#undernote is real. sorry

[otherbug]

what year is it where am i

[graaaaceeliz]

Have you ever looked at Boba and decided he isn't traumatised enough? Me too. This fic is just over 7k long, so this is only the first section. For the rest, you'll have to go to AO3.

Built to Die

A selection of the key tags as they appear on AO3:

Boba Fett & Two Fett; Boba & Jango; Boba & Fox; Boba & Original Grandmotherly Mando Ba'buir Lady

Also featuring: Second Person Boba Fett; Child Death which is technically temporary but Boba doesn't know that; the "Helen!!" scene in Jane Eyre

- to Kel and Ro (I'm not sorry).

Realising where your future is likely to take you happens when you are seven years old, and Two is your best friend. It’s not like you have many friends to choose from, because even if 99 is fun and interesting and clever, he isn't Two. There's nobody who is Two. And, you and Two, and Two and you, you two together, you're the same. Exactly the same, apart from Two's scars and the way he talks and the fact that buir doesn't call him ad.

Two isn't anyone's son. But it's okay, because he's your best friend, your brother. You, in turn, are Two's best friend. Right?

It isn't like Two has anyone else; he's just as lonely as you. You're the normal ones, the undernoticed. But - he is your best friend. And you are his best friend.

You are seven years old, and you're starting to think that maybe, maybe.

Maybe you're not Two's best friend anymore.

But you – you can survive that, you can live through being lonely, through all of that, right? You feeling lonely doesn’t mean you aren’t loved. Two is more important to you than you are. And you love him, and buir has told you about how Mandalorians keep each other alive by living, so you’re going to keep each other alive, forever.

“Hey, Boba! Are you coming to play with us today?”

You hesitate. Buir doesn’t let you play with the other children except Two, who also isn’t technically allowed to play with the others but his carer doesn’t care. “I don’t know,” you say, scared of what buir might say if you just go running off with those boys who aren’t you-two. But you still want to love them; you want them to stay alive. Buir would tell you that it doesn’t matter, they’re not real people, but you are, and they’re you, so they must be.

Two tugs your sleeve. “Come onnn, Boba,” he pleads, your eyes in your face but not your hair – Two’s hair is shorn short and today it is streaky-blue with chalk that one of the Alphas stole.

“Okay,” you agree, and his smile heats your chest like a hug.

You and your twin, you are certain, will never be apart.

[fntstory-blog]

Jaws of Neptune (pt IV)

 In which a change of course is decided. | chapter I | pt i | pt ii | pt iii

When Haru woke again, the ship felt different. It was calm, the ceaseless, violent rocking having eased to more gentle, familiar, motions. A gentle pressure could be felt about one hand and when his eyes adjusted to the light filtering into the cabin he found himself looking up into Owen’s face. A careworn, tired smile was on the captain’s face, though a grim light shone in his blue eyes. His uniform had the distinct look of having been lived in for several days; stubble covered his jaw.

The light coming into the cabin was strange; not the warm light of the sun, but a cool silver more intense than that of the moon. A gentle wind stirred, too, bringing with it the scent of spices and an undernote of something strange and metallic.

A grin broke across Haru’s face at the sight of Owen. Blinking sleepily, he flexed his hand beneath Owen’s, as if assuring himself that this were real. “How long have I been asleep?” He asked, voice cracking slightly. He ran the tip of his tongue gingerly over lips gone dry.

Owen brushed aside the hair from Haru’s face, revealing a blackened eye, bruised cheekbones and split lips. “Not quite two days. Doctor’s orders and all.”

Haru shifted and moved, wanting to sit up. The act required the help of a steady hand and, slowly, it was done, sleep-stiff and sore muscles groaning in protest alongside battered ribs. He could feel bandages wrapped about his middle, no doubt to aid in their mending. He looked about the cabin as best he could, one eye was now swollen mostly shut, taking note of the changed light and calmed pitch of the ship. “Are we free of the storm?” He asked, his voice stronger. “Is the ship unharmed?”

