I wish I could go with you
No, you don't. You've always been strong
Leia grasped the bottle by the neck and watched Corellian whisky tumble into a small square glass. There was nothing quite like the burn of it, or the smoky notes that made her think about the way the Falcon smelled when the engines were hot.
It wasn't easy to slip away from the others, but she'd managed it. "We need to lay low," she'd told them. "Divide up into pairs and spread out." She lied about who she was staying with, a childish ploy that could only succeed in the shell-shocked aftermath of their near demise.
She checked into this shabby little suite under a false ID, just her and a bottle.
And one guest.
The door buzzed, one of those tinney, cheap noises that seemed to be the same in every lousy hotel. The door control sat on the table beside her glass. Now or never. She touched the entry button, and the door slid open.
The man on the other side was a ghost. His armor had changed a little over the years, but that Mandalorian helmet with the narrow visor was exactly as she remembered it. "Boba Fett," she said, reaching for a second glass. "What an unexpected pleasure."
He took exactly two steps forward, just enough to let the door shut behind him. "You called this meeting."
"I meant the part where I'm actually pleased to see you. That's new." She filled a glass for him and nodded at the chair opposite her. "Have a seat."
He didn't move.
"You're not scared of an unarmed old woman, are you? Sit with me. I have a business proposition for you."
Slowly he placed a hand on the back of the chair and pulled it away from the table. He sat, but he made no move to take the glass of whiskey in front of him.
"I'm sure you're aware of the situation I'm in."
His helmet inclined marginally in response.
She looked down at her own glass, at the whiskey's bronze surface and the reflection of the dull light above them. "I held on as long as I could. And I did my best to keep my people from losing hope."
You've always been strong.
Luke was wrong about her. They were all wrong about her, even the people who knew her the best and loved her most. They marveled at her strength, but they never saw her stagger. They never saw her in her worst moments. Like the night before the battle of Endor, when Luke revealed the truth of their heritage. If Han hadn't been there for her, if he hadn't refused to go…
Han had stayed, the stupid nerf-herder. And then Ben was born. And when Han died, it was Amilyn Holdo who stayed with her and kept the darkness at bay.
So many losses...
And then finally, Luke.
"I almost died on the Raddus," she told Fett. "But I held on for Luke. He was my last hope. My only hope."
This is our most desperate hour.
She took another sip of whiskey and sighed. "I thought he could save my son. I thought he could save all of us, just like before. And now he's gone. The burden of hope has been lifted from him."
I wish I could go with you.
Leia raised her eyes and looked directly into the dark visor of the bounty hunter sitting across from her. "Now I would like for you to lift that burden from me."
He was so still, he might have stopped breathing. The silence stretched out between them, but it didn't bother her. She'd said it. Out loud. She felt...relief.
At last Fett raised a gloved hand to the rim of his helmet, and there was a hissing noise as it unlocked. He removed it using both hands, and for the first time Leia saw his face. His head was shaved and his eyebrows were jet black, heavy over eyes bracketed by deep, grim lines.
He laid his helmet on the table and picked up the glass in front of him. "Why me?"
"Credibility, mostly. I don't want the others to know. If I step off of a tall building, they'll blame themselves. But if it's you...with the price the First Order has placed on my head?" She gave an eloquent shrug. "What's to question?"
Fett raised his glass in silent acknowledgement and took a measured sip. He bared his teeth a little at the taste. "There are other ways. Ways to die fighting."
"There are. But I won't put the last of my people in danger. And if I go alone, they'll see right through that."
One eyebrow lifted questioningly. "How would you want it done?"
"Nothing fancy. A blaster bolt in the head will be fine."
He tipped his glass a little, studying the contents. "Why not poison? A capsule of kin'ade in this would work just as well."
"And it would also show up in an autopsy." Leia flexed her fingers, trying to suppress her annoyance. She wasn't expecting him to have so many questions. "There's no reason for you to sweat the details, Fett. The important thing is that the First Order will shower you with credits and contracts. More than you can imagine."
The bounty hunter drained his glass and set it down, his jaw tight. "Maybe I don't want their contracts."
"Says the man who used to work for Jabba the Hutt."
"I understood Jabba."
"But not the First Order?"
"I understand them. I just don't want to work for them. And I've been in this business long enough that I can afford to be choosy."
"But why would you? We're talking about five million credits. You're not going to walk away from that, are you?"
"I didn't say that." He pushed his glass toward her and she refilled it automatically. She thought about topping off her own glass, but apparently she was going to need to keep her wits about her. It never once occurred to her that she would have to talk him into it.
