A/N: Hey all, let's not talk about how long this chapter has taken! Haha! All I can say is it is short but another beast. I spent a good portion of one day cutting out words and sentences and complete paragraphs and then more rewriting. Thanks for all the love and reads! You guys are great!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my oc and her story!

Chapter 19

Sleep for the Weary

Kiya hissed as the Weequay on her left yanked her toward him and away from the other's chest. Pain exploded in her shoulder like a million searing pinpricks as the joint popped. Black spots floated before her eyes. The pain radiated outward like a wave of fire along every nerve ending until it burned in her fingertip. Kiya made a fist with her right hand, her nails digging into her palm in a futile attempt to counter the pain. The other Quay squeezed her bicep even harder if that were possible, his rough fingers crushing her flesh. The two held their gazes pinned over her head, neither letting go. The crowd hadn't pushed any closer, but they were still there snickering and laughing. Kiya took a deep fortifying breath as they both stood still for a moment. This wasn't the first time she had had a dislocated shoulder, but this time, it would worsen before it got better.

The Quay to her left growled through his lipless mouth. "Uba seel, jee saw bu nemale yuna." He pulled his gaze from her other captor, snarling down at her, the nostrils in his broad flat nose flared. Kiya held her breath, heart battering her ribs, her shoulder throbbing harder with every subtle movement. A burning numbness tingled along her fingertips now.

More words were exchanged in Huttese. Kiya shoved the pain to the back of her mind and focused on them, forcing her attention to stay with them as much as possible. She was mentally and physically exhausted; even if she wasn't, and her shoulder wasn't injured, there was no easy way out of this. She couldn't give in to the pain.

The one to her right was taller, his face much more scarred, and the horns on his jawline were more prominent. No Quay was pleasant to look at but him even less so. He snarled at her other captor, revealing his broken yellowed teeth again.

The other did the same, showing his own row of broken teeth. He growled, the sound reverberating through his chest. Kiya had seen these brutes' love of terrorizing others, but she had never seen them snarl at each other. She reminded herself to stay calm and think. The best she could hope for was they'd forget about her and tear each other apart. They both pressed closer. Black dots floating before her eyes again, Kiya bit her lip hard as a stab of white-hot pain shot down her arm, her fingers tingled with more intensity. It was all she could do to keep her cry silent.

Neither said a word. They both stared at each other. The crowd quieted, and the taller one's eyes shot behind Kiya; his hand tightened, and she felt his body tense. His slanted eyes went wide, surprise marking his features. Both of her captor's hands slackened. Kiya looked over her shoulder, her lips parting slightly. Boba Fett stood maybe a yard away, his blaster rifle in his hands like usual.

He said nothing, but then again, he didn't need to. Those gathered remained silent. Boba Fett turned his helmeted head, his eyes resting on the taller Quay with the whip. His hand fell away, as did the other. Kiya's own hand shot to her arm. Clamping her teeth together, she tried to hide the pain as she turned toward Fett.

His helmet rotated back in her direction. Kiya stared into his visor, still not moving. He stepped to the side a moment later, but his visor stayed pointed in her direction. Kiya stared at him a moment more. He wanted her to go ahead of him. Kiya swallowed, her attention sliding around the crowd. The Weequays had seemed to vanish completely. It was still them or him. Some part of her cautioned that this could be like being thrown into sinking sand or the wrong sarlacc pit. She dismissed the thought a second later. At this second she'd, rather follow him than stay in their present company.

She stepped past Boba Fett, and the crowd parted so she could continue through them, her arm still tucked against her chest. When they reached the main staircase, Kiya slowed, looking over her uninjured shoulder at him. She had no idea what he wanted her to do. Kiya shoved the uncertainty brewing inside of her aside.

"You can go back," he said in that low rough voice. "But I would keep going if I were you. You need your shoulder popped back in."