Owen nodded silently, keeping to himself the loss of lives, the damage done to the ship in the storm. There would be time enough for that later. What concerned him, in this moment, was the damage done to Haru, what had been lost in his attack.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said softly, one hand coming to rest against Haru’s bruised cheek. “I should have seen the signs, I should have done more … You’re suffering for my failures. Pierce is right, damn him, I’m not fit to be a captain, not yet …”

Placing one hand over Owen’s, Haru pressed it lightly and looked him in the eye. “This is not your fault. The fault lies solely with that man, Barrows. He orchestrated this mad plot, he acted upon it and he convinced others to join him. You cannot look into men’s hearts and know what lies there.”

Something of that Rokugani haughtiness crept into his tone and expression as he considered Pierce and his words. He dropped his hand to his lap, Owen’s slipped away, too. “Who is Pierce to say that to you? You have seen your crew from a foreign shore, across a sea said not to exist. You traveled across the worst my homeland has to offer, battling demons and monsters, so as to secure your people safe passage home. I may owe this man some small thanks for acting as guard, but he oversteps his boundaries to say so much to his superior and captain.” Voice and expression softening, Haru reached out for Owen’s hand, taking it and interlacing their fingers.

“You are the finest man I know, Owen Hayes, and I would not have come with you on this voyage if I did not believe you would see us both safely delivered …”

“Pierce and Captain Kerrigan, you remember, the first captain, were close friends. The Marines have never accepted me as master of the ship, though they’ve obeyed my orders. It’s no secret that Captain Kerrigan disapproved of my leaving to escort you through the Shadowlands and Pierce refused to send any of the Marines to assist.”

Haru did remember the Ivory Maiden’s first captain, the hospitality he showed, his eagerness to leave Rokugan and return to Avalon. He did not know that the man did not want his lieutenant traveling or that they might have had more men to accompany them on their dangerous mission. This soured his opinion further on the Marine; lives had been lost in their search for the magic compass that was currently seeing them to Avalon. If they had been allowed more soldiers, more fighters … To him it sounded as though Pierce were a petty coward.

Owen continued, eyes downcast now, focused on the sight of their joined hands. “It’s just that …” He sighed softly. “There’s so much to know about the running of a ship that goes beyond canvas and rope and timber. I know how to have her dance on the waves, that comes as second nature, but the crew …” He trailed off, brow knitting in troublesome thought; the Ivory Maiden’s façade of harmony was cracking, badly. He didn’t linger overly long on this, though, there had been time enough to ruminate on his various failures as captain while Haru slept and begun to heal.

“Can you rise?” He asked. “I’d like to show you something.”

Haru nodded, though truth be told he wasn’t entirely sure. It was not an easy thing, but with the support of Owen’s hands and arms he was able to get to his feet. He stood, shakily, for a moment, breathing rapidly and shallowly as he waited for the pain in his ribs to subside. All over, he felt sore; every movement taking long seconds as beaten limbs slowly recalled their function. Once the pain faded to something more bearable, he stood straighter, hands leaving Owen’s arm to smooth his hair and shirt. He thought of the frightful picture he presented, Crane-bred vanity rearing its elegent head even now.

Owen opened the latches on the cabin’s lone window, the view that of the deck and slivers of sea and sky. More of the strange silver light came in as well as the scent of sea salt and unfamiliar spices. Clear to the horizon, the Maiden seemed to be sailing on a sea of melted silver. The cries and answers of officers and sailors could be heard, the work to be done on a ship never-ending no matter where she found herself.

“Now watch. Mr. Beckett!” Owen called from the window. The young officer shouted a command and the crack of a musket rifle shattered the still air, splashing into the sky, causing ripples all the way to the horizon. He shook his head in wonder. “I’ll never get used to that. It’s both wonderful and terrible at the same moment.”

Head and shoulders poking out of the window, Haru peered around at their strange, new surroundings, eyes widening - or, rather, his one unblackened eye - at the shooting display. He had seen many strange things in his relatively short time, but this was by far the strangest. And yet, there was a certain beauty to it all; it made him think of his gods and their homes in heavenly, celestial realms.

