Chapter XIV - Fett's Fury
S'kina had scrounged plenty of odds and ends from the Jawas over the years, so materials for her lightsaber were no problem. But the construction of one's lightsaber was no small matter. It often took a Jedi weeks to build his or her weapon, and as each day slipped by she could sense Luke was growing more and more concerned for his Padawans.
Even though he never hurried her along or expressed impatience to be on with it, she apologized daily for delaying him. He told her it was no problem, that if she was going to fight with them she would need a more formidable weapon than a gaderffi, no offense.
At last, almost two weeks after he'd set foot in the Crown, she twisted the last circuit into place. "There. All that is missing is the focusing crystal."
"Unfortunately, that's often the hardest component to obtain," Luke replied.
"Not in this case," she countered, reaching for her necklace. She yanked the pendant from the chain of teeth and carefully pried the deep purple gem loose. When a krayt dragon had wandered into the Crown several years ago, seeking an easy meal, she had slain the beast and obtained the gem from it. Though not the highest quality for making a lightsaber, it would still help form a strong, durable blade. Carefully she slid it into its proper place and covered the inner workings with smooth metal casing.
"You may want to add some grips to the hilt," Luke advised. "That will make it easier to wield in battle."
"I've already planned for that," she replied.
He arced a blond eyebrow inquisitively.
She smiled beneath her veil and, taking her gaderffi, twisted it apart. Taking her finished lightsaber, she inserted it into the handle portion of the battle-axe. Reattaching the bladed end, she held the finished weapon up for Luke to examine.
"Very ingenious," he praised. "May I see it activated?"
She snapped off the blade and ignited the lightsaber. A bright lavender blade sprang forth, thrumming deeply. It bathed everything around her in a soft light.
"You've done well, S'kina," he told her. "Very well indeed."
She inhaled deeply, marveling at the feel of the weapon in her hands, a Jedi's weapon, elegant and effective. How long she'd waited for this moment, to hold her very own light sword, to feel its hilt in her hands, to hear its hum, to smell the ozone as it came in contact with air. That moment had finally come...
And now it was over. She deactivated the weapon and put it back together. Her lightsaber was finished. Luke had fulfilled his end of the bargain and would leave the Crown. She didn't know exactly how to feel about that. On the one hand, it would mean she would once again live undisturbed in her domain. On the other hand, she had grown fond of the young Jedi Master's company and didn't quite want him to leave.
"Now that you're weapon is complete, I must depart," Luke told her. "Will you accompany me back to Mos Eisley and aid us in the fight to save Tatooine?"
She rolled one shoulder in a shrug. "The Crown is my home. Who will tend to it while I am gone?"
Luke smiled. "You're stalling."
"Not stalling, only stating a fact," she snapped.
"Stalling."
"Am not."
"Your thoughts betray you."
"Fine, I am stalling," she huffed, going over to the fire to check on the progress of tonight's dinner. "The truth is, leaving the Crown means leaving my life behind. This is my home, my life. I know no other."
"I understand the feeling," he replied. "Leaving my home was very hard for me. But it was only in leaving my comfort zone that I was able to test my abilities and discover my destiny as a Jedi."
She took a bottle of spice down from the shelf and added a pinch to the stew. How could she tell him the other reason, the deeper, more painful one? She loved her life in Madman's Crown, but she loved Skywalker's company as well. And though she would have gladly accompanied him on his quest just to be with him, part of her recoiled at the thought. After all, those outside the Crown thought her a witch.
She looked up from the cooking pot to see Luke leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the table, hands tucked behind his head, the picture of relaxation. Did he realize she was watching him? Probably not. As she bent down to tend to the fire, she let her gaze roam over him. For a human, he was remarkably good-looking. Though rather lean in the body, there was power in those limbs. His face retained a boyish quality in spite of the passing of years and addition of scars, and his incredibly blue eyes seemed to draw one's gaze in. A smile touched her lips. He was unattached, wasn't he? It surprised her that a man like him would have no wife or even a girlfriend...
