Chapter Text
Mos Espa’s streets were alive with merriment and celebrating. Boba knew it did the city good, bonding with the people of Freetown. United they could shape this place as they saw fit. They, he and Fennec, with outlanders and city rats. All of the people here had lived under the boot of the Hutts for generations. Now, potentially for the first time, the people had hope. They had a reason to celebrate, not only today’s victory, but for the future.
Boba was required to stand in during the celebrations, revel with the troops as it were. He was able to use the excuse that Fennec had not checked in to dismiss himself earlier than normally would be polite. In truth he was concerned, but refused to show it or let it alter him. Fennec would come back; she had better, for everyone’s sakes.
Once he was off the main road he pulled his communications device and signaled her com. “Fen, report.” He received no answer.
His stride was quick as he headed back to his speeder, intent on returning to the palace as quickly as possible to see if she had checked in there. The radio silence on the ride back wasn’t completely unexpected; sometimes the exit is the most difficult part of a successful assassination. Boba wasn’t one to worry, and he had the utmost faith in Fennec’s skills. Still, he would only accept the temporary victory once he knew she was safe.
‘That she completed her mission.’ Boba lied blatantly, not believing himself for a moment.
After parking the speeder and walking into the palace, he sent another message out, and when he received no reply he ordered a droid to monitor the frequency and to information him immediately when Fennec made contact. Boba was apprehensive about staying put, but enough time had passed that the adrenaline of the day had worn off, making him painfully aware that his injuries needed attention. He went to his quarters, stumbling into the medic station. The droid beeped alive at his entrance.
“Lord Fett, you are injured, should I prepare the bacta tank for you?”
“Prepare the tank, but it won’t be for me. I have a friend who should be here soon, see to that he is given everything he needs.”
“Yes Lord Fett, and your injuries?”
“They’re nothing, I’ll patch myself. See to the preparations, you won’t like what happens if he dies.”
Boba gathered some medical supplies while the droid whizzed around, beeping hysterically. He was only half kidding. He took only what he needed for the worst of his injuries before disappearing to his sleeping area on the other side of the divider. There would be a large group from Freetown arriving soon with the Marshall. Boba figured he had enough time to shower and dress the worst of his wounds in privacy, before the hoard of people came in. Maybe he should have kept the opulent sized rooms after all.
Boba’s intention was to shower quickly, water being a luxury on Tatooine, he had no intention of wasting any by indulging in a long shower, Daimyo or not; but his shoulder injury was more extensive than he realized. He needed to clean out the bleeding wounds to prevent any infection setting in before he could stitch and patch them. It was tricky with only one arm, but the hot water soothed his damaged shoulder. Too much time later (in Boba’s mind) he managed to clean himself to his satisfaction and stepped of the shower.
Boba wanted to tumble out and roll to his bed, to chase sweet oblivion but the thought was short lived. As he started drying off Boba realized the droid had not contacted him; Fennec still hadn’t checked in. He pulled on some of his shorts before charging back to his quarters, towel still in hand padding himself, intent on going after her. He unfortunately would have to patch the largest of his wounds first, just to stop and further injuries. He could call on the mods if he needed back up, Santo was too banged up, but not yet. He needed more information first.
Boba had thrown the medical supplies on his bed on his way to the shower and he hurried his way back. He would stitch himself together, so to speak, put his armor on and go find her. Boba wouldn’t even consider the alternative; rage was already starting to bubble deep inside him. He needed to get control of himself if he was going to be of any mind to help Fennec. When Boba rounded the door he stopped, stunned; his room wasn’t empty. His sight was glued to her profile, concern written plainly in her features as Fennec inspected the medical supplies that had been tossed carelessly onto the blankets.
She jumped when she heard him catch his breath at the sight of her. It was unlike Fennec to be caught unaware in any situation. She looked him over quickly, mild irritation twitched around her face, but mostly her features were washed in relief. Boba didn’t think, he acted, instinctively and emotionally.
Fennec closed her eyes, releasing the breath she seemed to be holding, “You are going to need more that this for those-“
She turned away as she spoke, trying to hide her blush, but Boba crossed the room in a blink. He flipped her back towards him before she could finish her sentence to pull her into a passionate kiss. He wrapped one arm around her waste, crushing Fennec to his nearly naked body protectively. His other hand gripped the base of her skull, tipping her head to control the dominating angle he had on their kiss.
Fennec was clearly taken by surprise yet again by his unexpected action, but fell into him easily. Boba’s tongue demanded savagely to be let in between her lips, to taste her. He needed to feel, to know, that she was alright. She complied immediately, only to challenge him with her own. Fennec’s desperation for reassurance matched his, as she did in most things.
He pulled his mouth back just enough to speak into her lips, “You’re late.”
Boba didn’t give her time to respond. He moved one hand to her jaw while increasing his grip around her, refusing to let go. Fennec had shed her jacket and gloves, making her feel more fragile in his arms.
Boba was quickly reminded that it was he, not Fennec, who came back covered in war wounds when she moved a hand to his shoulder. He pulled his head back and tried to stifle a yell. Fennec winced sympathetically, but placed a hand on the one still holding her neck as a supportive gesture. The pain receded quickly and Boba took the moment to look her over, finally contented that she was unharmed.
“You weren’t worried were you?” She teased.
“More than I want to admit.” Boba answered, completely serious.
