The only reason Boba hadn't left the orphanage long before his eighteenth birthday was that, as his temporary executors, the officials there had been in charge of the wealth of credits he'd inherited from his father. When he was a legal adult, all of that money was his. The tickets we bought on the ship to Geonosis were first class, aboard a shiny new transport jet.
I had never flown, not even on Corinth, so space travel was quite daunting for me at first.
" If you hope to be a pilot someday," Boba said, squeezing my shaking hand, " You'll have to become comfortable in space."
" I don't want you to think I regret coming with you," I said, " But what are my chances of being a pilot now?" He smiled.
" I've got a ship," he told me, " One of the best in the galaxy."
" How?" I asked. During that time, with all of the labor federations splitting from the Republic, it was hard to purchase a ship of any merit for personal use, no matter how rich in credits you were.
" My father's," he said, " The Slave 1. Because of his lessons, I was a competent pilot by age seven. When he died I took his armor and his ship and hid them in a cave on Geonosis. I was going to live there by myself while I built up my strength to face his murderer, but a Geonosian farmer caught me stealing from his crop one night and I was arrested. I was just a child, so when they found out I had no where to go they stuck me in the orphanage. But the cave where I left the ship was well hidden - I'm counting on it to still be there."
" His ship," I said, a cold feeling moving down my spine, " And his armor?"
" Yes," Boba said, with a frightening glint in his eye, " The finest Mandalorian armor left in the galaxy." With Boba everything that belonged to him was always 'the finest' or 'the best' - usually according only to him. " It's the armor I will wear when I hunt down and kill this Jedi - I want him to tremble in fear, as if my father has come back from the grave for revenge, before I strike him down."
" Boba," I said, quietly, " Do you really think you'll be able to do it? Murder someone?"
" Calli," he said, his eyes darkening, " If you saw the way this man killed my father -" he stopped himself, his lips tensing, " If I'd had a weapon then, even at ten years old, I would have been able to do it."
I shook my head. I wouldn't believe it for a long time - that Boba was capable of becoming a ruthless bounty hunter, infamous for his liberal disintegrations. There were parts of himself that he kept from me, for better or worse.
" So you still know where this cave is?" I asked, changing the subject. " After all these years?"
He nodded. " Its not far from the Imperial Coliseum," he said, " We'll find it." He reached for my hand again.
" Its okay," I said, " I'm not scared anymore." He shrugged, and let go of my hand, embarrassed. My cheeks burned red, too - what were we doing? We were off to start a life together, and we'd never even kissed each other. We sat in awkward silence for a moment, me turning my eyes to the window beside my seat. Outside the stars burned past, the Kaminoan souls watching over their orphan.
" What will we do," I said, almost unintentionally out loud, " Once we get there?" After it left my lips it felt like a loaded question - would we sleep in the same bed? Boba managed to answer it easily:
" I'll teach you how to fly," he promised. " When we get there."
Upon landing, I found the landscape of Geonosis to be underwhelming and dull. Not like the pictures I'd seen of the beautiful, mammoth red rock formations on the desert planet Tatooine; the rocky terrain of Geonosis lacked both drama and color.
" The deserts are beautiful," Boba assured me as we climbed from the ship, as if reading my mind.
We took a transport to the Coliseum, and from there would walk to find the cave where Boba's ship was hidden. He didn't want any of the Geonosians finding out about his hideout - he didn't seem to trust them, though to me they seemed harmless enough. When we arrived at the huge, circular structure, Boba paid our driver and we climbed out. Our only luggage was a small backpack that Boba wore - it contained a few pairs of clothing for each of us, and a canteen he'd bought at the space port. These were the possessions of a boy who had more credits than he would ever know what to do with.
" So what are we looking for?" I asked as our driver sped off. He'd given us some comment as he was leaving in a language I didn't understand, something that I guessed was a warning about the area or a remark about our mysterious request to be dropped off at the Coliseum on a day when it was very obviously closed. Dusk was falling around the giant rock structure, and Boba didn't answer my question, only stared up at the Coliseum, expressionless.
" Boba?" I said, and he turned to me as if he'd just remembered I was there.
" Oh," he said, shaking his head, " There's a stream nearby, and a couple of dead trees with twisted trunks. We'll look for that."