“It’s beautiful …! Will the compass guide us through this? Is this what you passed through before landing in Rokugan?” Though he spoke to Hayes, his eyes remained on the strange silvery spectacle of sky and sea.

“Marco gave us directions. We tack here until we reach the Jaws of Neptune, wherever that is,” Hayes remarked, watching as the ripples from the bullet slowly faded from the sky, leaving it silver and still and impossible to measure. “Aye. And It’s no less disconcerting seeing it a second time …”

The name ‘Jaws of Neptune’ jogged something in Haru’s memory, something the Fate Witch had said in their meeting. There had been a warning, something to do with broken teeth … He couldn’t recall it percisely presently, though given all that had happened it was a small wonder he could recall it at all. No doubt a full night’s sleep would clear the remaining cobwebs from his Dance-addled mind and leave him thinking, and remembering, more clearly.

Owen left the window open and returned to the chair he had been sitting in, perching on seat’s edge. “Haru,” he began after some silent moments, “I think that I’ve been approaching your stay on the Ivory Maiden in the wrong way. You walked through lands populated with demons to help us get home, and I’ve no right to ask you to give anything more if you don’t wish it to be so.” He glanced up to Haru with a questioning lift to his brows. “I had the notion … Would you like to learn some of this?” He swept a hand around the air, gesturing to the beloved ship. “I’ll warn you, it won’t be easy work, and you’d have to listen to Mr. Beckett’s orders …”

Hayes’ words tore Haru’s attention away from the window, at long last, and he turned to face the captain, curiosity on his battered face. The offer wasn’t an unattractive one; whiling away the hours in a room was only desirable when the room was connected to a home and full of entertaining distractions. The fires of revolution had taken away home and possessions from him and while his cabin was comfortable, he did not look forward to spending an entire voyage within its sparse walls. Then again, he did not want to be underfoot and in the way, impeding the daily work required for smooth sailing …

A hand raised to briefly touch the scars at one shoulder, a lingering memento from his journey through the Shadowlands. A moment’s consideration was all he needed before he nodded in agreement. “I can’t hide away forever or be secreted away below decks at the first sign of danger, Owen,” he began, gently. “I would be honored to learn how your ship is run. Beckett-san, despite his youth, is someone I hold in high esteem; I would gladly take orders and instruction from him.”

There was a twofold reason to accept the proposition; being amongst the men might go a long way to dispel the view they held of the Rokugani as an other. If he were there, on the deck, learning the skills that kept the ship afloat, showed that he cared just as much as they did about the vessel’s well-being, they might accept him as one of their own. And that, more than anything else, would put an end to treacherous plots borne of base superstition.

“Very well, then, Mr. Haru.” Owen smiled in a lopsided way, his spirits lifting considerably with their conversation. It was heartening to see Haru recovering and acting much as his old self; the road to full recovery would be a long one, but these first steps were encouraging. He was glad, too, that his thoughts had been to readily accepted. In his mind, having Haru as part of the crew would give *him* peace of mind as it would put his lover under the direct supervision of his most trusted lieutenant. Beckett would work him like all the others, but he would also keep him safe.

“You’ll be the first Rokugani sailor in Her Majesty’s Navy. I’m certain that Mr. Beckett will be quite enthused to have you in his merciless thrall,” he drawled, standing to step to a large trunk braced against a sidewall. “Let’s acquaint you with what will be your new uniform, then …”

“You make Beckett-san sound like a cruel, ruthless tyrant,” Haru said with a small smile. “I refuse to believe it! He’s never been anything but kind and respectful to me.”

“Mr. Beckett *is* a ruthless tyrant, I’ll have you know. He acts as my red right hand, after all,” Owen countered dryly, pulling out a standard set of sailor’s clothes. This consisted of a loose-necked shirt, striped rough-knit canvas pants, and a wide brown belt with a scarred buckle. These were laid out on the bed along with a small-ish pouch to be used as a purse.

