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maidenjediTITLE: Bonnie and Clyde Didn't Work Alone
AUTHOR: Maidenjedi
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: Not mine and I'm not selling.
FANDOMS: Star Wars/Firefly
PROMPT: Boba Fett & River Tam
WORD COUNT: 1414
SUMMARY: A displaced bounty hunter and a government sleeper assassin in space.
A/N: Hints vaguely at Star Wars Expanded Universe, and the description of Boba Fett's weaponry is from Wookieepedia. Title from The Professional
*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
"I'm a government creation. An assassin. They use me for their purposes, when they choose. Because they can."
He nods, the Mandalorian helmet hitting his neck plate softly. Click, click. He knows what it means to be someone's weapon.
"What are you?"
Funny that she doesn't ask who he is. Some still did, after all.
"An assassin, like you."
"Where are you from? Wait, no, don't answer that. Your armor. I don't recognize it. Not from Earth-that-was, not any planet in the Alliance. No rebel planet, no colony. I would know. They filled my head with all of it, even though I always was a quick study, and might have done it on my own. I don't recognize your armor."
"You wouldn't."
"Tell me."
"A galaxy far away."
--
"They call me an albatross."
He doesn't know what that is. He keeps flying, trying the controls on this thing she called a Firefly. It is heavy and old, this ship Quick to react, though. Reminds him of the old Corellians.
"I'm supposed to be lucky."
She keeps talking like that, in short sentences that may be connected or not, like she is repeating lessons for a teacher, and he is barely listening. He is learning the ship, and she is a distraction.
The alarm sounds, and he tenses, and misses the screens in Slave Ithat would show him what was around him, not just make noise.
"Proximity alert. Probably space debris."
She's right. It reminds him of the spacefields around Yavin, only much smaller. This wreckage is old, and he doesn't bother with the lifeform scan. He thinks this should be charted on a map, and programmed into the nav computer, but the Firefly (what is a Firefly?) has antiquated
equipment. Out of date files. No maps of supposedly uncharted space.
It occurs to him, even his ship would do him little good in this foreign place.
"Don't fly into that," she says. They sail upward, above the worst of it.
--
He does not know how he came to be in this place, in this time. He does not know where he is.
It is a strange planet. The noise, the heat, the people remind him of Coruscant. Going about their business, oblivious to everything that is not in their direct paths. But it isn't like Coruscant. It is too homogenous, and it is new. It gleams where Coruscant was rusted. There
is an underground - he can smell it, the dirt and the coupling - but it is unseen, hidden.
The planet is called Ariel, and the word rings in his ears, it is a beautiful name even if it means nothing to him. He doesn't think it is Basic, but couldn't place the language if asked.
The last place he remembers is a lush, florid swamp, in a system he couldn't name. He was there, and then flying, breaking atmosphere. His next memory is waking up here.
His ship is gone, he knows. He wants a drink, something one would find in a Mos Eisley cantina, kept under the bar and only for the Hutts' special friends.
This "whiskey" he has been handed by the barkeep is strong, but it does not cut through his confusion or his disgust with himself.
How did he get here?
--
Mal was shot dead on Whitefall a month ago. River decided to stay with Serenity, no matter what the others did.
Of course, most of them were gone by then. When Simon died, was killed in a job that went bad, Kaylee left. Didn't understand why River would stay. She had to, she said, to find them that did it. The others stayed, for their own reasons. Until Mal.
That was the past, and River is trying not to be too concerned with it. She never has liked history.
She walks on Ariel as though she was never the Alliance's prisoner and toy. Even though she feels them in her head, after all this time, waiting to push a button that will destroy her. She can feel them watching. And she does not care.
His armor makes him stand out. She thinks he may be a pilot. He sits like one. Cocky, sure, and ready for something to happen.
"My name is River Tam. Are you a pilot?"
--
His name means nothing here.
No one will hear it and shudder. No one will duck or hide or run. No one will turn a weapon on him, just because of his name.
Or his armor. That is unfamiliar to them, as well.
It may be a blessing that this happened. Whatever it was. A wormhole, a Jedi mind trick. Vader's son, manipulating the rules. He did not know. Increasingly, he did not much care.
"Yes, I am a pilot." Half true.
She narrows her eyes. "What else would you be?"
So it was that they had known each other less than five minutes when he showed her his weapon.
--
They fly together for weeks before she asks him.
He finds it hard to say aloud.
"Boba Fett."
She giggles. He has never been giggled at, even when he picked up Twi'lek whores on Tatooine. They never dared.
"Does it amuse you?" He wants to sound angry. She doesn't even flinch.
