Missing POV: Boba in Chapter 3 of Shortcomings of a Rush Job
âWhatâs your name, kid?â
Her eyes narrow with plain suspicion. It would almost be funny to see such a severe expression on a child so small--a clear kriff you and the dooback you rode in on--if it werenât for the circumstances. Heâs been on Tatooine for long enough now that the word has gotten around; the Mando on Jabbaâs throne frees slaves, if you can make it there. Itâs one of the only three reasons people come to the palace, now. To do business, to test his power, or to cut their own chains. Boba highly doubts that the emaciated child before him is here for either of the former.Â
He decides to wait her outâeither sheâll give up her name or she won't. And besides, itâs hilarious to ignore Skywalker. Boba can see him sweating from here. Priceless.Â
âSqueeze,â the kid says after another moment, raising her chin ever-so-slightly. Thereâs fire in those eyes.
A bolt of pain as cutting as any knife goes through Boba like a killshot. Squeeze. Itâs barely a name at all, and it reminds him so completely of the clones that it threatens to overwhelm his composure altogether.
(When he was maybe just as small as this kid, Boba used to sneak out into Kamino while his buir was away on jobs. The long-necks always knew to leave him alone and sometimes, Boba could get some of the cadets to talk to him. There had been one boy, maybe only a head taller than Boba and still in his cadet-blues, that had been boasting about his freshly-chosen name in the only way that the clones could boastâutterly in secret, huddled around the bunks, their brothers pressed close and watchful in case one of the trainers or long-necks were around.
âYouâll call me Steady, now, âcause Iâve got the steadiest hand in the whole squad,â he had said with a covetous smile that still makes Boba ache, just a bit, all these years later.
âThatâs not a real name,â Boba had interjected, absolutely affronted.
âShut up, Boba, you donât get it,â one of the other clones had hissed.
Steady had looked at Boba with eyes that were so impossibly heavy, made all the worse that they were coming from a face so similar, even if Boba had never had any difficulty telling the clones apart.
âItâs better than being just another number,â Steady had murmured, quiet and pained, and Boba hadnât ever brought it up again. Heâd always made a point to remember their names. It wasnât a proper remembrance, but it was something.)
ââSqueezeâ?â He repeats, sounding strangled to his own ears. Boba hates itâhates that heâs called her thatâbut he canât bring himself to begrudge someone with so little agency the use of their own damn name. âItâs a good name,â he adds, because it means something to choose a name, clone or slave (and really, all these years later, Boba can admit to himself that there wasnât much difference between the two in the end.)Â
She nods. âI know. Itâs why I kept it,â and her grin is more a bearing of gap-toothed teeth than anything. Sheâs fierce. Scrappy. Has to be, if she ended up here with Skywalker, of all people.Â
And Boba will get to that kriffinâ mess, he will. Because his friend has been all sorts of kriffed up for months--has lost his clan, shaken his creed, and surrendered his child--and Boba is furious for him because somebody has to be, and Force knows Djarin isnât going to get angry for his own sake. But first, there is Squeeze, and Boba has a reputation to uphold. One that matters.
âYou got a chip, Squeeze?â
âYessir.â
(Boba hadnât known about the chips until years after the end of the Clone Wars. He doesnât know if it would have made a difference. He tries not to think about it. Heâs got so much grief as it is, these days. Enough for a thousand lifetimes.)
âYou can call me Boba, Squeeze. Howâd you like to get that chip out?â
A fine tremor passes through her. Squeeze is young and skinny and has a far-too-haunted look about her. Her fist clenches hard enough that her knuckles blanch white under the dirt and grime. âYes please. Iâd like that more than anything.â
