Chapter Text
Boba has always known he was special. Even when he’s very small, he notices the way his Buir only calls Boba by pet names, only hugs Boba, only sees Boba as a son.
It’s nice, he doesn’t think he’d like to share his buir with any of the clones. Even the ones smaller than him. Sometimes it makes him feel a little guilty, but it’s not like he actually knows any of them. They’re just there, all proper and well-trained. Just out of reach.
Boba has never had a moment of having to do a double take when facied with one of them, they’ve just always been there. For as long as Boba has existed there’s been millions of children that look exactly like him. They’re not special, though.
That doesn’t mean Boba never gets curious. Though his buir or Taun We never explicitly say it, the clones’ barracks are forbidden territory for Boba.
He sneaks in when he’s six.
After wandering around the corridors aimlessly for a while he comes across some cadets leaving a training room. They seem to be around his age. The four clones look at Boba dubiously when he freezes, his body for a second sure he’s been caught doing something wrong when faced with small versions of his buir.
“Why are you alone?”, one of them asks, with a voice that sounds exactly like his. This is the first time Boba’s seen the clones from this close. They look like him when he looks in a mirror, he notes. Though their hair is very different, theirs is cut very short.
It’s boring, Boba thinks as he stares at it. His buir couldn’t brush his fingers through their locks, couldn’t ruffle the fluffy curls into an even wilder nest.
“What are you wearing?”, another one asks, frowning at Boba’s clothes. They’re all wearing the same uniform.
Boba huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, offended at the question. Does the clone think Boba’s outfit is ugly or something? That’s rich coming from him. “What’s it to you? I can go wherever I want. I’m allowed to be here.” He glares at the clone that insulted his outfit. “And I’m wearing my favorite outfit. It’s nice, everyone says so.”
And with everyone he means his buir and Taun We, but they don’t need to know that. His answer makes them exchange frowned looks.
“What’s your designation, cadet?”, the clone that first spoke asks.
That’s a hard word. Boba’s never heard of it. He already feels out of his depth, though, so he’s not about to ask them to explain what it means. He’s supposed to be special and special people don’t need to ask for help. Boba’s sure of it. His buir certainly never does.
So he goes off on a hunch.
“My designation’s Boba. Boba Fett”, he says haughtily, hoping he hasn’t just embarrassed himself.
They suddenly pale and that’s not in the list of reactions he’s been expecting. He’d been expecting them to either point and laugh like they do in the holovids whenever someone does something really stupid or to nod politely and introduce themselves in return.
One of the cadets that hasn’t spoken yet suddenly squeaks. “Boba Fett? Isn’t that the Prime’s kid?”
Boba winces and is absolutely certain he’s never sounded like that. Though, now that he thinks about it, he might have when he’s really excited. And maybe when he’s scared. He wouldn't know that, though. Boba’s never been scared of anything. (Except for when it storms really badly, when the weather makes the sea water reach his window at night. He’s sure his buir wouldn’t tell anyone about how Boba crawls into his lap and buries his face in his chest whenever that happens, though.)
“Prime? You mean buir?”, he asks.
And then the clones pale even more and jump to attention as their eyes snap to something behind Boba.
Boba doesn’t even need to turn around to know what they’re seeing. His buir’s voice thunders behind him. “Boba Fett! What is the meaning of this?”
Boba Fett. Not Boba or Bob’ika. Boba’s really in trouble.
“Buir, I can explain“, he lies as he turns around and sees the thunderous look on his buir’s face. His buir hardly ever gets angry and Boba instantly feels a lump appear in his throat as he tries in vain to find words that would explain his presence in the clone’s quarters while also somehow freeing him from all the blame.
Before he can utter another word his buir is there, shoving Boba behind him as he towers over the clones. The boys stare up at the man, looking so obviously terrified Boba completely forgets about his own issues. His buir’s just angry, he wouldn’t hurt them or anything.
