That night I returned home to my apartment - I was getting a salary from the army then, and even without it I could easily afford my own place with the credits Boba had left me.
Boba. I thought about him as I changed into the white cotton slip I slept in, as I watched my reflection in my vanity mirror while I undid my braids. My long hair fell down around my face in waves once it was loose, and wondered as I saw myself looking normal again if it had shocked him to see me in the Republic's drab uniform, with my army issue hairdo and my blaster pointed at him. Or could nothing shock a seasoned hunter - even the sight of his childhood love turned into a soldier?
I went to the window and opened it - outside the sounds of the city were still going strong - shouts from the bars that lined the road below, a saxophone player somewhere on the street, speeders zipping past the building high above me. My apartment was modest but stylish, in a more cosmopolitan part of town than most of my contemporaries could afford.
I tuned out the noise of the streets below and the vehicles above and looked up through the cracks in the skyscrapers at the sky. There were no visible stars on Corasaunt - the lights of the city washed them out completely.
I wondered where Boba was. When I'd seen him dealing with the other hunters - and with us, the pesky Republic pilots who'd barged in - he'd seemed so confident, cold and capable. I wondered if he'd even thought about the lives of Ruta and Yvandes before he fired – and did he care at all when they dropped to the floor?
Exhausted from what had happened that day - and not quite sure what to make of it all - I went to bed and left the window open so that I could feel the warm breeze as I slept. I missed sleeping in the cave and living so close to nature - my time in the Jedi Council's headquarters had been the closest I'd even gotten to plant life since I'd left Geonosis.
In bed, I had already resigned to the fact that I would dream of Boba - it wasn't an uncommon occurrence even on days when I hadn't suddenly come across him in an old warehouse. I still couldn't believe it - had I been seeing things? Had my mind wishfully placed him there along with the other hunters?
When I fell asleep, I dreamt that I was sitting by a pond in the Jedi headquarters' water garden. I was wearing an elaborate gown, but I was all alone in the garden, watching the water with a mournful sort of look on my face. Suddenly a shadow fell over me, and I looked up see Boba in his father's armor, staring down at me.
" What's wrong?" he asked, his concern genuine.
" My parents died," I told him, as if I'd just learned this, " Did you kill them?" I then asked, looking up at him.
" I didn't mean to," he said, and I looked away. " Calli!" he said, falling to his knees beside me, " Forgive me - forgive me! I didn't know." He pulled on my arm, begged me to look at him.
" Don't hate me," he cried, " Don't hate me, Calli, you're all I have."
When his pleading finally broke me, I turned and tried to take his helmet off. I needed to see his eyes - if I could just look into his face I knew I'd be able to forgive him, I knew that I would be looking into the eyes of a good person, my Boba, the Boba I remembered. The Boba he told me to remember.
But I couldn't get the helmet off. I stood up, I pulled, I screamed in frustration as I yanked at the metal that was clasped so tightly around his head.
" I can't do it," I finally cried, falling to the ground in defeat. " I'm not strong enough."
" Its okay," Boba said, his voice sad behind his metal mask. " Its okay."
Suddenly my sleep was broken with a jolt - I sat up in bed quickly, as if I'd been called to battle in the middle of the night. I waited, frozen, listening for the noise that might have disturbed me. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart, the short gasps of my breath - and a saxophone still playing sadly on the street below. I realized that it was very late and that I'd been asleep for a long time - the streets and the skies outside were quieter.
Then I saw it flash past my window - the orange blaze of a jetpack. I waited for a moment and I heard him coming back - Boba. He peered in at me through the open window, and when he knew for certain that he had found my apartment, placed a foot on the windowsill and climbed in.
Neither of us spoke for a moment. He stepped into my room, standing proudly in that armor, his jetpack still smoking on his back. I was still breathing hard from my jarring awakening, and I watched him in silence, trying to catch my breath as he removed his pack and placed it on a chair near the window.
" Today," he said, his voice odd and harsh through the helmet, " I thought you would shoot me."
