A/N: Hey everyone: Episode III inspired me to finish this story. Obviously, parts of it are AU now that the new movie has revealed certain things . . . Anyway, sorry for the long wait, and enjoy!

Chapter 13

In the days after that I didn't let myself wonder if Boba would stay – I knew, with a resigned certainty, that he would not. I didn't bother to try and guess when he would go, I just moved around the edges of his life until he pulled me in. I had a new fear, now, and it was much more profound than my girlish anxiety over his sporadic presence in my life. I was afraid for Wedge.

I suppose I always knew that he would break our son's heart, one way or another. Before I had feared that he would hurt Wedge by never showing up, never offering any support or giving a hint that he cared at all. When I saw the two of them begin to grow closer, however, I knew that the way he would crush him would be much worse than I'd suspected: he'd treat him the way he'd always treated me, as if he was the most important person in his life, his pure joy, the thing that grounded him – until he got one foot out the door.

I was also afraid that Boba might get nostalgic for the days he'd spent hunting with his father as a boy and try to bring Wedge up in the same manner. At one point he had talked about school, but as I saw the two of them becoming friends I couldn't help but get suspicious about what Boba might really want for our son. After he had been staying with us for almost a month, still mostly closed-mouthed but progressively livelier, I decided to broach the subject. If he did have aims for making Wedge a second in command, I needed to put my foot down firmly from the beginning. I figured I had a nice wagering chip in the fact that I'd raised Wedge all on my own, that he owed Boba nothing really, save some genes. But I had never fought Boba on anything so important, and after our last blowout I didn't know if I'd be able to handle it.

Before I brought it up, I tried to get an idea of how Boba might respond to such an accusation – or realization. My first hint of his intentions for Wedge came when we were lying in bed late one night, a powerful rainstorm pounding against the rocky walls of our home. Boba had helped me drag our bed deeper inside the cave so that it wouldn't be soaked by the rain splatter.

" I've never seen it rain here," he said, sitting up on his elbows in bed and watching the water pour down over the cave's entrance like it were a waterfall. " Will we be safe?" he asked, casting a glance toward Wedge's makeshift room.

" We'll be fine," I told him, yawning. " You were never around during rainy season, I guess. It gets so hard to remember, when you were here, when you weren't. In some ways it feels like you always were, though actually the fact that you once lived here seems pretty alien now . . .," I trailed off, feeling a little delirious. It had been a long day, running after Wedge, getting some preserves ready for winter and tinkering with my faulty old speeder . . .

" Calli," he said, looking down at me as my eyes drooped. " Did he . . . ask about me? Ever wonder . . . What did you tell him?"

" No, he never asked about you," I told him, a little sourly. " He didn't even realize that humans are supposed to have fathers until the day you showed up here, half-dead." It pained me a little to say it. As I'd become more intimate with the scars that attack had left on Boba's body, I'd fully realized how close he'd come to dying.

" Oh," Boba muttered, sinking down onto the pillow next to me. He put his forehead next to mine and looked into my eyes. " What did he say when you told him, anyway?" he asked.

" Not much," I answered honestly. " I asked him if he wanted to throw you out on your ass and he said we probably shouldn't."

Boba tried not to laugh, and I smiled and shoved his shoulder.

" What do you care anyway?" I asked, my cheeks burning a little in the dark. " You never would have come back here if you didn't have anywhere else to go that day."

He didn't argue with me. That was one thing I admired about Boba, throughout his life, with some resentment. He could be such a cold bastard, so selfish, so wrathful – but he didn't insult my intelligence by lying to me about the way he'd lived his life.

" I hated you when I left," he whispered instead. Thunder rolled closer outside – the rain came down harder, pounding the stone walls that surrounded us.

I shook my head, shut my eyes. I didn't want to talk about that day. Not ever. I felt Boba's hand on my cheek – not soft exactly, he wasn't capable of that anymore. But warm and firm - apologetic, maybe. Silent apologies were the only ones he'd ever offered me. Lightening flashed outside and I moved into his arms.

" Maybe you're right, maybe I wouldn't have come back," he said, resting his chin on top of my head. " But now that I have – I mean I think I forgot – I made myself forget . . .," he trailed off. " I'm glad I did," he admitted quietly.

