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FIC: WIND AND DUST.
Aug. 6th, 2022 08:29 am( title ) Wind and Dust
( canon ) Star Wars: the Clone Wars
( warnings ) alternate ending, rp-inspired, implied sexual content, general depressiveness
( pairings ) Rex/Ahsoka
Thabeska is nothing but wind and dust.
In the morning, when Ahsoka leaves for work, mechanic now for the Fardi Clan’s stronghold up north, her 74-Z speeder is swallowed up by the first dust storm of the day, a strange relic of the war in surroundings that don’t fully suit it. He watches her go, leaning on the doorframe of their small hut, big enough to afford them separate bedrooms, but that’s about it. They’ve dealt with less, of course.
They’ve also dealt with more.
Long time ago.
It’s been months.
The Republic has fallen, they hear, barely whispers out here, and something new and something terrible is rising in its stead. They don’t talk much about what will be, because it doesn’t matter. Ahsoka feels the magnitude of it, she says, acknowledging that he can’t sense all the things she can. Everyone’s scattered, she tells him, those of us left.
It has broken her, he knows. He’s got eyes, he can see. How her slim shoulders weigh a ton now and she drags herself to the nearest city to stock up on food supplies, necessities, what little they need, they could survive on less, but they’ve also lived with so much more.
A long time ago, it feels like.
Rex takes care of the house that isn’t truly a home. Outside combat and active warzones, he doesn’t possess many practical skills of use to anyone. He cooks simple food, cleans, feeds the coop of birds they’ve collected and domesticated since arriving and tries not to think, most of all. When Ahsoka comes home in the evening, greasy and even heavier than she was when she left, he’s made soup that he serves her and she sits on the chair that’s become hers, like the one opposite is his now, eating it quietly.
Within the hour, she’ll bathe and then, she’ll go to sleep, that’s the routine.
That’s their life, now.
The 501st hasn’t been closed down, she informs him tonight, having heard it from a visitor at the airfield where she patches up ships and other aircrafts for credits, it’s just passed to a new commander.
Rex pauses mid-motion, spoonful of soup dripping somewhere between bowl and his mouth. After a few seconds, he lets it drop back into the thick liquid, pieces of kiran meat bobbing in the surface. He thinks about the clones left, what they’ve done, what they must live with. Not only their own consciences anymore, but new leadership, no doubt linked to the rest, Order 66, the chips... They were always just Dejarik pieces, happy to play their part, happy getting destroyed in the process, too. Until they weren’t happy any longer.
Meeting her eyes, he asks, who?
We have a name, but not much else, she replies, do you want the name?
Having suddenly lost his appetite, he gets up and walks over to the stove, pouring the rest of the soup back into the pot of simmering leftovers. It’ll feed them the coming days. Maybe he’ll check the terrain tomorrow afternoon, then, since he isn’t gonna be cooking. Bring his blasters and shoot one of the beasts living at the mouth of the valley down south. They’d be eating something else than kiran for the next month.
No, he says, keeping his back on her, it doesn’t matter.
But of course, it matters.
Of course, she knows.
It’s past midnight when he wakes up to the sound of light footsteps outside his door. He knows it’s her, but habit and training make him sit up, alert and ready to fight for his life. She pushes the door open slowly, stopping just inside and looking him over, the way he’s got a rod down his spine and a tightness to his hands, prepared to kill. She’s seen that look on him before, not too long ago. She’s seen it directed at her, too. He swallows heavily, reaches up to rub the scar left behind from his surgery, the one that removed the chip from his head. She follows the motion of his hand with her eyes.
Rex, she says his name so softly, can I sleep in here tonight? I’ve been having nightmares.
They look at each other for a long moment, then he scoots over and leaves her half the bed, saying sure and lifting his covers, though he’s not wearing anything but a loose pair of pants underneath. Thabeska nights are windy and dusty and while not freezing, still chilly. She crosses the floor, clad in a tunic-like dress that the women around here use all-purpose, crawls in next to him and lies down, facing him.
To avoid looking at her too closely, Rex turns his back on her. She inches up against him. After another couple of moments, her hands slip around his waist and pull him in. Stronger than she looks, don’t be fooled. She was his commander once.
She was his commander once.
They sleep front to back that way the next many nights.
Then, she starts sleeping with her head on his chest, her montrals pushing up against his chin and jaw, smelling nicely like her.
Then, after a month where he’s been thinking more than he wants to, probably, and come to conclusions that he doesn’t really want either, he tells her over dinner that he’s going back. To the 501st. To his brothers. Stealth mission.
It’ll be dangerous, she warns, looking at him and no doubt already knowing that it doesn’t matter, he’s made up his mind.
You know me, he replies, raising an eyebrow at her which makes her twist her lips into a small smile, both eyebrows up, amused, I was bred for danger.
Their smiles fade, simultaneously. Across the table, she reaches for his hand and takes it, holds it, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. He turns his palm upwards, enfolds her small, but stronger than it looks, hand in his for a second before returning to his soup. Orunbeast today.
Well, he’ll have to go with her to work tomorrow. Catch a ride for her credits.
Thabeska is nothing but wind and dust and so, that’s where he’s going to leave her.
