Hello again,

Thanks again for the reviews! I really want to get this story finished, so I'm trucking through it the best I can. Hopefully, you'll find out what happens between Greta and Boba Fett at the end of all this . . . Enjoy!

* * *

Jabba was thrilled to see Solo's frozen, agonized face when Boba Fett presented him the smuggler's carbonite form. Slurping on live beetles the size of a human fist, Jabba erupted in a guttural laughter.

"At last, Han Solo! I told you I would have the last word, you cowardly cheat!" said the worm in Huttese. He crunched down on the beetle in his mouth. Its guts dribbled down his enormous lips. "Bring him closer. I want to see every detail of his last moments."

Boba Fett stepped forward, and the slab followed. After a few punches into a remote, Fett flipped the carbonite upright, so that Solo's distorted face came face-to-face with the Hutt.

Jabba examined Solo's face with his big, watery eyes. "Yes. Very nice. Very agonizing.

Jabba turned to Boba Fett who was standing silently with blaster rifle held across his arms. "His expression is satisfactorily mortifying. Tell me, Fett. Did Solo scream as he froze? I'd like to think he was whimpering like the coward he is."

Boba Fett generally disliked discussing the suffering of his targets with his employers and embellishing stories, even if it potentially increased the amount of credits he would receive. It wasn't in his nature, nor did he think the difficult bounties he fulfilled were in need of embellishment. Obstinately, he replied, "There was nothing."

Jabba scowled at this dry response. "At least let me imagine."

"You know better than to ask me," Fett replied, tersely.

"True. Your accomplishments speak for themselves, correct?"

Fett nodded.

Jabba scoffed. "No matter. The look on Solo's face tells me the horror and pain he experienced. I will take great pleasure at the seeing his suffering forever preserved in carbonite." He laughed again, spitting out the beetle shell. He gestured with his tail while stuffing his face with fresh beetle. "Hang the cur on the wall. He'll be a fine warning to anyone thinking of crossing Jabba the Hutt!"

The Gamorrean guards promptly took the carbonite and began hoisting the slab in place.

Turning to Fett, Jabba eyed the bounty hunter, standing silently before him. "It's been a long time, Fett. I have not seen you here in many moons. Ever since . . ."

Fett's body visibly tightened like recoiled muscle ready to act. Remembering his part of their deal, Jabba ordered his servants out of the chamber. He knew better than to bring up a confidential agreement with a lethal bounty hunter in public.

The Hutt continued. ". . . ever since you paid me out to take my slave-mechanic. The girl."

"I've been busy."

"I should not have let you take her. I could have made more money long-term with the credits you paid me for her protection."

"You would risk your head for disobliging Vader's wishes."

"Oh, I know. But I thought you would pay her out – for yourself."

"I have no interest in taking a slave."

The Hutt eyed him again, recalling the reason Fett had told him years ago. He had told him that Greta was a good mechanic; the only one he would trust with his ship. Of course this was partially a lie t, but the Hutt wasn't going to challenge one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy.

Jabba decided it was unwise to continue on this subject of the female mechanic and got down to his point. "What of the little one? Your next payment for her safety is due. Will you continue to protect her now that the mechanic is gone?" The Hutt licked his lips – the tell-tale sign he was lusting after something. If he couldn't keep Greta, he could at least secure the long-term protection payout for this worthless slave. It didn't matter to him what Fett wanted to protect the little twerp for; he imagined the bounty hunter had lewd habits he kept private. To the Hutt, money was money, no matter how perverse the request. It only now irked him that he had not had Fett's idea first; this young one would make him a tantalizing consort.

Of course, Fett had only paid protection for Lethia as a service to Greta, intending to ensure their safety while he was away fulfilling his bounties. And now, since he had every intention of finding Greta, he saw that Lethia's safety was on his shoulders if he ever hoped to obtain Greta's forgiveness.

"Another year, for now," Fett answered. He pulled up a visual of his account through his helmet and transferred the amount into Jabba's. "Done. You know my conditions."

"Not a hair," answered the Hutt. He slurped liquor from a nearby cistern. Feeling a little brazen from the drug, he added, "She's a fierce little thing. She'd be better as a dancer – of the more provocative type."

The Hutt's lust after a 15-year-old girl disgusted Fett. "Not. A. Hair," he hissed.

Getting his message, the Hutt backed off. "Only a joke, master Fett."

Tired of the slug's banter, Fett desired only to change the subject and close his deal with the Hutt. "The protection payment is done. We discuss my payment. Now."

Jabba burped after washing down beetle bits with more liquor. Fett was more than thankful he had just changed the air filters in his helmet; his noxious fumes detector was off the charts.

"Yes, yes. Always business. Never one for chit-chat," said the Hutt with a false sigh. "I offered one hundred thousand credits . . . "

Before the Hutt could finish, Boba Fett was on him, blaster rifle butted right against the slug's head. As much as the Hutt's parasite-ridden body disgusted him, Fett had no qualms about blowing off his head.

