Three forms sat huddled around a small table, watching the orange flames outside the hut flicker toward the wooden sticks that held roasted fish moments ago. The smell of cooked seafood wafted in the air, drifting towards the stone domes of the Caretakers.
A blob of grease trickled down from the fat fish, sliding down Luke Skywalker's flesh hand. He sloppily threw the fish onto one plate, wiped the oil from his appendages, then moved to dissect the warm meat with a primitive knife. In a few precise cuts, the flesh was exposed, and the junior Skywalker neatly removed the bone tissue, throwing the plucked strips into a make-shift trash bin. His father had trouble differentiating between white bone and flesh, and the feel of the sharp bones were not entirely pleasant on the elderly man's sensitive, barren gums.
The remnants of the fish were then cleanly cut and placed onto Anakin's plate. After wiping his hands one more time, Luke spooned a bit of mushy, roasted white flesh into his father's awaiting mouth; the senior Skywalker's hands were not steady enough to hold utensils without aid.
"The fish tastes wonderful, Son," the old man mumbled softly as he did his best to chew with his few teeth.
Luke left Rey to help her grandfather with his meal, so he could move to fix up his daughter's dinner. Occasionally she had to clean up the drool that dripped out from Anakin's sagging lips, while other times he completely missed contact with the spoon altogether, though Rey was mature and understanding, therefore not disgusted at Anakin's failed attempts.
Her father worked fast- soon, a fish was thrown onto Rey's plate. Just like Anakin's, its bones were removed, for Luke did not know if his daughter was accustomed to consuming animals such as this, though he doubted she did. The fish slid sideways a little, its grease leaving marks on the shiny porcelain. Its rather appetizing aroma drifted up, into Rey's nostrils and making the young woman inhale in excitement. She had never eaten a fish before!
Anakin gently pushed her hands away, stating he wished to take a break from eating. Rey smiled, gave a quick kiss on Anakin's ravaged cheek, then, without any hesitation, dug into the lubricious, delicious feast on her plate.
Her eating was gruesomely savage, to say the least, though Anakin tolerated it, for she was from Jakku, a less... civilized planet. Loose hairs dangled dangerously towards the globs of grease, and her utensils were shamelessly cast aside. Instead, the fish was barbarically picked up with calloused fingers (especially the dirty ones that needed to be washed after contact with Anakin's saliva), any etiquette non-existent. Soon, she had gorged it down with loud bites, flesh and brain and all.
Anakin tried not to lift an eyebrow. His granddaughter's methods were rather... interesting, though he did recall his own mother Shmi trying to stop him from eating too fast when he was in his youth. Perhaps this was all passed down in the genetics.
"It's delicious!" Rey proclaimed, a few morsels falling out from her agape mouth. Both Anakin and Luke noticed she did not bother closing her mouth when she chewed, though none minded. (It wasn't like Anakin could see the bits of fish that fell out, anyway. It was getting to the later hours, and he was tired, which meant his eyesight would be failing. In fact, even with much straining, he had barely heard her words of wonderment from moments ago.)
Luke placed a bowl of soup by her side, in which she immediately snatched away and slurped down. A bit of grease from the fish trickled down her hand, and she wiped it onto her pants without a second thought. After licking her plate squeaky clean, she rolled down her sleeves and habitually wiped her mouth with the fabric edges, subconsciously ignoring the napkins that were offered to her by Anakin.
It took quite some time for Rey to notice her grandfather's unfocused stare, and even when she did, there was no embarrassment on her face. Not yet, at least.
"Sweetie, did Leia ever comment on your... Unusual etiquette?" Anakin's crinkled eyes widened in curiosity, his brows raising and forming an arch of amusement.
A soft chuckle escaped Rey's lips as a blush rose upon her face. "Yes, grandpa, she did. She said I needed to be more... Civilized. Less careless, and... uh... what was the word... barbaric. Huh. 'Course, I ate alone for more than a decade. I'm not used to such formalities... As you probably know, Jakku's typically hostile residents aren't exactly known for their manners. Growing up, I just wiped whatever stains onto either my clothes or the grease rags I had. Sand worked, too."
