Disclaimer

I don't own this.

If you think I do and have legal reason to believe so... By all means, forward me the royalties.

Until then, don't sue.

Note

Yes, another story that I don't know who it is or where she's from. Have fun inserting your favorite character into her personality. You'll probably have to change a few words, but... This is all I'm going to do with this (probably). If you want to play with it, just let me know.

Emotion

It had been a hard day. Harder than most, even for the war-torn planet that they were on. Oh, the pain she was experiencing wasn't because of that. No, she had a quite 'ordinary' reason to be upset. She'd just come from a funeral...

Her father – her last remaining blood relation – was dead. He was killed in a firefight between the Imperials and the Rebellion forces. He hadn't been a deliberate target. Who in their right mind would consider him a threat, after all? No, he'd been 'collateral damage,' burned to death when a fuel depot blew.

She walked into her small house and blinked when she saw the man seated on her couch. He still had most of his armor and equipment on, though his helmet was on the nearby table. His face was blank, almost completely neutral. Once, in a fit of whimsy, she'd wondered if it was yet another man-made mask that he used to hide his real face. She knew it wasn't, but it was an amusing thought.

She didn't feel like laughing right now.

She didn't know why he was here. He seldom stayed long. Why would he? He was a great Bounty Hunter and she was just 'an idiot with too much time on her hands.' She hadn't argued the insult, since he was partially right – she had insulted him, after all. She had expected him to shoot her after he'd said that. Even though his face had been hidden behind that helmet of his, she'd been sure that she'd angered him enough to kill her. Making unfavorable comparisons involving a man's endowments, nanotechnology, and a scanning electron microscope tended to do that.

He hadn't killed her, to her great surprise. Probably because she'd just spent days tending his life-threatening wounds. Several weeks later, he'd given her good cause to revise her opinion. She still didn't know what had possessed her to invite him to her bed. Part of the reason could have been the pitcher of quality ale that they'd split... It had been a very, very good night. From his repeat visits, she imagined that he'd enjoyed himself as well.

Now, she stared at his scarred visage and slowly brought her numb gaze to actually meet his eyes. The emotion there staggered her. Sympathy? Him? No one else would ever believe it.

Something tickled across her cheek. She brought her hand up and felt wetness. She hadn't realized she was crying. How long had she been? Her throat tightened as she swallowed. Her voice was hoarse. "I need... Please?"

That was all he had to hear. Arms wrapped gently around her and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, uncaring that she was all but breaking her own jaw on the edge of his armor. Warmed by the heat of his body, the press of the hard material was oddly soothing. He didn't even seem to mind that she was getting him wet and slightly snotty, though she could tell her emotional display made him tense and ill at ease.

Some had asked why she never asked him to stay. Others had asked why she didn't tell him not to return. Boba Fett took care of what he considered his – whether it was a machine, member of his family, friend or lover – all damage was mended and problems resolved. Even if it the solution made him uncomfortable. That he considered her his, that she was welcomed in his heart as well as his bed...

That was enough for her.