Title: Grime and Dirt
Summary: A vignette of Anakin in the Clone Wars.
A/N: Written for a Valentine's Day love letter challenge. I wanted to try something a little different.
Feedback is, as always and ever, treasured. :)
~*~*~*~*~
It was all dirt and grime. Anakin felt it to his bones, along with the exhaustion that seemed to weigh on his heart and soul. He was tired, but at the same time, he felt a deep burning of anger. He knew he shouldn't – that it was not the Jedi way, and moreover, it was would not help him in the fight. Palpatine said it was a natural reaction, and perhaps it was – but simply because something was a natural reaction didn't make it right.
The planet of Garove was unsettlingly quiet. The skies were no longer blue, but a musty gray. Debris and smoke kept the true color from shining. It had been a hard fought battle with the Separatists for the planet, and it showed. They had won, he supposed, but one could hardly tell – where was once a city, there was merely flattened debris as far as one could see. It was like a plain of destruction.
Anakin's men were off taking a break. So he was he, technically. Taking a walk was a break, of sorts, even when looking for . . . who knew what. Survivors? The chances were slim. The small city had been bombarded from space by the Separatists' massive canons. But he wandered among the rubble, nonetheless. There was probably nothing to be found, and even there was, it would probably be so scattered they would expend as much energy finding it as they could get using it. His men needed at least a month's supply of food, as their cache had been hit during the fight. Markets and businesses were the first hit. His eyes felt gritty and he kept blinking, but it didn't seem to help. Anakin wished he could cry just to ease the pain.
He was tired. And angry.
A flutter of . . . something interrupted the silence. Anakin turned, suddenly alert. The flutter – there it was. His eyes darted until they rested upon a scrap of old-fashioned paper. It was probably nothing – but then, who wrote on paper instead of flimsiplast?
Anakin stepped lightly and quickly, using the Force to know where to step, where to pause. The burned and tattered ends of his cloak ghosted silently along the scraps of rubble.
He knelt.
The paper was partially burned, the fire having eaten into bits and pieces of it in the random manner that fire always possessed.
The writing was little more than a scrawl, but Anakin got more comfortable in his kneeling position and looked at it carefully. He began to read.
My dearest wife, it's been a long time, but I think I'm finally going to see you again. The Separatists – you don't even know who they are, do you? – are attacking, and our lovely city is next. All I regret is that our house will –
He encountered a burned spot and skipped to the next readable portion.
- hard to explain, really, but I'll try. I like getting this down here. I feel like I'm talking to you, and maybe it's a bit practice for when I do, aye? I hated you sometimes. Sometimes I didn't love you. The young ones say that love will last them anything, but that wasn't really it. That wasn't what made us stick with one another for forty years. We stayed together through the good and bad. It was our determination to keep going that kept us going, and it was the renewal of love after all those hard times that made me truly live. At times I loved you, and at times I truly did dislike you – more than Carie's Special Berry Pie – but it was worth it. It was all worth it. I think there was a quality with us that transcended simple love, and went beyond the ideal of romance to a deep commitment. All kinds of love (they do say there are different kinds, those youngsters). I wish -
Another spot simply gone. Anakin blinked rapidly. Something beyond love . . . forty years, this man and his wife lived together. The thought repeated itself in Anakin's mind, and it was very slowly that he began to read again.
I'm getting poetic here. I'm sure you'd laugh at that. I am! And I know our kids would. But I kept my words simple because that's all that was needed, really. Still the case.
I'm going to miss our kids. I know they're on the other side of the planet, so they'll be okay. But I'll miss them, like I've been missing you.
Well, no matter now. You always said I was the pragmatist of the family – I should get to proving it. I've stocked some supplies for the soldiers, just in case they actually get here in time.
They hadn't.
Maybe I'll be seeing you soon. But in the meantime, I'll get to living like I always have.
Love, Your Studly Husband.
Anakin let his hand fall slightly, and the words went out of focus. Padme. He thought of Padme, how much he missed her, how sure he was that everything would be all right if he could just be with her, even as he knew he had to fight. Could he wish for that thing beyond even romantic love for him and Padme? He closed his eyes briefly, remembering her face, her eyes, her compassion. The burning anger was gone, washed away in the soothing tears he felt himself releasing. His eyes no longer felt gritty.
Very carefully, Anakin placed the brittle paper in one of his pockets, hoping it would stay together.
He walked farther out in the rubble, and started digging through it, the Force prodding him on. The tears kept flowing, cleansing and clean, pure of the anger he had felt.
Eventually, he found a long and wide slab of wood. Feeling that this was the spot, he pulled it away, splinters digging into the flesh of his hands. He grunted, and with a subtle nudge of the Force, it finally fell away with a loud scattering of pebbles and dirt.
There, beneath dirt and grime, were at least two months of food supplies.