Never Talk to Strangers...

Aislynn stepped out of the shower. After a short respite, the black feeling had returned, stronger than before, and she knew no pills would help.

“Feeling better?” He asked quietly, still seated on the edge of their bed.

She didn’t answer, picked up the brush and worked it through her hair.

He stood and crossed the room, placing his hands on her shoulders.

She leaned back into his embrace, trying to push the feeling of foreboding away. He wrapped his arms around her and held her. “Everything is going to work out. After today, Skywalker and Solo will both be a memory and we can get on with the rest of our lives.”

He released her and crossed the room, taking up the package she had seen him with earlier. He set it on the bed and stepped back, “Open it.”

She did, and gasped as she pulled out a beautiful dress. She hadn’t worn anything more interesting than a peasant skirt since she’d left Black Sun. She smiled in spite of herself. The fabric was heavier than she would have chosen for the weather, but it would drape beautifully, and the barge would be air conditioned. It was a deep rich red, the color of blood.

He arched his eyebrows slightly.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It would be far more beautiful if you were wearing it,” he said running his fingertips across the bare skin of her arm, raising chills and memories of the last few hours.

She slapped his hand away, playfully. “Then stop messing around and let me get dressed.”

He stepped back, bowed regally and left the room.

She slipped into the dress, reveling in the feel of the rich fabric against her bare skin.

It bared both her shoulders, and fell almost to the floor. There were soft leather boots with the dress, dyed to match. She shook her head in wonder. It must have cost him a small fortune.

She twisted her hair into a single braid down her back and then walked into the outer room. His eyes brightened, and smiled, the one that always melted her heart. He crossed the room, reached up and gently undid the braid. “I like your hair better free.” He ran his hands through her hair, letting it fall across her shoulders in soft waves.

He took her face gently in his hands and looked into her eyes. “This time tomorrow, we will be leaving this place. Together. And I will make all your dreams come true.” He sealed the promise with a kiss.

Her chest tightened at his words.

He turned away, and set to checking his weapons. She watched him go through each motion of armoring up. A thousand times she had seen him do it. For some reason she found herself watching each motion, trying to commit it to memory. Soon, he would not have to hide his face from the world. She picked the helmet up from where it lay and handed it to him. He took it from her and met her eyes one more time before sliding it into place.

He held his arm out to her. She accepted it, and they walked out of the room together.

She could hear the whispers cease as they passed. Silence followed them down the twisting corridors of Jabba’s palace toward the hangar where the sail-barge awaited. The ship was massive. It was the pride of Jabba’s arsenal.

She walked proudly at his side, head held high. As they entered the main hall, she could see Jabba’s cronies already assembled. The execution of Solo and the self styled Jedi had drawn a large crowd. Alcohol of all sorts was already flowing freely. Conversation ceased as they entered, and she felt her cheeks flush as all eyes centered on her.

He released her arm, giving her hand a slight squeeze and took his place at the foot of Jabba’s pedestal. She stood alone, looking up at the massive slug. He said something in the harsh Huttese language, of which she still understood only a few words. She curtsied deeply, and turned to the Twi’lek advisor. Fortuna smiled and motioned her to move forward and stand before Jabba.

She had sung for the giant slug many times. That was nothing, all in good fun. This felt different. She moved forward.

The protocol droid translated Jabba’s words. “Now we see what Fett has kept so carefully hidden. This hiding displeases Jabba, as the vision before him pleases him greatly. Be welcome.”

She flushed and heard a few scattered comments. She curtsied a final time. “With your leave, milord,” and moved quickly away from the platform.

As she passed the dais, she spared a glance at the chained form of the Alderaan Princess. The woman’s eyes met hers for only a moment. Cold steel reflected there. Aislynn felt a shudder pass through her body and moved on quickly, towards the lounge and the main body of revelers.

She could see the other droid that Jabba had stolen from Skywalker moving among the crowd.

After almost a year, she could recognize many faces among the crowd. She scanned the crowd until she located a friendly face, another bounty hunter for whom Boba held no small amount of respect.

“Dengar!” She called his name as she approached. “I didn’t expect you to return so soon.”

“And glad I did, for this little party,” he smiled, eying her up and down. “I told them you’d clean up real nice, baby girl,” he said.

She sighed and glanced back over her shoulder. Boba was standing next to the throne, blaster clasped across his chest, but she knew he was watching her back.

“Relax. He know’s you’re safe with me. He’s met my other half. Want something to drink?”

She nodded.

“Figure you’d need it. I know you’re not going to enjoy this nearly as much as the rest of us. Your heart is too soft.”

“I am sorry he killed Jabba’s rancor,” she said sadly.

The hunter shook his head, disbelieving, and waved a droid over to them. “The lady would like a drink...”

“Wine, please. Red,” she supplied quickly.