“There’s one other thing I would ask,” Haru continued, refusing to believe a word coming from Owen’s wryly turned lips, “The man, Lannigan-san, he saved my life. I would like to properly thank him for that. Seeing that I have nothing to give him, I would like to invite him for dinner, or tea or …” He sighed, one hand raking through still-mussed snow-white tresses. “I do not know the proper protocol for this, Owen, but I owe him something, some show of courtesy and respect …”

Owen considered this as he set the sailor’s clothes on the bed. “I couldn’t invite Lannigan to our table without murmurings among the men, but I have an idea that will work all the better, I think. I’m sure Lord Berek could, and would, under the guise of his interest in conversing with you.”

“If Berek-sama could arrange the thing, I would be most grateful. If it would not be pushing the point, perhaps the doctor should be invited as well? I owe him a debt of gratitude as well …”

“I’ll make it a point to wake Lord Berek from his … slumber,” Hayes said with a slight roll of the eye. “As for Doctor MacMorgan …” He paused, closing the shutters of the window to once again afford them some semblance of privacy. “He and the Noble Lord don’t quite see eye to eye on any point. The last dinner that they took together, MacMorgan ended up with wine soaking his shirt, and Berek had to dodge a thrown carving fork. I have declined to mix their company ever since.”

Haru frowned slightly, annoyed that his plans for an all-encompassing show of thanks had been thwarted. “I’ll speak to the doctor personally, then. No doubt I’ll be afforded the chance in coming days. I hope Berek-sama and Lannigan-san are able to … comport themselves in a better fashion.” Thrown wine and utensils were incredibly unseemly and he struggled to make sense of how a dinner had gone so wrong; even the uncouth Crab and strange Unicorn clans knew better than to act so savagely.

“Jeremiah Berek has a strange viewpoint on what he terms ‘the common man,’” Owen explained, resettling in his chair. “Honestly, between you and I, it’s a tad insulting. He says that noblemen are all the evil and good that man can do, while the common man is a terrier; some are bold, while others are spineless and worth nothing.” He shook his head. “I tend to disagree and so does the good doctor. In any event, I doubt he and Thomas will find much to quarrel about. Thomas is a good man; he knows his place.”

“His point of view is remarkably more … generous than the one I grew up with. At least he allows that non-nobles are capable of boldness, heroism; in Rokugan, those who are not samurai are classified in two castes: heimin, half-people, and hinin, non-people, which says … Well, it says quite a bit, doesn’t it? It’s very easy to look down and imagine yourself bigger and better than others when you claim the top of the social mountain …”

Owen considered this, head tilted thoughtfully to one side. He seemed to see Haru through new eyes, though the subtle shift in his expression was difficult to place. “It must be difficult, such a change in cultures, ideas, even the very way we take our tea …” His tone was full of wonder; his focus had so narrowly been on securing Haru’s passage and delivering 600 some odd souls back to Avalon that he had managed to miss something so obvious. Not that he was oblivious to the differences in their cultures, or that the transition wouldn’t be easy, but that was always somewhere in his mind as a later problem; something to address and tackle once they were safely back in Avalon.

“It is my hope to strike a balance, replacing old things with new while holding onto what is most important. I cannot, and will not, give up everything all at once, but there are things worth letting go of. Old prejudices, for one … Blood-stained kimono for another,” he added ruefully, finally examining what were to be his new garments.

“Well?” Owen asked, glancing from cot to Haru. “What do you think?”

Haru wondered who they might have belonged to before they passed into his possession; surely spare sets of clothing weren’t routinely kept, lying around. Fingers ran over one shirt sleeve, feeling the courseness of the fabric. “I think … I think I did not realize I would be leaving so much of myself behind so soon.” Voice and expression had grown pensive with these words.

Owen held out a hand towards Haru, which was taken and gently squeezed. “The sea takes from us all, piece by piece,” he said softly. “But I’ll remember the pieces that may drift away, if you’ll do the same for me.”