Fennec blinked at him and smiled, then cringed when she looked him over in more detail. He watched her count up the different wounds and bruises, disapproval covering her features.
“I told you. You look better NOT half dead. Sit down,” she chastised then motioned to his bed.
Fennec moved and organized the scant medical supplies he had grabbed on his way by. As much as Boba wanted to show Fennec how worried he was, he was far past beat to hell. As he watched her, a creeping realization started to take root in his mind.
Boba laid back when she motioned to do so and said, “I guess I have you to thank… for it all. I would have blown it, if not for you.” Boba watched her face for any twitch, any reaction.
She started measuring out patches for his larger wounds, “Well, someone has to be good with a gun around here. Frankly, it’s just bad manners to go back on a truce.”
“No I meant when you stopped me from getting us gunned down in the street.” She paused at that, looking up to meet his eyes. He saw it, the same realization being planted in her mind.
The few moments from the time he realized she had not checked in up until he saw her in his room were agonizing. He would have burned all of Mos Eisley to the ground if something had happened. It was crack in his armor, and a Daimyo is not allowed that, or his second for that matter. Fennec looked at him sadly. She was smart, she knew the long game. They already would spend the rest of their days waiting for someone to take an opportune moment to end their lives. Encouraging reasons to single them out would only result in a sooner death, for one if not both of them.
Boba continued, “You were right, I was emotional. I would have gotten us all killed… I can’t afford to be emotional, not with the city depending on me.” She did look at him then, face collected and resolved while her eyes screamed of disappointment.
“You have claimed responsibility for the people of Mos Espa, and Freetown for that matter.” She returned to dressing his wound, her professional mask locked into place; Boba was releived yet saddened when he thought it could be forever.
“Swearing to eradicate the Spice trade from Tatooine? Other than costly credit wise, it painted an even larger target on our backs.”
“Our?”
“You said we were business partners. You don’t get to back out of our arrangement.”
Boba grabbed her forearm almost desperately. “It is the smart move Fen, even if it isn’t the one we… I want.”
She nodded in consensus, “What WE want comes after the Gota’s needs.”
Boba wanted to pull her into him, pull her down and ravage her the best he could given his injuries. He was definitely getting too old for this young man’s game. He didn’t, because Boba knew once would never be enough. Not enough to satisfy either of their wants for one another, not enough for Boba to show her how deep his feelings went without words. It would only be enough to seal their chosen path, and not the path they needed to walk. Boba was giving her blank look, but his sadness was reflected back in her face. She quietly turned back to dressing his wounds.
Fennec finished patching the worst of his injuries, using generous amounts of bacta on his shoulder. “Well that is the best I can do with what you got.”
She stood, picking the littered scraps off of his bed. When he tried to follow she put her hand out to stop him. “No, don’t get up, you really should use the tank.”
“It’s reserved.” Fennec rolled her eyes.
“Okay, well you are barely holding together. Get some sleep and have a droid bring you a solid meal. You definitely earned it today.” Her smile was genuine, but didn’t light her eyes.
Boba considered changing his mind. Their sexual banter had be amazing, brought out feeling he thought were long gone; it felt too good to be true, and it was. Just at the mention of his butchered tribe he was ready to throw all tactics and common sense to the wind, a weakness easily seen and used against him. Should he and Fennec peruse this further, it would be lethal, for them both; a new weakness that could easily be discovered and exploited. They heard the bussle of people bringing the Marshall to the tank in his medical quarters.
“Get some rest, drink something OTHER than that disgusting melon shit, and have the med droid look you over when the commotion dies down. You’re going to be fine old man.” She gave him a half smile and turned to leave.
Boba couldn’t stop from calling to her as she reached the partition, “You’re everything Fen.”
She paused, they both seemed stunned by his declaration. It may not have been the greatest expression of his feelings, but it was the best the old hunter could do. Fennec, a similar battle no doubt raging in her mind, nodded after a moment and left.
~
The next day was as if nothing had happened. Between Fennec and Boba that was, the palace had gone berserk with celebration, the streets felt alive, not just surviving from day to day. They had taken this on, the responsibility for these people. Not just their lives but their happiness as well. Boba wanted to lead with respect, and he intended to make this place flourish to deserve that respect. He knew he would never get there without Fennec.
They walked through the streets of Mos Espa, together, in the way it had to be. Sure, Fennec was pragmatic and calculating; her council on the effect that the destruction of the Spice trade would have needed to be examined before he decided. As she said, it was a large part of Jabba’s operations, and they agreed, in their unspoken way, it would not be theirs.
After the millionth salute Boba couldn’t help but grumble, “Why does it have to be the right arm.”
Fennec chuckled, “You should take a nice soak in the bacta tank. “
He shook his head, she knew why he didn’t, “It’s being used.”
Boba tried to keep a pleasant face as the town’s people smiled at his passing, “Why must everyone bow at me?
Again, Fennec couldn’t help but laugh at his discomfort from being liked instead of just feared, “It's better than shooting. “
“Are those my only two choices?”
“When you run the town, it is. “
They thanked some children for the meiloorun they offered before walking on.
“We are not suited for this.” Boba sighed, but Fennec knew better; he had every right to be proud.
“If not us, then who?”
They took a moment and smiled at one another. Who knew what would happen tomorrow, or further in the future. For now, they could enjoy the peace they brought, even though it was certainly temporary.