--
One morning, she asks about the weapon.
"An EE-3 carbine rifle. I got it...I have had it a long time."
"I've never seen anything like it. May I hold it?"
She is in awe. He understands. The look on her face makes him think of the first time he'd held a blaster pistol, but he is ready to admit that she handles the carbine better than he handled his first weapons. Clearly, she knows what she's doing.
She hands it back to him, awed.
And that night, she tells him about Simon.
"It was the Alliance, you know. They did it. They sent people, assassins, not like me but probably almost like me. Brainwashed and trained. He went down. Fast. I...am not a doctor. He was the doctor. And it was over so fast."
Boba nods. He knows how it went.
--
Boba Fett turned bounty hunter when the Clone Wars were over, and he had to hide his identity. He never considered that he may have other options; after all, the wars never ended, there were always criminals and do-gooders to punish, and there was always a high pay-off. Besides, he had to find the Jedi, had to make him pay.
This new galaxy had no need of him, it seemed, or if it did it would demand he change his method. He stayed on the Firefly with the girl. River, a body of water. A natural watercourse.
She wanted to find the men who had killed her brother. This was Boba's territory. And he could help her do it.
He could do it for her. If she would let him.
--
"What do you look like, under?"
The armor.
He never takes off the helmet in the presence of others. Habit mostly. The paint on the armor gave it distinction from that of the Clones, but his face was undeniable, despite the scars.
He looks at River, sitting in her place with her feet drawn up under her, setting a new course and not looking at him while she worked. They are headed for Jiangyin, having secured a new job (transferring animals of some kind, he assumed, from River's description). She is no threat to him, he had already assessed that much. He wants her to understand she is safe with him.
Not that she was ever concerned. Ever afraid.
Everyone had always been afraid.
He presses the release on the neck armor, and removes his collar from the helmet. He puts both hands up, reaching to lift the helmet, and she is standing next to him before he can continue. He turns to face her.
River puts her hands on Boba's helmet, and lifts it from his head.
His hair is short, and unkempt. Dark, with flecks of grey showing his years. He is an imperfect clone, after all, made with flaws. Though, if they are intentional, are they really flaws?
His face is worn, pale. He looks like his brothers, his father, his equals and his teammates. She does not know that. She will never know. Here, he is the only one.
She smiles down at him.
"You look like a human."
--
END
AUTHOR: Maidenjedi
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: Not mine and I'm not selling.
FANDOMS: Star Wars/Firefly
PROMPT: Boba Fett & River Tam
WORD COUNT: 1414
SUMMARY: A displaced bounty hunter and a government sleeper assassin in space.
A/N: Hints vaguely at Star Wars Expanded Universe, and the description of Boba Fett's weaponry is from Wookieepedia. Title from The Professional
*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
"I'm a government creation. An assassin. They use me for their purposes, when they choose. Because they can."
He nods, the Mandalorian helmet hitting his neck plate softly. Click, click. He knows what it means to be someone's weapon.
"What are you?"
Funny that she doesn't ask who he is. Some still did, after all.
"An assassin, like you."
"Where are you from? Wait, no, don't answer that. Your armor. I don't recognize it. Not from Earth-that-was, not any planet in the Alliance. No rebel planet, no colony. I would know. They filled my head with all of it, even though I always was a quick study, and might have done it on my own. I don't recognize your armor."
"You wouldn't."
"Tell me."
"A galaxy far away."
--
"They call me an albatross."
He doesn't know what that is. He keeps flying, trying the controls on this thing she called a Firefly. It is heavy and old, this ship Quick to react, though. Reminds him of the old Corellians.
"I'm supposed to be lucky."
She keeps talking like that, in short sentences that may be connected or not, like she is repeating lessons for a teacher, and he is barely listening. He is learning the ship, and she is a distraction.
The alarm sounds, and he tenses, and misses the screens in Slave Ithat would show him what was around him, not just make noise.
"Proximity alert. Probably space debris."
She's right. It reminds him of the spacefields around Yavin, only much smaller. This wreckage is old, and he doesn't bother with the lifeform scan. He thinks this should be charted on a map, and programmed into the nav computer, but the Firefly (what is a Firefly?) has antiquated
equipment. Out of date files. No maps of supposedly uncharted space.
It occurs to him, even his ship would do him little good in this foreign place.
"Don't fly into that," she says. They sail upward, above the worst of it.
--
He does not know how he came to be in this place, in this time. He does not know where he is.