“And I’ll take a refill. So, why the sudden change in your...attire?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He laughed. “Don’t give me that bullshit, baby girl. I’ve known Fett longer than you, and he never does anything without a reason. He’s never shown you off before because of the consequences. Why now?”

“His contract with Jabba ends today. You know that. Maybe he felt like celebrating.”

“You’re leaving aren’t you?”

She said nothing.

“Vacation or retirement?”

She shrugged.

“I’m guessing retirement, gods knows he’s probably got the cash stashed away. Even with damages to the ship, the replacement he had for a while, he doesn’t exactly live an extravagant lifestyle. It makes sense actually. You know, Ru’u and I are getting married, right?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. I asked her last month. We’re waiting a year for the actual wedding. I got to make it right for her, y’know. Can’t imagine what she sees in me. Ugly fucker that I am. Sorry about the language,” he apologized quickly.

“Is she here today?”

“No. I wouldn’t want her to see this. D’you think that kid really is a Jedi, like he claims to be?”

“Yes. I do.”

“How is that possible? The Jedi are extinct.”

“Apparently not.”

“Well, they will be in a few hours. We ought to sit down. The ship’s about to move out.”

She followed him to a table, which was close to the far edge of the lounge. She could see both the dais and the front platform from here, where the actual execution would be viewed from.

She listened to Dengar talk for a few more minutes, her eyes never leaving the dark figure next to the platform. What would life be like when there was nothing to keep them apart. Would he be able to live a simple life, or would the stars beckon him back in a few months or a few years? The band struck up a lively tune in the background.

“Would you care for a dance?” The question intruded on her daydreaming.

“I don’t know if I should.”

“Pshaw! It’s only a dance, hang on a minute,” he turned towards the dais and roared, “Fett! I’m taking your lady for a swing around the floor!” and then took her by the hand and led her towards the group of drunken dancers.

She waited for the slight nod, nearly imperceptible, before following the stocky hunter’s lead. He was the first, but not the last to dance with her that day. She turned down a pair of smugglers she knew to be very free with their hands among Jabba’s dancing girls. However, most of the men were more than polite, acutely aware of being in her lover’s dark shadow.

She was exhausted from the dancing and her head slightly fuzzy from drink when they arrived at the Pit. She went to stand next to Boba as Jabba stated the charges and Skywalker’s own droid translated them for the crowd.

Aislynn thought of excusing herself to the restroom for the duration of the execution, but knew her absence would be missed. She resigned herself to the scene unfolding and took her place at the edge of the platform facing the deep sand pit, willing the proceedings to end quickly.

The commotion above it’s lair had awakened the creature and she could seen it’s clawed tentacles reaching up, scraping the sides of the pit expectantly. She nearly cheered the brave young Jedi’s reply as he challenged the Hutt’s authority one last time.

Then all the furies of the seven hells broke loose.

Somehow, Skywalker had a lightsaber in his hand. Blaster fire opened up between the two skiffs. Solo, still mostly blind from his stay in carbonite, managed to get a hold of a blaster.

Boba pushed her to her knees behind the dais, and rushed to asisst Jabba’s guards. She saw his jetpack fire, and watched him land on the skiff holding the two condemned men. She heard one of the droids cry out a warning, saw Solo twist around and drop down in response...

And saw Boba fall. She screamed out his name and leapt from the platform as the jetpack misfired, sending him hurtling into the Pit. She felt someone grab hold of her, heard the dress fabric tearing and felt her body flung backwards away from the center of the Pit.

She hit the sand, rolled to the side and scrabbled to the edge of the Pit. Crouched down away from the battle above her, she stared into the abyss, waiting for him to appear. The battle raged above, screams, cries, blasters fired. Blood, bodies, and pieces of the barge rained around her, and still he did not appear.

She raised her head to see the massive sail barge in flames, and crawled numbly away from the edge of the pit, avoiding the crash. She fought against the pain that threatened to overwhelm her, trying to retreat inside herself.

Curling herself into a tight ball, Aislynn closed her eyes, willing herself to wake from the nightmare.

She was picked up by one of the hundreds who came to gawk at the wreckage... or to sort through it for valuables. She never asked him which. He dropped her off at the edge of town. She mumbled thanks and stumbled away from her rescuer without a second glance.

She walked slowly back through the streets she had first walked so many years ago. It felt like an eternity. She found her way unerringly to a tiny hole in the wall with a single entrance and a worn out sign hanging off balance above it. As she walked into Kip’s, she saw Mac turn from his seat at the bar. He stood up as she crossed to him. She threw her arms around his neck, pressed her face into his chest and wept like a child.

*******

The end.

Or... perhaps not. For those of you who, like me, prefer a happy ending and have no sentimental attachment to canon, I've included an extra chapter. Read on, or not, as you like.