Kiya dragged her gaze away from him, briefly settling on the crowd they had just passed through. Many of which still watched them. She turned and kept moving, holding her injured arm to her side; her steps slowed again on the landing outside of the throne room, she peered inside. The band played, and the dancers danced, and if Kiya stepped into the room, it would be business as usual.

Fett had stopped not far away, and he was watching her. She turned her attention to him, inspecting his visor. He was waiting for her. She was not sure why he had helped her, but the decision was hers. Somehow she would know that even if he hadn't spoken to her a few minutes ago. She could go with him, or not. Kiya let out a deep breath and followed him down the stairs. He was right, she was going to need help with her shoulder.

XxX

Boba waited for her to step past him into his small quarters, then did so himself. She paused just inside. After he locked the door, he continued past her to the small table, placing his blaster rifle on it. If he were alone, he might take off his helmet, but he wasn't, and it was an odd feeling.

He was always alone when he was in this room.

Her eyes were flat, dull, and if Boba didn't know better, he would have thought that she had taken some spice. Her gaze moved past him to his bed and then back, her brow creased and weary. She was exhausted and in pain.

He approached her, not missing the wariness in faded gaze. She tucked her arm closer to her chest, turning her injured side ever so slightly away from him. It was a protective gesture and one, he wondered if was intentional. Something told him she was unaware.

"Have a seat, " he said, gesturing toward the bed. He held his hand out and waited, searching her face through his helmet. She stood there, bruises already forming on her arms and shoulder, hair hanging in a tangled mass around her shoulder, her brow pinched with doubt. She wanted to let him help, but he wasn't entirely confident she would allow him to do so. She might be able to set it herself. He could. But the longer she waited, and the more her shoulder swelled, the more difficult it would be for her.

She approached the narrow bed, sitting down on the edge of it.

Her gaze dropped as she gingerly tried to lift her arm. She whimpered softly, shaking and breathing in shallow pained huffs. Boba Fett approached her, squatting down in front of her, and carefully took hold of her wrist. Her own hand fell away, and he carefully lifted her arm to the side. Her stormy pale blue eyes raised to his, she held her breath, biting her lip. Boba paused, digging a small length of rubber about as big around as his pinky from one of the pouches. He handed it to her. "Bite down on this."

She took it, clamping it between her teeth. He had used it for the same reason before. He lifted her arm until it was at a 90-degree angle out from her shoulder.

"Brace yourself," he said and pulled back on her arm. Whimpering, she squeezed her eyes closed, her body tensing. This was always the worst part. She was lucky it wasn't a severe dislocation. The joint easily popped back in place, and he let go of her arm. She let out a deep breath almost instantly as her hand found its way to her arm again.

"It will be sore for a while," he said, taking the rubber she offered back.

"Thank you," she said softly as he made his way back to the table. "I know it will be sore. This isn't the first time this has happened." He dropped the rubber on the table. Boba glanced at her over his shoulder before leaning across the table, removing the hidden panel in the wall, and lifting it. He sat it on the chair. That could mean her joint popped in so easily because it was indicative of a larger issue.

Boba removed a small box next and opened it. He took out the small can of aerosolized Bacta he kept on hand.

He didn't respond to any of her words. Frankly, he was surprised she had offered anything beyond a thank you, and even that wasn't something he had heard in a very long time. She sat where he left her, hand on her injured arm, watching him.

He squatted down in front of her again, groaning softly as his knee protested. "Bacta," he explained.

She reached behind herself with her uninjured arm, pulling her thick hair out of the way; it fell over her other shoulder. Maybe it was how exhausted she was or the turmoil of her day, but her eyes were bluer than they were before as they probed his visor this time. She didn't understand why he was helping her. He could see it all there.

