#I have not seen a game that treats it’s female characters worse than Metal Hear does tbh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesydneyfeminists · 5 years

Text

A Feminist’s Review of Avengers: Endgame

** Warning: Contains Major Spoilers **

I want to preface this review with another warning: while I am a self-confessed nerd who has long enjoyed comic book movies and geeky pop culture, I was quite disappointed in this film. In my criticisms, I'm going to be honest as to why. If you are on a high from the film and just want to enjoy it without having somebody rain on your parade, then it is probably best to skip this review. However, if you’re curious about this feminist’s perspective on why Endgame fell flat for her, please read on.

Image Description: Film poster for Avengers: Endgame. It shows all the main characters, including Iron Man, Captain America, Captain Marvel, Thor and Thanos (among others) in their full battle gear against a dark night sky. At the bottom of the poster, the title of the film is written in large, blue and gold letters. The Marvel Studios logo is just above the title. There is undiscernable text at the top and bottom of the poster. The release date (April 26th) is written in white at the very bottom center. The “a” in “April” is the Avengers symbol. Image Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avengers:_Endgame

When my partner asked me for my first impressions, I said the movie should’ve been called “Iron Man 4 (and Some of the Avengers”). The entire film felt like a swan song for him, a requiem for the character who started it all. It was made clear that Iron Man was the film’s emotional centre, the person whose stakes viewers are most meant to care about. While I don't mind Iron Man as a character, I am aware he is the favourite of most of the franchise’s fanboys. It really felt like that was the crowd this movie was aimed at. In contrast, women and other minority groups did not fare so well in terms of representation or importance in this film.

The writers had choices on who do they decided to turn to dust at the end of Infinity War. There was ample opportunity to leave behind a more diverse group of heroes to carry out the tasks in Endgame. For example, instead of Antman, we could have had Wasp. In the comics, Wasp is the female avenger, not Black Widow. It would have been such a nice nod to the canon and added an additional female character to the core cast. Instead, we ended up with a majority-white team of mostly men. The two women who were involved were treated in a frustrating manner.

While Black Widow essentially leads the Avengers at the beginning of Endgame, she (nobly) throws herself off a cliff halfway through the film, essentially ending her story. This plot point was vexing for a few reasons. First, the writers/directors got rid of one of the only women on the team, turning most of the rest of the film into a sausage fest. Second, Black Widow’s sacrifice was not given the same weight or gravitas as Tony Stark’s. At the end of the film, we see a beautiful funeral for Tony. But there are no moments of remembrance for the other characters who gave their lives (Black Widow, Vision, even Loki). They are only briefly (and quietly) mentioned by Clint and Wanda. Outside Endgame’s main storyline, the timing of Natasha’s death is also awkward sinceMarvel is supposed to be making a Black Widow movie in the next few years.

Image Description: Close up photo of Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) from the neck up. She is looking above and to the left of the camera with a serious expression on her face. Right above her eyebrows, the words “avenge the fallen” are written in a white to light-purple gradient. The “a” in “fallen” is the Avengers symbol. At the bottom of the photo, in the center, is the Marvel Studios logo. The release date for Endgame (April 26th) is written in bold, white letters beneath the logo. Image source: http://collider.com/endgame-black-widow-death-explained/

As for the remaining female character, Nebula, she proves to be the “weak link”. While all members of the team had their struggles in trying to obtain the infinity stones, it is Nebula who gets captured and ends up compromising the entire plan. While I don’t have an issue with Natasha and Nebula’s scenes in and of themselves, they do come across as problematic in a film that gives little limelight to its female superheroes in general. Right from the beginning, Captain Marvel is sent off-screen for most of the film, a major disappointment for those who were hoping to see her involved. I suspected this would happen and sadly I was right.

As I mentioned before, at the end of Infinity War the writers could have kept some key figures to make a more diverse remaining team. However, even with the characters they chose to leave behind, there were missed opportunities. One of the biggest missteps for me was Valkyrie.

When Bruce visits the village of New Asgard to find Thor, he first encounters Valkyrie. In the film Thor: Ragnarok, Valkyrie had a drinking problem which she overcame by the end of the story. This time around, it is Thor who is battling alcoholism. She tells them about his drinking, and, rather than asking her to come along and help on their mission, they bypass her completely. I was really upset Valkyrie did not feature in Infinity War and felt doubly irritated that she was sidelined yet again in this instalment, for no good reason. Had they included her, she could have been the one to rescue Thor and use his hammer, instead of Captain America. Given that she is an elite Asgardian warrior, this decision would have made much more sense and been a great moment for her fans. She is also one of the very few openly LGBTQ+ characters in the MCU. Including her would have given the filmmakers opportunities to better represent this marginalized group, rather than their paltry attempt at the film’s beginning.

Then there’s Thor, who, in my opinion, was treated so poorly in the film. Other feminist writers have already explained why the fat jokes and cruelty directed towards Thor’s substance abuse and mental illness were extremely problematic. They turned one of the most damaged characters into mean-spirited comic relief, rather than addressing the serious issues he was contending with. I really felt sorry for Thor the character, but I feel worse for the real-life people who were triggered by his horrid treatment.

Image Description: Photo of Thor (Chris Hemsworth) from the waist up sitting in a chair. He is looking to the left of the camera with a serious/ angry expression on his face. He is wearing a light-blue t-shirt and dark grey, zip up hoodie. With his right hand, he is picking up what appears to be a donut from a wooden bowl. Next to the bowl is a can of soda. The background is mostly wooden walls and one hallway table with decorative vases. Image Source: https://www.screengeek.net/2019/05/02/avengers-endgame-thor-changes-explained/

Given so much needed to happen in this movie, I was also annoyed by how much time the directors dedicated to trivial things like Captain America’s ass and Thor’s beer gut. I’m all for comedic moments in a heavy film, but I wanted to hear some more speaking lines from characters who appeared toward the end, ones we had not seen for the last 2 1/2 hours. The final battle scene felt bloated and confused as writers tried to squeeze in nods here or a glance there to the rest of the crew. At least, however, the greater ensemble was back, fighting together side-by-side. That is until Captain Marvel showed up.

Now, I am a fan of Captain Marvel. I enjoyed her origin story and was excited to see her in this movie, even if it was late in the game (no pun intended). When she made her arrival and took down that ship, it was the first time I cheered during the whole movie. And then it all went pear-shaped. When Captain Marvel was given the gauntlet by Spiderman there were so many creative choices they could have made. Anyone who knows the canon would be aware Captain Marvel is more than capable of handling the power of the infinity gauntlet and could have done what the Hulk and, ultimately, Tony Stark did. Instead, they came up with this convoluted plan for her to fly into Antman’s quantum machine. I mean, the woman can fly at the speed of light so she could have done that in the blink of an eye. But, somehow, Thanos stopped her by flinging a heavy metal object towards the machine faster than Captain Marvel can fly.

Image Description: Two photos laid side by side. The one on the left is a close up of Captain Marvel from the chest up. The one on the left is a close up of Thanos from the neck up. Captain Marvel is looking below and to the right of the camera with a serious expression on her face. The star on her chest is glowing. Thanos is looking slightly above the camera, also with a serious expression on his face. Both backgrounds are cloudy skies. Image Source: https://mashable.com/article/captain-marvel-avengers-endgame-theories/

While that act alone was infuriating, it’s not the scene that most annoyed me. It was the moment when, for no apparent reason, many of the female superheroes crowd around Captain Marvel stating she had their help. I didn’t like the scene for two reasons. One, it felt unnatural and contrived. Many of these characters didn’t even know each other and were all preoccupied fighting on an enormous battlefield. There was no reason why they would all suddenly have a 90s girl power moment and gather around one woman at that particular moment in what was an incredibly chaotic struggle. And two, even with the backing of all Marvel’s strong heroines, they could not get the job done. No, that glory was saved solely for one man: Tony Stark. The takeaway seemed to be, even combined, women can’t do the job properly; they need the men to step in and show them how it’s done. Maybe this sounds like a stretch or too harsh a criticism, but this was the very visceral reaction I had during the film. Marvel’s filmmakers have a long history of utterly depowering their female characters and this scene just seemed to follow in those footsteps.