" Wedge," I said, smiling. I understood what he was trying to say. I had heard it said, before I was a mother myself, that children were miracles. Remembering the hundreds of dour, lonely faces in the orphanage, I couldn't understand how that could be true. Children seemed like a burden, something unnecessary and left behind, like debris cast off from more important lives. But after having Wedge I understood the miracle, and I saw Boba understanding it, too. He had switched it off before, though, when he left, when revenge was all that mattered. Lying there in his arms, I wondered if it could happen again.

" I think I want him to be a pilot," Boba whispered into the dark. " Like us."

I smiled against his chest, thinking of myself as a pilot. I had been a decent one when I flew for the Republic, and I could probably do just fine if I had to fly through space again, but I wouldn't exactly define myself by the term. Still, I thought it flattering – maybe to Boba himself, since he'd taught me how to fly.

" I guess it's in his blood," I said, thinking of my father – and his. I swallowed heavily and moved my hand over the worst of Boba's wounds – the place on his side where a large shard of the detonator had struck him, between the plates of his armor. I laid my hand down on that sensitive place, a ghost of a touch – he still wore a thin bandage around it.

" What type of pilot do you want him to be, Boba?" I asked, keeping my hand there.

" Something respectable," Boba answered. I wasn't sure what that meant – I didn't know what Boba respected, but I had an idea, and it wasn't the sort of fly boy who got his paychecks from the Empire.

" I just want him to be safe," I said, letting out my breath and looking up at Boba. " I don't want him to join the Rebellion."

" Me either," Boba said. " It's foolishness. I was bringing them in –" he stopped himself.

" So the Empire hires bounty hunters to do their dirty work?" I asked.

" Only if they want the job done right," he said sharply.

I opened my mouth to ask him then about what he really wanted for Wedge's future, and maybe to tell him that I'd rather have my son flying against ten Imperial Cruisers than hunting bounties in the tradition of his father, but a giant clap of thunder silenced me. I gasped a little and Boba gave me a reassuring squeeze. I resented the protective posturing, and was set to tell him so when I heard the familiar sound of bare feet padding across the cave's floor.

I turned to see Wedge jogging toward us, a very frightened look on his face. I held out my arms and he dove onto the bed as lightening lit the sky outside.

" The storm woke me up," he mumbled, crawling under the covers between Boba and I. He looked nervously from me to his father, seeming a little embarrassed.

" Yeah, it's annoying," Boba said, sitting up on one arm.

" It'll be over by morning," I told Wedge, kissing the back of his head. " You know how it is during rainy season – we'll have sun tomorrow."

" Can we go swimming tomorrow?" Wedge asked, pulling the covers up to his chin.

" Sure," Boba said. " I can teach you how to dive."

" And do flips?" Wedge asked, grinning.

" No, sir," I said, smoothing his hair. " That's too dangerous."

" Aww, Mom," he whined, shutting his eyes.

" Flips are over-rated," Boba said, settling down onto his side. " Buncha flashy Jedi nonsense. They don't make any sense in a fight."

" Who's talking about fighting?" I asked, my eyes blazing. Boba and I looked at each other over the top of Wedge's head.

" You fought a Jedi?" Wedge asked, shooting up in bed and staring at his father with wide eyes. I brought my hand to my face and sighed. He was way too young to start being curious about Boba's career, wasn't he? I told myself that he would never know, but part of me knew that someday all his father's secrets would come to light, unless I kept Wedge alone in the cave forever.

" Maybe once or twice," Boba muttered, growing apprehensive himself. I had to wonder how eager he would be to tell his son what he did for a living.

" The Jedi are the fiercest enemies of the Republic!" Wedge said, looking at his reclining father with awe, suddenly wide awake.

" Quit quoting the holovid," I said, thinking of Mace, who had, ironically, given us the device that brought the very biased galactic news to our isolated home on static-riddled channels.

" The Jedi are gone," Boba said confidently. " The universe evolved without them."

Wedge opened his mouth, undoubtedly to question his father's ambiguous statement, but thankfully a giant vein of lightening that split the sky outside and its accompanying boom of thunder stopped him. He ducked down as if to hide from the storm, and clung to Boba's arm.

" It's alright," Boba told him as the thunder receded. Wedge curled against him and Boba put an arm around him, glancing at me as if to ask if he was doing it right. I smiled and wrapped an arm around both of them, scooting forward to sandwich shivering little Wedge between us.