"This isn't an impulse," she said as she handed his glass back. "All of my affairs are in order. That won't look suspicious, they always are."
He nodded. "As are mine."
"I'm tired of waiting for the end. The First Order will stop at nothing. My son will stop at nothing. He'll kill me just to prove to himself that he can." She had to stop herself from reaching for the whiskey. She dearly wanted that burn at the back of her throat. "He killed Han, you know."
"I heard. My condolences."
The small courtesy caught her off guard. "Thank you."
"How did Skywalker die?"
"Like a Jedi." Leia didn't really want to explain it. "It's funny, isn't it? You came back from the dead once and now you'll outlive all of us."
He didn't really smile. It was more like a grimace, and it vanished almost as soon as it appeared. "It's a karking strange galaxy."
"It certainly is. I put my shoes on this morning and thought, 'this is the last time I'll ever do this.' I even thought about going out." Her lips curled into a wry smile. "Maybe try to get laid one last time."
His eyes were steady over the rim of his glass. "Comm down to the management desk. Place like this will have prostitutes on call."
"Oh really?" She arched her brows. "Is that a service you're familiar with?"
"People on the run want to get laid for the same reason you want to get laid now. If you bug the hotel comm, it's an easy way to get into someone's room."
"Clever."
"I'm in no hurry. Do what you need to do."
She rested her elbow on the table and put her hand on her chin. "Well, I did see an advertisement for a brothel downtown with a two-for-one deal. My treat?"
This time his expression was marginally closer to an actual smile. "Pass." He had the eyes of a prizefighter, she decided. Constantly sizing her up. Evaluating her strengths and weaknesses.
"Tell me something about yourself, Fett."
"Why?"
"Because I don't really want the trouble of initiating sex with some stranger. I just want...a connection." She straightened and folded her hands on the table. "Humor a dying woman. Tell me one thing."
"I met your mother once. Not Organa. Amidala."
Her back stiffened in surprise. "What?"
"Maybe 'met' is too strong a word." He looked down into his glass. "I was a child, and she was about to be executed by the Separatists."
"When-"
"Geonosis. At the start of the Clone War." He lifted his glass and took a long, slow swallow. "She was young and very beautiful. I remember asking my dad if there was a chance she could escape. My dad pointed to the Viceroy of the Trade Federation and said 'he wants her to die, so she's going to die. One way or another.'" His hand dropped back down, hard enough that the bottom of the glass clunked against the table. "It was the last thing he ever said to me. And he was wrong."
Leia gave a soft, bleak laugh as she raised her glass to her lips. "He wasn't wrong, he was just off by a few years. Life battered her with sorrow until she finally gave in." The last swallow of alcohol was somehow disappointing. "Maybe I do want sex."
"Maybe you don't really want to die."
"It's just a reflex. I haven't had sex in so long, the only thing I can remember is that it sometimes made life seem worth it."
He looked amused by that. "It's more like a dream for me. I know I had it, but I can't remember any of the details."
"Well, you can take my bounty and have all the sex you want. In fact, I insist." Leia reached across the table and grasped his gloved fingers. "Promise me you'll go and get really and truly laid when I'm gone."
The bounty hunter pulled his hand back immediately. "You have a lot of demands."
"I only had one to start with. And it's the only one you haven't agreed to."
"What's the rush?" His gaze was sharp again. Evaluating. "Afraid you'll lose your nerve?"
"More afraid that someone will come looking for me." Poe, probably. The last thing she wanted was for him to see Fett hauling her corpse away. "Come on. Do I really need to find another bounty hunter?"
"That won't be necessary." He pushed back from the table abruptly and his hand dropped to the blaser pistol at his side. Her pulse picked up. Stupid, useless survival adrenaline filled her veins and roared in her ears like static over a comm line.
Fett laid the blaster on the table, where it was soon joined by his rifle. Did he want her to choose?
Leia started to ask, but he spoke first. "You still want to get laid?" He was braced like a man who expected to be punched in the face, his shoulders tight and his face carved from stone.
She pulled herself up, her head swimming a little from the alcohol. "Sure, why not? The bedroom is that way."
It was a terrible idea, on every level. She knew it, but her blood was humming with adrenaline and her feet kept moving. She didn't stop until she stood at the foot of the bed, where she executed a clumsy about-face and plunked down on the edge. Fett began to remove his armor.
"Oh, good," she said, trying to inject a little lightness to settle own nerves. "A Mandalorian strip-tease. I've always wanted to see one of those."
He gave her a dry look as he removed his utility belt and laid it on the lumpy armchair in the corner. "I'm not a Mandalorian."