That thought came like a blow to the stomach. She bent industriously to the fire to keep her eyes off Luke, but it was no use. The realization that she was falling in love with Skywalker wouldn't leave. She loved him, but he didn't return the feeling. Of that she was certain. And he was human, while she was a Tusken. Their respective cultures didn't fit together any more than their pasts did.
/How could I have been so stupid!/ she fumed. /Not only is he human, but he's the son of the very man who killed my family! My father's spirit would roll in his grave if he knew of my feelings!/
"S'kina!" Luke's shout brought her back to reality. "You're on fire!"
She glanced down to see the sleeve of her robe was indeed blazing. Swearing in her native tongue, she tried to slap the flames out.
Luke was faster in reacting, grabbing the cistern of water and throwing it over her. At the shock of the cold water striking her she gave a startled cry, accidentally knocking the pitcher from his hands. The earthenware pitcher hit the floor and shattered.
"I'm sorry," Luke said quickly, bending to pick up the pieces.
"No, you just spooked me," she replied, also kneeling to clean up the shards of pottery. As they both bent down, their heads collided.
"Ow!" he yelped, clapping both hands to his scalp.
"Are you all right?"
"Fine," he replied. "What about you? How's the arm?" He took her singed arm and began to roll back the sleeve.
"No," she protested, trying to pull the limb away. "Showing flesh among the Tuskens is forbidden."
"Even to inspect a wound?" he asked. When she didn't further protest, he unwrapped her arm and carefully examined the burn. It wasn't severe, thankfully -- even the pain had faded.
"There," he said finally, rewrapping her arm. "You'll be fine, apparently."
She didn't feel fine in the least. Her emotions were in a turmoil that she hadn't felt since her almost-father's death. Luke must have felt the disturbance, because concern crossed his face.
"Are you okay?"
"No," she sobbed, falling against him and crying. She couldn't shield her mind anymore and so let it spill out, her feelings, her desires, her fears. She hated herself for doing this to him, but she had to let him know. Even if it chased him out of the Crown -- and her life -- forever.
Arms wrapped comfortingly around her. "Oh, S'kina," he breathed. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"I feared you would leave me," she moaned.
He patted her back. "Yes, there's a lot I can understand about you now. You've been very lonely here. Loneliness is something I understand all too well."
She pulled away from him and looked away. "You must think I'm crazy..."
"I've met crazy people before, and you're not crazy. You're just a young woman who has found a young man to love. A young man who reciprocates that love."
She turned to face him again. Did he mean...
"I have grown very fond of you, S'kina. You're a strong, wise woman, wiser than many women your age I've met. And as I've come to know you I've realized that you have a great deal of inner strength and a steady head on your shoulders to avoid falling to the dark side through all you've been through. Such a woman as this is to be admired."
"Don't just say this to make me feel better, Luke."
"I say it because I love you, S'kina."
"Are Jedi allowed to love? I thought it was forbidden."
"In the old Order, yes, because Jedi were abusing the privilege to love and marry. Love is a powerful emotion that can bring happiness -- or sorrow and anger, if misused. If one is careful, love can enrich rather than destroy." He smiled. "In the New Order, Jedi may wed with my permission."
She took his hands in hers. "It grows late, Luke. Perhaps you should stay the night. We can leave with the light."
"We?"
She chuckled. "We. I go with you to fight the pirates."
"I'd be most glad for your company."
A bright burning warmth spread throughout her body, radiating toward her limbs. She'd never felt so happy, so wonderfully content.
"Um, S'kina, I thought you said..." Luke began unsurely as she reached for her veil.
"Tuskens may see their mates' faces in the privacy of their tents," she murmured.
"But I'm not..."
She reached out and touched his lips to silence him. "Just once. A single kiss before we leave. That's all I ask."
