PROMPT: A Superhero AU where Boba has a dark and tortured origin story. I'm not familiar enough with Marvel to play in their sandbox, so it's a version of the Star Wars universe where people have superpowers.

One of the things he misses the most is time. As in, having any sense of it. The only hint is the rotation of the guards. They come to restock his food supply every three or five or maybe seven days. He invented his own unit of time for it when he was fourteen. A claptong. It's the sound the door makes when it opens.

Every seven claptongs, the med droid comes. They poke and prod, weigh and measure. They take samples of anything they want. It's easier to let them. The guards are friendly until they're not.

His quarters are large, he has a fully stocked fitness center with a clear transparisteel ceiling covered in shutters. The shutters open between eight and fourteen times each captong to let in sunlight. His bed is comfortable, the food is good and there's plenty of hot water in the showers. A greenhouse for a very valuable plant.

When the shutters are open, he spends as much time in the light as he can. He strips down to his undershorts and stretches out on the floor. Sometimes he dozes in the sun, and dreams little fragments that he thinks are memories.

Red sand. White armor. Black skies.

The sound of boots in a corridor, and his own furious heartbeat.

A purple beam of light.

Scratching noises.

Scratching noises?

He opens his eyes and sees something on the clear roof he's never seen before. A woman. She's dressed all in black, kneeling on the thick transparisteel with some kind of tool in her hands. She looks up, and he realizes she's talking to another person. A blond man wearing loose, white robes. He gestures, and the woman moves aside.

The transparisteel cracks. A fine web of lines split out, and he rolls out of the way just before a large chunk falls to the floor. There's a hole in the greenhouse now.

A thick cable drops and a brownish blur slides down the cable and solidifies into a man wearing rough brown fatigues. "You coming or what?" He asks.

A rescue.

He's thought of escape so many times. Dreamed of it. But never thought anyone would do it for him.

"C'mon pal," the man says. "We gotta go."

He looks up at the women in black and the man in white, then back at the man standing in front of him. "Why?"

"Why? Are you fekking-" He looks up at his companions, exasperated.

"Come with us," the woman says. "Stand out here in the sun, with no barrier between you."

It's a tempting offer. They went to all the trouble to break him out, they're probably not going to torture and kill him. Not immediately, anyway. He does a little math in his head. If he stays, the med droid will come during the next claptong.

"Time's running out," the man says, and just like that, he decides to chance it.

For the sun. And for time.

When his head is above the transparisteel and he can feel direct sunlight on his face, the woman reaches out her hand to help him up. There's a ship behind her, a small craft. A bunch of information tumbles through his head like water, things about ships. Things he knew once. His rescuers all want to rush toward the ship, but he can't move. He can feel the sun on his skin and the fresh, unfiltered air filling his lungs. It's real.

The man in brown fatigues curses. "We've got to go."

"Give him a second," the woman answers, but there's an edge of worry in her voice. "Luke?"

"I can hold them for a little longer."

He starts moving because he has to. He doesn't want to blow this. He wants to ask for reassurance that there will be more sun, and more air, but that seems pathetic. These people want something from him. Maybe something they can't just take.

The man in brown is the pilot. He drops into his seat and starts pushing buttons. Names keep running through his head, something to do with the buttons. Someone taught him what they were, once.

The passenger area is tight. He sits down and straps in with the man in white on his left and the woman on his right. "I'm Leia, by the way," she says as the ship takes off. She nods to the man in white. "That's my brother, Luke. And that's Han."

He says nothing. This seems to bother the man she called Han. He looks back into the passenger area anxiously. "We definitely got the right guy, right?"

They want proof. He doesn't hesitate. He pulls the blaster from the holster on Leia's hip, spins it towards his own chest and fires.

A fine web of blue electric spans his bare chest for a second and then vanishes. The bolt has been completely absorbed. There's something about the size and shape of the blaster that makes him want to spin the trigger guard around his finger, but he can't exactly say why. When he looks up, his three rescuers are staring at him with shock and little trepidation.

"Kriff," Han mutters from the pilot's seat. "It's true."

The woman nods and takes a slow breath in. She holds out her hand for her gun, and he gives it back to her. "It's Boba Fett, right?"

"Right."

"That's...quite a party trick."

She means it as a joke. He can see that, even if he doesn't get the reference. What kind of tricks are played at parties?

"Do you feel it at all?" Luke leans to one side, examining his chest for damage.