It is a strange planet. The noise, the heat, the people remind him of Coruscant. Going about their business, oblivious to everything that is not in their direct paths. But it isn't like Coruscant. It is too homogenous, and it is new. It gleams where Coruscant was rusted. There
is an underground - he can smell it, the dirt and the coupling - but it is unseen, hidden.
The planet is called Ariel, and the word rings in his ears, it is a beautiful name even if it means nothing to him. He doesn't think it is Basic, but couldn't place the language if asked.
The last place he remembers is a lush, florid swamp, in a system he couldn't name. He was there, and then flying, breaking atmosphere. His next memory is waking up here.
His ship is gone, he knows. He wants a drink, something one would find in a Mos Eisley cantina, kept under the bar and only for the Hutts' special friends.
This "whiskey" he has been handed by the barkeep is strong, but it does not cut through his confusion or his disgust with himself.
How did he get here?
--
Mal was shot dead on Whitefall a month ago. River decided to stay with Serenity, no matter what the others did.
Of course, most of them were gone by then. When Simon died, was killed in a job that went bad, Kaylee left. Didn't understand why River would stay. She had to, she said, to find them that did it. The others stayed, for their own reasons. Until Mal.
That was the past, and River is trying not to be too concerned with it. She never has liked history.
She walks on Ariel as though she was never the Alliance's prisoner and toy. Even though she feels them in her head, after all this time, waiting to push a button that will destroy her. She can feel them watching. And she does not care.
His armor makes him stand out. She thinks he may be a pilot. He sits like one. Cocky, sure, and ready for something to happen.
"My name is River Tam. Are you a pilot?"
--
His name means nothing here.
No one will hear it and shudder. No one will duck or hide or run. No one will turn a weapon on him, just because of his name.
Or his armor. That is unfamiliar to them, as well.
It may be a blessing that this happened. Whatever it was. A wormhole, a Jedi mind trick. Vader's son, manipulating the rules. He did not know. Increasingly, he did not much care.
"Yes, I am a pilot." Half true.
She narrows her eyes. "What else would you be?"
So it was that they had known each other less than five minutes when he showed her his weapon.
--
They fly together for weeks before she asks him.
He finds it hard to say aloud.
"Boba Fett."
She giggles. He has never been giggled at, even when he picked up Twi'lek whores on Tatooine. They never dared.
"Does it amuse you?" He wants to sound angry. She doesn't even flinch.
--
One morning, she asks about the weapon.
"An EE-3 carbine rifle. I got it...I have had it a long time."
"I've never seen anything like it. May I hold it?"
She is in awe. He understands. The look on her face makes him think of the first time he'd held a blaster pistol, but he is ready to admit that she handles the carbine better than he handled his first weapons. Clearly, she knows what she's doing.
She hands it back to him, awed.
And that night, she tells him about Simon.
"It was the Alliance, you know. They did it. They sent people, assassins, not like me but probably almost like me. Brainwashed and trained. He went down. Fast. I...am not a doctor. He was the doctor. And it was over so fast."
Boba nods. He knows how it went.
--
Boba Fett turned bounty hunter when the Clone Wars were over, and he had to hide his identity. He never considered that he may have other options; after all, the wars never ended, there were always criminals and do-gooders to punish, and there was always a high pay-off. Besides, he had to find the Jedi, had to make him pay.
This new galaxy had no need of him, it seemed, or if it did it would demand he change his method. He stayed on the Firefly with the girl. River, a body of water. A natural watercourse.
She wanted to find the men who had killed her brother. This was Boba's territory. And he could help her do it.
He could do it for her. If she would let him.
--
"What do you look like, under?"
The armor.
He never takes off the helmet in the presence of others. Habit mostly. The paint on the armor gave it distinction from that of the Clones, but his face was undeniable, despite the scars.
He looks at River, sitting in her place with her feet drawn up under her, setting a new course and not looking at him while she worked. They are headed for Jiangyin, having secured a new job (transferring animals of some kind, he assumed, from River's description). She is no threat to him, he had already assessed that much. He wants her to understand she is safe with him.
Not that she was ever concerned. Ever afraid.
Everyone had always been afraid.
He presses the release on the neck armor, and removes his collar from the helmet. He puts both hands up, reaching to lift the helmet, and she is standing next to him before he can continue. He turns to face her.
River puts her hands on Boba's helmet, and lifts it from his head.
His hair is short, and unkempt. Dark, with flecks of grey showing his years. He is an imperfect clone, after all, made with flaws. Though, if they are intentional, are they really flaws?
His face is worn, pale. He looks like his brothers, his father, his equals and his teammates. She does not know that. She will never know. Here, he is the only one.
She smiles down at him.
"You look like a human."
--
END