He reached forward and lifted her veil. What he saw was evidently not what he expected.
She smiled and pulled him close.
----------------
Liz already had breakfast ready for Fett when he entered the kitchen, decked out in full armor except his helmet, which he held under his arm.
"Off to work again, my dear," he said with a jaunty smile, giving her a kiss on the cheek as she walked past. "Nose to the grindstone as always."
"Have fun at the office," she shot back as she readied a bottle for Naomi. "Sure the boss has big plans for you."
"Oh, he's put me at the head of a big liquidation project involving a rogue Imperial warlord." He stuffed half a bagel in his mouth and washed it down with some coffee. "Gotta run, or I'll miss my carpool. Be back for supper unless I have to work overtime." He bent down to kiss Naomi, and she cooed and stuck a fist up his nose in return.
"Drive safe," she told him, kissing him goodbye as he hurried out the door.
She sighed and picked up Naomi, getting ready to feed her. Fett had gone on plenty of hunts during their marriage, and he'd never come back with anything worse than a broken nose. He was, quite simply, the best at what he did. But she still worried for him when he left. And today was worse, for if anything were to happen to him this time he'd leave her not only widowed but a single mother.
She pushed the thought aside. She knew the risks of marrying someone with a dangerous career. She could live with it. Because she loved him.
She fed Naomi and patted her back until she burped, then put her down in her playpen and started a load of laundry.
"Nice baby."
She bit back a startled cry and turned slightly, sliding one hand toward the blaster they kept behind the fabric softener. "Thanks. Her name's Naomi."
"That's a pretty name," said the Mandalorian standing behind her, keeping his rifle trained on her. "Is it a common Earth name?"
"It comes from the Bible," she replied, curling her fingers around the blaster's handle.
"Interesting. You can tell me more about it on my ship."
"I can tell you more about it in Hell, grubber yung," she retorted, and she quickly jammed the pistol under his chin and fired.
Before the Mandalorian's corpse hit the floor she was out of the kitchen, scooping up a still-drowsy Naomi in one arm while dialing 911 with the other.
"911. What's your emergency?"
"I've got a dead Mandalorian in my kitchen!" she told the dispatcher. "Had to shoot him. Self-defense. I think there may be more of them."
"Calm down, ma'am. Who is this?"
"Liz Fett, Shale Street Apartments, Number Four."
A second's worth of stunned silence. "We're sending a SWAT team. Get out if you can, lock yourself and anyone else there with you in a secure room if you can't. Can you contact your husband?"
"I will once I'm off the line with you."
"Do that. And try to stay calm. Help's on the way."
She punched Fett's comm number into her personal unit, then held it in the crook of her neck as she stuffed the pistol in her pocket.
"Miss me so soon?"
"Sure do, you and your guns," she replied. "I nearly got drilled by a Mandalorian."
"You're kidding."
"Would I be calling on your comm if I was?"
"I haven't gotten the Slave out of Area 51 yet. I'll come back and stay with you..."
Two more warriors burst in the front door. Liz ducked as one fired at her, and the blast shredded through the back of the couch. She shot a few times in their direction and ducked into the bedroom, slamming and locking the door.
"Damn, there's more!" she shouted, wedging a chair under the doorknob.
"You have a gun?"
"Pistol from the laundry room."
"There's another in my undershirt drawer and a rifle in the closet. I'm hurrying, dear. Hang tight."
The door imploded. Liz shielded Naomi against her chest and fired at the entering warriors. One shot charred the first Mandalorian's neck, and he tumbled backward into his comrade's arms. The second returned fire.
The stun bolt caught her in the throat, and blackness engulfed her as the sounds of Naomi's cries, the Mandalorian's shouting, and Fett's screaming over the comm faded.
---------
By the time the Slave touched down in the apartment complex's parking lot, the entire Elite had gathered to learn of Liz's abduction. Police were everywhere gathering evidence, interrogating other tenants, and shooing away overly inquisitive crowds. Anakin stood motionless among the bedlam, watching the Firespray touch down.