I was also very disappointed by how small a role T’Challa and many of the amazing Wakandan characters had in this movie. As the leading tech hub in the world, I don’t know why the Avengers weren’t going there to ask for help in creating a time travel machine, or why they couldn’t have made it the new HQ, given Tony Stark had retreated to a log cabin somewhere in the woods. There were so many ways the writers/directors could have included these fantastic and important characters.

Image Description: The Marvel Studios logo set against a blurry, close up shot of a comic panel. The panel is blurry and undiscernable. It is tinted entirely red. Image Source: https://marvelstudiosnews.com/2017/12/10/marvel-studios-highest-grossing-superhero-movie-8th-consecutive-year/

The only glimmer for me at the end of the film was that it established the old guard were retiring or moving on to other things. We had something of a handing of the baton moment: Captain America gives his shield to Falcon, making him his successor, and Thor finally, officially makes Valkyrie the leader of Asgard (or what’s left of it). It is my hope that in future Marvel films, the creators will focus more on their characters of colour, female characters, and LGBTQ+ characters. They have an opportunity now to start a fresh wave that will resonate with so many more people than the classic, white, fanboy nerd. After all, you don’t make $1.2 billion in one weekend just because white millennial guys went to see a film. Many people love superhero films for a variety of reasons. It’s time we started serving them, too.

By: Tessa Barratt

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of the Sydney Feminists. Our Blogger and Tumblr serve as platforms for a diverse array of women to put forth their ideas and explore topics. To learn more about the philosophy behind TSF’s Blogger/ Tumblr, please read our statement here: https://www.sydneyfeminists.org/a

2 notes · View notes

the-purple-martin · 6 years

Link

Chapters: 19/? Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse/Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson & Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson/Sole Survivor (one-sided) Characters: Paladin Danse, Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson, Scribe Haylen Additional Tags: Post-Blind Betrayal, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Strong Language, Violence, vengeance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Angst, No Fluff, Mental Health Issues, Sexual Coercion, Guilt, Ok Maybe Some Fluff, Sexual Content, Consent Issues, Canon Divergence, Modified Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Redemption, just be patient

Five minutes.

That's all the time she allowed herself to waste. To crumple to the floor and succumb to the utter and all-consuming panic. Her hands clutched at her ribs, nails digging into her sides as she heaved and screamed and cried. Overwhelmed by the reality that Danse was likely already dead.

Her world blurred and the bleak walls of the bunker came crashing down on her. Pinned beneath the weight of her hysteria, she retched and choked on bile. For a fleeting, desperate moment, she entertained the idea of breathing in and letting herself asphyxiate on the filth in her mouth.

Breathe, just breathe.

Her mind eased her racing thoughts. Slowly the room stilled and she was left a pathetic mess, weeping on the floor and drowning in self-loathing. This was selfish, a waste of time and above all else, it was not about her.

With the reminder that Danse’s life was dependent on every second she wasted, Jackie pushed herself to her feet and urged her limbs to stumble through the irrational haze. She staggered across the room, aimlessly groping for a plan, and dragged a dirty sleeve across her face. Except it only furthered her dilapidated state by smudging her cheeks with grime.

Don’t forget to breathe. Mindful breaths.

It had been years since Jackie had struggled with anxiety so intense that it triggered panic attacks. But waking up in that goddamn vault had brought about a new kind of hell for her mind to wander in. Often in the months before joining the Brotherhood, she had found herself pressed into a dark corner, stricken with fear, unable to move or breathe or think. Terrified that some horrible creature or the perversions of man that called themselves human beings would find her and she would die alone and forgotten in this shithole.

Once she started traveling with Danse, she had been able to keep her anxieties at bay for a time. He reminded her of Nate and despite the heartache it brought her, Jackie didn’t feel so vulnerable in Danse’s presence. A sense of normalcy had begun to return and with each passing day she reclaimed a piece of her sanity.

As much as she tried, she couldn’t keep her demons stuffed away forever though. On a frostbitten night in midwinter, they had stopped to set up camp, hunkering down in a crumbling building for the evening. That night, Jackie had awoken in a panic. She’d jolted awake, cold sweat trickling down her back, convinced that this was the end.

“Danse?” she called out to him, hearing only faint rustling from somewhere beyond the shadows in return. She clenched her sleeping bag in her hands, her heart hammering away in her chest. “Danse!” again she cried his name only for the rustling to crescendo into horrid hissing and screeching.

She desperately groped around for her weapon, her Pip-Boy, anything to help fend off whatever was lurking in the darkness, except she came up empty handed. This was it. She was going to die, torn apart by some wretched wasteland creature, feasting on her innards as she screamed in vain.

Suddenly loud crashing and the sounds of grinding metal filled the air.

“Soldier?” It came out forceful and frantic as Danse clanked through the room, “What is it? What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know!” Jackie panted, unable to catch her breath, “I don’t know! I can’t breathe!” The panic threatened to strangle her and she shook with the pounding of her heart. “Something’s wrong!”

Unable to control her racing thoughts, Jackie was convinced she would hyperventilate, or at the very least, die of embarrassment. She pressed her face into her hands, attempting to conceal her shameful state and regain some semblance of control.

“You’re alright.”

She nearly leapt out of her skin at Danse’s hand on her shoulder and his voice in her ear. So consumed by her irrational fear, she hadn’t even heard him exit his power armor. It stood a menacing stance at the edge of the shadows and Danse... Danse was so near that Jackie was suddenly overwhelmed by all the emotions she’d been trying so hard to bury since leaving the vault. All the pain and heartache, her insurmountable grief, leaked from the little box she’d haphazardly stuffed them away in.

“It’s not real, you’re safe. It’ll pass, just breathe.”

Danse had taken a knee beside her and his grip, firm on her shoulder, moored her to reality. At least until she met his gaze and those heartbreakingly familiar brown eyes shattered her sanity. It took everything in her not to clamber into his arms and weep away her troubles. Instead Jackie clutched at his uniform and squeezed her eyes shut to block out the haunting reminder and hold back the tears caught just behind her lids.

Nate...she missed him so goddamn much it hurt. But Danse...right now, Danse would have to do. She let his soft, calming words sooth her aching heart and slowly the panic subsided. Left with only an echo, Jackie’s hands fall into her lap. Broken and hollow, she grasped at the ghosts of her former life splintering in the parallels of her mind.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered and pawed at her face, wiping at tears or the flush of shame she didn’t know.

“This is common among soldiers.” His hand lingered on her shoulder, a gentle reminder that despite her madness Danse still had her back. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Jackie just stared at her hands. There was sadness in Danse’s voice, a resonance of understanding that made her wonder about his own mental state. She wasn’t blind. She’d seen how he struggled. How he kept himself endlessly busy, avoiding sleep or rest so he didn’t have to confront his demons. Danse carried the weight of the wasteland on his shoulders and clearly he cared about her. He was a tough nut to crack, but underneath it all he was kind: a good man.

All Jackie had done since enlisting was repay his kindness in cruelty. She had been insubordinate at best and nothing short of a cold-hearted bitch at worst.

“I haven’t treated you fairly,” she admitted, “I’ve been angry and so caught up in myself. You...” she nervously wrung her hands together as she trailed off. “You were an easy target.”

Danse shifted to lean his elbow on his knee. “Sometimes trauma makes us do things we aren’t proud of.”

“Doesn’t give me the right to be nasty.” She glanced over at him and was met with the faintest of smiles.

“Is that an apology I hear, soldier?”

“I-ah…,” she tittered to herself, “yeah, I suppose it is.”

Danse continued to grin and he knocked his shoulder against hers, "I appreciate the sentiment.”

She leaned into him, wishing he could give her so much more than just fleeting touches. “Thanks,” she muttered and pulled away before her emotions got the better of her again. “I can take watch if you want.”