“You”, his buir snaps and the one that spoke to Boba the most straightens even more as his buir turns to him. “What have you been saying to my son?”
“We asked him what he was doing here alone and what his designation was, Prime”, the boy says, staring straight ahead. They also asked him what clothes he was wearing, but for once Boba doesn’t feel like butting in.
“It better be. You have no business talking to my son”, he grits out, sounding colder than Boba’s ever heard him. “Go back to your barracks and don’t mention this to anyone, you hear me?”
The clones all give jerky nods of their own. “Yes, Prime.”
And with that they all but run down the corridor. His buir grabs Boba by the hand and drags him away none too gently, back to their apartment. Boba almost has to run to keep up. They pass by some other clones that have the good sense to avert their gazes upon seeing the look on his buir’s face. Boba can feel their looks burning holes into his back, though.
By the time they’ve made it back to their room Boba is in tears. He buries his face in his hands when his buir lets go of him.
“Boba”, his buir snaps and Boba can hear him take a calming breath when Boba winces. When he speaks again his voice is gentle. “Bob’ika, come here first.”
Boba looks up to see that his buir’s kneeling and reaching for him. He doesn’t hesitate to throw himself into his arms, letting his familiar scent calm him as his strong arms cage Boba against his chest.
“Buir”, Boba weeps. “I’m sorry. I was just curious. I did not mean to make you angry.”
“I know, Bob’ika”, his buir reassures him as he caresses his curls. “I know, but you scared me. I woke up and you weren’t there. And then I had to find out from looking at the security recordings you went there.”
He spits the last word out like it’s a curse. Boba doesn’t like it. He sobs harder. “They were nice to me, buir. They did not…They did not do anything bad.”
“Of course they did not”, his buir murmurs, picking him up so he can sit on the couch with Boba on his lap. “Just don’t do that again, Boba. They are not like you. You are special. You know that.”
Boba nods, burying his face in his buir’s shoulder as he tries to forget the way the children wearing his face shrank in on themselves as his buir snarled at them.
It’s hard.
Boba learns to stay away from the clone’s quarters after that, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get bored though.
He goes snooping more than once, mostly when he’s returning from his lessons. He’s taken a liking to listening in on the Kaminoans’ conversations. It’s mostly scientific nonsense he hardly understands, but it’s the act of listening in when he’s not supposed to that always sends a little thrill down his spine.
Of course he ends up hearing something he’s not supposed to. It happens when he’s climbed in the vents, looking down into one of their laboratories from his vantage point
“It’s high time we update the DNA sample”, one of the Kaminoan scientists says in that creepy way of theirs. “The latest products have mostly been defective. We’ve already had to decommission a third because of the birth defects.”
Boba frowns, the thrill of his rebellious act fading instantly. Are they talking about the clones? Boba doesn’t know any of them, but they’re still people, right? They’re not products, surely. He’s a clone, too and he’s not a product.
Right?
And what’s this about decommissioning? Surely that doesn’t mean what Boba thinks it means? His buir wouldn’t allow that.
Then he remembers the way his buir looked at the other clones and his heart begins beating loudly in his throat, echoing in his head as panic begins to settle in. He tunes out whatever more the Kaminoans say about chips or whatnot and makes his trembling way out of the vents and back to their apartment.
“Boba? How was your lesson?”, his buir asks from the kitchen. Whatever he’s cooking smells really good and Boba is sure he would’ve instantly asked what was for dinner on any other day. Today’s not any other day though and the thought of eating just brings bile to his mouth.
Instead he asks: “Would you decommission me if I was defective?”
Something clatters to the ground and Boba watches as his buir all but storms into the living room, looking at Boba with something like horror on his face.
“Who told you that?”, he asks and that is not an answer.
Boba is trembling so hard he feels his teeth chatter with the force of it. When he speaks his voice comes out as squeaky as that clone’s did that one time. “You would? Why? Don’t you love me? I thought-”
“Boba.” His buir is there at once, gently cupping his face between his hands. “You are my son. I would never do anything to hurt you. I love you. More than anything.”