Fett leaped from the cockpit and charged toward the female officer who was coming to meet him.
"Where's my wife?!" he demanded in a tone that was bordering on hysteria.
"I'm sorry, sir," she replied. "By the time the SWAT unit got here, she was gone."
"My baby?" he asked, his voice tight with emotion.
"Missing also."
Anakin felt nothing but pity for Fett at the news. He knew how it felt to lose one's family, and not knowing whether they were dead or alive was worse than simply learning they'd been killed. He stepped forward and extended an arm toward him in a gesture offering comfort.
Fett leaned against Anakin and gave a pain-filled sob, his normally impenetrable composure crumbling. He wept for a long while, oblivious to the stares he was garnering from passerby. Anakin could feel the raw agony of his grief, the unvoiced fear, the burning rage, all boiling like a dark cauldron of witch's brew in his tortured soul.
/If Fett was Force-strong, he'd be very dangerous now/ he thought. /Small wonder the Jedi feared me after Padme died. And small wonder Zorn's son is so unbalanced./
Fett straightened and coughed several times. "I must go."
Anakin nodded. "I understand."
He turned and walked toward the Slave, his step resolute and determined. A police officer stupidly got in his way.
"Sir, we're going to be needing you to come down to the station so we can gather information..."
"Get -- out -- of -- my -- way," Fett growled menacingly.
"Sir, we're doing all we can to locate your wife and child. In the meantime, it's best for you to remain where we can contact you..."
Anakin couldn't fault Fett's reaction. The hunter grabbed the officer by the front of his jacket and slammed him into the battered side of the Slave.
"If you don't get out of my way, I swear I'll break every bone in your blasted body!"
He flung the cop aside and climbed into the Slave.
Anakin couldn't help feeling jealous as the ship ascended, taking Fett on his quest to find and rescue his loved ones. If only he could do the same to aid and protect his son.
S'kina had scrounged plenty of odds and ends from the Jawas over the years, so materials for her lightsaber were no problem. But the construction of one's lightsaber was no small matter. It often took a Jedi weeks to build his or her weapon, and as each day slipped by she could sense Luke was growing more and more concerned for his Padawans.
Even though he never hurried her along or expressed impatience to be on with it, she apologized daily for delaying him. He told her it was no problem, that if she was going to fight with them she would need a more formidable weapon than a gaderffi, no offense.
At last, almost two weeks after he'd set foot in the Crown, she twisted the last circuit into place. "There. All that is missing is the focusing crystal."
"Unfortunately, that's often the hardest component to obtain," Luke replied.
"Not in this case," she countered, reaching for her necklace. She yanked the pendant from the chain of teeth and carefully pried the deep purple gem loose. When a krayt dragon had wandered into the Crown several years ago, seeking an easy meal, she had slain the beast and obtained the gem from it. Though not the highest quality for making a lightsaber, it would still help form a strong, durable blade. Carefully she slid it into its proper place and covered the inner workings with smooth metal casing.
"You may want to add some grips to the hilt," Luke advised. "That will make it easier to wield in battle."
"I've already planned for that," she replied.
He arced a blond eyebrow inquisitively.
She smiled beneath her veil and, taking her gaderffi, twisted it apart. Taking her finished lightsaber, she inserted it into the handle portion of the battle-axe. Reattaching the bladed end, she held the finished weapon up for Luke to examine.
"Very ingenious," he praised. "May I see it activated?"
She snapped off the blade and ignited the lightsaber. A bright lavender blade sprang forth, thrumming deeply. It bathed everything around her in a soft light.
"You've done well, S'kina," he told her. "Very well indeed."
She inhaled deeply, marveling at the feel of the weapon in her hands, a Jedi's weapon, elegant and effective. How long she'd waited for this moment, to hold her very own light sword, to feel its hilt in her hands, to hear its hum, to smell the ozone as it came in contact with air. That moment had finally come...