“Negative,” his fingers brushed against her shoulder as he stood to retreat back to his armor, waiting until he was safely encased inside before continuing, “but you can sit with me if you’d like.”

Jackie’s chest ached thinking about that moment. What if she never saw Danse alive again? The realization halted her advance across the room. Danse…he was the only thing worth fighting for in this world, the only thing that kept her breathing. He was her lifeblood and if he died at the hands of the Brotherhood for her foolish, selfish mistakes, they might as well kill her too.

This was her fault. She should have done more, fought harder, told Maxson where could shove it and walked away. Should have run and never looked back. Taken Danse somewhere far away. Somewhere near the sea where they could watch the sunrise and hear the waves crashing upon the sand. Leave it all behind and allow the Commonwealth fall to its own demises. But Jackie had been broken. Gutted and left to bleed, too scared to retaliate or flee and worse, too afraid to say no. Now she would atone for her sins in fear and blood.

The cycle of panic threatened to repeat itself but someone had once told her that, ‘courage was not the absence of fear, rather the knowledge that something else was more important than fear.’ Danse was more important than her irrational mind. If she had any hope of saving him, she needed to take action.

Fear still rattled her bones, scratching at her skill like the parasite it was, but Jackie pushed herself forward. She forced her feet to carry her across the room to where she had dumped her duffle bag the night before. Hastily she stripped of her soiled clothes and plucked a clean uniform from her pack, dressing with little regard to her personal appearance.

Unkempt and unhinged, it would have to do. She would have to do.

With a sigh and a final glance around the room she jabbed the elevator call button, pacing and trying to formulate a plan while she waited for its decent. A plan that didn’t involve her solo assault of the Brotherhood stronghold or the very real possibility that she would be forced to murder their Elder.

Shit.

Jackie stumbled to a stop, staggered by the consequences of Danse’s actions. If she wanted him to come out of this alive, she was going to have to bring down the Brotherhood -- alone. If by some stroke of dumb luck she was successful, then what? The Commonwealth would crumble at the sudden power vacuum.

Dammit Danse!

The door to the elevator clanged open and Jackie was left standing there, messaging her forehead between her fingers. She didn’t know what the hell she was going to do but she slung her duffle bag over her shoulder and snatched up her rifle nonetheless. She would make it up as she went and hope to whatever gods were still listening that they didn’t end up dead.

The elevator made an agonizingly slow ascent to the surface and Jackie prayed that she was wrong. She hoped that Danse had just gone to patrol the perimeter or ventured to a nearby settlement for supplies and he would be waiting for her in the vestibule of the bunker. If only she could be so lucky.

When the elevator finally rattled to a halt, Jackie was greeted with darkness. Quiet and empty, midsummer twilight hung in the sky beyond the open door. Her heart skipped a stuttering beat at the sight. This was good. In the cover of night and concealed in her armor, perhaps Danse was still alive. Kept safe in the guise of a much-coveted Brotherhood paladin set on a warpath to bring them to their knees, burn them to the ground for betraying not only himself but the woman he had devote his life to.

The irony nearly had her smirking, except she was reminded that they were likely both going to wind up dead before this was all over.

Jackie made her way out into the desolate wasteland and rooted around in her bag, searching for the signal grenade she had stashed away in case of emergency. The sun pushed the envelope of dawn painting the skyline in faint wisps of pink and orange. It lazily eclipsed the deep blues and black of night as she walked out into the open, heading east to the unofficial extraction point.

It was the quiet of the wasteland that unnerved Jackie as she walked. Here silence didn’t necessarily mean safety and she had spent the entirety of her life before the war surrounded by constant background noise. The world never stopped, even in the dead of night, there was never true silence. Now her surroundings were deceptively quiet, peaceful even, and it unsettled her.

It didn’t take long to reach the designated location, a vacant stretch of broken road behind the old ironworks factory. She threw down the signal grenade and watched as the plume of smoke circled up into the air. Not so patiently she waited for the distant hum of the vertibird’s engines to break the silence.

The sun breached the horizon and with it brought the feeling of failure. Not once had she bothered to check in with Danse last night to assess his own mental state. His deteriorating physical health had been an obvious sign of his instability, yet Jackie had failed to acknowledge it. Instead, she burdened him with her insignificant troubles. She’d neglected to reciprocate his kindness and allow him to voice the complexities and emotionality of his internal conflict, and look where it had gotten her.

She had promised to be there for him, help him heal, and secretly she had vowed to love him. Then in the face of hardship, she’d abandoned him. Jackie couldn’t breathe and before she could stop it, tears were leaking down her cheeks. She had betrayed him when he had needed her the most.

The crippling intensity of her guilt sliced at her underbelly, threatening to tear her open and spill her guts upon the pavement. It would have been better, easier for them both, if she had just endured the pain of letting Danse go. Allowed him to move on and live out his days in peace. After everything he’d been though, he at least deserved that much. In the end, Jackie had let her self-serving desires get the better of her. Now, it no longer mattered, she would be forced to pay it forward, with her life and his.

The ground groaned beneath her feet as she paced in an attempt to occupy her mind and halt the hemorrhaging of her spiraling thoughts. Bile rose in her throat and she commanded her body to be still, but she lost the battle and just barely caught her knees in her hands as she retched and stumbled forward.

The pooling sick a reflection of the disease that festered within her. It disgusted her how far she had fallen, the things she had done, people she’d killed, monsters she’d made. Jackie didn’t deserve this life and she clung to the shards of humanity that still resided within her.

Her urge to vomit again was quelled just in time to hear the familiar whirl of a vertibird’s engines approaching. Earth and grass were whipped about and dirt was violently kicked up with the aircraft’s landing decent. Jackie covered her face with her arms, attempting to shield herself from the dust storm. Despite the sickening feeling that still lingered, she hoisted herself up into the ‘bird as soon as the landing gear made contact with the ground.

A familiar face, clad in aviators and arrogance, greeted her as she clambered inside. It was always the same Lancer who picked her up. The same pilot who had run transport for Danse and his team and who had taken Maxson to the bunker. He was the only one authorized for extraction from this location and even though words had never been exchanged, Jackie knew he knew and she wondered what price he had paid to keep their secret.

He handed her a headset as she scooted by to sit into the co-pilot’s seat, the roar of the engines was drown out when she slipped it on.

“Paladin,” His voice crackled through the earpiece, followed by terse nod and a salute.

“Geers.” Jackie returned the gesture out of habit.

For a moment Geers watched her, taking in her obviously disheveled state, but chose not to comment, “Ma’am, you’ve been given orders to report to the Command Deck immediately upon arrival.”

“Wonderful,” she scowled, “who did I piss on this time to be owed the pleasure?”

A knowing look passed between them before he spoke, “The Elder knows where you go when you disappear.”

Jackie said nothing and stared at her feet, the knots in her stomach twisting tighter.

Geers allowed the void of conversation stretch on before he added, “Maxson thought you weren’t coming back this time.”

And there is was, the painful reminder of her violation.

“Yeah, that was the plan...” She could feel his eyes on her, pitying her, questioning her.

“So why did you?” he dared to ask.

None of your goddamn business.

Jackie wanted to snap at him. Put him in his place and maintain the distance that was held within the chain of command, but she bit her tongue because it was rude and Geers was one of the few people she could still trust – her friend.

She twisted her hands together and mused her bottom lip. Should she tell him the truth? The truth would likely get him killed so Jackie decided on a half-truth. “There's been a recent development that requires my immediate attention back on the Prydwen.”

Static hissed in coms while Geers watched her with a frown hovering upon his brow. “You told him about Maxson...didn’t you?” he pressed her with the demand and sharp angel of his eyes when she didn’t immediately respond. “Jackie-”

“Just take me back.” It wasn’t a request, she was done playing games. Every second she spent dicking around with Geers put Danse at risk, they needed to leave – now.