" It's close now," Wedge murmured into Boba's shirt.

" It'll be gone soon," I promised him. As I said this I looked up at Boba. Our eyes met and I saw that he knew what I was thinking. Gone soon. If I had to pick two words to completely represent Boba in my life, those would do well.

But as Wedge fell asleep between us, the storm rolling away outside, I felt deceptively safe, temporarily satisfied. Boba and I looked at each other in the darkness and communicated without speaking: at least in that moment we could give Wedge what neither of us had ever had. Two parents to hold him, keep him safe, and tell him, guiltily, but knowing that they were better for the lie, that everything would be alright.

The morning after the storm I was more determined than ever to find out what Boba wanted for our son – what he wanted him to know about his own life, and what he wanted him to become. I wasn't relying on his desires to decide how to handle those things myself, but I was curious to find out if we would be partners in protecting him, or if I would be battling to preserve his innocence alone.

I woke up at the usual time – before Boba but after Wedge. I went into the kitchen and kissed Wedge on the forehead – he was sitting at the table flipping through a book of maps Boba had brought out from his ship. It was interactive, and holographic planets were twirling over the pages.

" Look Mom, Corinth," he said, pointing to one of our moons. " Isn't that where you were born?"

" That's right," I said, peeling naru fruit for juicing.

" What was your house like?" he asked, looking around the cave. " Was it like this?"

" No," I said, tensing a little. I'd never really told Wedge much about my childhood – he'd never been curious before. " It wasn't like this – it was big, and – boring."

" Boring?" Wedge said, looking at me.

" Well, architecturally," I muttered, squeezing the ripe fruit into a pitcher. " And otherwise, until your father showed up."

" You knew Dad when you were little?" Wedge asked, grinning with amusement at the idea.

" Yep," I said. " We lived in an orphanage."

" Orphanage?" he repeated, poking the hologram of Corinth and making the image stutter and realign.

" It's a place for children who don't have parents," I said, my ears buzzing. I wasn't sure why, but I wasn't comfortable with Wedge knowing that Boba and I had been orphans. He deserved to hear the truth, of course – but it led to other avenues, places I didn't think he was ready to go yet.

" Why didn't you have parents?" he asked with alarm.

" My parents died before I was born," I said tightly. " Well, just as I was born, in my mother's case. And Dad's father – he died, too."

Wedge was quiet for a moment.

" What about his Mom?" he asked carefully, shutting the book and glancing back at the bed, where Boba was still asleep.

" I don't know," I said quickly, not wanting to admit that his father might well be a clone. Part of me had always rejected the suggestion – the clones were a tool of the army, thoughtless machines in white armor who motored into battle like droids. There was no way Boba could be cut from the same mold.

Fortunately, this line of questioning was broken by Boba stirring and sitting up in bed. He looked out of the cave's entrance and blinked in the sun.

" Where did the rain go?" he mumbled as he walked into the kitchen, yawning.

" It's strange," I said with a shrug. " That's the way the weather behaves this time of year. Terrible storms at night, clear skies during the day."

" Bizarre planet," Boba mumbled, reaching for the pitcher of juice and drinking from it. I scowled at him for being rude and he misunderstood my irritation, offering me the pitcher to drink from.

" How many planets have you been on, Dad?" Wedge asked from the table, reopening the book.

" Lots," Boba said. " At least twenty by the time I was your age."

" Wow, how come?" Wedge asked as Boba sat down beside him. I looked at Boba, and though he didn't meet my eyes I could feel him registering my discomfort.

" My Dad traveled a lot," Boba told him curtly. " For business."

" Do you travel a lot?" Wedge asked timidly, his eyes dropping back to the book. "Is that why you were gone?"

" Yeah," Boba said, looking away from him.

I waited for Wedge to ask him if he'd leave again, praying that he wouldn't. I didn't want to think about what Boba's answer might be, how he would handle facing the disappointment he'd put me through when it was his son who was missing him, wanting him to stay.

But neither of them spoke. I placed warm pastries down in front of them and they both ate quietly.

" So you'd better study those maps carefully if you're going to start school soon," I blurted out, looking to Wedge. It wasn't the ideal time to broach the sensitive subject of his education, but the silence was making me uncomfortable, and I couldn't bear holding off the question any longer.

" Where will I go to school?" Wedge asked. " With the Geonosians?"

