Afterglow | The Clone Wars

Mercurial

"She got away, didn't she?"

"Got away as in... her ship blew up with her in it?" Dakota corrected the pirate, fastening on tighter the binders enclosed around Boba's wrists. Since recovering Admiral Kilian and the clone trooper from their captivity, the young clone boy had gone mute.

"You killed her?!" Hondo clutched his chest in shock, body tilting back.

"Her ship blew up. With her in it." Again, Dakota corrected. She tugged Boba gently but firmly to his feet. The boy still said nothing, lips pressed together, eyes hollow and empty of the confrontation he demonstrated earlier.

The dry wind kicked another swirl of rusty sand across their boots, and Dakota squinted her eyes to keep particles from flowing into them. For once, Hondo didn't have a snappy retort ready to match her. His telling gaze lingered on her, recalling the time when she used to drink his rum and laughed at his outrageous half-truths.

A time where neither of them knew exactly what they were diving headfirst into, only that they were young, complete opposites, and yet a momentary perfect fit.

"What?" She noticed him looking.

"No," He scratched his jaw. "nothing."

"It's never nothing with you, Hondo."

"I'm just surprised you let the kid live, is all." He shrugged, adjusting his goggles. "It looked like for a second there he was going to be nothing more than a scorch mark on my land."

She let out a scoff of disbelief. "I'm not heartless."

"Could've fooled me."

She stiffened at that muttered retort, fingers freezing on the binds at Boba's wrists.

The Twilight's ramp whined open, and Rex descended, helmet off, his expression unreadable but watchful of the two standing below. He stepped forward, hand closing around Boba's shoulder to guide him inside. "I'll get him secured," he said quietly to her. Dakota gave a small nod, releasing the boy into his keeping.

"That boy lost his father." Hondo continued as Rex guided their prisoner up.

She narrowed her eyes. "Since when are you the voice of reason?"

"I know what it's like to lose someone important, Ky, you forget."

She pressed her lips together, squeezing them. Anger pricked in her chest. Age-old, unresolved tension, weathered from time. One of the many things she chose to bury instead of acknowledge. Then, she growled. "You don't get to judge me."

Hondo's grin slipped into something more somber. He spread his hands lazily, like surrender, but his eyes were steady on her. "I'm not judging. Just reminding."

"Reminding me of what?" she snapped, though her tone faltered.

"That I knew you before all this, before the Jedi turned you into their wartime errand girl." His gaze dipped, for once not full of mischief but of memory. "Back when we felt everything together."

Her jaw locked, eyes burning into him. The sand howled between them, filling the silence she didn't know how to break. She wanted to tell him he was wrong—that leaving had been the only way forward. But the truth was, he wasn't wrong. Not entirely.