Hey y'all, so it's been a crazy couple of weeks. Insanely crazy and busy and culminated in a very sick pup and me having to cancel my flight/trip to take care of her.

So, two weeks is a very long time, and I'm sorry! I have tried several times to work on this over the last two weeks, and things kept happening. Without much further ado, Chapter 27!

As always, thanks so much for all the supports, reviews, and follows, and faves!

A special thanks to Tmtcltb! You are the only reason this is finished today! :)

Chapter 27

A Man of Flesh and Blood

Biting her lip, Kiya hesitated at the door to Boba Fett's quarters, watching him as he continued inside. Behind her, the muffled sounds of the band playing on the floor above reached her ears. She hadn't known where he was leading her when he told her to come with him. Now standing outside the door to his personal quarters, she was not sure. Her heart thudded a little harder as he moved around, bathed in the ambient light within. She knew he wasn't going to hurt her. And she had no idea what he wanted, but she had come this far.

Kiya let out a deep breath and ignored the disquiet in her stomach, following him inside. Her attention was fixed on the head of the long missile sticking out of his jetpack. The door whooshed closed behind her as Fett laid his blaster rifle on the table. Then he reached behind himself with one arm and started to lift his jetpack—his tattered green cape fell over the back of his armor after he finished. He set his jetpack in one of the chairs near the table, not once turning his head in her direction. His apparent lack of interest was also unnerving. It was as if he had just known she'd follow him. Or, at the very least, he had eyes in the back of his head, so he didn't need to turn and look.

"There," he said, nodding toward the panel in the wall beside the table, still not looking at her. It was the same one he had removed the night she was hurt.

"Remove the panel," he continued roughly. "There are two small indentations in the side seam; push in on them."

Kiya glanced back at him, understanding dawning as she did as he asked. The panel popped out. She picked it up, leaning it against the chair, then reached into the compartment, removing the same small box he had procured that night.

"You're hurt?" she asked softly.

Boba lifted his attention to her face. "I am." Genuine concern lit her eyes and creased her brow. He found himself not saying anything else and surprised yet again that he replied at all. He continued to study her as he unhooked his utility belt and folded it as neatly as he could before placing it on the table beside his rifle.

"What do you need me to do?" She asked, even more uncertain. He was maybe four feet away and not fully facing her.

Boba Fett lifted both hands toward his helmet. "Nothing yet." His gloved palms settled in the cheek indents and lifted.

Kiya stopped moving, unwilling or unable to look away as he continued to lift his helmet. The box sat forgotten in her hands. Her heart thumped a little faster. The first thing she saw was a strong, tan jawline covered in dark stubble and a set of thin lips. Next was a straight nose; Kiya looked away, her cheeks growing warm as he turned toward her and finished pulling his helmet off. She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye as he set it on the table as well.

He hadn't told her not to look, but somehow, it felt wrong.

He paid no attention to her, just started pulling off his gloves and placed them neatly on the table, revealing broad, thick fingered hands. She bit her lip, curiosity getting the better of her again. She kept her head down but looked up at him through her lashes. He had brown eyes ringed in dark lashes of his own, dark brows, and a head of closely shorn dark hair. A Diagonal scar dissected the deep grooves on the left side of his tan forehead. Another small nick just missed his bottom lip, and another nicked the center of his chin. A few thin lines sat around his eyes. Again, he looked up at her, Kiya's cheeks turned bright red, and she looked away. This time his dark gaze stayed with her, studying her far more openly than she had him. She forced her attention away. Finally, remembering the box in her hands, she placed it on the table and wiped her palms on her dress, willing her nerves to settle. She hazarded a glance in his direction again, and he looked up as if sensing her gaze. Kiya looked away quickly.

More color flooded her face again as Boba continued to watch her. He hadn't taken his helmet off in front of anyone in a very long time, and he was obviously far more comfortable with it than her. Pain shot along his side, almost making him wince and reminding him why they were both here. Comfort had nothing to do with it; he wouldn't have taken it off in front of her if he didn't need assistance. So, realistically there was no reason for her to be uncomfortable with it, but he didn't tell her as much. Fortunately, he rarely needed help. It was a weakness. One was best to only rely on themselves. The last time he needed medical help, he had destroyed the droid that administered treatment the moment it finished. All of Jabba's droids were bugged, and many had cameras to record information. He still didn't trust the girl, but she would do this time. She was smart enough to know he'd kill her if she crossed him.

When he was younger, he had taken off his helmet more readily. That had proceeded to change after he began wearing his father's armor. When he had gotten older, things had happened that had caused him to leave his face behind. Then he had found he preferred the anonymity—the possibilities of what lurked behind his mask helped inspire fear. In his line of work, fear was a powerful motivator. And even now, after all of these years, his face was too easily recognizable. She wouldn't. She was too young, but others would. They'd look at him and see one of the most recognizable faces in the galaxy.