" No, no," I said, waving off the concerned look on his face. " We'll send you to a school on a planet where you won't be the only human in your class. Maybe Corasaunt."

" No," Boba said sharply, making my heart stop for a moment. He looked up at me. " Corasaunt's too dangerous," he muttered before dropping his eyes back to his plate.

I felt something like relief, but I still wasn't sure if he was agreeing to send Wedge away to school. I decided to pursue the topic later, outside of our son's earshot, as I knew it wasn't fair – if Boba started advertising zipping around the galaxy and capturing bad guys as a potential alternative, I knew Wedge would jump at the suggestion, and it wasn't right to include someone so young and clueless in the decision, even if it was his future on the line.

" Will I have to leave the cave if I go to school?" Wedge asked, picking the dried yucca fruit out of the filling of his pastry.

" Of course," I said.

" Don't you want to?" Boba asked.

" Kind of," Wedge muttered. " I mean, I used to. But I dunno. It's not so bad."

Boba and I looked at each other – he meant that it was more fun since his father had arrived to entertain him. I couldn't help but think that Boba looked a little proud of himself. I tried not to shrink in my seat – sure, I had provided six years of stable, loving care-giving, but what was that in the face of Boba's grumpy and mysterious presence? By then I was somewhat used to it – everyone I'd ever encountered had either hero-worshipped Boba or hated him ferociously, and I did prefer that Wedge ignored his less desirable traits, instead of scrutinizing them.

That afternoon, as I continued to try and repair speeder's broken ignition and while Wedge watched a Wookie cooking show broadcast from who knows where on the holovid, Boba disappeared into his ship. Much as I told it not to, that I'd warned it again and again, my heart sank. He was readying himself to leave already? But how could he – how could Wedge and I be so quietly happy to have him here if he was miserable and looking to go?

But when Boba emerged from the cockpit of Slave 1 he wasn't wearing his father's armor or plotting a course for take off – he was carrying an armload of books.

" Turn that thing off and c'mere," he called to Wedge, who obediently flicked off the holovid. I wiped a smear of oil off my cheek and scoffed – if I told Wedge to turn off the holovid he usually acted like he'd suddenly gone deaf.

I watched Wedge walk over to the bed and sort through the books Boba had dumped there. Boba sat down and opened one, and showed it to him.

" See," he said. " This lists all of the species in the galaxy."

" All of them?" Wedge asked, leaning over to get a better look.

" Well, all of the known species," Boba said.

" What do those black marks mean?" Wedge asked. Boba flipped the page.

" Never mind those," he muttered.

" What's that?" Wedge asked, pointing to something on the page Boba turned to.

" That's a Twi'lek," Boba said. " They're pretty decent. Saved your mother's life and all. Probably yours, too."

" They did!" Wedge exclaimed, looking to me as if to ask why I'd never told him stories like this.

" Yes, I have a friend who's a Twi'lek princess," I said casually, trying to appear as cool and world-weary as Boba. " She came here when I was giving birth to you, and her friends – Twi'lek healers – helped bring you into the world."

" Whoa!" Wedge said, staring at the picture.

" I was here, too," Boba said. " When you were born, I mean."

" You were?" Wedge said, looking up at him. " I don't remember."

" Well, do you remember the Twi'leks?" Boba asked testily.

" No," Wedge said with a sigh. " I wish I did."

" You can see plenty of them when you go off to school," Boba said, and my ears perked up. " But you better study these books for awhile first. Memorize the planets and the species, and knowing something about ship maintenance couldn't hurt, either," he added, placing a thin craft manual into Wedge's hands.

" You get to fly ships in school?" Wedge asked, running his hand over the manual's smooth cover. I stood at my speeder, staring at Boba.

" When you're older," he said. " First you have to learn all about how they work, and how to take care of them."

" Is that how you learned to fly?" Wedge asked, looking up at him.

Boba was quiet for a moment. I held my breath. I knew there were some things he would object to about the Imperial school system, knew that part of him must have wanted very badly to train someone to follow in his footsteps like his father had. I just prayed that he would be selfless enough not to put Wedge through the same premature paces.

" Yeah," Boba muttered, not looking at Wedge. " That's how I learned to fly."

I let out my breath. All it would have taken was Boba telling Wedge that his father had taught him to fly, and the interest in school would have evaporated. I looked at Boba and tried to communicate my thanks silently. I knew he hated lying. But I liked to think that he hated the idea that his son might go through the same pain he'd faced as a child more than the notion of being dishonest with him.