" Don't talk to me with that thing on," I returned coldly. He reached up and removed his helmet - leftover anxiety from my nightmares was quickly extinguished when it came off easily, revealing the face I remembered, and not the more grizzled and angry one I had feared the mask might hide.
" Maybe you should have," he finished when he saw the look I was giving him. The anger that I'd been avoiding in all the time that he'd left me rushed in all at once when I saw him again - but why bother, I thought. He'll leave me again soon, I may never see him again. I decided to hate him later - while he was with me I could at least enjoy the small time I had to spend with him. However angry I was, I had missed him - more than I had even realized before he returned.
He stood, uncertain, at the foot of my bed, holding his helmet, his armor making his posture look strangely formal - back straight, feet apart. I sat in my bed, covers drawn to my chest, and stared back.
" How did you find me?" I asked.
" I followed you home," he said. " I might not be the best of us with a blaster, but tracking I'm good at."
" What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, " You meant to kill Darren, too?"
" Was he the one I tagged in the shoulder? I guess so, Calli. He was trying to kill me."
" Ah, so the only reason you didn't drop me was that I was too shell shocked at seeing you to fire?" I spat back. Pushing my anger away for later would be harder than I'd thought, I realized.
He was silent for a moment - I couldn't read his expression, but the air in the room changed when I accused him of this.
" You know I wouldn't hurt you," he said.
" Too late for that," I said automatically, instantly regretting that I'd admitted this to him.
" Calli," he said, " You know I'm not doing this to hurt you."
" Doing what?"
" Establishing myself on Corasaunt!" he said, " Working slowly toward my father's vengeance."
" And then what?" I asked, " What if you do get what you're after, this Jedi's head on a stake?"
" I'll have made too many enemies to return to you," he said. " I never promised that I wouldn't leave you," he added.
" You did," I said, remembering the night at the orphanage when he'd told me about Kamino and the star worshippers.
" No," he said, " I told you that if I left I'd return to you."
" So much for that plan," I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
" Why do you think I'm here now?" he asked.
" Because of a promise?" I answered, hurt.
" Because you're my home, my family," he said. He sat down on the bed and looked at me in a way that suggested we do something that wouldn't be appropriate for the role of a surrogate sister or mother - did he mean I was like another kind of family - a wife?
I noticed a new addition to the shoulder plate of his armor - a thin, blonde braid of hair that fell to his chest. I looked away and laughed to myself, remembering the comments of the hunters we'd arrested. They must have teased him about his keepsake; obviously they'd thought it was my hair when I'd seemed to know him.
" What is it?" Boba asked.
" I met your girlfriend," I said, looking back at him. I knew I was being cold - and though he deserved it, it was still hard to do when I looked into his eyes. I had to glance away before I softened.
" What?" he said, frowning.
" This," I explained, reaching for the braid. " I met the girl who gave you this - unless you've courted more than one blonde since we parted."
" Oh," he said, pinching his eyes shut, as if making an effort to remember.
" Yeah - a farm girl I lent a hand to. She gave me this when we went our separate ways," he fingered it. " I couldn't turn my back on her. She reminded me of you - sometimes I even look down at it and think its yours for a second."
" And why did she remind you of me?" I asked, " Was it just the hair, or was it that she was also a weak-minded, love sick fool?"
He shook his head. " Because she was beautiful," he conceded, " And because she thought that I could save her."
I was silenced by his response - so he had known that I had placed all my hope in him - and he had dashed my dreams knowing this. But was it for the best? Wasn't I better for being able to stand on my own - would I ever have achieved my independence if Boba hadn't left? Had he saved me without meaning to - or was it in his plans all along? Was I even saved?
" And did you?" I asked, looking at him, at his brown eyes watching mine.
" Did you save her?" My voice had become softer, and he moved closer to me in response.
" I couldn't," he said, " That was why I left. Its why I left you, too. Don't you think I wanted to bring you with me to Corasaunt? I couldn't - I can't. I don't have that luxury."
" I don't understand," I said.
" I don't have anything in me but anger," he said, " I've got nothing to offer - nothing you'd want. I don't know what I'm even doing here. I have nothing to give you but my body and my excuses."