Geers cursed under his breath and Jackie could hear the eyeroll as he turned back to jab at the instrumentation panel.

“Whiskey, golf, echo, seven, this is Lancer-Knight Geers en route to the Prywden.”

Static droned in her ears, her stomach lurching when he abruptly jerked the stick the get them in the air.

“Acknowledged, what’s your status Lancer?” the voice on the other end asked.

“I’ve got movement. Delta November inbound. Juliet Charlie,” Geers glanced over at her, looking more smug than ever, “secure. Give the order.”

More static and then finally air traffic control came back, “Roger that. You’ve been cleared for landing in bay two upon your arrival.

“Roger out.” Geers responded and flipped a switch, cutting out the static.

“What was that about?” Jackie wasn’t sure she liked what she just heard.

“You aren’t the only one with secrets.” There was that look again. Whatever Geers had been up to, he was damn proud of himself.

If Jackie didn’t know any better she would say this reeked of mutiny. “I don’t like this,” she frowned and shook her head.

“Too bad, sister. You gave up control when you climbed in my aircraft.” Geers pulled down his sunglass just enough to wink at her like some crazed junkie. “Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.”

God, she wanted to smack that stupid grin right off his face. Though, as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. All she could do was close her eyes and hope that whatever half-baked plan Geers had cooked up didn’t get them all killed.

#fallout #fanfic #sacrifices #danse #paladin danse #rewrite #sole survivor #jackie #danse/f!sole #chapter 3 #the road to righteousness #my writing

21 notes · View notes

joeybelle · 7 years

Text

Starlight - Chapter 12

Relationship: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Tags: Pre-Rogue One, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Foul Language

For the next few days she avoided Cassian like the plague, which wasn’t so hard to do since he was nowhere to be seen. Once or twice, she even feared he might have died from his concussion, but then she remembered that he had a thick skull, both literally and figuratively, so he was probably fine.

Both Doctor Crane and Lewella had relentlessly made fun of her for being locked in a maintenance closet, but luckily they didn’t know the whole story. She had no idea what they would say if they knew about the kiss, but she imagined Lewella would laugh her ass off before teasing her for the rest of her life, so she kept her mouth shut, smiling and accepting the current jokes, knowing it could be much, much worse. Even after almost a week had passed since ‘the incident’, Cora still had no idea how to feel about it.

She was lucky that the med bay had been busier than usual so she didn’t have much time to socialize. She didn’t know yet how awkward her meetings with Aidan would be now that he had voiced his intentions, so she was grateful for at least a few days in which they didn’t have to interact outside the workplace. She had a lot of things to deal with, and in her usual fashion, ignored them all.

Leaving work at 2 am when she had another shift starting early in the morning wasn’t something that unusual, but lately it had become the norm and she was starting to feel exhausted.

The underground level was a lot quieter than the rest of the base, the thick stone walls muffling almost all sound. The air was stagnant in the corridors, the new ventilation system not functional everywhere, most of the underground still relying on the original vents. The corridors were only lit from the elevators to her quarters and to the few storage areas located in the catacombs. The rest was pitch black and empty. Without her there, even the prison was deserted. It was a stark contrast to the crowded base above and Cora was thankful for the peace and quiet.

When her ears got used to the silence, she started noticing an unusual humming sound in the distance. It seemed to be coming from deeper in the catacombs, which wasn’t right, there wasn’t supposed to be anything there to make noise. She wondered if maybe there was someone working late in storage, but the sound didn’t come from the right direction.

Intrigued, she headed deeper in the catacombs for as long as she had light. Listening closely, it almost sounded like… music? There was no way someone was playing music in the temple’s underground levels. There was no one living down there and it was way too late for anyone to be working.

Curiosity got the best of her, so she turned on the small pocket light she always carried around and cautiously advanced into the unknown. She tried making as little sound as possible, letting the distant music guide her steps. It was possible that the fatigue was making the pursuit a lot more thrilling than it was, but Cora’s heart had started to beat rapidly. It was fun. She felt like a kid again, exploring the narrow vents on a star destroyer. Not even for a moment did she think that she may get lost without a way to contact anyone who could get her out. Right now, all that mattered was solving the mystery.

From time to time she had to stop and listen carefully, trying to head in the right direction. Sometimes, the corridors seemed to turn away from the sound, but it was getting louder, so she knew she was getting closer. She went down a set of stairs and couldn’t help but wonder just how deep the whole construction went. She made a mental note to ask someone about the history of the place one day.

It was definitely music. When she was close enough that she could make out the lyrics she stopped. She could hear people talking and laughing. It seemed like there was some gathering taking place deep in the catacombs. Music, laughter and probably drinks. She didn’t have to go any further and accidentally crash their party to prove her theory right. So she turned around, wanting to return to her quarters as quickly as possible because she had already wasted enough time, and crashed into someone.

“Whoa, there!” he said, catching her by the shoulders, steadying her before she face-planted. “Who are you?” He turned on a flashlight and shone it into her eyes for a few seconds before turning it off again. “Oh! You’re the new doctor!” he exclaimed, seeming a little amused.

Cora blinked a few times, her eyes hurting from the sudden exposure to light. “I’ve been here for a while now, why am I still ‘the new doctor’?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes vigorously. She couldn't see who she was talking to, but his voice was unfamiliar.

“Cause I haven’t met you yet,” he laughed. “Sergeant Ruescott Melshi, but call me Melshi.”

Nope, she didn’t know him. “Cora Enoch.”

“Now let’s hurry and get a drink before the bastards finish everything.” He placed a hand on her back trying to gently push her towards where the music was coming from. Cora was taken by surprise, so she took a few steps before stopping again.

“Umm…” She tried brushing off his hand. “I’m not coming, I’m sorry. I just heard the music and I was curious what it was, but I found out, so I’m turning back now…”

“Well, you’re already here, so why not come inside? This is the best makeshift bar in the whole base, after all,” he bragged.

“Ah, no thanks. I have an early shift tomorrow and I should be sleeping. Thank you for the invitation though,” she said, taking a step back, but he cut her off.

“Just one drink, Doctor. It will help you sleep better,” he didn’t give up and his insistence was starting to get a little irritating.

“I really shouldn’t…” she tried excusing herself, as politely as she could.

“You’re not getting away until you have at least one drink with us.”

“Why do you keep insisting?” she finally snapped.

“In case you get the idea of reporting us for drinking on base, I have to make sure you’ll go down with us.” His voice sounded a little ominous, but then he started laughing once again. “Don’t worry Doc, we don’t bite. Plus you already know some of us.”

Ok, that made sense. Sort of. She knew that drinking was restricted on the base, but she also knew that no one respected that rule, on the contrary, seeing how many hangovers she had to treat weekly. She had no intention to report anyone, they were free to do whatever they wanted in the end, but she understood his concerns so she stopped resisting and followed him down the dark corridor.

Light was pouring out of an open door, her flashlight suddenly useless. Her eyes had time to adjust to the brightness, so when she stepped into the well lit room she wasn’t blinded. It was a medium sized room, carved in stone like the rest of the ones Cora had seen in the catacombs. To the side there was a raised stone structure that, from the stools around it, she assumed they were using as a bar. There was an old jukebox in a corner, blaring some crappy galactic pop. There were a few tables and chairs scattered around the room, with most people crowded around one in the back. Every piece of furniture seemed to have been taken from the things no one needed in storage, pretty much like the ones in her room. There were no two tables looking the same, and everything looked improvised, from the bar stools to the lighting fixtures on the walls.

Melshi greeted a couple of people sitting at a table by the door then guided her towards the bar. Cora awkwardly climbed onto a stool, and propped her elbows on the stone table.

“So, what can I get you, miss?” he winked and went around the bar.

“What are my options?” she asked smiling. She had no plans to drink tonight, but she guessed she had to oblige just this once. If she was already here she could at least enjoy it.

“Well,” he said, looking under the bar, “we have jet juice…” He took out a bottle of liqueur of dubious origin and put it in front of her. “And slightly shittier jet juice.” The second bottle looked a little murkier than the first, and Cora looked at it suspiciously.