“I’m still a clone”, Boba whispers and his buir’s face falls. “I’m a…” He swallows thickly. “I’m a product.”
“No”, his buir says loudly, tears shining in his eyes. Boba nearly does a double-take, he’s never seen his buir cry before. “Whoever told you that is wrong, Bob’ika. You’re my son. Mine. You’re not a product. Not at all”
“Really? You would not decommission me if something happened to make me defective?”, he asks, voice small. Boba’s always been clumsy. Taun We always remarks it’s a wonder he’s never broken anything whenever he trips over air again.
“Never”, his buir says and it sounds like a promise. “Never, Boba. You hear me? I would die before I let someone touch a hair on your head.”
Sincerity shines in his buir’s wet eyes and Boba finally allows himself to sag forward, relief coursing through him. “Okay. Thank you, buir.”
“Oh Boba”, his buir says, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. “You do not have to thank me. Not for this.”
If being bored is bad, then being lonely is horrible. Once Boba turns seven his buir decides he’s old enough to be left alone for longer periods of time. The first time Boba watches his buir leave for a job he stares out of the window until long after the Slave I has left orbit.
Taun We eventually puts a long-fingered hand on his shoulder and gently guides him towards his first lesson of the day.
He thinks his buir is the most impressive person in the universe and Boba knows that realistically his buir can’t stay with him the entire time if he wants to uphold his reputation of best bounty hunter out there, but that doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it.
That first time Boba cries himself to sleep every evening after Taun We leaves for the day, feeling more lonely than ever. Feeling homesick even though he is home. Boba realizes between one sob and the next that his home isn’t a place, his home is a person. And that person is his buir.
On one of those evenings Boba decides he’s had enough of laying awake and wallowing, so he decides to go exploring. He might as well. It helps against boredom, it might help against loneliness as well.
He somehow ends up finding a hatch that leads to the roof. Only it’s a platform that’s covered from the rain by sleek roofing that extends from the building. There’s also a railing that would keep Boba from accidentally tipping over into the ocean below. It would probably be a good military vantage point if they ever got attacked, Boba muses. It’s probably why it exists in the first place.
Boba hasn’t been outside often. The weather doesn’t really make it possible to do much of anything and he’s never been off-world, though not for lack of asking. The first time he saw Naboo on the holonet Boba had begged his buir for weeks to go. His buir’s answer was always the same. “Not yet, Boba.”
He sits down with a pout, letting his legs dangle between the rails as he looks at the endless sea in front of him. His buir would likely have a heart attack if he saw him now. (“You don’t even have a jetpack yet, Boba! What if you fall!”) But his buir isn’t here. Wouldn’t be for at least another Standard week. Boba sniffles miserably. He’s cold now, as well. He’s still in his pajamas, hadn’t really accounted for spending time outside.
He closes his eyes, breathing in the salty air of the sea.
Then the hatch opens and he freezes, looking down fully expecting to see Nala Se or something appear to scold him for coming here. But it’s not Nala Se, it’s not any Kaminoan. It’s a clone. They stare at each other, both too shocked to say anything for a while.
That doesn’t happen to Boba often. Boba always has something to say.
“Uh, hi”, he says dumbly. “Is this your spot?”
The clone nods, finally snapping out of his stupor as he hesitantly closes the hatch behind him. He’s wearing his uniform and a jacket. That’s probably smart.
Why are all the clones smart, Boba wonders with some bitterness.
“Though I don’t think we’re really supposed to be up here”, the clone admits stiffly. He looks to be around twelve years old, maybe older. “What’s your designation, cadet?”
Boba now knows designation means number. All the clones have them. All but Boba.
“Don’t have one”, he shrugs and the other clone sends him an annoyed look. Boba snorts. “I do have a name, though.”