She lifted her gaze and looked at him. He knew that resolve. Her pale eyes drifted over his features, nearly unreadable as he went about removing his left gauntlet, then they met his. Boba Fett found himself holding her direct gaze. He placed his gauntlet on the table with his other things. She was no longer going to peek at him through her lashes or with sidelong glances; part of him was glad to see the return of her mettle.

He slid his arm out his right gauntlet, leaving it to dangle from the hoses attached to it. Boba's brow furrowed, and he clenched his teeth. Pain stabbed through his right side as he lifted his left arm.

Suddenly other hands were there, helping him pull it off over his head next. She continued to help him as he slid his right arm free; once it was, she stepped back and moved around him.

Boba pulled his flight shirt from the waist of his pants, watching as she placed his chest armor on the head of the bed. He grit his teeth as he eased the fabric free. Removing this shirt would be far more painful than removing his armor, which was uncomfortable enough.

She brushed his hands away. "Sit," she ordered softly. "It will make this easier."

He studied her features, sitting down on the edge of the bed like he had told her to not so long ago. She met his gaze, squatting down in front of him as he had with her.

Kiya started easing his shirt and undershirt up together, pausing when she saw the angry purple bruises covering his side. Her gaze shot back to his face. "Wha…." she started softly. Then pursed her lips as though she had thought better.

Chewing her bottom lip, her eyes dropped back to the nasty bruise peeking out from under his shirt. She leaned closer, carefully easing the close-fitting material upward. Her brow furrowed, and her attention lifted to his face. "It might be less painful if you don't actually take this off. If I roll it up, can you hold it?"

He nodded. "Yes."

Kiya settled onto her knees in front of him and rolled his shirts up as gently as she could, trying her hardest not to touch his injured ribs.

Xxx

Boba couldn't help the slight flinch as her fingertips brushed against his bruised ribs. "Keep going," he said through clenched teeth. This was going to hurt like Sith Hell, but it was better if she just kept going. He hissed again a moment later when her fingers grazed another particularly sore spot. She faltered but continued with her task, gingerly rolling the material upward past his injured flesh.

He sucked in a slight breath a moment later, only this time when he felt her fingers skim his uninjured skin. The touch was feather-light and gentle. It had been so long since someone touched his bare flesh, injured or otherwise, he wasn't prepared for either sensation. She hesitated again. He nodded for her to continue.

He studied her down-turned face as she looked away, and she went about finishing her task. His nerve ending danced, and goosebumps appeared on his skin wherever her fingers brushed it.

Boba lifted his left arm so she could tuck the rolled-up material under it. Then, standing a moment later, she didn't even look at him, just turned and stepped toward the table; retrieving the box, she opened it. He probed at his own ribs carefully, his own touch not eliciting much reaction besides pain. It was as he thought he had three broken ribs, and they were all at least tender.

She returned, meeting his gaze, a can of bacta in her hands. "How bad?"

Again this was a question he wouldn't usually answer. "Three are broken."

Both of her brows lifted, and she squatted down in front of him again and proceeded to spray his injuries with an even coat of bacta spray, working her way from the middle of his chest, around his side, and across his back.

Xx

Kiya had Boba hold an end of the bacta infused compression bandage to the left side of his chest and then settled onto the edge of the bed behind him. Trying to ignore the knowledge of how intently he had just been watching her moments ago. She leaned closer to his back as she wrapped the bandage back around his left side. She did ignore the sensation of her chest brushing against his back, however. Thankfully he took the bandage from her hand so she didn't have to wrap her arms around him. Kiya scooted over and reached around his right side, taking the dressing tightly over his injured side again, then around his back. Boba Fett took the bandage this time as well. The only reason this was happening might be because he needed help, but there was still no way that it wasn't awkward to do so.

She was aware of how readily his muscles seemed to jump under her fingers and how warm and soft his skin was. Her eyes drifted along what she could still see of the line of his back, she would also be lying if she said she didn't appreciate how well put together he was. He seemed to have just the right amount of muscle and definition everywhere she could see. Kiya cleared her throat and shook her head, uncertain where that stray thought came from. She refused to permit it to take root.

Kiya wrapped the bandage around him another time with his help then moved in front of him again to make sure everything was lying straight. Kiya couldn't help but peek at him again.

XxX

She flushed, looking down as she continued with her bandage, her fingers brushing against his skin. She was careful not to touch his injured side with anything but the dressing. His attention shifted to her. Truthfully, the bacta spray was working and had taken the edge of his pain. She was so close; he could faintly feel her breath against his skin and her as she brushed against him. His gaze lifted slowly. It drifted along her profile, catching on a strand of hair lying against her cheek and the faint dusting of freckles along her cheekbone.

He knew she was aware of his gaze. She always was as aware of him as he was with her.