I walked to him and touched his arm. " This is the place where your father died, isn't it?" He nodded.
" I'd like to visit his grave," he said, " If you don't mind."
" Of course," I said, embracing him. He returned my hug but seemed distracted.
We walked about 200 feet to the north of the Coliseum, to a jagged boulder that was just at the foot of the mountainous area that bordered the flat terrain the Coliseum was built on. Boba placed a hand on the boulder and walked around to the other side. I followed soundlessly, and saw his gaze sink down to the earth.
He got down on his knees and began brushing sand away, eventually revealing a long, nearly flat stone. Scratched into the stone in a child's crude penmanship were the words JANGO FETT. Boba ran his fingers over his father's name.
" They took the knife I used to write this," he said, his voice strange, " When I was arrested. It was a gift from my Dad - it had a bone handle. I never got it back."
" I'm sorry," I said. I wanted to fall to my knees and cradle him, but I felt sick to my stomach. As a child he'd had to drag his father's lifeless body from the battleground where he'd died to bury him. A ten year old boy working in the sun to dig a final resting place for his father - the same rage that Boba felt for this Jedi surged through me - what had happened to him wasn't fair.
At the same time, I felt uncomfortable staring down at his father's name. I blamed this Jango in part for what had happened to Boba - why was his son along on such a dangerous mission, anyway? As the orange-purple light of dusk fell around us, I couldn't help but feel animosity toward the departed Fett. It was irresponsible of him to bring a child into a dangerous world that he couldn't protect him from. But at the same time, thinking about what life would be like without Boba, I was glad for his father's mistake.
Watching Boba kneeling there with his head bent toward the ground, my mothering instincts kicked in and I wanted nothing more than to take him home, put him to bed and comfort him. Of course that would be difficult since we were apparently going to be residing in a cave - not to mention the fact that certain other instincts were threatening to interfere, prompting me to imagine myself climbing into the bed with him . . .
" We should go," he said, standing, " Its getting dark." I nodded, and touched his face gently, wanting to take his pain away.
" Calli," he whispered, and moved as if to kiss me but then stopped himself. I suppose it didn't seem appropriate, there at his father's resting place.
A strange foreshadowing of what would always come between us - the memory of his father. We walked on to find his ship, hidden well by a little boy who knew he would someday need it.
After a good deal of walking and some rather treacherous climbing, we finally saw the mouth of the giant cave that Boba remembered as his hiding place. He rushed toward it, and I followed as best I could, exhausted.
Darkness had fallen over the caverns of Geonosis by the time we'd entered the cave, and as we walked deeper into it my heart rate increased - who knew what kind of monster may have taken up residency there since Boba had left? But he pressed on fearlessly, until his outstretched hands touched the cool metal of the Slave I.
" Its here!" he shouted, jubilant. He fumbled for awhile with the door of the ship, and pulled it open. A cloud of dust that we could taste but not see met us and sent us both into a coughing fit. Boba climbed into the cockpit and I followed him - once inside he began furiously pressing buttons, and the ship slowly roared back to life.
" Ha!" he exclaimed with a grin as the lights in the cockpit came on. He kissed the control board. " I told you she was the best! Still working after all this time idling - now that's craftsmanship!" He looked to me for some enthusiasm - I yawned.
" Boba," I said, so tired I could barely see straight. " Is there a sleeping quarters in this thing?"
" Sure," he said proudly, " She's got everything - just go right through that door behind me," he said, flicking his head toward it, " You'll find the bed all the way in the back." I stood to leave and he continued pressing buttons and checking the ship's various systems. The control board looked alien to me, and I realized how out of place I would have felt in flight school - surely the other applicants would have had more hands on experience than I. Thinking about my choices - to be thrust into the highly competitive world of military training school or to fall into the bed of the man I loved - I wondered if I had made the right choice, or if I'd simply taken the easier path.
I walked through the ship's main compartments - it was mostly comprised of a variety of weaponry - I saw the armor Boba had spoken of, resting under a thick layer of dust on a table near a small sink. The helmet's faceless stare gave me goosebumps, and I continued on to the bedroom.