" Then save the excuses," I said, pulling him to me, " I've heard them."
He looked at me with a sadness that made my heart sink before bridging the gap between our lips and kissing me in a way that was both soft and desperate - his body begged me to love him when his words couldn't.
As if we'd made a pact not to speak, the conversation ended and he began removing his armor piece by piece and laying it carefully on the floor. With each part he took off, he'd look at me before going for another, and I'd smile as if to say Go on.
When he was free of his battle suit and then his clothes, I studied his body in the light that came through the open window - light from the street signs, the lamp posts, the moon above all of it. Upon closer examination, he did look different - when he'd left he'd still looked like a boy, even under all of his muscles, even with his impressive height. He looked like a man in my apartment that night. I could only imagine - and usually choose not to - what he had been through since we'd parted, what had brought about the change.
" Come here," I said, pulling back my covers and inviting him to climb under them. He did, and sidled up against me, melting away my chilly disposition with the heat of his skin.
It was a strange sensation, having Boba in my arms again, having him watch me, trying to read what his next move should be or maybe just wondering if he'd made a mistake - weakened - by returning to me. This was a concept that my mind simply couldn't grasp, however, that Boba had returned to me. I had expected any reunion to completely floor me, by having my hopes answered, by being faced with what I'd wished for.
But this disbelief, this core-shaking happiness that I'd thought Boba would bring with him wasn't there - and not because I wasn't thrilled to see him, to hold him again - but because to my mind there could be no big return, no sudden homecoming. I'd kept him so alive in my memories, so tangible in my dreams, that the reality of having him pressed against me was anything but shocking and new - I felt as if it was just another night of retiring to bed with Boba, since he had never left my thoughts, my heart.
My body, on the other hand, had felt the physical absence of his with a certainty that imagination and fantasy couldn't make up for - every inch of my skin came alive again when I was close to him - I pulled my nightgown off without hesitation, wanting to feel his touches more completely. His hands were rougher than I remembered, but I was almost glad - I wasn't in the mood for soft touches that night. I wanted everything - wanted him - as hard and real as possible.
As close as I'd stayed to his memory, as rarely as he'd strayed from my thoughts, I had forgotten what it felt like to have him inside me. It wasn't so much something that my physical self had forgotten as it was something that had been lost to my soul in the time we'd been apart. I tried in vain to hide the tears that came when I felt this overwhelming closeness to him - he kissed my cheeks dry without missing a beat.
Oh there you are, I thought, as he came down closer, flattening his stomach against mine and pressing his face close to my shoulder - I could feel the shudder of his eyelashes on my neck when he pinched his eyes shut against my skin.
There you are.
I put my hand on the back of his head as his body shuddered all around me, as if I was trying to hold him still. Maybe I was. I wrapped my free arm around his shoulders and my legs around his middle, held him fast, my muscles tensing as his relaxed, the full pressure of his weight making me sink deeper into the bed.
When, I suppose, there was nothing else to say, he just whispered my name into my ear, the gentle breeze of his breath and the teasing touch of his lips there making me tremble as if he had just reached for me, as if he wasn't long past reaching - softening and sliding into sleep.
I didn't want to fall asleep - I willed myself not to. Boba rolled off of me and onto his side, and watched me with half-closed eyes, his own effort to stay awake an obvious struggle.
" When was the last time you slept?" I whispered.
" The night before I left you," he answered. I scoffed.
" That was a year ago," I said, " You're not a god, Boba - humans need sleep."
" I've closed my eyes and put my head to a pillow inside the ship," he told me, " But I haven't slept. Not like this. Not without my hand on my blaster."
" Maybe we should shut the window so your many enemies won't murder us while we're lying here," I joked, annoyed with his over-estimation of his dangerous lifestyle. Were bounty hunters really so hunted themselves?
" I can't stay," he said in answer to my joke. " Its selfish of me to be here even now." Tired of his excuses to leave me alone, I rolled over, facing away from him.
" Go then," I muttered, " Save me by leaving me - that's what you want me to think, right?"