“I think I’ll take the jet juice,” she said, suddenly not so convinced that this was a good idea.

“Excellent choice, Doctor. You seem to have good taste in drinks.”

He started pouring a copious amount of liquor from the first bottle into two standard metal cups and offered one to Cora. She tentatively took it and even though she knew it was not the most polite thing to do, she took a whiff. It smelled horrible. She had only heard about jet juice since she came to Yavin IV, but she never imagined it would actually smell like it had been brewed inside an engine.

“Is it your first time?” he asked, amused, pointing at her drink.

“Yeah…” she grimaced.

The crowd in the back of the room erupted in a fit of laughter and Cora turned her head to look. They were playing some sort of game and someone seemed to be on a winning streak. Her heart jumped out of her chest when she noticed Cassian at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed over his chest, laughing wholeheartedly. Shit. The one person she didn’t expect to see in the middle of a dive bar and really really wanted to avoid was just standing there, looking better than ever.

She took the metal cup to her lips and took a big gulp, ignoring the pungent taste, trying to drink it as fast as possible and be gone before he noticed her.

“Whoa, slow down Doc, you need to take your time and enjoy the wretched aroma…” Melshi laughed at her efforts, but Cora didn’t listen.

“No, sorry, early shift tomorrow, gotta go,” she babbled, downing the rest of the drink in one big gulp feeling it burn her throat. She would have to explain to Doctor Crane tomorrow why she needed an esophagus transplant.

“Cora!” she heard Lewella’s voice booming over the cacophony of sounds in the room. Cora groaned audibly, as almost everyone turned around to look at her. So much for leaving unnoticed.

Lewella emerged from the crowd and joined her at the bar, a similar metal cup in her hand. “I’ve been trying to convince you to come with me for weeks and you kept declining and now I see you with Melshi?” she whined, resting a hand on Cora’s shoulder. “I’m hurt you know…”

“She came on her own,” Melshi clarified. “I found her lurking in the shadows.”

“Yeah he kidnapped me. I would have never came here on my own accord,” she assured her, smiling. “I see you’re free tomorrow?” Cora asked eyeing Lewella’s already empty cup, thinking of the horrible shift she had the next day. She was already starting to feel the alcohol going to her head.

“No, I’m leaving in a few hours, whenever your favorite general decides to ship us.”

Cora raised an eyebrow. She tried not to judge people and their choices, but she couldn’t help but feel a little worried. She knew that you needed to be alert and well rested during missions and alcohol combined with little to no sleep was a recipe for disaster.

“Oh stop being the mom friend,” Lewella said, noticing her expression. “I’m going to bed in five minutes.”

“Yeah, me too. I have a shift tomorrow morning.” Cora tried getting up the stool, but Lewella’s hand pushed her back.

“You know what? You just got here, so why not stay a little while longer? Another drink won’t kill you,” Lewella said, but Cora was convinced of the opposite. “You should meet everyone, make some friends. Sorry that I can’t stay longer to introduce you, but this is your fault for not coming when I invited you. Anyway, I’m leaving you in good hands…” She looked at Melshi, who was grinning and shook her head. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Andor!” she yelled over the music. “Come here a sec.”

Cora wanted to be able to completely disappear or spontaneously combust or something. Anything, really, just to not have to interact with Cassian. But he had already turned around and was coming towards them. Melshi probably noticed her discomfort because he refilled her cup and pushed it towards her. Cora sent him a thank you smile.

“See my girl here, Andor? You owe her an apology.” Lewella’s hand was around Cora’s shoulders, pulling her into an embrace. “For locking her in a maintenance closet.” Cora felt how her face was reddening. The alcohol was doing a great job on its own and with the added embarrassment Cora feared she’ll be tomato red in no time.

She only had the courage to look at Cassian out of the corner of her eye, but he wasn’t directly looking at her either. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a cheeky grin on his face. The blush and the slightly unfocused gaze could have been an indication that he too had been drinking. Cora took another sip of the foul tasting liquid, trying to swallow the knot that had formed in her throat.

“I have to go now, so I’m leaving her in your care, Andor,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Make sure she gets back safely and she doesn’t drink too much. If she does, tell Doctor Crane that she’s having a sudden and inexplicable case of veisalgia that has her incapacitated.”

“Oh, no! No no no!” Cora tried protesting, but a dirty look from Lewella silenced her.

“Does she really need a babysitter, though?” he asked, his accent a little more pronounced than usually.

“Of course she doesn’t, but you’ve been an ass so it’s your chance to make it up to her. Plus, I’m not leaving her here completely alone…”

“Wait, am I no one?” Melshi intervened, a little outraged by the assumption.

“You’re shady,” Lewella said, eyeing him sideways and Cora couldn’t help but laugh. He was indeed a little shady.

“And you’re trying to tell me he’s not?” Melshi said, pointing at the captain over the stone table. “He’s the fucking definition of shady!” Cassian was laughing, and Cora wondered if she had ever seen him so at ease around people.

“Yeah, but I know him and he’s harmless. On the other hand, you’re a lot more untrustworthy than you look.”

“You’ve hurt me. Right in the feelings, Lewella,” he said, pouring some liquor into another cup and offering it to Cassian. “And he’s a lot less harmless than you think. Trust me,” he added, before leaving the bar to pass the bottle to someone who was accusing them of hogging the alcohol.

“Alright, I’m going,” Lewella finally said the dreaded words and Cora wanted to latch onto her arm and cry so she wouldn’t leave her alone with Cassian, but that would raise a lot of suspicion and she wasn’t ready to explain. She smiled, stoically, and decided to finish her drink and excuse herself after that. She would survive five minutes in Cassian’s proximity. Probably. Hopefully.

“Stay safe tomorrow,” she told her friend, earning a smile from the Twi’lek.

“I will, don’t worry,” she assured her. “Andor, be nice. See you guys soon!”

As soon as Lewella left the room, Cora once again felt incredibly awkward. She didn’t remember being so antisocial, she used to be quite ok with social gatherings. It looked like the time spent in jail had made her a little more guarded. Or maybe she just felt out of place, surrounded by people that all seemed to know each other pretty well, feeling like she was intruding. The only one she knew, besides Lewella who was gone now, was Cassian and she had no idea how to deal with him right now, so she kept drinking, hoping she wouldn’t become a mopey drunk.

He had climbed on the stool next to her and was resting his elbows on the bar, seeming just as interested in his drink as she was. And probably, feeling just as awkward as she felt. Nonetheless, he was cute. It was unusual seeing him in civilian clothes without all the military insignia. Even though the jacket he was wearing now had the similar Corellian cut as his military one, it make him look more relaxed somehow. Or maybe, it was just the informal setting. She was convinced he never drank unless the job required it and certainly not on base breaking the rules, but it seemed she had been wrong in most of her assumptions. She had judged him by how he behaved at work, but she never thought he may have a private life beyond that, one that she had never been part of.

“I see you haven’t died from your concussion yet, Captain,” Cora finally broke the silence.

His lips curled into a faint smile before he took a sip from his cup. “Disappointed?”

“A little.” She laughed. “I’ll have to admit I would have really loved to be able to say ‘I told you so’.”

“I won’t give you that satisfaction, don’t worry.”

The group in the back erupted in laughter again and Cora remembered the game that Cassian had been watching before he was appointed to be her babysitter.

“What are they playing?” she asked, shifting a little so she could see their table over Cassian’s frame.

“Sabacc,” he said, his face opening into a smile. “Do you know the game?”

“Oh. I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never seen anyone play it.” She tried getting a better look at the table, but the people crowding around it were blocking her view. “Gambling is forbidden in the Imperial army, but I assume a lot of people played anyway.”

“Well, if you decide to come here more often, I can teach you if you want.”

Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but he had never offered to meet her in their free time before. He never had lunch with her in the mess hall, never stopped to chat by the coffee machine, hell, he never stopped her in the hallway to ask her how she’d been doing. It may have not been a date, but something as simple as offering to teach her how to play a game felt like something special coming from Cassian. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much time off,” she admitted, and her voice sounded a little sadder than intended.

“That’s because you’re a workaholic. Lewella told me that she’s already invited you a few times and you kept saying no.” Could it be that he sounded a little disappointed, or was her mind playing tricks on her? “I’m surprised Melshi got you to come.”

“Don’t you dare call me a workaholic,” she said, pretending to be offended. “And he didn’t. I heard music so I was curious,” she explained. “He found me and dragged me here. Against my will. We’ve never met before.” She was pretty vehement in making sure that he knew Melshi didn’t just convince her to come. Her alcohol infused brain was starting to slip. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew what it was,” she said, without thinking.

“Why not?” he asked, looking at her curiously.

Cora looked down at her hands. “Because…” She didn’t really know what to say. “I guess I don’t really know anyone here…”

“But you do,” he said, turning around to face her. “You know Lew and you know me. You’ll get to know Melshi whether you like it or not.” Cora laughed. “You know Rodma Maddel, she’s in the intelligence division, she’s been through your questionnaire,” he said pointing at a blonde girl, and Cora cringed remembering the whole ordeal. “Speaking of which, I haven’t heard anything about that seminar yet,” he said, a grin spreading over his face.

Cora groaned. She hoped he had forgotten about that, but she wasn’t that lucky. She took another sip, before straightening her back and trying to look as professional as she could given that she was already tipsy. “Well, Captain, it seems you’re the only one on base who doesn’t know how to put on a condom.” She could hardly contain her laugh. “It wouldn’t be much of a seminar with just the two of us, don’t you think so?” She winked and Cassian shook his head, laughing, the blush on his face accentuating slightly.

“That,” he said, going back to pointing people in the room, “is Corporal Casrich. He’s a bit of a daredevil so you might have treated his injuries a few times.” The corporal was loudly talking to Sergeant Melshi, a little wobbly on his feet. Cora remembered him. She had admitted him a couple of times, but unlike Cassian, he waited patiently in the infirmary to get better.

Cora scanned the room for other familiar faces and stopped when she saw an older bearded man. “I know him. Mefran? I think…”

“Jav Mefran, yes. He helped clear out the jungle when we moved to Yavin.”

“He helped me too, with Ben when I took him out of the dungeons. He knows a lot about jungle habitats.”

“Why did you name a lichen?” he suddenly asked, taking her by surprise.

Cora shrugged. “I’m lonely, I guess.”

The same sad expression she had seen on his face before resurfaced once again. This time, however, it didn’t disappear in a fraction of a second, but persisted for a while, long enough for Cora to convince herself it wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. “You don’t have to be,” he finally said.

She shrugged again, but didn’t know what to say. She knew it was her fault she was being lonely, she should have made an effort to make more friends and interact with them more, but she had been alone for most of her life so she just got used to it. Being lonely seemed to be her default state, and it rarely bothered her.

Melshi had returned behind the bar with a now empty bottle. Unfortunately, he opened a new one and started refilling their cups.

“No no no! It’s enough, I really really have to go now,” she declined the drink, jumping off of the stool.

“But you just came here,” he argued. “And I really didn’t get to know you.”

“I’ll come another time,” she assured him, but Melshi didn’t seem to buy it. “You really think Lew won’t drag me here the next time she’s on base?”

“Ok, then,” he finally gave up. “You’re lucky that you’re a doctor and I don’t want to feel responsible for the people you’ll kill tomorrow. Finish your drink and you’re free to go.”

“I’m not drinking that. You said one drink and that’s the third.” She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to seem tough, even though it was pretty obvious that she was already tipsy.

“Alcohol is in short supply so we don’t waste it. You can’t leave until your cup is empty.” He was grinning and Cora wanted to strangle him. She looked over to Cassian for help but he was grinning too.

“Those are the rules,” the captain said, bringing his cup to his lips and downing it. He finished the drink without flinching, and Cora looked at him wide eyed, wondering what kind of monster he was to be able to drink that horrible liqueur with a smile on his face.

“It was empty before you refilled it,” she grumbled, pointing an accusing finger at Melshi, who had skipped the cup and was now drinking straight from the bottle.

She didn’t manage to finish her drink as elegantly as Cassian did, but she did her best only to grimace slightly. Finally, she put the empty cup upside down on the stone bar. “I want you to know that I’m blaming you tomorrow for my hangover,” she told Melshi. “Does no one ever want to kill you, because I really want to kill you right now.”

“Some have tried, Doctor, but none has succeeded yet. I’m resilient like that,” he laughed.

“Like a cockroach,” Cassian added, getting off of his stool. “I’m gonna walk you back,” he offered Cora.

“It’s ok, I can go back on my own,” she declined. “You stay here with everyone.” She really didn’t want to be a burden to him, after all he was there to spend time with his friends, not to take care of her. And she certainly didn’t want to be alone with him. She was scared of the awkward silence that would follow.

“Are you sure?” he asked, taking a step towards her, getting dangerously close. “I know you’re good with dark and narrow spaces, but the catacombs are a lot more complex than your vents. How many times have you explored them?”

Through the fog of alcohol that was clouding her mind she realized he was right. She had only found her way here because she was guided by the music, but she had absolutely no idea how to get back. That would have been difficult even if she had been sober, but drunk it was nearly impossible.

“You have a point,” she admitted, a little embarrassed. “I need your help getting back.”

“That’s more like it,” he said, putting a hand on the small of her back. “I’ll be back shortly,” he told Melshi who waved at them.

“Don’t forget me, Cora Enoch,” he yelled when they were almost out the door.

“How could I?” she yelled back. “I’ll have the mother of hangovers to remind me of you.”

She welcomed the darkness. The alcohol had gone to her head faster than she had anticipated, mainly due to her own stupidity, and right now she was sure her face was red and her eyes glassy. Fortunately, she wasn’t drunk enough to lose all self-control or black out in a corner. At least until she was safely in her own bed. She really didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of Cassian.

She turned on her flashlight seeing as Cassian didn’t seem to have any light. Melshi didn’t use the one he had either when she first saw him, so she had to assume that they could either see in the dark, or they knew the place so well they could easily navigate it. She wondered how many times they met there like that. Daily after work? Weekly? They seemed to know each other pretty well.

“How long have you known these people?” Cora asked, breaking the silence.

“Most of them I’ve known for a while. A few years even,” he said, his voice a little nostalgic. “Some I’ve only met after we moved on Yavin IV. I’ve recruited a few of them over the years.”

“How long have you known Lewella?”

“I’ve probably known her the longest. Both of us have been in the Rebellion for quite some time.”

“She never mentioned you,” she said, without thinking.

“Do you talk about me a lot?” he asked, and Cora didn’t have to see his face to know that he was grinning.

“Actually we don’t,” she admitted, realizing that if she had asked Lewella about him she would have told her. She just lived under the impression that Lew knew him like she seemed to know everyone on base, not that they were actually friends. But how could she have brought him up without raising suspicion?

“But you do think about me,” he said, and Cora was sure she turned a few shades brighter.

“Occasionally,” she admitted, the alcohol making her a little more honest than she would have liked. “When you annoy me,” she added.

“Only when I annoy you?” he asked, and Cora was sure he was referring to the kiss.

“You do annoy me a lot.” She didn’t have the courage to bring it up.

He laughed and it echoed in the dark corridor. She was feeling warm and safe walking alongside him in the narrow space. He was close enough that if she reached out she could grab his hand and pull him even closer. Was she brave enough to make the first move? The alcohol was giving her the perfect excuse, but could she do it?

Before she could make up her mind she started seeing light at the end of the corridor and she knew they were close. She had missed her chance, because she knew she would never be that brave out in the light.

“If you go straight ahead,” he said while they were still surrounded by shadows, “and then left, you’ll reach the elevators. I’ll turn around now.”