Boba reached out, mindful of the bruising and swelling as he carefully lifted the strap of her dress toward her collarbone so that it was out of the way. Her smaller hand came up as well, her fingers brushing against his gloved ones as she took hold of the strap herself. He shook the small can. "This'll help," he said, unnecessarily, then started spraying and even coat on the front of her shoulder. It thickened as he went; he continued over her shoulder along the back of her shoulder blade before he moved to the front again. He continued down to the bruises on her arm, spraying them as well. Soon, if not already, the Bacta would go beyond reducing the pain and inflammation and healing the injuries.

When he had finished, he found her attention on him again. This close, it was easy to see the lines and ridges of the scar on her face. It almost looked like a spider had spun a web. He followed them down to where the tendril pulled at the edge of her full bottom lip. He had seen far worse scarring in his lifetime, but none of the others had made him curious how they happened. Bacta could have been used to heal hers if they'd been treated in time. Hapan women were always beautiful. It was one of the things their people were known for as well as having a matriarchal society and poor night vision. He could see it, though there was an innocent quality there also that kept her from the sultry beauty he'd seen in most Hapan.

"Sleep," Boba Fett said, standing. He turned and made his way back to the table, placing the bacta back inside the small box. He didn't need to look at her to know she hadn't moved. Boba put the box back in its hiding place and replaced the panel on the wall over. "Sleep. You're safe," he said as he turned back around.

She looked down at the bed almost longingly. "Why?" She asked, her attention returning to him. "I mean, I know you didn't help me because your just that sort of being."

Touche. "I owe you." He answered plainly.

Her brows pinched with confusion, her eyes lit with understanding a moment later. "That's why you," she started. "In the throne room."

Boba Fett nodded. Though he wasn't convinced, he would have let her do it either way.

XxX

He was a dangerous man, and Kiya knew that as she sat there on the edge of his bed. She also knew Yarna would warn her not to trust him, but at this moment, she just didn't care anymore. The bacta was warm against her skin, and the pain was receding rapidly, but she didn't think the bacta was going to be able to help her brain figure out if her arm was working again or not. That was the worst part after the joint was set and healed again. Logic also told her he spoke the truth. She was safe here for now. He had stepped in and helped her because he felt he owed her. Mostly, Kiya was just too exhausted and numb. The weight of everything that happened today just kind of dumped on her, and she just didn't care anymore.

Scooting back into the middle of the bed, she turned so her good arm was toward the wall and leaned her head against it. She cradled her still tingling arm in her lap and wiggled closer to the wall, drawing her legs up beside her. She couldn't bring herself to lay down. Still, her eyes started to drift closed as she gave into exhaustion.

"Your friend. She wasn't.." Boba Fett rumbled in his accented voice, pulling her back from the edge of sleep. Her eyes opened. His words trailed off as if he was trying to find the right ones. "This place will take everything if you let it."

His words just sort of hung there in the silence between them. He couldn't possibly be trying to offer comfort. Could he? If he was, it didn't matter and the notion was absurd. A creature like him could never understand the hopelessness this life could breed, nor care what happened to those weaker than him. Sarita was powerless. Kiya would bet he had never been powerless a day in his life. "Is it letting when it isn't a choice?" Kiya asked, reaching up with her good hand to bat the moisture leaking from her eyes. She sniffed. "She didn't have any choices."

XxX

Settling into one of the chairs, he listened to her breathing evening out as his attention drifted down her back. A moment later, it grew shallow and even, and her body relaxed. It wasn't by choice he had gotten thrust into this life all alone when he was younger than the Wroonian girl either, but it had happened, and he had adapted. Granted, his had been a unique case; most wouldn't have survived what he had. You had to know you would do whatever it took to survive. Boba had never been a slave, but the same maxim applied there. You had to be cold and analytical about your own life, not just not others, or you had to be adaptable—That's what it took to survive. He hadn't known many that could be cold about their own lives. Aura Sing couldn't, and neither could Latt's.

The Dathmorian female could.

His father could, but that was where Boba had learned it from, or it came in his genetic template, either way, it was a trait his father wore well. Boba did as well.

