Thanks to those who reviewed! I'm working on six more chapters or so in attempt to wrap this up - so stay tuned! Sorry about any glitches in logic here; colds don't lend to clarity of mind when writing.

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He was running through a thick, endless brush that resembled the forests of Endor. His target was ahead, weaving expertly through the trees at an impossible speed. For the first time, Boba Fett could not keep up. His target seemed to be anticipating his every move. Every shot he fired missed the target slimly, and he was growing – amazingly – agitated. Then, as if it couldn't get worse, the target disappeared. Every sensor from his helmet read nothing. Turning up the receptors, Fett listened, looking for changes in sounds and pitch in the air – but not even the heat sensors detected anything. It ennerved him that he was having this much trouble locating his target.

Before he knew it, someone tackled him from behind, knocking the wind out of him. A blurred figure pinned him down, ramming the end of a rifle into his helmet and shoulders while aiming for his neck. Fett, despite the crushing force, managed to kick him off, but suddenly caught a glimpse of the stranger.

Deftly getting to his feet was the figure of a Mandalorian soldier whose armour was identical to his own, right to the dents and wookie scalp displayed on his shoulder. Pointing his blaster at the copycat, he growled, "What is this?"

His twin said nothing, but lunged quickly with vibroblade in hand. Fett's own reflexes were just as fast and he caught the man, turning the blade suddenly upon himself. As Fett pushed the imposter's own hand into his chest, the stranger let out a gasp as the blood seeped out. Seconds later, he was on the ground, motionless.

For Fett, watching "himself" die, disturbed him deeply. Not that he hadn't encountered imposters before. This was one was different. He was good – almost as good as if he were himself. Kneeling down, Fett grasped the helmet on both sides, knowing exactly where the latches were. As he lifted the helmet from the body, a mass of soft, brown hair fell around the shoulders.

He dropped the helmet like it was a diseased thing. It was Greta's face staring back at him.

* * *

Boba Fett awoke. Breathing heavily, he touched his hand to his helmeted head, and let out a deep breath. The dream was vivid – almost too real, but certainly not Force-induced. And it was the first time he had dreamt in years. Seldom did Fett sleep long enough or remember dreams – if he even had them at all.

Sitting at the console of his ship and trying to forget the dream, Fett couldn't shake off the emotions that came with it.

It had been eight months since he left Greta at the Deathstar. Since then, he had continued on with his life, believing he could forget everything. But the dream – damn it all – had ruined months of suppression. It dredged up everything he should have been feeling and tore down the walls he so carefully built.

In his frustration, Fett got up and paced the bridge. He was angry at himself for allowing Greta into his life. What a fool he was to let his guard down – yet how equally foolish he was to play Vader's game. Though he was more successful as a bounty hunter than ever, he now saw that no one comes out a winner in a game with Vader. He knew it the moment Greta last looked at him in such horror and disgust.

And now, he understood why the hunt had recently lost its lustre: Each time he brought down his targets, it was her look he would see on their faces, reminding him not of his success as a bounty hunter, but only of his failure – as a man.

The thought bothered him – that he should regret losing a part of himself that made him weak. Had not his obedience to Vader made him a better hunter? He stared at the expanse of space before him, unsure of what to think.

As if the universe was listening, a memory from his past answered. It was a conversation he had with an old Jedi, whom he had captured earlier in his career. Fett was young then, only a few years in his trade. It was this memory that taught him to never converse with the prisoners.

The old man had entered the holding cell when he spoke, the words resonating in mind only: ""You seek to destroy yourself, son."

In a flash, Fett had his blaster pressed against the Jedi's neck. "Enter my mind again, and I will kill you."

The man opened his mouth: "I tell you for your own good."

Fett loosened his grip on the man's collar. Holstering his blaster, he replied, "I make my own destiny."

The old man shook his head gravely. "That is where you are wrong.

"Save me your Jedi philosophy. I've heard it all before."

"You have heard, but you don't understand. The universe is a complicated place, much like a tangled web. And everyone and everything in it are inextricably intertwined. You think you are exempt from this – that you are outside this construct of reality? Not so. You must accept your intrinsic nature. This, you cannot change."

"I can become better than I am."

"If you mean 'better' in terms of becoming who you are not, you are sadly mistaken. If you wish to be better than you are, seek good for others, not for yourself. Seek to be a better man. Without this, you will be no better than a machine with no soul and no depth. Do you really want this?"

The question hung in the air in silence before the young Fett spoke evasively: "The frailty of humankind is its reliance on emotions which are directly opposed to the reliability of logic and reason. Feelings change. Facts do not."

The Jedi stroked his beard. "I see. You see emotions as a stain you need to blot out. You see them as being uniquely separate from your intrinsic self – the man you were meant to be."

"Precisely."

"Hm." The Jedi muttered. "Then you are sadly mistaken. Choose your path carefully, son. But I fear you will only learn the hard way. You will have to suffer the consequences of your logic in action before you see how important feelings really are. Only then you will understand. Regret is a powerful emotion."

The words of the old Jedi echoed in Fett's mind as he replayed the image of Greta's face in the dream once more. Looking into the vacuous depths of space, he heard a quiet desire murmur in his heart: I want her to forgive me.

He could have easily ignored this voice, as he had many times before. Yet for the first time, logic coincided with his emotions: he would defy Vader and take Greta back.

But first, he had to finish his current job. With Han Solo's frozen body in his cargo bay, he would deliver it to Jabba. Then, he would set out to find the one he had betrayed.