"What are you then?"
He didn't answer immediately, his attention on his armored bracers. "I'm a simple man, trying to make my way in the universe."
"A simple man with a wrist-mounted flamethrower."
"Keeps people from standing too close to me."
"I really could have used that in the Senate."
The bounty hunter dropped the last of his armor on the chair and began to open his padded flightsuit down the front. Immediately she saw the scarring at his collarbone, much paler than his natural skin tone. It vanished beneath his sleeveless undershirt, but reappeared on his shoulders and forearms. "Not a pretty sight, is it?" His hands stilled. "Courtesy of a blind smuggler and a malfunctioning jetpack."
"The sarlacc did that?"
He nodded and shrugged back into the top part of the suit. "I can keep it on-"
"No. You think that bothers me?"
The lift of his shoulders broadcast a little too much indifference. "Up to you."
"Take it off." She leaned back, bracing her palms on the cheap bedcover. "From the little I remember about sex, it's better without clothing."
"And yet you're still fully dressed."
"I'm enjoying the show. Don't want to miss anything." It was almost true. The bounty hunter was in excellent shape for his age. He had a broad chest and shoulders and just enough muscular bulk to give him a nice solid look.
"Your turn," he said, standing in front of her in his undershirt and shorts, his arms folded over his chest. The scarring on his legs was even worse, but she was careful not to be caught looking.
She let her cloak fall off her shoulders, and released the pressure clasp at the neck of her gown, letting the top part of the garment fall to her waist. Her undergarments were basic, black and tight. Not her best, but she hadn't really expected anyone to see them.
Fett moved closer, and knelt at the foot of the bed. She grasped her skirt in her fists and pulled it up to her knees, making space for him between her open legs. His fingers traced the curve of her leg from her ankle to her knee. The way he watched her so intently...it was almost rude, but Leia supposed that man who spent most of his time with his head in a helmet didn't need to worry about offending someone by staring.
His hand slipped further up, under her skirt, and a shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. She knew this rush was at least forty percent alcohol, but it still feltwonderful.
She leaned forward and cupped his face, smoothing her thumb over the bristling gray stubble at his temple. His hand mirrored hers, his rough palm against her cheek, his calloused fingertips catching in her hair. And then his lips touched hers, carefully, softly. And then less softly. And less carefully. She'd forgotten how much she liked kissing. The warmth of another person's mouth, the unique caresses given by lips and tongues.
It was such a nice prologue to other things she enjoyed, like those same caresses on newly bared skin and then stretching out on a bed with a warm, solid body against her own. If there was one small disappointment, it was that while her flesh was certainly willing, it was not entirely cooperative.
"I might need...a little help." She tried not to wince when she said it. If the front desk could get her a prostitute, they should be able to get her some lube. But as it turned out, the metal stand beside the bed held a drawer of conveniences for guests.
"Thank you for your purchase," a robotic voice announced as the drawer opened. "Your room account has been charged."
"Fek off," Fett growled in response, which made her laugh. He showed her the bottle. "This good?"
Surprisingly, it was. The Force only knew what that small container cost her, but it wasn't as if she needed to worry about the bill. "Here, let me-"
When she was finished he tipped a little on his fingers and applied it to himself, only to look down with an expression of mild surprise. Apparently he was not up to speed on the latest pharmaceutical enhancers.
"If you like that, you should try the injections," she told him. "You could be hard for days."
One eyebrow raised slightly in alarm. "That seems...inconvenient."
"Only if you have somewhere else to be." She leaned in to kiss him again. "Do you mind if I'm on top?"
It was almost like being young again. Naked except for her jewelry, skin on feverish skin, the sound of ragged breathing surrounding and overtaking her. It was awkward too, the way it always was with a new person. His hands were unfamiliar, his body unknown territory.
Do you like that? Yes. Is this okay? ...Yes. How's that?
"Fekking gorgeous," he rasped, his eyes still fixed on her. In this particular context, she didn't mind it. And then there was no talking at all as they moved together, shuddering and gasping until the end. At least time had not robbed her of this. She might need a little more care at the start, but her body had always yielded easily to pleasure.
She fell into his broad chest as the tremors faded and listened to his heartbeat slow beneath her cheek. His arms were a pleasant weight on her back, his warmth so inviting that she really didn't want to move. Maybe he wouldn't mind if she closed her eyes for a few minutes.
He did say he wasn't in a hurry.
The first thing she noticed when she woke up, besides a dull headache and a sour taste in her mouth, was the hum of the shower. Her eyes went to the 'fresher door, and then to the empty place beside her in the bed.