For the rest of the day, Wedge would not stop talking about school. He was excited about it, though once in awhile he expressed anxiety over the fact that he would have to leave the cave, and live apart from his parents. I knew it would the hardest thing I'd ever have to do, leaving him at school, but that it was the best opportunity for him to someday get a job inside the law.

" Can I still talk to you everyday?" Wedge asked, looking up at me as we walked to the lagoon late in the afternoon, the sun starting to sink and the heat easing up a little.

" We can talk on the holocom," I offered, my heart breaking. Wedge looked at Boba.

" Relax," Boba said, putting his hands in his pockets. " You've still got awhile before school starts. By the time you turn seven you'll be sick of us."

" No I won't," Wedge insisted, giving his father a toothy grin and yanking on his pant leg. Unable to stop himself, Boba smiled down at him, and then scooped him up in his arms.

" But I wanted to splash in the puddles," Wedge whined, smiling despite himself and wrapping his arms around Boba's neck.

" Well, you're annoying your mother," Boba said, glancing at me. I raised an eyebrow – how quickly I'd become the bad guy, and Boba the fun parent. I suppose it was best that way, though – I didn't want to know what Boba would be like as a disciplinarian.

While Boba and Wedge raced each other in the lagoon – Boba nearly letting Wedge win each time, but not quite – I dozed by the water's edge, lying on Boba's discarded shirt and soaking up the last of the sun's rays as the sky began to take on an orange glow. I had gotten what I wanted: Boba's blessing for Wedge's education, a sign that we were on the same side when it came to what he wanted his life to be like. But I still felt vaguely unsettled – now that our son's future was neatly planned I had the daunting task of considering my own. For the past six years I hadn't had time to even question my singular role as a mother – we'd scraped by on the last of my credits, and it had taken up a lot of my energy in the past two years. Now, for the first time since I was a teenager, I had the luxury of thinking about what I might do with my life, and it was a bit terrifying.

I wanted to thank Boba for considering what was best for Wedge, for backing me up on the subject of school, and for dumping books in his lap to help him get prepared and enthusiastic. More than that I wanted to know exactly what he was thinking – did he lament having to discontinue the legacy Jango had begun, or was he so regretful of the way he'd spent his life that he wouldn't wish the reckless wandering on anyone, least of all our child? I was dying to know what he was going through – I could have asked him a hundred questions, a thousand, but I knew he wouldn't answer any of them, save for cryptic statements and grunts. Still, I decided to try and get him alone that evening, to at least express my gratitude for his participation in my scheme to give our son a safe and normal life.

Later that night, after Wedge had his bath and was put to bed, I busied myself in the kitchen, trying to work up the nerve to go and talk to Boba. He had walked back to the pool that we took turns bathing in each night: Wedge first, then Boba, then me. I had thought about joining him – once or twice he'd given me his bedroom eyes as he was heading back there – but there was still a wall between us.

We seemed to avoid each other physically until the sun had fallen, when we crawled beneath the covers of our bed and slid together like magnets, holding each other out of habitual comfort more than anything else. We had done nothing more since he'd returned – with Wedge asleep close by and only hanging sheets as "walls" for his room, we didn't really feel comfortable. And we didn't feel comfortable with each other, either. Despite everything in our past, it had been a long five years. We were both changed, more guarded now.

But I was longing for him, to my own annoyance and embarrassment. It had been so long since I'd even been within ten feet of a human man, and none had ever pulled at me like Boba did. I was thankful for Wedge's presence – I knew that, had it not been for his prying eyes, I would have thrown myself at Boba by then. And that wasn't what I wanted – not what the rational part of me wanted, anyway.

I finished drying our dishes, something I normally didn't bother to do, and took a deep breath. I told myself I wasn't going to seduce him, I was just going back to thank him for what he'd done for Wedge that day, and to talk to him a little bit in private, which we rarely got a chance to do. There was our late-night whispering in bed, but I tried to steer clear of sensitive subjects when we were pressed nose-to-nose, sharing a pillow. I had too many good memories of that bed to taint it with hushed bickering.