Cora nodded and turned off the flashlight, shoving it in her pocket. There was enough light that she could distinguish shapes. She turned around to look at Cassian. He was just standing there looking at her, waiting, as if giving her the chance to stop him from leaving. And she took it, thinking that life’s short and that she’ll hate herself the next day no matter what decision she made.

She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer. That was all he needed. They easily found each other's lips in the dark, crashing into a hurried, yet passionate kiss. Cora snaked her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, messing it up like she wanted to do so many times before. His hands had found their way underneath her uniform and his fingers were stroking the bare skin on the small of her back, sending shivers down her spine.

He pushed her onto the wall, deepening the kiss. The taste of jet juice didn’t seem so nauseating when it was on his lips, she thought as she let her hands slide down on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. His lips left hers only to move to kissing down her neck, gently nibbling at the skin from time to time, his stubble pleasantly tickling. His hands had gone up, caressing the skin over her ribs, but never quite touching her breasts, teasing her.

She took his face in her hands, bringing him back up to meet her lips, needing to feel him and taste him. He took his hands from under her tunic and pulled her into an embrace, pressing her to his chest as closely as he could without suffocating her. She grabbed onto his shoulders for support, her knees weak.

She had no idea how much time they spent like that, but time was a distant notion to her. When he finally broke off the kiss, she was feeling lightheaded and flustered.

“I have to go now,” he said, his voice raspy, just as out of breath as she was. “Before they start asking questions.”

“You could stay,” she suggested, her voice low and shaky, but without any doubt in her mind.

He smiled and looked away, then released her from his embrace. Without his arms holding her, Cora struggled to maintain her balance so she took a step back and leaned on the stone wall.

“You have work early in the morning,” he said, not looking at her, more concentrated on buttoning his shirt right. “You need sleep.”

“I don’t care,” she said, not giving up just yet. He laughed, but Cora could see him backing away, and not only physically.

“You’ll regret it tomorrow,” he said, but it was too dark for Cora to make out the look he threw her. She wondered what he referred to when he said she’d regret it: losing a night’s sleep or sleeping with him? “Go get some rest,” he said, before shoving his hands in his pockets and disappearing in the dark.

After a few minutes of silent pondering, Cora realized how much she hated him for leaving her alone in the corridor, horny and drunk, but also how much she wanted him. She slid down the wall and pressed her hands to her face.

“Fuck you, Cassian,” she whispered.

One thing she had been right about: she hated herself in the morning. She also hated Cassian and Melshi, but above it all, she hated herself.

When she got to her room she was sure she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep thanks to the adrenaline running through her veins, but after taking a quick shower, she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. She woke up with a splitting headache and a very disgruntled stomach. Luckily, she arrived to her shift in time, cursing the gods who had bestowed humanity with the gift of alcohol.

She had spent the whole morning nursing her hangover and yelling at the droids that were making too much noise for her liking. Fortunately for everyone, the med bay hadn’t been very busy that day. She hated herself for not being able to refuse drinking on a work night. The wretched taste of jet juice lingered on her tongue and she was sure she wouldn’t be able to get rid of it unless she gargled disinfectant. Maybe not even so.

But besides the taste of jet juice, the feeling of Cassian’s lips on hers lingered too. When she woke up in the morning she wasn’t sure if it was a dream fueled by alcohol or if it was real. It took her a while to convince herself that it had been in fact real. She should have never kissed anyone while drunk, she told herself. But she knew she wouldn’t have had the courage to do it if she were completely sober. And she wondered if it wasn’t the same for him. She didn’t regret it, though.

Most of the day she just sat at her desk, her hands tightly pressed onto her eyes, hoping that she’d survive her hangover for a few more hours.

“Hello Doc,” she heard a familiar voice greet her and she groaned internally. “Remember me?”

“How could I have forgotten you, Sergeant?” she said, turning around to look at a smiling Melshi. “What can I help you with?”

He lifted his left hand and Cora could see a small drill poking out of it. She sighed. “Prep OR01,” she told a med droid. “Follow me, Sergeant.”

The med droid sat him on the table while Cora put on a surgical gown and a pair of gloves. Taking the drill out of his hand wasn’t a complicated thing, it could have been done in the ER downstairs, but she assumed his main objective was to see her and laugh at her hangover.

“How’s your first real hangover, Doctor?” he asked, proving her right.

“What makes you think that this is ‘my first real hangover’?”

“Because you don’t really experience hangovers to their fullest until you try jet juice.”

“I see,” she smiled. “Well, as you can see, I’ve survived.”

The scanner showed that he had narrowly missed hitting a bone with the drill and there was no nerve damage either. He has been lucky.

“You, on the other hand, or on this hand, nearly drilled into a bone.”

“It can happen to the best of us, isn’t that right, Doc?”

“Especially to those who drink on weeknights,” she scolded him.

“Every night is a weeknight for some of us. You just have to make some time for yourself too. We can’t be working all the time or we’d go mad.” He grinned and Cora feared the worst. “Speaking of which, you and Cassian, eh?”

Cora’s eyes widened. How could he know? There was no way Cassian would have told him, right? She assumed he wasn’t one to kiss and tell, but she may have been wrong. Or maybe he didn’t know, and was making assumptions himself. She was going to deny everything anyway.

“There has to be a verb in there somewhere for it to be a sentence, Sergeant,” she said, while slowly extracting the metal object from his flesh.

“You know what I mean,” he grinned.

“No, I don’t,” she played stupid.

“Do you really want me to say it out loud?” he asked, pointing towards the med droid, who was waiting by the door in case he was needed. Cora wondered if med droids gossiped. She sighed and dismissed it.

“There’s nothing between me and Cassian,” she said, when they were completely alone.

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not!”

“Are you trying to tell me that he just walked you to your room, told you good night and left?”

“Pretty much. Minus the good night part, he’s not that polite,” she said, smiling, hoping he’d drop the subject.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t really care if you believe me or not. It’s the truth.”

“He’s not that stupid, you know,” he said, looking at her like he knew something she didn’t. “He’s noticed the way you look at him.”

“What do you mean?” Her heart sank.

He grinned. “You know, out of the corner of your eye, like you’re not really looking, but you are. And he’s noticed.” Cora threw him a disbelieving look. “He has, and he’s doing the same thing. So don’t try to convince me there’s nothing between the two of you.”

“There’s nothing between me and Cassian,” she said in her best poker face.

With the drill extracted, wound cleaned and patched up, he was free to go, and Cora wished to get rid of him as fast as she could. Her heart was beating too fast and she felt she was going to be nauseous again. She promised herself she'd never drink again.

“Thanks for the hand,” he said, before leaving the med bay. “And maybe next time he walks you back to your room you won’t let him leave until he says goodnight. Or good morning, depending…”

“Oh, fuck off before I change my mind and put that drill back!”

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

#cassian andor #cassian andor x original female character #cassian andor x ofc #rogue one #starlight

8 notes · View notes

sleepymarmot · 7 years

Text

I still have about 200 queued posts (bear with me... and sorry followers on mobile), but I want to quickly publish some of my post-binging thoughts before the new episode comes out. (Because I get overwhelmed by other people’s opinions and can’t remember what my own were unless I write them down. It’s easy to recall which parts I simply loved for what they are because other people did too and I can reblog their posts; it’s harder to not forget my own perspective outside of that.)