" I don't care what you think," he told me boldly, pressing himself to my back and putting his lips to my shoulders as he spoke, " As long as I know you're alive."
" What good am I to you alive?" I asked, " If you won't let yourself be with me?"
" I guess I just want to know that I protected someone I cared about," he said, " Like I couldn't with my father.
" You were only a child," I whispered, wishing that our parents didn't mean so much to us, wishing that we could let the dead die, and knowing that it was impossible.
" If Dad had let me carry a blaster I would have shot his killer without a second thought," he said. I realized I'd never heard him refer to his father as 'Dad' before - it was heartbreaking to hear, and in such a statement. I squeezed the edge of the pillow I was lying on into my fist.
" I found out about my father," I said, knowing I shouldn't tell him but unable to resist. Maybe it would have some impact - I doubted it, but there was a chance.
" And?" Boba asked, after some respectful hesitation. I had to beat back tears before I could get the words out.
" A bounty hunter killed him," I said coolly when I'd regained my composure.
" Calli," he said, sitting up on his elbow and taking my shoulder in his hand, rolling me over to face him. I waited for something - an apology? But he only stared down at me, unflinching.
" Boba you were right," I said, " The world is a horrible place." He didn't disagree, or even wish aloud that I still naively thought otherwise.
" Why did you leave the cave?" he asked, and I could see suddenly the distress that finding me in Corasaunt wearing a military uniform had caused him, " What are you doing here?"
" I wasn't looking for you, if that's what you're thinking," I said quickly.
" I gave you that money so that you wouldn't have to come to a place like this looking for work," he told me.
" You might as well have piled boulders over the entrance of the cave, too," I said, irritated with his estimation of what I was capable of. " That way I'd be preserved inside forever, your safe little orphan girl, ignorant to the world."
" That's not what I want," he said weakly. I could see his mind juggling as he watched me - to leave or stay? When could he go? How long could he stay? Which did he want, and did it matter?
" What do you want?" I asked, knowing he wouldn't understand the broad meaning of the question.
" I don't know," he answered.
" I wish I could help you," I said.
" So do I."
He climbed out of the bed then, and dressed himself in silence. I stayed wrapped under the blankets, watching him disappear again beneath his father's armor.
" How close are you?" I asked, afraid of the answer. " To finding the Jedi who killed your father?"
" Close," he said, after some hesitation. " But very far."
" That's ambiguous," I snorted.
" I know where he is," Boba told me, " But I don't know how I'll get to him. And I don't know if I'm ready."
" So the keycard didn't work?" I asked.
" No," he said, annoyed with the reminder.
So the man you stole it from died in vain? This question I didn't need to ask aloud - we could both feel it hanging in the air, and we both knew the answer.
When Boba was fully outfitted, he stopped at the edge of the bed and looked at me - I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say. Adieu forever? Thanks for the farewell sex?
" Do you really give a damn about me?" I couldn't help but ask. He plucked his helmet from the edge of the bed and his jetpack from the chair he'd set it on and walked to the window, looked out at the city that surrounded us. I could see in his profile that the question had hurt him, but, sadistically, and perhaps because I wasn't getting what I wanted, I didn't care.
" Obviously," he muttered, sliding his jetpack onto his back. " You think I don't."
" Wouldn't you?" I asked, " If you were me?"
" If I were you," he laughed. " I wouldn't have let me in."
" I didn't," I reminded him, " The window was already open." He gave me a look and I realized what he already knew - I'd left the window open on purpose. I'd been waiting for him without even knowing it.
" Calli," he said, stepping up onto the ledge. " The Republic is going to go down in flames, and soon. There is something on the horizon - I can't be sure what it is but its going to change everything. I wish you would get off of this planet. I wish you would leave the army."
" I have my own wishes, Boba," I told him coldly, " None of them will ever come true, either."
" You're a fool," he told me.
" I know," I said softly, hurt. " I was a fool to ever leave the orphanage with you. You made me a fool." He sighed.
" It was too hard to say goodbye to you," he said.
" You don't seem to be having a problem with it now," I spat back, watching his hand grip the window's frame, his foot sneaking out farther onto the ledge as we spoke.