I thought about those quiet conversations while I walked back to the pool, my bare feet stinging against the cold stone as I moved deeper into the cave. My pointless nighttime talks with Boba were doing a rather good job of keeping me sane – we usually talked about our good memories of growing up together, or about places we'd been without the other, or places on Corasaunt we'd visited seperately, laughing over the things we both remembered, though we had experienced them apart from each other. Our favorite topic of conversation was Wedge – I would tell Boba about all the little things he'd missed, and he would answer my stories by telling me about himself when he was Wedge's age. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his boyhood misadventures on Kamino. I would never understand his perception of his childhood-in-training as idyllic; I could only smile at his satisfaction with it and be thankful that he didn't want a repeat performance with Wedge.

As I came into the bath area, the darkness of the inner cave lit by the candles we kept placed around it, I saw Boba sitting in the center of the pool, his head tipped back onto the smooth rocks, his eyes shut. For a moment I thought he hadn't heard me come in, but when he spoke first I remembered his hunter's reflexes, how he'd once told me that never really slept, that his eyes were never really shut.

" I'm almost done," he said, lifting his head a little and looking at me. I was glad for the darkness; I felt my body flush.

" It's alright," I said, with a wave of my hand. " Take your time."

" Is Wedge asleep?" he asked as I sat down at the edge of the pool, putting my feet in the water.

" Yes," I said. " Listen, Boba, I wanted to thank you – for what you did today."

" What did I do?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

" For – not telling him how you really learned to fly," I said, selecting the most significant moment. " For supporting my decision to send him to school."

" Your decision?" Boba said, facing me. I turned my cheek, tried to bite away a guilty grin - my eyes were adjusting to the dim light. " That's always what I wanted for him. Remember?" he asked, unembarrassed.

" Right, I know," I muttered, looking into my lap. " I just wasn't sure – I hoped you hadn't changed your mind, after you got a taste of the father-son routine."

He slid a wet hand around my left ankle and gave it a little squeeze. I bit away my grin.

" How do you stay so pale, living here?" he asked, running a hand up my calf. I shivered – the cave was cold, the water was cold, his touch was giving me goosebumps – I wanted to lean down and cling to him.

" I wear long skirts," I said, folding my arms tightly over my chest. " I'm a mother now – I don't run around in mini-slips anymore."

" You never really did," Boba said, grinning at me. " It's weird for me to think of you as a mother, though. You were my teenage fantasy."

" Oh, that's a lot of bantha crap," I said, laughing. " You didn't have fantasies about girls back then. You dreamed about blasters and ships."

" Well, yeah," Boba said, sitting back and looking a little offended. " But other things, too."

" That surprises me," I said, shaking my head. " It always seemed to me that you just found the human parts of life to be a burden, that the less you had to think about them, the better."

" Thinking about them is overrated," Boba said, looking at me. " Actually doing them is pretty worthwhile, though."

I burst into laughter at this.

" How in the world did you get your reputation?" I asked, doubling over. " You're about as smooth as a gnarly old Wookie."

" Who says I'm trying to be smooth?" he demanded, splashing my legs.

" I know when you're trying to be smooth," I said, still giggling.

" The reputation came with the suit," he admitted, his shoulders slumping a little. " My dad didn't really have time for women, but they were always – interested. I guess he was mysterious and deadly, and they were into that."

" They thought they could unlock the mystery and that he'd protect them in turn," I said, familiar enough with the phenomenon.

" I guess," Boba said.

" Well, give yourself a little credit," I said. " You're your own person. I'm sure I'm not the only sucker who fell for Boba, not the second coming of Jango."

" You're not a sucker," Boba said after a pause, reaching for my leg again.

" Sure I am," I said with a sigh. " But that's okay. I'm resigned to it. Look at me, I should have learned my lesson by now. But here I am."

" What lesson?" Boba asked quietly, his hand dropping away. " That I'm good for nothing?"

" Quit feeling sorry for yourself," I said, rolling my eyes. " You know what I mean."

" No, I don't," he said sharply, looking up at me.

" The lesson to keep my distance, I guess," I said with a scoff, a little embarrassed now. " Not that you could manage to surprise me again by leaving. I guess I know what I'm getting into at last."

Boba looked up at me with a blank stare, as if this was completely off the wall, as if he'd been a perfectly wonderful partner all along.

" I never wanted to leave you," he said. " Even last time."

" Never mind what you wanted," I muttered, not wanting to go down this road, but unable to stop myself. " There was always something more important."