The tiny bedroom was comprised of a mattress and blanket that covered most of the floor, and also a small cot that had been added on to the left wall - just big enough for a young child. I walked to it and ran my hands over the white sheets that Boba had slept on as a boy - they were still tousled as if he'd just climbed out of bed. Two pillows were stacked at the head of the bed - his and his father's. I took both of them and placed them side by side on the larger bed, so he'd get the idea when he came in - he didn't have to squeeze onto his old cot.
I let my hair down and undid the buttons of my shirt and clasp of my skirt - just the act of undressing made my cheeks burn. In a tank and my underwear, I quickly slid under the covers. Once there, of course I couldn't sleep. Despite the fact that I was more tired than I could ever remember being in my entire life at the orphanage, I laid awake and listened for the sounds of Boba coming to bed.
By the time his footsteps finally echoed through the main rooms of the ship, I had nearly nodded off despite my anticipation - hearing him I rolled over and shut my eyes tightly, pretending to be asleep. I heard the door creak open softly, and just knowing he was in the room sent a deep shudder through my whole body.
He closed the door behind him just as carefully, taking great care not to wake me. I listened to him undress with a sort of delicious but unbearable expectancy, waiting to feel his weight press down on the other side of the bed.
When he finally took his place beside me, I couldn't resist it any longer, and I rolled over and wrapped my arms around him from behind - it was dark and he wasn't facing me, but I could feel his body relax in relief.
" Are you cold?" he asked me, unsure of how to proceed, " Do you need another blanket?"
" No," I said, though it was quite chilly since night had fallen. I pressed my face urgently to his back - his skin was so warm, and smelled so good. Allowing myself to be bold, I kissed one his shoulder blades - he tasted like heaven, like the stars - like everything beautiful and untouchable. I let my legs tangle with his and realized he was wearing only his underwear. " I'm just fine."
I waited for a reaction from him, and for a long time he just laid still. Afraid I had moved too fast, I let my arms loosen around him, and moved my lips from his back. But before my heart could sink too low, he rolled over and put his arms around me, kissing my forehead, stroking my hair.
" Calli," he said, squeezing me to him, " I didn't plan on this, okay? I thought I would be able to let you go. I even thought I wanted to - so I could be alone, so I would be stronger."
" Boba," I said, lifting my head to kiss his neck, his shoulder, " I'll make you stronger, I promise. Somehow, I'll find a way."
" You're my reason to live," he said, point blank and unembarrassed, " That makes me strong."
I was holding back tears when our lips finally met, because I couldn't help wondering - was I his second reason to live, next to revenge? Because if he loved me more than his someday vengeance, I had a chance of stopping him, of keeping him safe. I was too afraid to ask him to put me first, though - afraid he would always resent me for his missed chance at justice.
But when we kissed each other like we did for the first time that night - deeply, hardly bothering to breathe, when his lips left mine and traveled down my neck, my collar bone - all my practical worries dissipated, and there was only Boba's body and mine in the universe, floating through space on that little bed, our awkward testing ground and blissful sanctuary.
After experiencing real freedom for the first time in my life, I understood Boba's comparison of the orphanage to a prison. No more wake up calls, no morning chores, no class, no lunch bells and no lights out. For awhile the comfort and ease of our life in Geonosis even tricked me into thinking it would last - how could he leave, after all, when every day felt like heaven?
Later of course I realized that it was only heaven to me - that Boba, no matter where he was or who he was with, could never shake the scars and demons of his past, the ones that would pave the way to the undoing of our little world.
But for a few months, our life was paradise. We stayed in the cave in Geonosis - humans weren't exactly a common sight in the Geonosian towns and cities, and Boba was afraid we'd draw too much attention to ourselves if we lived in them. This was perfectly fine with me - it meant I had him all to myself.
We arranged the cave like a proper house - or at least, what two orphans who'd never really lived in a proper house imagined one to be. We pulled the mattress and blankets out of Slave 1 and put them near the mouth of the cave - just close enough so that the sun could eventually wake us from our slumber, which often lasted until mid-day. The stream that ran through the cave served as our kitchen sink and a shallow pool we found deeper inside as our bathtub.
We hunted and fished for our food - Boba taught me how to use a blaster, which was intimidating at first but did prove useful. Sometimes I would venture into the marketplace nearby the Coliseum - on days when executions were scheduled the variety of food was the greatest, though the prices were highest and the streets more crowded and harder to navigate. I learned a few words in Geonosian - all I can remember now are those I used most: "How much is it?"