And now it was over. She deactivated the weapon and put it back together. Her lightsaber was finished. Luke had fulfilled his end of the bargain and would leave the Crown. She didn't know exactly how to feel about that. On the one hand, it would mean she would once again live undisturbed in her domain. On the other hand, she had grown fond of the young Jedi Master's company and didn't quite want him to leave.
"Now that you're weapon is complete, I must depart," Luke told her. "Will you accompany me back to Mos Eisley and aid us in the fight to save Tatooine?"
She rolled one shoulder in a shrug. "The Crown is my home. Who will tend to it while I am gone?"
Luke smiled. "You're stalling."
"Not stalling, only stating a fact," she snapped.
"Stalling."
"Am not."
"Your thoughts betray you."
"Fine, I am stalling," she huffed, going over to the fire to check on the progress of tonight's dinner. "The truth is, leaving the Crown means leaving my life behind. This is my home, my life. I know no other."
"I understand the feeling," he replied. "Leaving my home was very hard for me. But it was only in leaving my comfort zone that I was able to test my abilities and discover my destiny as a Jedi."
She took a bottle of spice down from the shelf and added a pinch to the stew. How could she tell him the other reason, the deeper, more painful one? She loved her life in Madman's Crown, but she loved Skywalker's company as well. And though she would have gladly accompanied him on his quest just to be with him, part of her recoiled at the thought. After all, those outside the Crown thought her a witch.
She looked up from the cooking pot to see Luke leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the table, hands tucked behind his head, the picture of relaxation. Did he realize she was watching him? Probably not. As she bent down to tend to the fire, she let her gaze roam over him. For a human, he was remarkably good-looking. Though rather lean in the body, there was power in those limbs. His face retained a boyish quality in spite of the passing of years and addition of scars, and his incredibly blue eyes seemed to draw one's gaze in. A smile touched her lips. He was unattached, wasn't he? It surprised her that a man like him would have no wife or even a girlfriend...
That thought came like a blow to the stomach. She bent industriously to the fire to keep her eyes off Luke, but it was no use. The realization that she was falling in love with Skywalker wouldn't leave. She loved him, but he didn't return the feeling. Of that she was certain. And he was human, while she was a Tusken. Their respective cultures didn't fit together any more than their pasts did.
/How could I have been so stupid!/ she fumed. /Not only is he human, but he's the son of the very man who killed my family! My father's spirit would roll in his grave if he knew of my feelings!/
"S'kina!" Luke's shout brought her back to reality. "You're on fire!"
She glanced down to see the sleeve of her robe was indeed blazing. Swearing in her native tongue, she tried to slap the flames out.
Luke was faster in reacting, grabbing the cistern of water and throwing it over her. At the shock of the cold water striking her she gave a startled cry, accidentally knocking the pitcher from his hands. The earthenware pitcher hit the floor and shattered.
"I'm sorry," Luke said quickly, bending to pick up the pieces.
"No, you just spooked me," she replied, also kneeling to clean up the shards of pottery. As they both bent down, their heads collided.
"Ow!" he yelped, clapping both hands to his scalp.
"Are you all right?"
"Fine," he replied. "What about you? How's the arm?" He took her singed arm and began to roll back the sleeve.
"No," she protested, trying to pull the limb away. "Showing flesh among the Tuskens is forbidden."
"Even to inspect a wound?" he asked. When she didn't further protest, he unwrapped her arm and carefully examined the burn. It wasn't severe, thankfully -- even the pain had faded.
"There," he said finally, rewrapping her arm. "You'll be fine, apparently."
She didn't feel fine in the least. Her emotions were in a turmoil that she hadn't felt since her almost-father's death. Luke must have felt the disturbance, because concern crossed his face.
"Are you okay?"