Anakin could not help but make a face of disgust. Memories of the foul planet of Tatooine flooded back into his fading mind. Cringing, he mumbled, "ugh. Sand. I don't like sand... I despise sand. Too coarse, too rough, too irritating..."
Luke let out a quiet chuckle. "It gets everywhere. Quite irritating indeed; in all honesty, it deserves your abhor, Father. Rey, how could you stand those grains slithering under your feet?"
"I didn't. Especially when it was midday and the sand was practically baking me alive. But hey, I lived through it." She gave an assuring smile towards her guardians, especially her grandfather, whose eyes burned in guilt and sympathy.
Everyone was quiet for a little while before Anakin lightened the mood with a ruffle of Rey's hair. "Well, I suppose my little girl is going to finally be taught table manners. Do not worry, my dear child, we all are from desert planets that did not stress adequate conduct. I fully understand your behavior."
It was then that Luke Skywalker saw his father's first wink in decades.
A contagious grin spread across the dilapidated man's features, contaminating Rey with its magic. Blushing even more, she reached across the table for another fish.
With a hoarse chuckle, Anakin's hand shakily pushed hers back. Oh. Oops, the former scavenger thought to herself as she watched her grandfather carefully grab the plate of sorted fishes and passing it to her direction.
Faded eyes thoughtfully scrutinized Rey's arms. "Please eat more, my dearest child. You are too skinny... Plus, staying at the table a bit longer may also hopefully help you adjust to the customs of more advanced civilizations in the galaxy."
Rey smiled, and picked up a "fork". (Well, she was pretty sure that's the name of the metal thing that she held in her hand.)
***
Rey watched in concern as Anakin tremblingly rose and staggered towards the unsophisticated sink to wash their dishes. "Would you like some help, Grandpa?"
Sluggishly, Anakin turned his head towards his granddaughter. "Thank you, sweetheart, but I believe I will be fine. I am not exactly bedridden at this moment." He turned back, placing the small stack of dishes into the sink.
Rey glanced at her father. "Your grandfather likes making himself useful," Luke had softly said, knowing Anakin would not hear. Then the man (or, legend) stood, moving to face towards the old man standing by the sink. "Father, I'll take Rey outside."
Anakin did not respond; his deafened ears could not pick up his son's voice over the sound of running water. Luke walked the short distance to where his father stood, and gently tapped the ancient man's sagging shoulder. "Father, Rey and I are going outside."
At the sudden voice that appeared from behind, Anakin jumped a little, before realizing it was his son. "Of course! Please do. Spend some time together. I apologize for my insensitive hearing."
"It's fine, Grandpa. Are you fine with being alone?"
"Hmm?" Anakin's face scrunched up in frustration. "I cannot hear you distinctly, sweetheart..." Using a nearby chair as a crutch, he shambled a few steps closer to his granddaughter. Rey patiently repeated, holding down Anakin's hand firmly to the top of the chair so he would not topple over.
After gathering his breath, Anakin spoke with good nature: "I assure you I will be fine, my precious darling. Thank you. Please, do not worry about this worn pile of creaking bones and deteriorating muscles... Go, go outside. The sun is warm today, and I'm sure dusk will be marvelous." A giant smile of kindness erupted on the elderly man's face, and his eyes twinkled with adoration; satisfied, the old man took painstaking steps and went back to wash his dishes.
Not as confident as his father in the ailing Skywalker's conditions, Luke decided it would be better to ask if Anakin wanted to go outside with them, so his offspring could keep an eye on him. If the old man were to suffer a coughing fit, or any other discomfort, then at least there would be someone to help, whereas inside, Anakin would be alone. He knew illness striking in his sleep brought immense displeasure to the infirm man, and the gruesome process was often torturous, especially with coughing fits. Sometimes it took Anakin minutes for his lungs to function properly again, which brought tremendous worry for his caretaker, since he could quickly loose the oxygen in his body- air that was necessary for his survival, and that he needed plentiful amounts of, due to the countless injuries he had received in his long life.
Oblivious to his surroundings, Anakin hobbled to his rocking chair once he had set the dishes aside to dry. His cane dragged his shaking legs forward, doddering towards the plushy chair that he often took a nap in.
