He Calls Me "Daddy"
"Daddy?" Boba sat up in bed, clutching his stuffed ewok. He peered through the darkness to Jango's bed, and, finding his father had not yet roused himself, tried again. "Daddy?"
Jango made discontented noises as he rolled over to glare at Boba. "What?"
"I can't sleep." Boba looked so small and scared, Jango sighed aloud, then sat up and pushed off his blankets.
"I'll get you some warm bantha milk." Jango waited for his threat to sink in.
"No!" Boba let his ewok fall onto his lap in alarm. "Not bantha milk, please, Dad?"
"No, no, no. Bantha milk is just what a little insomniac Fett needs." Jango walked out of the room with a fond smile on his face, hearing Boba's feeble protests.
The Fett apartment in Tipoca City on Kamino was not large. Jango was paid well for his job as a DNA donor to the cloners, but he and Boba lived sparingly. The kitchen was small, with a table, two chairs, a sink, a fridge, and a microwave. Occasionally Zam Wessel, a family friend and business partner of Jango's, would bring over some of her mother's cinnamon rolls, which Boba particularely liked. It had been Zam who had suggested the bantha milk and stuffed ewok; the changeling asassin had a soft spot for the four-year-old.
When Jango came back with the warm milk, Boba was alseep. Grumpily, Jango returned it to the kitchen.
Later, when Jango had settled back into bed, he heard a small voice call through the dark again. With a groan, he eyed Boba over his shoulder.
Boba was sitting up in bed again, but this time he looked purely pretrified. "Daddy! Daddy, there's something under my bed! It's going to get Ooku!" A small finger was pointed at the ewok, which had fallen to the floor.
"Boba--" Jango began, swinging his feet onto the cold floor and scooping up the stuffed toy.
"Daddy! Watch out!" Boba's hands twisted in his covers, his big brown eyes wide with fear.
Jango sat down on his son's bed and gathered the little boy into his arms. He handed Boba the ewok, and the four-year-old snuggled up against his father. Jango looked down at the top of Boba's little head, and grinned sheepishly. He knew he was a sucker when it came to Boba. Maybe it was because the little boy was so much like himself at that age, after all, Boba was Jango's clone, but whatever it was, Jango couldn't resist that little guy's big brown eyes.
He tousled Boba's hair, then gave him a quick hug. Jango was still awkward giving hugs, but it became easier and easier each time. He hoped this didn't mean he was going soft--that would never do!
"Dad?" Boba interrupted Jango's thoughts to stare up at his father, "Why aren't you scared of the dark?"
Jango considered telling Boba that it was because there was nothing to be afraid of, but though better of it. In the kind of world Jango and Boba lived in, in every shadow there was a blaster aimed at you heart. Their apartment was the only place in which Jango felt safe. "Because I'm just as dangerous as the bad things, Boba. I know that nothing can hurt me, because I have my blaster with me."
Boba grinned, wrapping his small arms around his father. "You must be the biggest and bravest man in the universe!"
"That's right," Jango agreed, pretending to be serious, "and you must be the sleepiest and most annoying boy in the universe!" He attacked Boba with a torrent of tickling. When the child's giggles subsided, he scooped up the annoying little boy and ewok, and tucked them into Boba's bed.
As Jango lay on his pallet, across the small room from Boba, he could not sleep. He gazed at the little boy, his clone, his son. Boba's dark curls spilled across his pillow, his brown eyes hidden in sleep. He looked like an angel, Jango admitted. For a moment, he almost regretted what he would train Boba to become.
"Daddy?" Boba sat up in bed, clutching his stuffed ewok. He peered through the darkness to Jango's bed, and, finding his father had not yet roused himself, tried again. "Daddy?"
Jango made discontented noises as he rolled over to glare at Boba. "What?"
"I can't sleep." Boba looked so small and scared, Jango sighed aloud, then sat up and pushed off his blankets.
"I'll get you some warm bantha milk." Jango waited for his threat to sink in.
"No!" Boba let his ewok fall onto his lap in alarm. "Not bantha milk, please, Dad?"
"No, no, no. Bantha milk is just what a little insomniac Fett needs." Jango walked out of the room with a fond smile on his face, hearing Boba's feeble protests.
The Fett apartment in Tipoca City on Kamino was not large. Jango was paid well for his job as a DNA donor to the cloners, but he and Boba lived sparingly. The kitchen was small, with a table, two chairs, a sink, a fridge, and a microwave. Occasionally Zam Wessel, a family friend and business partner of Jango's, would bring over some of her mother's cinnamon rolls, which Boba particularely liked. It had been Zam who had suggested the bantha milk and stuffed ewok; the changeling asassin had a soft spot for the four-year-old.
When Jango came back with the warm milk, Boba was alseep. Grumpily, Jango returned it to the kitchen.
Later, when Jango had settled back into bed, he heard a small voice call through the dark again. With a groan, he eyed Boba over his shoulder.
Boba was sitting up in bed again, but this time he looked purely pretrified. "Daddy! Daddy, there's something under my bed! It's going to get Ooku!" A small finger was pointed at the ewok, which had fallen to the floor.
"Boba--" Jango began, swinging his feet onto the cold floor and scooping up the stuffed toy.
"Daddy! Watch out!" Boba's hands twisted in his covers, his big brown eyes wide with fear.
Jango sat down on his son's bed and gathered the little boy into his arms. He handed Boba the ewok, and the four-year-old snuggled up against his father. Jango looked down at the top of Boba's little head, and grinned sheepishly. He knew he was a sucker when it came to Boba. Maybe it was because the little boy was so much like himself at that age, after all, Boba was Jango's clone, but whatever it was, Jango couldn't resist that little guy's big brown eyes.
He tousled Boba's hair, then gave him a quick hug. Jango was still awkward giving hugs, but it became easier and easier each time. He hoped this didn't mean he was going soft--that would never do!
"Dad?" Boba interrupted Jango's thoughts to stare up at his father, "Why aren't you scared of the dark?"
Jango considered telling Boba that it was because there was nothing to be afraid of, but though better of it. In the kind of world Jango and Boba lived in, in every shadow there was a blaster aimed at you heart. Their apartment was the only place in which Jango felt safe. "Because I'm just as dangerous as the bad things, Boba. I know that nothing can hurt me, because I have my blaster with me."
Boba grinned, wrapping his small arms around his father. "You must be the biggest and bravest man in the universe!"
"That's right," Jango agreed, pretending to be serious, "and you must be the sleepiest and most annoying boy in the universe!" He attacked Boba with a torrent of tickling. When the child's giggles subsided, he scooped up the annoying little boy and ewok, and tucked them into Boba's bed.
As Jango lay on his pallet, across the small room from Boba, he could not sleep. He gazed at the little boy, his clone, his son. Boba's dark curls spilled across his pillow, his brown eyes hidden in sleep. He looked like an angel, Jango admitted. For a moment, he almost regretted what he would train Boba to become.