I had never shopped before, and I'd certainly never had any money. It was an incredibly alien feeling - being able to have things, to come home with an armload of new possessions. Boba always seemed amused with my daily adventures - I'd come home with candles to light our makeshift bathtub, finely-made blankets to keep us warmer when the temperature dropped at night, beautifully woven rugs to cover the rough floors of the cave.
" Come on, Calli," he'd say, grinning, " This is the hideout of a dangerous criminal! You're cramping my style!"
He always said this to me: you're cramping my style. He was the one who asked me along, I'd always remind myself, trying not to take his joking seriously.
For awhile I almost thought he'd forgotten his mission - our days consisted of nothing that seemed like the preparation for an ambush on a Jedi. We'd wake up late, eat our breakfast in bed, take a bath together, and Boba would either disappear with a tool set under the ship or give me a flying lesson before dinner. I was getting better - I felt comfortable in Boba's Slave 1, with him sitting by my side and giving me encouragement and instruction, the landscape of Geonosis soaring by beneath us.
After dinner he'd scoop me up, giggling and a bit drunk from the cheap Geonosian wine we'd buy at the marketplace, and carry me to bed.
" Boba Fett," I'd say, laughing as we pulled each other's clothes off, " You are the galaxy's greatest lover." He'd grin at my heavily biased comment and curl his arms to show off his muscles jokingly before pouncing on me.
I never would have guessed that this would later become a household fact - that Boba Fett was indeed the galaxy's greatest lover, by reputation, at least. Or that he would become even more famous as the galaxy's most deadly and heartless bounty hunter.
A girl happy and in love, of course I couldn't have seen any of that coming. Boba and I would finish and fall back onto our pillows, sleepily kissing each other's cheeks as we drifted off to sleep - I remember this as my favorite time of day, late at night, when Boba would absently rub my bare back until sleep took over, when his breath would steady, all his muscles relaxing around me. Before I nodded off myself, I would watch him sleep, pompously thinking that I had brought some peace to his troubled life.
I thought those days would last forever - I was a fool. But not completely - there was a nagging place inside me that remembered Boba's solemn vows to avenge his father, that didn't underestimate his determination. It was just easy to ignore that place inside when he was sleeping safe in my arms.
We lived on Geonosis for a good while without much word from the outside world, but six months or so after we'd arrived, Boba began making regular pilgrimages to the surrounding towns, in search of a life form who spoke one of his languages - ours or Huttese, something his father had taught him. He was looking for 'information', he told me. I knew with cold certainty which information he sought - the identity of his father's killer, and how he could get access to him. I was never invited on these trips to town.
Alone in the cave, there wasn't much to do but work on my Geonosian - I'd come across a few children's reading books and I was trying to decipher their alien alphabet. Still, I felt there wasn't much point to what I was doing - I didn't have any plans to integrate myself into Geonosian society - I guess I was just trying to kill time until Boba got back. The fact that none of my lessons stuck reveals what I was really thinking about.
A black seed of worry was planted in my heart as soon as he began disappearing like this - one night he didn't return at all, and I cried myself to sleep, thinking about what a fool I'd been to believe he belonged to me.
The next day, when the Slave 1 pulled back into the cave, I sat up from my fitful sleep and rubbed my eyes, fearing the worst. He had found something.
Boba climbed out of the ship and I felt a jab of panic when I saw him - he was bleeding. It was just his arm, but the gash looked deep and serious.
" Boba!" I said, jumping up and running to him. He leaned against Slave 1 and looked at me, holding his arm.
" Its alright," he said, " Its just a cut."
" Let me see," I said, pulling his arm away. I winced when I saw the wound up close - it looked painful. " Boba, this needs attention . . ."
" Alright," he said, grimacing and making his way over to the bed, " There's a first aid kit by the sink in the ship." I nodded and climbed inside, through the little door behind the cock pit and over to the sink - once there I noticed something was missing. His father's armor was no longer in a dust-covered pile on the table beside the sink. A chill moved through me as I gathered the supplies to wrap his cut.