"You said a quarter million," Fett growled through the visor, pushing the rifle harder against the slug's jelly-like head.

Pressing a button, the Hutt hailed Bib Fortuna, who skulked back into the chamber, taken aback by the scene before him: Boba Fett standing on the Hutt's platform, with one foot on his slimy chest and a rifle held to his head.

"Transfer a quarter million credits," Jabba said woodenly. Bib looked back and forth in confusion as the Hutt grew agitated. "Do it - now!"

The Twi'lek hastily punched buttons on his datapad, then made a grimace at Fett, baring his sharp, pointed teeth.

"Credits transferred," he hissed.

Boba Fett checked his account through his visor monitor, which confirmed the transfer. He released the Hutt, wiping his boot off the edge of the platform. "Very stupid," he said.

The Hutt's chest was heaving as he attempted to remain nonchalant about what just happened. "My mistake," he coughed uneasily.

Fett did not reply and turned to leave. But before he disappeared down the hall, Fett's visor angled back toward the slug. In a low, furious voice, he said, "Never try that again."

* * *

While contemplating his meeting with Jabba, Fett returned to the shipyard where he and Greta once spent time together. Nightfall had come, and the shipyard was deserted. It was the perfect time to perform any maintenance on his ship and, coincidentally, the time when he used to meet Greta here. It was abandoned, save for the mysterious new bounty hunter who brought Chewbacca in earlier that day. He scurried off at the sight of Boba Fett in the direction of the audience chamber. Glad to have the shipyard to himself, he looked upon his Slave II, dented and scratched as badly as his helmet. Being in this shipyard for the first time since he took Greta away, he half expected to see her dark brown hair weaving through shipments, crates and ship parts. Something deep within ached. He had destroyed what they had; and now he had no one who knew him as well as she did. Wasn't that what he wanted? The invulnerability of being unknowable?

A slight rustle behind him interrupted his thoughts. He turned quickly, and was taken off guard by a figure in white charging him.

Lethia.

His reflexes were beyond fast, but he underestimated her. Always knowing her to be Greta's tag-along friend, he never suspected her physical capabilities. Before he knew it, the girl had found the chink in his armor, nailing him between the ribs with a small blade. It was nothing too serious, but blood ran slowly from the wound. Quickly, she pulled it out, ready to aim for his neck.

Faster than anything she had seen, he caught Lethia's hand and gripped it so tight, she let go of the knife.

She was so small for her age that Fett could hold her off the ground with one hand. "Let go," she snarled, as she thrashed in his grip. "Let me go, you asshole!"

Gently, he set her down, but kept her hands firmly in his grip. "Settle down," he said firmly, but quietly.

"So you're back to find someone else to deceive and betray, right? Maybe this time a Twi'lek dancer, or even one of the sex slaves . . ."

Fett cut her off. "That is not how I operate."

"That's what you did to Greta."

"There are things in this galaxy you do not understand."

"Bullshit," she spat. "I've lived enough of a shitty life to know what goes on this galaxy. You betrayed Greta. That's the long and short of it. Don't give me some lame excuse that you did what you did because the world is a complicated place."

Fett, not being a man of many words, found her flurry of accusations difficult to contend with. He was a man of action, and he resisted wanting to thrust her aside and walking away. Instead, he managed to say, rather uncomfortably, "I know what I have done." His visor moved menacingly close to her as she watched her own wide-eyed expression in the reflection. "Stay out of it."

Lethia pursed her lips. "I won't. She was my friend." Her resolve broke, and small tears rolled down her pale face. "She was yours, too."

Boba Fett looked at her for a moment, then nodded slightly. "Yes. She was."

Lethia was still at this moment, looking at the bounty hunter she had trusted her friend with. It was hard to tell if he was being sincere, but then – Boba Fett never said anything he didn't mean.

"Then why did you betray her? She's been sent to Imperial labs – for a fate worse than death. How could you?"

Turning his back to her, Fett said nothing. What he felt was too complex for him to explain. Guilt, remorse, shame were surfacing faster than he could handle. At this moment, for once in his life, he found himself unable to act. He could not answer.

"You coward," she whispered, more tears wetting her cheeks. Under normal circumstances, Boba Fett would never had let anyone get away with accusing him of weakness, but here, he grudgingly felt the burning truth of the girl's words. From behind the mask, his lips pursed in a grim line in his attempt to restrain his emotions. He was about to answer when a commotion erupted from the audience chamber, echoing through the palace tunnels. Princess Leia had been discovered.

Boba Fett and Lethia exchanged glances. The bounty hunter who had delivered with Chewbacca – they understood what had happened. Seeing that his recently delivered merchandise would be again the centre of the palace's discussion, he turned to ensure the safety of his bounty. But before he left, Lethia audaciously grabbed his arm. Holding him firmly and looking directly into his shielded gaze, Lethia showed no fear; only the hard truth of her message:

"She loved you, Boba Fett. And you failed her."