"No," she sobbed, falling against him and crying. She couldn't shield her mind anymore and so let it spill out, her feelings, her desires, her fears. She hated herself for doing this to him, but she had to let him know. Even if it chased him out of the Crown -- and her life -- forever.
Arms wrapped comfortingly around her. "Oh, S'kina," he breathed. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"I feared you would leave me," she moaned.
He patted her back. "Yes, there's a lot I can understand about you now. You've been very lonely here. Loneliness is something I understand all too well."
She pulled away from him and looked away. "You must think I'm crazy..."
"I've met crazy people before, and you're not crazy. You're just a young woman who has found a young man to love. A young man who reciprocates that love."
She turned to face him again. Did he mean...
"I have grown very fond of you, S'kina. You're a strong, wise woman, wiser than many women your age I've met. And as I've come to know you I've realized that you have a great deal of inner strength and a steady head on your shoulders to avoid falling to the dark side through all you've been through. Such a woman as this is to be admired."
"Don't just say this to make me feel better, Luke."
"I say it because I love you, S'kina."
"Are Jedi allowed to love? I thought it was forbidden."
"In the old Order, yes, because Jedi were abusing the privilege to love and marry. Love is a powerful emotion that can bring happiness -- or sorrow and anger, if misused. If one is careful, love can enrich rather than destroy." He smiled. "In the New Order, Jedi may wed with my permission."
She took his hands in hers. "It grows late, Luke. Perhaps you should stay the night. We can leave with the light."
"We?"
She chuckled. "We. I go with you to fight the pirates."
"I'd be most glad for your company."
A bright burning warmth spread throughout her body, radiating toward her limbs. She'd never felt so happy, so wonderfully content.
"Um, S'kina, I thought you said..." Luke began unsurely as she reached for her veil.
"Tuskens may see their mates' faces in the privacy of their tents," she murmured.
"But I'm not..."
She reached out and touched his lips to silence him. "Just once. A single kiss before we leave. That's all I ask."
He reached forward and lifted her veil. What he saw was evidently not what he expected.
She smiled and pulled him close.
----------------
Liz already had breakfast ready for Fett when he entered the kitchen, decked out in full armor except his helmet, which he held under his arm.
"Off to work again, my dear," he said with a jaunty smile, giving her a kiss on the cheek as she walked past. "Nose to the grindstone as always."
"Have fun at the office," she shot back as she readied a bottle for Naomi. "Sure the boss has big plans for you."
"Oh, he's put me at the head of a big liquidation project involving a rogue Imperial warlord." He stuffed half a bagel in his mouth and washed it down with some coffee. "Gotta run, or I'll miss my carpool. Be back for supper unless I have to work overtime." He bent down to kiss Naomi, and she cooed and stuck a fist up his nose in return.
"Drive safe," she told him, kissing him goodbye as he hurried out the door.
She sighed and picked up Naomi, getting ready to feed her. Fett had gone on plenty of hunts during their marriage, and he'd never come back with anything worse than a broken nose. He was, quite simply, the best at what he did. But she still worried for him when he left. And today was worse, for if anything were to happen to him this time he'd leave her not only widowed but a single mother.
She pushed the thought aside. She knew the risks of marrying someone with a dangerous career. She could live with it. Because she loved him.
She fed Naomi and patted her back until she burped, then put her down in her playpen and started a load of laundry.
"Nice baby."
She bit back a startled cry and turned slightly, sliding one hand toward the blaster they kept behind the fabric softener. "Thanks. Her name's Naomi."
"That's a pretty name," said the Mandalorian standing behind her, keeping his rifle trained on her. "Is it a common Earth name?"
"It comes from the Bible," she replied, curling her fingers around the blaster's handle.
"Interesting. You can tell me more about it on my ship."
"I can tell you more about it in Hell, grubber yung," she retorted, and she quickly jammed the pistol under his chin and fired.
Before the Mandalorian's corpse hit the floor she was out of the kitchen, scooping up a still-drowsy Naomi in one arm while dialing 911 with the other.