" What happened?" I asked when I climbed back out of the ship. " Who gave you this?" I poured some antiseptic solution onto a cotton swab.
" A trader I met - agh!" he growled when I pressed the solution to his cut.
" In a tavern," he finished, still wincing a bit as the medicine sunk in.
" Why?" I asked, terrified of his answer.
" He had something I needed," Boba said, not looking at me. His tone was so grave, I stopped fumbling with the bandages and looked up at him. He finally met my eyes after I'd been staring at him for some time.
" And did you get it?" I asked, making my voice cold.
" Yes," he said, returning my frozen sentiment. The look in his eyes made me wonder if he was the same man who had left me there the day before. Without another word I wrapped his cut, maybe more tightly than I should have. I turned from him without asking any further questions and went to start a fire to cook breakfast. Boba undressed, and out of the corner of my eye I surveyed his familiar body for any further damage.
When I brought him his breakfast, he ate hungrily, as if he hadn't been fed in days. When he was done he took the plate to the stream and rinsed it off. All this time I sat watching him, my food untouched in my lap. Finally he turned and glared at me.
" What, Calli?" he shouted, " Why are you looking at me like that?"
" You killed that man, didn't you?" I said, my voice more frightened than I'd meant it to sound. He ran his fingers through his hair, searching for the right way to tell me the answer I already knew. He looked out at the sky beyond the cave's entrance, narrowing his eyes in the glare of the sun.
" I wouldn't have had to if he didn't fight me," he muttered.
" Oh, Boba," I said, my head falling to my hands. " Why?"
" He was bragging about making deliveries to the Jedi Council on Corasaunt," Boba said, his voice completely flat now, " It was exactly the kind of thing I'd been waiting for - a drunk tradesman who had some sort of access to their headquarters. I had drinks with him, and asked him questions about where he made the deliveries, how tight the security was. I must have bought him fifty credits worth of drinks before he mentioned that he had a key pass to their docking bay."
" I see," I said in a deadened whisper.
" I asked if he had it on him, and he started to get suspicious," Boba continued, " He said, 'What's it to you?', and I knew I wasn't going to get any more out of him with words. I waited outside for him to leave, and jumped him, but then he came up with this knife out of nowhere. He slashed my arm, so I blasted him. I found this in his wallet." He reached into his pocket and retrieved a plastic key card, with a complex hologram on the front.
I said nothing, but began to eat my breakfast, dazed. This was the beginning of the end, I knew.
" His ship was parked outside the tavern," Boba said, " I left in it and hid it outside of town. I went back for the Slave 1 this morning. I'm sorry if you were worried," he added, as an afterthought, as if that was the reason I was mad at him.
" Did anyone see you?" I asked.
" It wouldn't have mattered if they did," he said, " I was wearing my father's armor. They wouldn't have seen my face."
His father's armor. I put down my plate and fell onto my side on the bed.
" So avenging your father is going to cost more than one man's life?" I said, squeezing my eyes shut against our sheets.
" It will cost the lives of anyone who gets in my way," he said, speaking in a manner I barely recognized. " And anyway, that guy was trash, a waste of life."
" Is that really for you to decide, Boba?" I asked, a silent tear sliding down my cheek.
" Its for whoever draws their weapon fastest to decide, Calli," he said, stomping off toward the back of the cave.
" Boba, are you leaving now?" I whispered into the sheets, knowing he couldn't hear me. I was afraid to ask, because, again, I already knew what the answer would be.
We spent that day in nervous isolation from each other. Boba took a long time in his bath, so I left and went for a walk through the canyon. During the time we'd lived there I had come to appreciate Geonosis's landscape and the creatures that dwelled there, so I tried to take some small comfort in my surroundings.
As the sun climbed higher into the afternoon sky, I wandered all the way down the canyon to a small lagoon I'd never discovered before. Peering into the clear water, I saw huge fish swimming beneath the surface. Their scales had an odd reflective quality - the sun traced rainbow patterns onto their backs.
I took my shoes off and put my feet in the cool water. Though I tried not to, all I could think about was how much I wanted to share this place with Boba. The fat fish, easy to catch and beautiful to watch. The soothing sound of the small waterfall, the deep lagoon, its bottom visible through the clear water. Alone, all it brought me was a sadness that I could not put my finger on. What was happiness if you had no one to share it with?