He looked away from me and put his helmet on then, almost defensively.
" You don't know me at all," he said, his voice strange again inside the mask he hid behind.
Of course he was right. The harsh reminder still stinging in my ears, he pushed off from the ledge and blasted away.
After my encounter with Boba I felt newly empty, but more determined to prove myself. Darren never came through on his promise to have me removed from his squad, and I was never confronted about my behavior at the warehouse, even when the deaths of Yvandes and Ruta were investigated.
I was working hard, trying to develop a sense of duty to the Republic. But as someone who had never felt as though she belonged to anything, allegiance was a hard feeling to muster. I tried to borrow from my parents' legacy - my father had flown for the same army. I wanted to honor their memory, but I had no memories of them of my own - all of mine were borrowed from Mace's stories. I would meet up with the Jedi Master whenever he could find the time, and he would happily tell me anecdotes about my parents - I was grateful for his time, but I also resented him for having been able to know them when I could not.
My life puttered on toward a war I felt I had nothing to do with, and meanwhile my dreams were of having my own ship, of flying away, but to where I did not know.
The Republic held a military ball, inconveniently on a night when tensions were high. The Senate was in danger of being eradicated as more and more constituents declared their affiliation with the Separatists. Palpatine had disappeared at the beginning of the week and was still no where to be found, which was troublesome - some had begun to suspect him as a double agent working for the Separatists.
Meanwhile we were all decked out in formal wear and heading for a silly ball that was supposed to lift morale and generate a feeling of loyalty to the Republic. I forfeited my dress uniform for a silver gown I'd bought for the occasion - not out of vanity as some of the others had, but because I wasn't in the mood for patriotism.
The gala was held in the ballroom of a grand hotel in the classy part of town. I was particularly impressed with the huge, stone balcony, which I lingered on, alone, while couples all around me snuggled together against the cold night air. Above us the moon watched our little human drama indifferently - did the celestial gods know that we were all perched precariously on the knife's edge of war?
" Antilles," I heard Darren's voice behind me and rolled my eyes before turning. He was dressed in full regalia, the few medals he'd already won in his young career as a pilot shining proudly from his chest. " Very disappointing," he said, looking at me like he always had - like I was his prey, something slow-moving that he could take advantage of.
" What?" I snapped, happy that we were now equals and that I could treat him the way I'd always wanted to - like a pest.
" I would have thought you'd like to show the Republic some respect by wearing your uniform," he said, leaning on the thick, stone ledge and looking out over the hotel's gardens below.
" We were given the choice to wear civilian clothes for the party," I reminded him, " It's been a long time since I dressed up." Actually, I never had. Not once in my life had I worn a gown, or anything beyond a tattered skirt. " You can tease me for being trivial, as I'm sure you want to." He snorted, keeping his eyes on the horizon.
" What are you doing here, Antilles?" he muttered, still not looking at me. " I've been trying to figure it out, but you got me. What the hell do you want out of your service in the army?"
" I want to serve the Republic, defend democracy," I lied, rattling off our mission statement. Darren gave me a look that signified that he didn't believe me anymore than I believed myself. Then suddenly he seemed caught off guard, and what he said next caught me more off guard than Boba's recent reappearance in my life even had.
" You are so beautiful," the words seemed to fall from his lips; for a moment I thought he would reach out and try to catch them, to shove them back in. There was a horrified look on his face, as if he'd betrayed himself.
But even as I heard this proud young man let loose these words in an awkward moment, I saw Boba standing again at the foot of my bed, and I heard him saying the same thing, just as helpless for the admittance. Had he meant to say this to me that night? It would have meant something, strangely, to hear that he still thought I was beautiful. Had I interrupted him with my query, with my demand to know if he gave a damn about me or not?
" Thank you," I said, baffled. Darren turned away from me. In profile, and in general, he was rather handsome. I hadn't noticed before because he had registered as all men who weren't Boba Fett had when I'd laid eyes on him: not my type.
" And you're hiding something," he said, looking back to me. " I've always felt that you were."