"911. What's your emergency?"
"I've got a dead Mandalorian in my kitchen!" she told the dispatcher. "Had to shoot him. Self-defense. I think there may be more of them."
"Calm down, ma'am. Who is this?"
"Liz Fett, Shale Street Apartments, Number Four."
A second's worth of stunned silence. "We're sending a SWAT team. Get out if you can, lock yourself and anyone else there with you in a secure room if you can't. Can you contact your husband?"
"I will once I'm off the line with you."
"Do that. And try to stay calm. Help's on the way."
She punched Fett's comm number into her personal unit, then held it in the crook of her neck as she stuffed the pistol in her pocket.
"Miss me so soon?"
"Sure do, you and your guns," she replied. "I nearly got drilled by a Mandalorian."
"You're kidding."
"Would I be calling on your comm if I was?"
"I haven't gotten the Slave out of Area 51 yet. I'll come back and stay with you..."
Two more warriors burst in the front door. Liz ducked as one fired at her, and the blast shredded through the back of the couch. She shot a few times in their direction and ducked into the bedroom, slamming and locking the door.
"Damn, there's more!" she shouted, wedging a chair under the doorknob.
"You have a gun?"
"Pistol from the laundry room."
"There's another in my undershirt drawer and a rifle in the closet. I'm hurrying, dear. Hang tight."
The door imploded. Liz shielded Naomi against her chest and fired at the entering warriors. One shot charred the first Mandalorian's neck, and he tumbled backward into his comrade's arms. The second returned fire.
The stun bolt caught her in the throat, and blackness engulfed her as the sounds of Naomi's cries, the Mandalorian's shouting, and Fett's screaming over the comm faded.
---------
By the time the Slave touched down in the apartment complex's parking lot, the entire Elite had gathered to learn of Liz's abduction. Police were everywhere gathering evidence, interrogating other tenants, and shooing away overly inquisitive crowds. Anakin stood motionless among the bedlam, watching the Firespray touch down.
Fett leaped from the cockpit and charged toward the female officer who was coming to meet him.
"Where's my wife?!" he demanded in a tone that was bordering on hysteria.
"I'm sorry, sir," she replied. "By the time the SWAT unit got here, she was gone."
"My baby?" he asked, his voice tight with emotion.
"Missing also."
Anakin felt nothing but pity for Fett at the news. He knew how it felt to lose one's family, and not knowing whether they were dead or alive was worse than simply learning they'd been killed. He stepped forward and extended an arm toward him in a gesture offering comfort.
Fett leaned against Anakin and gave a pain-filled sob, his normally impenetrable composure crumbling. He wept for a long while, oblivious to the stares he was garnering from passerby. Anakin could feel the raw agony of his grief, the unvoiced fear, the burning rage, all boiling like a dark cauldron of witch's brew in his tortured soul.
/If Fett was Force-strong, he'd be very dangerous now/ he thought. /Small wonder the Jedi feared me after Padme died. And small wonder Zorn's son is so unbalanced./
Fett straightened and coughed several times. "I must go."
Anakin nodded. "I understand."
He turned and walked toward the Slave, his step resolute and determined. A police officer stupidly got in his way.
"Sir, we're going to be needing you to come down to the station so we can gather information..."
"Get -- out -- of -- my -- way," Fett growled menacingly.
"Sir, we're doing all we can to locate your wife and child. In the meantime, it's best for you to remain where we can contact you..."
Anakin couldn't fault Fett's reaction. The hunter grabbed the officer by the front of his jacket and slammed him into the battered side of the Slave.
"If you don't get out of my way, I swear I'll break every bone in your blasted body!"
He flung the cop aside and climbed into the Slave.
Anakin couldn't help feeling jealous as the ship ascended, taking Fett on his quest to find and rescue his loved ones. If only he could do the same to aid and protect his son.