I realized then why Boba had taken me with him when he left the orphanage. He wanted me to share in his triumphs - he was probably hoping I'd congratulate him when he returned home with the key card.
Maybe it was he who didn't know me at all. I could not celebrate the death of an innocent man, no matter what vantage his passing gave us.
I spent a long time at the lagoon that day, just sitting and thinking. What would I do if Boba did leave? Would I wait for him to return? And when he didn't? It wasn't that I didn't have confidence in Boba - I knew he was smart enough to pull off his mission. But I had never seen him in combat - I had no idea what he was capable of. I still had nightmares wherein a Jedi ended his life with one blow of his lightsaber. Just thinking about it made me sick to my stomach - that Boba might meet the same fate his father had. Not only because I'd lose him, but also because, in the millisecond before the lightsaber struck him, he'd realize that he'd failed his father. In that one moment between life and death there would be enough pain to stretch across eons.
Eventually I grew too hungry to avoid facing him any longer, and after an afternoon spent communing with the fish I couldn't bring myself to catch one and eat it for dinner. I thought about this - it was the difference between Boba and I. We saw life differently - to me it was precious and fleeting, to him it was just the difference between breathing and flat-lining. Maybe because of his time spent on Kamino, because of the influence of the star-worshippers. Perhaps when he'd blasted the trader the other night he thought he was only returning the man's star-soul to the heavens.
On second thought, I doubted it. He just wanted the key card. The man, like he'd said, was just in his way. I sighed, and stood to leave.
After the long walk back, I had gone from slightly hungry to absolutely starving. Darkness was quickly falling over the canyon, and when I finally saw the welcoming mouth of our cave and smelled dinner cooking, I felt immense relief. I climbed the path up to our little abode, and saw Boba pulling some roasted yucca bird from the fire.
He saw me out of the corner of his eye but didn't say anything. He brought the meat over to the table and cut it into two sections. He wouldn't look at me, but he fixed me a plate.
" That smells good," I said, standing awkwardly at the mouth of the cave.
Boba kept his eyes on his meal, taking a bite and chewing slowly.
" Where have you been?" he asked, with a mouthful.
" Around," I said, without moving. I waited for him to say something else - perhaps an apology was what I wanted - but he just sat in silence, eating his dinner. After awhile of this I gave in and went to the table, began scarfing down my food. I would periodically glance up at him, sitting across the table from me, but he never took his eyes off his dinner. He finished quickly and went to wash his plate off in the stream.
" Do you hate me, Callia?" he asked suddenly, and I blanched at his use of my full name more than his question itself. He was still kneeling beside the flowing water, and still not looking at me.
" Of course I don't," I said, pushing my plate away and standing, " I love you, Boba." It was the first and only time I ever told him this - he never said it to me.
" But I killed someone last night," he said, standing and placing his plate back on the table. Finally he met my eyes - I'd never seen his look so sad, not since he first arrived at the orphanage, back when he'd freshly lost everything. " Do you hate me for that?" he asked. I shook my head.
" I couldn't hate you," I said, " But I - don't agree with what you did." He nodded to himself.
" I have to go away," he said, those brown eyes burning into mine, " Do you understand? You understand what I have to do?"
My eyes filled, and I had to look away from him.
" When will you be back?" I asked, my voice wavering.
" I don't know," he said, " I don't know how long it will take."
" Alright then," I said, turning and going to the bed. I collapsed onto the mattress we'd slept on every night since we'd arrived on Geonosis, and sobbed into the sheets. He slid down behind me and held me, offering no apology, only the soft touch of his lips on the back on my neck.
I guess we didn't have any words left. I rolled over and kissed him, tried to catalogue the taste of his mouth so that I would remember it. I couldn't think of any words to prescribe to it but Boba. My brain had filed that taste under his name.
Kneeling over him, I pulled his shirt off over his head. I tried to appreciate the feeling of his warm, flat stomach rising to meet my kisses, the slight tremble of his skin, the way his breathing quickened. But all that was running through my mind were the words Boba don't leave me, don't go. I wouldn't let myself say them.