Sentiment had no place in his life, and Boba rarely thought about his past or relived a memory. They were useless. He wasn't magnanimous ever. He was no one's protector, without profit. However, even if he was inclined to dismiss the female Hutt's request to keep the girl alive, he couldn't ignore that he did owe her. And Boba Fett always paid his debts. His gaze drifted down her small frame. She had tucked her legs up beside her on the narrow bed, and her hair hung down her back in the tangled remnants of a braid. She still cradled the left arm, and he had no doubt she would favor it for a while yet. They'd have done far worse to her before they finished as well. His fingers flexed, and his jaw tightened. Her will might have seen her through whatever they did to her, but she was right. There had been no choices for her in that moment, and her body would have been broken. A twinge of something stirred in his chest at the thought. He didn't like the idea of it.

The taller of the two was the same Quay who grabbed her arm in the throne room when Jiliac was here. Boba had seen him watching her since then like he was stalking his next meal. Boba Fett was also very much aware of what him stepping in and bringing her to his room would make others think. That was something he never did, but an association with him would give her protection for now. It already had, honestly. It could also complicate his life. And he supposed she could tell everyone the truth of what happened between them tonight, but that was unlikely. She was smart, and it would serve no purpose. If it weren't for Dengar associating them and sending Zuccuss to find him, Boba wouldn't have known what had happened to her in time.

Simply making sure she remained breathing was enough to cancel out his debt, however. He doubted either of the Weequays had intended to kill her, though they wouldn't have cared if they had. Her words of a few minutes ago filled his head. "Is it letting if you don't have a choice?"

There was nothing she could have done to save herself.

XxX

Kiya slowly opened her eyes, blinking into a wall. She had laid down at some point while she slept, but when she didn't know when. She felt exhausted and oddly weightless. Yesterday's events flashed through her mind again. A sick feeling lay heavily in her stomach. Kiya shifted slightly, her shoulder throbbed dully. Squeezing her eyes closed, she let those last few moments of Sarita's life play out before her eyes again, moisture leaking from the corners. Experience told her it was time to let go. She had done everything she could for Sarita, but in the end, this was too much.

Kiya sat up carefully, slipping her legs over the side of the bed, groaning. She pushed the hair from her face with her good arm. Fett was sitting on the other side of the small table near the head of the bed. Not that she could tell for sure, but she assumed he was watching her.

Kiya had no idea what to say. Good day or any other generic greeting felt wrong, and she would bet he didn't expect her to say a word.

Still, he was unnerving. And more so than usual. This wasn't the first time she knew he was observing her, but this was the only time she had woken in his room. "I need to get to the kitchen," Kiya said, climbing to her feet.

Boba Fett stood as well, heading toward the door; Kiya followed. Her attention on his jetpack.

He paused before he opened the door, turning his head only slightly. "Would you have told me if Jiliac wasn't involved?"

He turned, facing her fully. Kiya had no idea; her gaze left his face shield, drifting down the line of his neck, wrapped in his white flight suit, to his chest. Her brow furrowed. Her eyes caught on the red blinking lights on his left breastplate. Her attention stayed there. The memory of the ones she had stared up at a child filled her head.

Boba's chest rose and fell evenly as he studied her. He didn't know why it was so relevant, but he wanted to know. Almost needed to know what her answer would be. While with most, he would assume that the reply would give a convenient lie, he knew she wouldn't. Her attention returned to his helmet.

She shook her head, "honestly? No. Or I don't know."

Kiya didn't. She had no reason to tell him, but she still didn't know what she would have done. Though, after last night she was glad that she had told him. She didn't tell him that, however. She didn't need to ask if he'd have stepped in if she hadn't told him. She was sure the answer to that was a big resounding no.

Honesty, again. Boba Fett nodded. He opened the door, stepping to the side. The girl hesitated a moment, then moved past him, the soft soles of her sandals tapping on the floor. Boba paused outside the door, locking it, and she continued down the hall, twisting her hair, so it fell over her shoulder.

XxX

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