She sat up. Her hair was a matted mess, her eyes were gritty and she was sore in places she forgot she had. But as consciousness returned she realized that the darkness had passed by while she slept. Life, even with all of its ugliness and pain, no longer seemed too heavy to carry. And she was no longer eager to see it end.
Which made the bounty hunter she'd brought here to kill her kind of a problem.
There was a certain irony in the fact that she'd taken him to bed with the presumption that he would have no problem putting a blaster bolt between her eyes post coitus, and now she sincerely hoped she was wrong. She was alone and unarmed. If he was still counting on a payday from the First Order, she was in a very vulnerable position.
Her mind went to the blasters he'd laid on the table the night before. The shower was still going. She drew back the blankets and slipped out bed, grabbing her robe from the floor. It was bad enough to be paranoid, she didn't have to be paranoid and naked.
What's the plan here? Hide a blaster in the bed for self-defense? Confront him at gunpoint in the shower?
The guns were gone, the table surface was bare. Even the glasses had been removed, as if he'd cleaned up. As if he was removing all traces of his presence. Fear tightened her throat. His armor. The flamethrower. Was it still on the chair in the bedroom?
She turned back around, and ran right into Fett. He was dripping wet, a towel around his waist. The shower was still running, he hadn't turned it off. His hand went to her waist to steady her...or to check for a weapon?
"Looking for something?"
"Something to drink," she said quickly. "Maybe a little hair of the narglatch?"
"Water would be better."
"You're probably right." She moved into the kitchen and filled a glass at the cold water dispenser, keeping him in her peripheral vision. "I, uh, think you left the shower on."
"I know." He leaned his hip against the counter and folded his arms over his bare chest. He was watching her again. Waiting. But for what?
"Maybe I'll get in." She touched her tangled hair. His eyes followed the action, his face inscrutable and his shoulders tight. Leia drew in a breath. This was getting ridiculous. "I changed my mind. I don't want to die. Not yet, anyway."
His shoulders dropped, and he ran a hand over the lower half of his face. "Good."
"I was a little worried," she admitted as she set her water down. "You moved your blasters."
"As soon as you fell asleep. I didn't want you to get impatient. Take matters into your own hands."
"And the glasses?"
His head tipped to one side. "They were dirty. I washed them."
Well. A decent lay, and a polite guest. "You didn't have to do that."
He shrugged. "Gave me something to do. It took a few hours for that stim to wear off."
"Oh? You could have woken me up."
"You were sound asleep. And snoring," he added.
"I always snore in strange beds. Sorry."
"I slept fine. Once-" He gestured below his waist with a grimace, and she couldn't fully suppress her smile. It was good to know he had a sense of humor. And a moral compass, if perhaps slightly askew. And in the sober light of day he looked...still pretty good. He looked clean and refreshed, which was what she wanted to be.
"I'm going to go shower. You could make us some caf."
"Good idea."
She showered and put her gown back on, which still smelled faintly of whiskey, and braided her wet hair over one shoulder. She looked at her jewelry and tried to imagine what she could say to Poe.
I'm sorry I disappeared like that. I just needed to be alone for a little while.
And then what? Back to gathering the remains of the Resistance? Trying to convince their allies that they still had a chance? Recounting over and over again what happened to Luke. To Amilyn. To Ackbar.
We don't have time for our sorrows.
Leia drew in a deep, shuddering breath. The darkness was still there. Waiting for her.
Two taps on the 'fresher door broke through her reverie. "Caf's ready."
"I'll be right there."
Fett was carrying two cups to the table when she walked in. He was dressed but without his armor, the top half of his flightsuit hanging at his hips the way young pilots often wore them in their downtime. When he moved past her, she couldn't help but notice the way his undershirt stretched tight over the muscles in his back.
Leia wondered if there was ever a younger, more idealistic Boba Fett, who fought for something he believed in. "I'm curious," she said as she joined him at the table. "Why did you become a bounty hunter?"
"My father was a bounty hunter." He pulled a ration bar out of one of the pockets of of his suit and broke it in half. "Breakfast?"
Hard rations were never her first choice, but she was hungry. "Thank you." She watched as he dunked his half in his caf before taking a bite, and then followed suit. Clearly he was an expert consumer of package food. "You mentioned him last night. He died on Geonosis?"
A nod.
"And he worked for the Separatists."
"For Count Dooku himself."
"And that's all you've ever done? Bounty hunting?"
"It's what I'm good at." He picked up his cup and gave her a wary look over the rim before he drank.