" You're paranoid, then," I said, not meeting his eyes, suddenly terrified of him and the chance that he presented. " I haven't done anything to make the army think I might be hiding something."
" Its just a feeling I get," he said. The fact that he was getting feelings about me was bothersome, and I wished him away, but at the same time, was grateful for the attention. No one had found anything spectacular in me in awhile. I, in fact, was beginning to doubt that I even had the potential for anything beyond ordinary - another girl in braids and a gray, Republic-issue flight suit.
Darren asked me if I wanted anything to drink, and I turned and wondered where his throngs of admirers were. I realized when I found none that he was something of an outcast - because of his father's position, he had always been set apart. I'd assumed this was a positive thing for him, but, given some consideration, it was an obvious handicap. I studied him as he leaned beside me.
" You don't look like a soldier," he said, unembarrassed by his sexism. I scowled at him.
" You've always resented me for the way I look," I said.
" I just told you you're beautiful," he said, in lame defense.
" I don't need you to tell me that," I said, a lie, " And maybe you resent me because I'm beautiful, and not - interested."
" You're not interested in me?" in his tone there was a sense that he was trying not to roar with laughter at the very idea. I scoffed.
" Where do men get their insane confidence?" I asked, thinking of Boba.
" Not all of us are confident," Darren bragged, taking it as a compliment.
" All the ones I've known are," I muttered. Darren made three, Boba and Mace being the other two men I'd known. And I wasn't quite sure I knew Darren - outwardly he seemed like only the brazen, over-privileged son of a general - not likeable but trustworthy enough. Maybe he was something more, or less.
" Come take a walk with me," he said, pushing off of the railing. I wondered if he knew that I was aware of his intentions, or did he think he was fooling me? Call a woman beautiful and have your way with her instantly?
" Alright," I agreed after pretending to consider. Let Darren think that he had easily won me over - I had my own agenda. I wanted to know what it was like with another man. Would it be the same? Was I holding out for something in Boba that I could have had with anyone? I followed Darren down the moonlit path to the garden.
We walked past the heavily meddled officials that were standing in clumps in the garden, drinking and talking seriously about the struggle for power in the galaxy that was coming to a point. They all nodded to Darren, not recognizing me and probably thinking I was only his civilian date. I contemplated this lifestyle for a moment - the docile love of a military man, waiting at home while he was off defending democracy. Not understanding, only wishing for his safety. Then I realized I had played this role before - in the cave, praying for Boba in vain, cursing his quest, his principles for being more sacred than our love.
As if reading my thoughts, Darren breached this subject while we searched for a dark, quiet place in the garden.
" Now I know where I got this feeling from," he said suddenly. I frowned.
" What feeling?"
" That you've got a secret," he said, his smirk and his cold blue eyes looking eerie in the pale light from the night sky.
" Where then?" I asked. He took my shoulders roughly in his hands and pushed me behind a hedge. My back found a wall - the dress was cut low and the plants that snaked down the wall scraped my bare skin.
" Those smugglers we picked up," he said. I couldn't see him - behind the hedge it was dark, my eyes hadn't adjusted yet. I could feel his breath not far from my face. " You seemed to recognize one of them - the one who shot me. You called him 'Boba.' I asked around - it was Boba Fett, wasn't it? Famous bounty hunter? Jango Fett's bastard son?"
My heart rate increased - I realized suddenly he'd waited until we were alone to tell me this, he hadn't simply remembered it all of a sudden. He'd researched it - he'd researched Boba.
" What do you want from me Darren?" I asked, " You want me out of the army? You threatened to demote me that day when I saw him, and nothing ever came of it."
" I felt so betrayed," he said, touching my face, his caress surprisingly tender and timid. My eyes began to adjust and I saw that his were wild; I started when I realized how close he was to me. " I had arranged to have you on my team, and you still never gave me the time of day. And then, the way you called that criminal's name-"
" Stop it," I said, pressing my back closer to the wall, the vines scratching and clawing at my skin. My stomach began to feel queasy; I lifted my hand to my forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed there, but Darren caught it and kissed my palm before I could.
