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Overhaul	By : WhisperedWishes Category: Star Wars (All) > Het - Male/Female Views: 1186 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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She came to slowly...blessedly ignorant to the world around her as she blinked away the sleep from her eyes. Then she noticed two things.
One: She wasn't in her pjs.
Two: someone was sitting to her right.
She turned to them and when her gaze settled on them, everything came rushing back and she froze, eyes widening in terror and she seized up, a sob caught in her throat, her hand closing over her mouth.
It was Din without his helmet, his face completely consumed by regret and sorrow. Her eyes fell to what was being held in his hands and she cried out sharply. It was a rather familiar green helmet with red marks on it.
Boba's helmet.
"No. Goddess no. Boba..."
"He told me to bring it back to you." He stood and gently placed it in her shaking hands.
It wasn't until it was she was holding it that she finally broke, pulling it into her chest with a ragged scream.
Din just stood there, silently watching her. He was torn.
The recorder was clutched tightly in his hand and he wasn't sure if he should give it to her. It was from him...would that make things worse or would it give her some comfort?
And the baby...Shand said that too much stress could cause her to lose the baby.
If that happened, if she lost the last living part of him that she still had? he knew that would completely destroy her.
He sighed heavily. He had to give her the recording. She would hate him if he kept it from her.
She was sobbing her face pressing against his helmet. It made his chest ache with sadness. He wanted to stop it...stop her tears...to take back what happened...but he couldn't.
All he could do was be here...to be a silent source of comfort and support.
"Cen."
She shook her head, "Don't! Don't tell me that you're sorry. I don't want to hear it."
He leaned over and set the small device on her nightstand. "He left this recording for you too. I wasn't sure about giving it to you...thought about waiting for a few days, but you might need this more at this moment than any other."
Before he left the room, he paused, looking back at her.
"I am sorry, Cenry. If you need to be angry at anyone, be angry at me. But don't let your grief consume you. You haven't lost him completely because that baby is your last piece of him and you have to think about their health now as well."
When the door closed behind him, she didn't move for a few minutes, just sat there, tears flowing down her cheeks as she looked between the recorder and his helmet.
She set the helmet in her lap, not wanting it to be far from her and pressed play.
"Well shit...not how I wanted this to go, Cen. I'm sorry but I'll be breaking my promise but you'll have my helmet. Keep it. It's yours now. Fuck..." He started coughing then, a rattling one that made her freeze.
She gasped, fresh tears springing from her eyes. 'Boba...'
"Fuck, this is bad, Cenry. I dreamed of you every night for the past four months. Hell, you wanna know a secret? I dreamed of having kids with you, Cen. Tough little ade that had my eyes and your brains. I'd be cleaning my armor as you showed them how to build their own bots." He coughed again, swearing under his breath.
"Shit, Fett, you gotta stop now."
"Fuck no. I can't. She needs to know everything. Cenry, I'm going to say something...do something that you might not agree with at first but hear me out, mesh'la."
She let out a sob, clutching the recorder close.
"You are mine, Cenry Vessrah. I, Boba Fett, accept you as my wife. If anyone says otherwise show them my helm. Mandalorians will see that as my pledge. Djarin will explain it more and enforce the pledge if need be. It also gives you access to all my credits and property. Slave-1 is yours now. You can do whatever you want. Buy a bigger shop...make more mites...hell, take the ship and travel where ever you want. Just live, Cenry." He fell into another coughing fit.
His voice was getting quieter, wavering slightly and Cen held her breath. "No."
"Cenry...Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum." Then everything was silent.
"Fett? Shit...Fett! Fuck!"
Cenry was frozen as Shand's voice filled the air with a terrified waver just before the recording cut out.
He was gone.
'I dreamt of having kids with you, Cen.'
Her hand drifted down to her stomach and she smiled through her tears. 'Oh if you only knew, Boba.'
Rage filled her then and her grief exploded. She threw the helmet across the room with a angry scream and it hit the wall with a crack, a hole now where it hit. She made to throw the recorder but paused. The helmet could take the abuse but this...if she threw this? She would lose the last of his voice. She hiccupped, shoulders shaking as she got up, kneeling down in front of his helmet. Lightly trailing a finger down over the visor, she traced the dent as her bottom lip wavered.
"Boba. Don't do this to me. Please come back. Please tell me that its a joke...that you're going to walk through my door and give me that cocky grin of yours."
She lifted it up to her lips pressing a kiss to the dent. "You may think I'm strong, but I'm not. I can't do this without you. I need you to be alive, cyar'ika. This baby needs you to be alive."
There was no reply as she knew there wouldn't be but the silence still cut through her like a knife.
Sniffling, she stood, clutching his helmet to her chest and crawled in to bed. She curled around it and rewound the recorder and pressed play again, her cries softly filling the room as he spoke again.
"Well shit..."
/ - / - / - /
Footsteps squelch in the mud and stop. A young man was rifling through a recently battle-torn glade. Craters from either grenades or mines pock-marked the green grass along with bodies.
Bandits.
The young man spit at them before spying someone that looked off. Like he didn't belong there.
"Hey, what about this one?...armor looks almost Mandalorian. No helmet though."
Another pair of footsteps comes up behind them, belonging to an elderly man, who pulled out a small medical device and passed it over the body. Whirring and beeping fills the air and the man gasps in shock.
"Well I'll be...he's still alive!"
"What? He's laying in a literal pool of blood and whiter than a sheet."
"There's a very faint pulse. Very faint but its there and thready. We have a very small chance. But a chance nonetheless. Get the cot and my tools...now! And notify medical we have a critical coming in and to prep the bacta-tank immediately. Oh, grab the blood bags too. I have to close his wounds first, then we will have to wait but from the looks of him...he's survived something like this before."
The man traces the scars on the man's face sadly, "Just what have you seen, son? What have you endured to bear these scars?"
- 12
- 13
- 14
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Overhaul