She shifted, looking up at him and their gazes caught; hers was a little tumultuous and unsure. Like she still didn't know if she should trust him. It was her that broke their gazes; unsurprisingly, color flooding her cheeks. At one point, he had wanted to look inside her head and force her to tell him who she was. Now part of him had to question if she wasn't just what she seemed. People rarely were, but she might be. Instinct told him she was. She cleared her throat softly a moment later, the color fading from her skin. All he could assume was that she had decided she would no longer be unnerved by their situation.

Boba continued to watch her, she at least put on a show of paying no attention to him. A moment later, one of her brows arched, and a smile tugged at the edge of her lips. She glanced up at him again, her eyes alive with wry amusement this time. She went back about her task a moment later, but the light never really faded from her eyes. And finally, the smirk won out, slipping across her lips.

"Why do you smirk?" he asked.

Kiya looked up, her gaze connecting with his. Embarrassment flashed through it, and color stained her skin.

"Honestly? She questioned, continuing about her task. She glanced up at him a moment later, that wry smile playing about her lips again, a mischievous light danced through the back of her eyes. "You're not a droid," her attention dropped back to his bandage again. "From what I can tell you, you're just as human or near-human as me."

Boba continued to study her. He knew where the droid comment came from; he had heard that same whisper many times himself. He didn't think anyone had ever found its contradiction amusing before, however. "Were you expecting something else?"

His question surprised her. Her gaze lifted, and her stomach fluttered again. There was so much intensity in that dark gaze. It was almost like her answer was significant. "I don't know," she replied with a shake of the head. She had questioned what manner of creature could do what he did so callously, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

There was so much going on behind those pale eyes, but he didn't push. She wasn't completely truthful with him though, he knew that. What he didn't understand is why what she thought mattered, but in some way, it did. So he continued to study her; his attention caught on those freckles again, then drifted lower to her lips.

"How did you come to be here?" He asked softly. He knew the facts, but he wondered if she would tell him.

She finished wrapping his ribs and stood, clearing her throat softly. Her brows furrowed, and a sort of shadow fell across her face. "Ordos prefect sold me to Bib Fortuna." She didn't look at him or offer more.

Boba Fett carefully rolled his shirts back down, his dark gaze stalking her movements as she began placing things back inside the box on the table. His knee protested as he stood and made his way into the fresher and tucked his undershirt and flight shirt back into his pants, his mind still on the young woman in the next room. When he exited the room a moment later, she had finished packing the small box and placed it back in its hiding place. Boba made his way to the bed and grabbed his chest armor.

"You should rest without that."

Boba turned, looking at her, unmoving and silent for the moment. "I don't make a habit of taking this off here," he found himself explaining.

She watched him for a moment, then nodded once. "I suppose that's wise."

He turned his attention back to his armor.

"Let me help." She appeared in front of him again like earlier. "It would be better if you sat down," she said before he had a chance to respond.

Again, he just did as she asked. He sat down in the chair, waiting as she took his armor from it and helped him back into it. Neither speaking. By the time she stepped back, the silence had wrapped so tightly around them, and he could see and feel how tense she was. A soft pink tone colored her cheek and the skin around her scar.

"You have to stay with me tonight," he said. It was just easier to quell thoughts of leaving right now. Her brow furrowed more, and she paled. "It's better that way," he added, noting again his compulsion to explain with her.

As much as he didn't think she would say anything about his injury, he did need to rest, and as long as she was here with him, he knew where she was.

"Take the bed," he said next.

XxX

Kiya didn't look at him, not in the face. Instead, she focused on the chipped white signet on his left pauldron, trying to make sense of the chaos swirling inside her and why he seemed different again. She was under no illusions that his offer was chivalrous. Neither was she laboring under the misconception that because he was injured and needed help that he trusted her. He trusted no one.

The last thing she wanted was to stay in this room with him again. But she didn't argue. She knew it would be futile. So instead, she took a deep breath and turned her attention toward the bed, trying to ignore how his gaze moments ago had made her feel.

It wasn't late, nor was she precisely tired. She also hadn't eaten anything at all today. Both suns had set at least an hour ago, but Jabba had just finished his seventh meal, so he had two more to go. After that, she had more duties to perform, and Bib Fortuna had given her directions he would expect to be followed. The Twi' would be furious with her disappearance, no doubt, and he would take it out on the nearest sentient. The others would be so mad, but she suspected Boba wouldn't listen if she tried to tell him.

Instead, Kiya made her way toward the narrow cot without even looking at him. Setting down on edge, she glanced back at his nearly fully armored visage over her shoulders as he slid his helmet back on. The flesh and blood man with the disturbing dark gaze she had just seen was disappearing behind layers of armor and weaponry again. Kiya couldn't help but wonder how long it would take her to question what manner of creature lurked behind that cold Beskar exterior once more. She left the thought behind and scooted across the bed like she had that first time, with her back to him and resting her head against the stone wall. She pulled her legs up before her and wrapped an arm around them. Spending the night alone in the same room with him felt very different from the first time.

Thanks for reading! So, this chapter is one of the ones I've been the most worried about writing! I'm really hoping y'all like it!