“What’s your name, then?”, the clone asks, still stiff as a board. Boba wonders if his shoulders hurt from how stiff he’s holding himself.
“The name’s Boba Fett. Nice to meet you”, he says. Like he expected, the other boy pales, though his voice is remarkably level when he asks: “You’re the Prime’s kid?”
“Yup”, Boba says, swinging his feet. The other boy frowns and looks like he’s repressing the urge to pull him away from the edge. “But don’t worry, buir is not here. What’s your name?”
The other boy hesitates. “My designation’s CC-2224. I…don’t have a name.”
“No?”, Boba asks with a small frown. He’s pretty sure he once overheard Nala Se saying the older clones had started naming themselves. Maybe this one just doesn’t have any friends or something. “That’s sad.”
The older boy sits down next to him, managing to make even that look uncomfortable with his straight posture. He looks at Boba cautiously, as if waiting for Boba to tell him off. Boba just looks at him pityingly. The clone frowns a little. “Well, I guess I don’t have a name yet.”
“Do you have something in mind?”, Boba asks as he tries to stop his teeth from chattering. He doesn’t want to go inside yet, he finally has something to distract himself from the soul-crushing loneliness. Even if he’s sure his buir wouldn’t approve of this particular distraction.
Well, his buir isn’t here.
The clone gives him an assessing look and takes off his jacket, putting it around Boba’s shoulders instead. For a second Boba thinks about protesting, but well…he’s special, isn’t he? CC-2224 probably knows that, too.
“Thanks”, he mumbles, sinking into the warmth. “So?”
“My batchmates think Cody would fit me well”, CC-2224 murmurs, looking away embarrassedly.
“Cody”, Boba echoes slowly, looking at the clone’s face. He’s always thought either Jango or Boba would fit with that particular face, but he thinks Cody’s not too bad. “I like it! I think it suits you.”
CC-2224-Cody-lets out a surprised little laugh, which he quickly covers up with a cough. “You don’t even know me.”
Boba grins at him. “I know enough.”
Cody gives him a hesitant smile in return.
After that Boba returns to the roof every night and every night without fail Cody is there waiting for him. Boba likes Cody. Boba can talk to him and Cody just listens. Like a friend would. Like a vod would.
Boba’s never had either and he finds that he likes it. A lot.
“He isn’t back yet?”, Cody asks when Boba sits down next to him, shoulders hunched. Boba puts his chin on his drawn up knees and shakes his head. “It’s just a day, Boba. I’m sure he’s alright.”
“Yeah”, he says hoarsely. “I’m sure he is.”
Nevermind that he’s been buzzing all day, waiting for his buir-his home- to return. Holding onto hope until midnight came around and his buir still hadn’t arrived. He didn’t even send Boba a message to let him know he’d be late. Even Taun Me had looked at him with something close to pity when she left for the evening.
“Boba”, Cody says, almost too soft to hear over the sound of the rain. “Don’t cry.”
Boba didn’t even notice he’d started crying. He buries his face in his knees, feeling pathetic. It’s one thing for his buir to see him crying. Cody is his very first friend. He’s not supposed to see Boba as anything but bright and happy. He might not want to hang out with Boba anymore otherwise. No matter how special he is.
A hesitant hand lands on his shoulder, as if Cody still thinks Boba will push him away, and Boba takes that as his cue to lean into Cody’s side. Cody puts his arm around him, pulling him close.
“It’s alright, Boba”, Cody whispers in his ear as Boba sobs. “It’s okay, vod’ika.”
And Boba knows he should tell Cody they’re not brothers. He’s his buir’s son and Cody isn’t and that makes them not vod’e, but he finds that he can’t. He likes the way it makes him feel like he belongs. He sinks into Cody’s side, burying his face in the other boy’s shoulder.
Cody’s fingers are gentle in his curls and Boba calms down quickly.
He doesn’t pull away. Cody doesn’t either.