"You've never thought about changing careers? Maybe working for the good guys?"
"No such thing." He set his cup down. "Are you trying to recruit me, General?"
"Why not? You don't like the First Order and you probably have contacts in every corner of the galaxy. We could use a man like you. Especially now."
The bounty hunter put the last bit of his bar in his mouth and swallowed it. "Not a bad offer. But I've got a better one." He mirrored her posture, leaning in with his forearms on the table. "There are plenty of systems out there the First Order doesn't even know about. Pick one. I'll take you there myself."
"And do what?"
"To most of the galaxy it doesn't matter whether it's the First Order or the Empire or the Republic. They've got their own battles to fight. Battles like food. Shelter. Safety. Some of those are battles that you can win." His eyes dropped to the table, where he swept up a few crumbs from his bar with his fingers. "You could...I don't know, teach orphans to read. Form a labor union. Organize a med clinic. You wouldn't be sitting around."
"You want me to leave the Resistance and become an aid worker."
"You want to leave the Resistance. We wouldn't be here if you didn't." His raised his eyes to hers. "This is what I'm good at. People want things. They want justice. They want security. They want vengeance. They want answers. They want freedom. They want their spice smugglers to pay them back."
Leia gave him a warning look. "Let's not speak ill of the dead."
He tilted his head in acknowledgement. "When people want things, they come to me. And I find a way to get them what they want."
She sat back in her seat, letting the weight of what he'd said settle around her. "But to just leave…"
"What did you think last night? That the Resistance would die with you?"
"No. Not for a second."
"Then they can live without you."
She had to admit, his pragmatism had a certain appeal. The rebellion against the Empire had taken nearly twenty years to triumph. Maybe it was time for her to step back and let Rey and Poe and the rest of them build something that could defeat the First Order. Something that could overcome the darkness in the galaxy.
Her son's face came to her, his eyes burning with rage and resentment, and she pushed it away.
I know my son is gone.
No one's ever really gone.
She wrapped her hands around her cup and looked at the man sitting across from her. "There's something I want to ask you."
"Go ahead."
It wasn't really funny, but she couldn't help a soft, incredulous laugh. "Why didn't you just shoot me in the head?"
"It's not always about what you want." Fett cocked an eyebrow at her, and leaned back in his seat with his arms folded across his chest. "I guess I'm getting old. When I hear your name, I remember the princess who bluffed her way into Jabba's palace with a thermal detonator…And I forget about the mountain of banthapoodoo that followed." He rubbed at the scars on his arm absently. "As long as you're still out there somewhere, that's how I'll remember it."
For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Leia picked up the ration bar and dunked it in her caf. "These are really terrible. Please tell me this is not your usual breakfast."
"What do you think?"
"I think you eat them every damn morning." She sighed and bit off a soggy chunk. It tasted like a thick sheet of flimsy.
Fett reached for his cup. "What do you like to eat for breakfast?"
"Pretty much anything but this." She washed it down with caf. "You know what I remember? You nodded at me, after that bit with the thermal detonator. Did you know who I was?"
"I knew Boushh. The real Boushh. I knew you weren't him." His eyes narrowed a little in thought. "Beyond that, there was a short list of people I thought it might be. You were one of them. But my mistake was the same as Jabba's."
"It was?"
"I underestimated you." He sat up a little. "They say you strangled him. With the chain."
Leia didn't bother hiding her smile. "Yes. I did."
"Fierfek." He shook his head and finished off his caf. Then he slipped a datacard from his pocket and tossed it on the table. "That's how you can reach me. If you change your mind."
Leia put two fingers and on it and slid it towards her. An escape route, under her fingertips. "Are you leaving?"
"You can still come with me."
She looked down at the datacard, cool and hard-edged under her fingers.
I wish I could go with you.
No, you don't.
"What if...I just want to talk?" When he didn't respond, she forged ahead. "We could talk about the old days. About the things we want to remember. This has been...I've really enjoyed it."
It seemed that the most effective way to get to get him to stop staring at her was to say something complimentary. His eyes dropped to his feet and his voice became carefully nonchalant. "Same here."
"You could stay a little longer."
"Don't you have people who are going to come looking for you?"
"Probably. But so what? I'll just tell them the truth." She braced her chin on her hand and smiled across the table at him. "I went out and got laid."
Author's Note: I wrote this for myself, so no matter what the official canon explanation for Leia's absence in IX is, I can tell myself that she pulled an Obi-Wan Kenobi and she's off on some remote planet making things better. RIP Carrie Fisher, the princess who inspired generations of women to fight against evil.