I took off my clothes and pulled him on top of me and then down against me, tightly, to experience the secure feeling of being crushed under his body for what I thought was the last time. I wanted him closer, I wanted him inside of me, but he just kept kissing my shoulders, my face, lingering.
I finally had to reach down and undo his pants myself, leaning forward to push them off of him. He managed a grin in spite of everything, and moved off of me to slide out of the last of his clothes.
" Calli," he said, sitting for a moment on the edge of the bed, completely naked and looking out at the last of the orange rim around the planet, the remains of the sunken sun. He looked beautiful in the purple evening light - I'll never forget this image of him, his profile, his perfect features plunged subtlety in sorrow that night before he left me. He looked at me - that look, Boba's attention focused on me, still made me shiver in a helpless, wonderful way.
" What do you want more than anything?" he asked, it seemed, for lack of anything better to say. " I'll bring it back for you."
" You," I said, in my tone a very obvious defeat. " Alive."
" I knew you were going to say that," he said with a half-smile, looking down at his feet. After some silence: " Why do you care about me?"
" I don't know," I answered, honestly. " Sometimes I wish I didn't." He nodded slowly.
" Have I ruined your life?" he asked.
" Not yet," I said. He looked at me and smiled. A number of phrases could have been inserted here - I love you, or, You're the best thing that ever happened to me, for example. I was ninety-nine percent sure that he thought these things at least once in awhile, but I would never have any proof, and my one percent of doubt would always bother me.
If he was thinking these things, he let none of it leave his lips, and in sad near-silence we made love for the last time before he left me. It was neither the last time in our lives that we'd make love, nor was it the last time he'd leave me.
That night, while clutching at him hopelessly as we slept, I dreamt of him. It was the prelude to what my life without him would become: a string of dreams and nightmares, a life lived in sleep.
In the dream he was flying. I tried to follow him; I even got a few feet off the ground, but after a couple of seconds of reaching for him I fell on my face. He was wearing his jet pack, and I didn't have any wings. Lying there watching him take off, half-waking, I thought of all my girlhood dreams of being a pilot, of flying, of space.
My eyes opened reluctantly, the early light of morning harshly touching them.
I'll never get off the ground, I thought. I gave everything up for him and I don't even have anything to show for it. I was surprised to look over at him and find him awake, looking at me. He was lying on his stomach with his cheek pressed to his pillow, wearing a curious expression that made him look like a little boy. I still couldn't make myself believe that he had killed someone.
" I've got to leave now," he said, his voice still scratchy from sleep. I didn't move, didn't speak. Maybe if I stay completely still, I thought, time will, too.
" Calli," he said, after waiting for an answer from me that didn't come. He scooted over to me and put one of his svelte but heavy arms around me - he had been training for his departure during all of the time we were together, and I hadn't even noticed. It had only looked like rock climbing, like push ups to me. I thought he was just being vain, or trying to impress me. But on the day he left all of his muscles were hard as rocks, and his powerful limbs could lift me like I was a doll.
He pulled himself closer, brought his face right up against mine. Nose to nose.
" Whatever people say about me," he said, " Tomorrow or ten years from now. Remember me this way, okay? Just like this." He kissed the bridge of my nose and squeezed me to his chest, so that I couldn't see his face. For a moment I thought he might actually be shedding a few tears over me, but of course he wasn't. Someone who had buried his own father couldn't be moved to cry over a woman, I suppose. Losing me was not the greatest tragedy in Boba's life.
"Boba," I said, my own voice sounding like the timid squeak of a much younger girl. " No one will ever change my mind about you." In the deepest parts of me it would always be true - and only because of my understanding that I was the only one in the galaxy who truly knew him. He smiled at me, and climbed out of our bed. He got dressed - first in his usual brown pants and loose shirt, and then in the Mandalorian armor. I watched him attach each weapon, each shield. With every piece he put on I lost another part of him.
Last was the helmet. I climbed out of bed before he could put it on, ran to him and threw my arms around him. But he felt different already - cold, hard - the protective gear keeping him far from me. I slid off of him, and he cupped my chin and kissed me for the last time before climbing aboard Slave 1 and flying out of my life. I could scarcely feel his lips on mine - he was already lost to me.
He walked from me toward the ship, and before he put his father's helmet on, he turned back to say:
" I won't be long."