" Darren," I said, struggling to breathe, " You don't know anything about me." I had thought he wanted sex - I couldn't handle this other admission, this emotional outburst. He seemed to have suddenly gone mad - I couldn't smell liqueur on his breath, maybe it was something else - drugs?
" I want to know about you," he said, pressing himself to me. He was much taller, and his crotch was level with my stomach.
" Don't push on me," I groaned, shoving at his wide chest, " I don't feel well."
" I'm sorry," he said, and I was genuinely surprised when he backed off a bit. For a moment I had expected him to try and rape me, but maybe he wasn't so evil. Maybe he was just a lonely man in search of some woman to take care of him. Whatever he was and whatever he was looking for, I didn't want to be involved - I immediately regretted my curiosity. It wouldn't be the same; I could already feel the sticky malignancy of pure lust creeping up my spine - it would be nothing like it was with Boba. Sadly, as I had suspected, love made all the difference.
I would never love anyone again, I knew. My heart dropped and my stomach seemed to pinch shut inside me - the pain kicking me in the middle, I grasped at Darren for support.
" I'm sorry," he said again, taking me in his arms. " I didn't hurt you, did I?"
No, I thought, groaning. Not you, not you, but the damage has been done. I began to feel something creeping up inside me - I tried to push away from Darren but it was too late.
I threw up all over his jacket, and some on his shoes, too.
" Oh shit," I moaned, turning and bracing myself against the wall. Darren was stunned silent for a few moments, then he mustered up a good-hearted laugh.
" I see," he said, chuckling with some effort and bending down to try and wipe off his shoes. " You're drunk."
I didn't argue with him, though I'd had nothing to drink. I felt the urge to throw up again but pushed it down, trying to steady myself. I thought of my mother, of poison racking through her in her final hours. Did it feel like this?
When the pains rolled slowly away, Darren helped me around the side of the hotel so that we wouldn't have to walk through the party in the sad state we were in. The smell on Darren's clothes was making me want to puke again, but I suppressed the urge by sticking my head out of the window of his speeder as he drove me home.
" I'm so sorry," I managed, sitting in the passenger seat beside him. I was embarrassed, but I knew he was too, after his clumsy love pledge had been met with physical sickness.
" Its no problem," he said, patting my knee. By then he had removed the jacket and laid it in the backseat - he wore a collar shirt underneath and had unbuttoned it and taken off his tie.
" Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked. He had always gone out of his way to make my life miserable in the past - I had assumed that boys gave up on teasing the girl that they liked when they were five years old; perhaps I was wrong.
" Well," he said, " You never really responded to the asshole routine." He smirked. " And I think I resented you for drawing my attention away from training, from the approaching war." He grew serious: " This means everything to me," he said, " And I guess I suspected that you didn't feel the same way."
I was impressed with his accurate observations - but I remained silent, and when we pulled up to my apartment building I rolled my head towards him and watched him without speaking. He managed a smile, but all the while he had the look of a man who was bleeding to death.
" You're scared," I said, nearly delirious from dehydration and the strange torrent of emotions that had been racing through me during the party and for the past weeks.
" I'm not," he said, an obvious lie. " I'm ready to die for the Republic. Can you say the same thing?" He seemed to care so deeply, I couldn't lie to him.
" I'm ready to die," I returned simply, honestly.
" Callia," he said, a desperate sadness in his eyes as he fell toward me, bending to kiss me roughly on the mouth. I sat still and received what he could offer - his mouth was warm but the touch of his lips on mine didn't send shudders down to my middle, didn't curl my toes. No, I would never have that again.
" What's going to happen to us?" he whispered when he pulled away, and I knew he wasn't talking about just he and I. Our generation - would it one of the unlucky ones, lost to a war? Remembered as brave but not really remembered at all, not as people, not as people who reached for each other in the desperate darkness of a speeder on a quiet night before the storm?
" Damn," I said, touching my mouth, wet from his sloppy kiss. " Doesn't my breath stink?"
Exhausted, it was all I could manage in answer to his impossible question. And we laughed, courageously.