Anakin groaned as he began clumsily shifting his balance away from the cane. The loosening bolts (in his old age and near-constant fatigue, the feebleminded man never bothered to fix it; with those dimmed senses and senile mind, he rarely sensed it anyway) in his mechanical legs could no longer hold up their owner's weight. The senior Skywalker fell into his chair, his bald head hitting the padded back. He yelped at the contact, his mind unable to immediately register what had happened moments ago.
"Oh," he muttered to himself; a disappointed chuckle followed. "I must've lost my balance..."
Hands suddenly trembling out of control, he, with quite some difficulty, began to set his cane aside, though it was hard to move it far. Abruptly, another hand, a flesh one, reached into his view, and pried the cane from Anakin's unsteady grasp, leaning it onto the side of the couch.
The senior Skywalker thought he heard a buzzing noise in one of his ears, but he ignored it, for it must be simply his imagination. He leaned his head into the headrest, ashen eyelids drooping over fatigued, degenerating eyes. His shoulders slumped down, and soon, he felt sleep calling for him.
There was something on his shoulder.
"Go... I wish... to... rest... for I... tired... old man..." The words were no more than whispers.
"Father, would you like us to wheel you outside? You can doze while watching the sun set."
The weight had moved to his crumpled left cheek; knowing there must be someone trying to talk to him, he forced himself to open his reluctant eyes. After a while of focusing his vision, realized his son was kneeling in front of him, uncomplainingly waiting to receive a decision.
"Son... I do not... wish to... disturb your time... with... your daughter..." His voice faltered and disintegrated; his eyelids threaten to clamp over and take him back to slumber.
His son murmured something, though the words were nothing but vague background noise in his useless ears.
"Hmm?"
Luke reached up and lovingly rubbed his father's deformed ear stubs - tiny, melted lumps of flesh that protruded his skull - hoping it would both comfort the man and help him stay up. Anakin leaned forward, pushing himself to satisfy his dearest son's needs. Numbly, he set a tremulous metal hands onto Luke's, secretly wishing he could feel the texture of Luke's skin.
"It'll be fine, Father. We'd love for you to join us."
A smile cracked upon Anakin's wizened pale face, exposing his few gnarled teeth and empty gums. The widening of the smile furthered the display of his decay. In a few painful breaths, he spluttered, "I would... love... to. Th-Thank you, my... dear son..."
The senior Skywalker leaned back, sighing as he felt the familiar fabric rub against his withered skin. Luke lightly squeezed an ear stub, stood up to gather Anakin's oxygen tank and mask so he could breathe better whilst asleep, draped a blanket over the frail, sickly body, then began wheeling the decrepit Skywalker out the door.
"Stay awake, Father. This won't take long."
A low, garbled grunt was Anakin's reply- the frail man was nearly unconscious. His eyelids began drooping again, and all he could manage physically was a slow, barely noticeable nod.
Once the first ray of warm sunlight hit his grotesque face, Anakin gasped in joy. Painstakingly pulling his blanket higher to maintain some warmth, he squinted to focus at the colors in the sky (oh, they were so beautiful, even if his deadening vision made all the colors blur into one big mesh of splattered shades... his eyes were annoyingly uncooperative today), though fatigue made him tilt his head to the side and soon close his eyes.
Noticing Anakin's immense exhaustion, Luke decided he should let his elderly father rest. The son quietly pulled Anakin's breathing mask on, letting the sound of soft wheezing drift into the air. By then, Anakin's senses were too dull to even feel the mask on his face.
The gorgeous, soft sunlight continued shining over Anakin's colorless face, and the breeze was perpetually calming. Swaying back and forth in his rocking chair, Anakin Skywalker fell into a peaceful slumber.
***
Anakin's uneven snores rasped in the quiet air as the aged man struggled to breathe. Luke rubbed circles along his sleeping father's back, smoothing out the irregular inhales and exhales.
There was a small smile on Anakin's unconscious face.
Luke turned to Rey. "I haven't seen him so happy and active for many years. He's constantly sick from his overwhelming grief... Blames himself for not being able to save you from the Knights of Ren. That's why he has that pallor, even with so much time in the sun. For the first year he was barely mobile, especially with his refusal to eat as he would not stop cursing at himself for losing you. But he's so happy now."