destroyed the Jedi.
But Claude had gotten word back that Anakin was gone, and they'd all just assumed he'd been at the Temple during the siege, that he'd died fighting like the rest of them. When instead... he'd... He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again slowly. There's a frown crawling onto his face. Heavy across his brow.
As long as Claude has known Anakin, he was more himself than he was Jedi. He was at the core of it more alone than with them. Sure, Claude could wonder who would turn on their own family, but Anakin thought they hated him, pretty much.
He thought they were just looking for excuses to put him down.
Like masters do.
Anakin never stopped being a slave, did he? He never stopped. Claude swallows hard and licks his lips, then says the only thing that comes to mind which is something that might be actually useful between them in this very moment. ]
You made them pay a heavy price for whatever mistakes you thought they made. [ Pause, then -- ] But you've paid for your own, too, Anakin. Guess that's somewhere to start.
[ And he looks at him still, not looking away, not looking away, taking in his burned face, his brittle skin, the limbs he's lost. There really are no winners in war. Only losers, past, present and future. ]
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Then, he held her in his arms, her blood pooling against the sands, and he forgot.
The pain of loss is, indeed, crippling. With all the pain he's been dealt, it still rates higher than anything. ]
I thought that Sidious - Palpatine - would help me. [ He looks at his hands, flexes his fingers slowly. ] I foresaw your death and he promised...
[ His lips tighten. He takes a breath, the sound harsh, rattling. ]
But then you died anyway or so I thought. And the things I'd done in exchange for his help were not compatible with my old life. I destroyed the Jedi.
[ Slowly, he looks back at Claude, his own gaze flat. Resigned, too, though his voice doesn't tremble. This truth is both hateful and unremarkable; he didn't like striking them down, as he generally doesn't like killing, but he'd done it willingly. He'd done it without a chip in his head and he still doesn't mourn them nor the life they lived, the life he watched from the outside, even after they stopped treating him like a stranger. Anakin never belonged. He's well-aware. ]
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It doesn't fully compute. Claude looks back at Anakin, his empty eyes, gaze flat, and can't make himself look away, though part of him wants to. If only to get the facts -- right. To have it make sense, somehow. Anakin turned on his own people, for what? Because he'd thought Claude was going to die and it was preventable that way? Suddenly, for the first time in months and months, Claude remembers the large explosion on Paris that would've killed him, if not for the help of Rex, Anakin's second-in-command who'd been assigned to the mission without any real reason or precedence. Just because Anakin had wanted it like that, to keep Claude safe. And Claude thinks about this burning desire to keep him safe, that Anakin has had from the beginning, insisting on it, even. Illogically, senselessly. He knows what Anakin means to him and he's always, somewhere inside, known he means doubly to Anakin.
I destroyed the Jedi.
But Claude had gotten word back that Anakin was gone, and they'd all just assumed he'd been at the Temple during the siege, that he'd died fighting like the rest of them. When instead... he'd... He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again slowly. There's a frown crawling onto his face. Heavy across his brow.
As long as Claude has known Anakin, he was more himself than he was Jedi. He was at the core of it more alone than with them. Sure, Claude could wonder who would turn on their own family, but Anakin thought they hated him, pretty much.
He thought they were just looking for excuses to put him down.
Like masters do.
Anakin never stopped being a slave, did he? He never stopped. Claude swallows hard and licks his lips, then says the only thing that comes to mind which is something that might be actually useful between them in this very moment. ]
You made them pay a heavy price for whatever mistakes you thought they made. [ Pause, then -- ] But you've paid for your own, too, Anakin. Guess that's somewhere to start.
[ And he looks at him still, not looking away, not looking away, taking in his burned face, his brittle skin, the limbs he's lost. There really are no winners in war. Only losers, past, present and future. ]