"No."

"And it works anywhere on your body?"

"Yes."

"And shields," Leia inquires. "Even disintegrator shields? You can pass through them?"

"Yes."

"No wonder." She shakes her head. "Imagine what the Emperor could do with an unlimited supply of you."

"When is it?" He asks, and she looks confused.

"When is what?"

He pauses and rethinks his question. "How many standard years has it been since the battle of Geonosis?"

"Oh," she says. She blinks a few times, thinking. "Um. About twenty-two years."

Twenty-two years. He's been imprisoned for nineteen of those years. He's now thirty-two. He has time again.

"Do you, uh," Luke seems to struggling to find the right words. "Do you understand why you were being held?"

"I killed someone. A mind-reader."

"Master Mace Windu." Luke nods. "That was the reason for your imprisonment. But after the rise of the Empire, they needed more troopers. The ones they made from Jango Fett grew old too quickly, so they started trying to clone his clones."

Jango Fett. He didn't forget his father's name. He couldn't forget his face. But hearing someone else say it is unexpectedly...reassuring. His father was real. Kamino was real. "They've been trying to clone me," he says, giving voice to a suspicion he's had before. "Did they succeed?"

"No," Leia says in a sober voice. "But not for lack of trying."

"And you want to stop him."

"It's kind of what we do," Han says from the front. "Welcome to the Rebellion, where nobody tries to clone the talent."

He remembers watching Han come down that cable, faster than any human possibly could. "You're a talent too."

"We all are," Luke offers. "Han's very fast. I'm telekinetic."

He looks at the woman sitting beside him. "What about you?"

"I'm a precog."

"You can see the future?"

"When I touch something or someone, I often see a glimpse of it in the future. When we first landed on the roof, I saw you, standing on the transparisteel, basking in the sunlight. That's how I knew it was something you wanted."

"That seems useful."

"Sometimes." Her mouth flattens out, and she looks down at her boots.

"You touched my hand, when you pulled me up. Did you see something then?"

She nods, but doesn't look up. "I think you'll join us. I saw...the aftermath of a battle. You'll be there, fighting with us. And then we're going to have sex."

The ship swerves suddenly, forcing him to grab one of the handrails on the wall. Luke nearly loses his seat and cast a wild look at the pilot. "You okay, Han?"

"Oh sure. Just fine."

Leia raises her head and glares at the back of the pilot's head for a second. Then she turns toward him in the seat, her expression wry. "It'll be a hot, but also sad. Like something that might happen after a funeral."

He doesn't think she means it as a joke. But he still doesn't understand. "Are your visions ever wrong?"

"The future is always in motion."

"So it can be changed."

"Why do you think I'm telling you about it?" She laces her fingers around her knees. "No offense, but I barely know you. Besides, I'm sleeping with Han right now."

Luke sits up straighter. "You are?"

"Yes. Not that it's any of your business." She gives her brother a hard look, but when she looks at him, her mouth softens into a gentle smile and her eyes are warm. "Let's just agree that it's not going to happen, okay?"

"Okay."

"Thank you," Han mutters.

Leia rolls her eyes at that. "Look, I know it's probably a little strange, being on the outside. When you're ready, and only when you're ready, I'd be happy to introduce you to a friend of mine. She's very good with people who have come out of...unusual life circumstances. My treat."

"Are you offering to get me a prostitute?"

"Licensed therapeutic sex worker. And like I said, she's a friend."

He's not used to kindness. And it is a kind offer. The only problem is one he's just now discovered. He doesn't want a licensed therapeutic sex worker. He wants a feisty precog with warm brown eyes. He wants the woman who held out her hand and promised him the sun. "No, thank you," he says.

"I won't push you, but the offer stands." She smiles at him again, and bumps his knee with hers in a friendly way. The smile immediately falls off her face, and her eyes drop to the floor. "Damn it," she hisses between her teeth.

"Leia?" Luke questions, looking concerned. Han turns his head in the pilot's seat.

"Nothing," she snaps back. "It's nothing. Just get us back to the base, all right?" She's looking at him, but she's trying not to look at him. There's a pink flush creeping up the back of her neck to where her braided hair is pinned to her head. He wants to touch that spot. See if it's warm.

He looks up at the cockpit, where Han is sitting. He still has no idea where they're taking him. To some "base." Somewhere with battles in the future.

And Leia.

He hasn't smiled in a long time. It feels strange.