" Hey, stop," he said, and I gladly relented. I looked down at him, and he gave me what I willfully interpreted as an apologetic look. " C'mere," he said, holding out his arms.

" What do you mean, 'c'mere'?" I asked with a forced laugh, reaching down and splashing him, steady in my place though I wanted to crumple against him.

" What could I mean?" he asked sardonically. " Come. Here."

" No!" I said. " I – I didn't come back here to – to . . .," I trailed off, my eyes scanning his body and then jerking away. " I came back to talk about what you did – for Wedge – and you changed the subject."

" Well, I want him to go to school like a normal kid," Boba said with an enormous sigh. " You're happy, I'm happy – what more is there to say?"

" I don't know!" I said. " I guess I'm just curious – about how easy the decision was for you. I mean, about why you think this is best for him."

" Well, isn't it?" Boba asked, getting angry.

" Yes!" I said.

" Then I came to that decision for the same reasons you did." He narrowed his eyes. " I know what you really came back here for. You want me to admit that I don't want to train him. You want me to tell you that the way my father brought me up was wrong, that I regret everything –"

" Well, don't you?" I asked in a harsh whisper. I wished I could take it back after I said it. I knew his wounds were still too fresh to stand up to probing from the stinging question of regret.

" No, okay?" he said, glaring at me. " I don't regret it. I enjoyed it. It was thrilling. Fulfilling, even."

" But you don't want to put Wedge through the same ordeal," I said, unable to stop myself. " So there must be something—"

" Enough, Calli," Boba hissed. I could tell that he wanted to shout, but was keeping his voice low so that Wedge wouldn't wake. " You know what I regret about my life, what I hate about it."

" No, I don't," I said, backing down, genuinely curious now.

" Look," he said, glancing away, running a wet hand through his hair. " I like being alone. I like peace and quiet. I like figuring things out on my own, making all my own decisions. But at the end of the day – I don't know. I'd end up thinking of our bed here. And if I'd even be able to recognize my son if I saw him in a crowd. And if you'd chuck me out on my ass if I ever showed my face again."

" So you've missed us," I filled in. I wasn't entirely surprised, save for the fact that he was admitting it.

" I want Wedge to be able protect the people he cares about without having to abandon them," Boba muttered, looking down at the water.

" You don't have to abandon us, Boba," I said, reaching over to smooth his damp hair. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me into the pool with him. I shrieked a little as I fell into the cold water, and he pulled me into his lap and put a hand over my mouth.

" Shh," he whispered, giving me a wicked grin.

" Dammit, Boba," I whispered back, smacking his shoulders and glaring at him. " Quit changing the subject."
" Fine," he said, drawing me closer. " I guess in a way, I never really did. Abandon you. If anything had happened to you I would have known. I would have come to help you."

" Oh, how?" I asked, rolling my eyes and putting my hands on his shoulders. " And what danger would we be in, anyway? Aside from the debt we're spiraling into."

" I'll help you with money, and pay for his school," Boba said quickly. " And you're right, you wouldn't be in any danger, typically. But when I'm here, you are."
" I'll believe that when I see it," I said, tired of him using his paranoia as an excuse to leave us.

" Don't say that," he said, his grip on my waist tightening.

" No one could hurt us if you're here," I reminded him. " You'd fight for us. And win."

" Then I'm not weak?" Boba asked darkly. I frowned.

" What? Of course—"

" You told me I was," he said tightly. " When I left."

I swallowed heavily, remembering that day, the sandstorm, all the things said that I'd tried to forget.

" I was only trying to hurt you," I whispered. The fact that he'd remembered those words, that he'd thrown them back in my face after five years, told me that I hadn't missed my mark.

Tired of the conversation, as it was backing him into a corner, Boba chose his usual method of ending it. He kissed me, and I melted into him, gave in, let my rational mind deteriorate. I flung my wet clothes off and heard them land with a splatter on the floor of the cave. Then, when we fell together at last, all I could hear was a string of 'I missed you, I missed you.' Maybe it was him speaking, maybe it was me – I couldn't know, I was too lost in him. The cool water and the sharp scent of the cave disappeared, and Boba was all I could smell, touch, feel, taste – logical thought was out of the question. Maybe neither of us spoke at all, maybe it was just a stream winding its way through our minds, stronger than sound – I missed you, I missed, I missed you.