I didn’t actually expect to post these opinions because I don’t feel comfortable criticizing TAZ the way I tear apart big franchises like ME. But I did write it down, so what the hell. Let’s start with the biggest piece of negativity then. I can't name a favourite arc but I think the last place is Petals to the Metal. The racing sequence was spectacular enough that I didn't mind the pacing that much, but the final episode was really disappointing. A combination of not actually explicitly confirming the pairing in canon (I seriously expected that would be the culmination of the arc) AND Bury Your Gays (yes, I know Griffin dealt with the feedback gracefully, that doesn't fix the actual story though) AND some extreme railroading AND deus ex machina/Power of Love (at least the latter was retconnet as in not retroactive continuity but retroactive context). That actually put me off the show for some time. I think this moment encapsulates my problems with Hurley's writing pretty well. She really comes off as a Mary Sue written by a self-aware male writer who feels the need to put female characters on a pedestal -- certainly not the most objectionable phenomenon, but still makes my eyes roll. I feel the same about Carey and Killian in The Crystal Kingdom and the recurring remarks about "competent women". (I mean, I understand the gameplay reason for that, it's not that I'm asking for super detailed fights between NPCs, but I didn't like the way it sounded in the story.) Thankfully Carey got some development with Magnus, Killian had a good introduction before that glorification thing started cropping up, and their relationship's good obviously; plus, thankfully, Lucretia is completely free from this (she actually might be my fave NPC in terms of writing).

I think my least favourite part of The Suffering Game is the final past bosses battle? It's not just repetitive -- this repetition, needless in this case, devalues the other instances of our heroes facing the past. The first big one was Noelle (great: surprising, touching, important for the overall plot as we now know), then we had the three robots (I was pretty delighted to see Jenkins and Magic Brian again) even it was more about combat than meaningful facing of past mistakes, then the destruction of Phandolin was seen again in The Eleventh Hour, and only a bit later the setting of the first arc will be revisited once more. So even not counting this scene, it was starting to get a bit navel-gazey, and the complete lack of story relevance of that battle diluted things even more. It kind of sounded like running out of ideas -- I'd prefer any other challenge or just a repeat of the random monster generation. (Btw I totally expected to see the crab from Rockport Limited in that lineup. It's kind of special to me because back I went "Ah a floating crab, yeah feel you boys, I hate fighting Praetorians too, at least this thing doesn't shoot lase--" and then it started shooting fire, lol.)

Back to what I wanted to talk about: I have lots of thoughts/feelings about consequences re: the last episodes. The spoilers I've seen gave me so much anxiety! Like I've read that Magnus loses memory so I completely expected him to lose everything. So I spent a lot of time in complete dread, and when I read "Magnus forgets" in the summary my heart dropped, and then it wasn't that bad at all so I thought "that's it?" and felt relieved until the fucking clone tank. At which point I thought "No, this is it" especially because all of the players interpreted it that way. So I was very surprised and relieved that he kept everything, and that Griffin was so kind to him. But that kinda brought me to another problem -- that the new body undid Magnus's sacrifices. He didn't lose a finger or 10 years of life; the only loss was the identity of his nemesis which a) is a sad thing and he might be happier without it -- I would; and b) the boys promised to take care of that. Meanwhile, Taako and especially Merle have to live with their sacrifices. That's unfair. I was pretty thrilled when I realized the sacrifices were For Real, and was feeling real dread and anxiety about them (can't say if in a wholly good way) and I don't like devaluing that. Though of course I'm pretty jazzed that the character who is at the moment my favourite got treated so well. That scene was cathartic as hell! But back to the sacrifices: I'm intrigued by the problem of balance of hurting the character in a way that's good for narrative and/or game balance (yeah the intent of "let's nerf them a bit" was easy to see) but not compromising them as a piece of writing. I didn't give a shit about max health or dexterity penalties, but the story significant things about losing body parts and especially memories sounded brutal and cruel to me. I actually laughed when during one of the commercial breaks Griffin said something like "I hope this isn't causing you too much anxiety" because I was rushing through this arc because of that anxiety! But in the end, as it often happens, the half-misinterpreted spoilers made everything sound worse than it actually was. And I was very glad and relieved to hear Griffin specifically clarify that he's not going to take away important parts of a character.

But despite what I just said, when I started The Suffering Game arc I was actually amazed because it was second arc in a row built around my personal favorite tropes! I really appreciate Doctor Who-ish journey through genres (that doesn't take itself seriously but also has an epic underlying plot. All my fandoms are the same...) Murder on the Rockport Limited also counts in that category. So if I had to pick a favorite, they'd probably be among the candidates? Well I don't know how to count Reunion Tour for that. I really liked The Eleventh Hour, time travel/time loop stories are like my #1 fave. And it's a closed room mystery too (like Rockport Limited). That was the point where I started listening much faster because I needed to learn the truth. (Also, the Lunar Interlude before that arc, with the three separate stories, was freaking revolutionary and started a new level of character development for the show in general.) But I was kind of disappointed by the lack of a Holmes speech-type explanation of everything in the end. Because a big part of enjoyment was the expectation that it'll all click together beautifully in the end -- and some pieces still didn't fit. I'm still not sure if I missed something or that wasn't explained. Why was Isaak, like our heroes and unlike everyone else in the town, aware of the temporal loops and free to act? What was the interaction between Taako's spell and the code word -- did the spell have any effect other than almost drowning everyone, would "Junebug" have worked by itself? I had some more questions I thing, but right when I was going to pause/think/rest, everything was swept away by the freaking Red Robe Magnus cliffhanger, so I continued to run forward internally screaming "Explain! Explain!" like a Dalek, and then that was joined by the aforementioned Suffering Game anxiety. And that's the story how I marathoned the last part of the show three or more times faster than I planned to.

I really loved listening to TTAZZ, both of them, it was really good meta! I think I started to appreciate the show more after the first one. I can see where the fan criticism re: representation is coming from, but I myself also belong to the category of people who can never visualise their own (or anyone's, really) characters and therefore really love the freedom of interpretation. I'm also a bit sad about the commentary on racism in the new one, which, in addition to the comments about the Taco Quest in the first one, made me pretty sure that storyline/running joke is not coming back. I found it really funny back then in the beginning of the show -- more so because I, myself, have no freaking idea what tacos are actually like. I mean, we might have some mexican food places over here, but I've never been to one. And I intentionally didn't look it up after starting the show because it was funnier and kind of immersive this way lol. But they sound pretty committed to non-committance about the enthnicities, and raising the topic in canon again would force the issue, so I think they're just quietly abandoning it. Story-wise, I'd love to hear something like "Taako had invented a dish and named it after himself, but the voidfish baby ate the recipe so he couldn't recreate it until now" because I'm a sucker for justifying jokes and tying them into the main plot/emotional storyline. But in general I'd prefer any option that offends people the least. I was kind of surprised when Justin talked about abandoning Taako's early "dumb" characterisation, because I hadn't actually thought it was "officially" thrown away. I assumed Taako was just really bad at paying attention, and got better at managing that as a part of organic character development. I actually found that kind of relatable, plus "absent-minded professor/wizard" is a classic trope. Also TTAZZ made me wish even harder for the lost awesome adventure of Magnus and Kravitz in the astral plane. And it was already slightly souring my excitement about the totally awesome & touching scene we got instead.

I didn't really get the exposition about the planes in The Crystal Kingdom, and the long explanation in the latest two episodes require more attention than I gave them. Hope today's episode will make things clearer. Some things I hope to hear explained soon:

Why has Merle died more times than Magnus or Taako?

Also, looking forward to the promised explanation of how Gundren can be Merle's blood relative lol

Why was the Chalice so much more self-aware and civil than the other Relics? Is it related to the fact that its creator has some special connection to the (a?) voidfish?

Was Magnus a wizard before? Being a lich, creating a Grand Relic... If so, why doesn't he have magic now?

If Magnus is a lich, can he one day die and stay in the astral plane with Julia like an ordinary human, like he wanted? If not, that's a pretty big and tragic turn of events for him. (Granted, this might be more of a D&D mechanics question...)

(I actually just found a Reddit thread starting with the same question, discussing whether all 7 are really liches or not, so these two points might not be even valid haha)

(I also saw someone theorize that Lup invented the taco recipe -- and damn I really do want to see that now. Imagine trying to figure out something and later realize that it was created by your dead sister who named that thing after you.)

(I was confused about LichBarry’s reveal because I thought at the end of PTTM he was mind-controlling Captain Captain Bane to poison THB. Someone had the same question and another person answered that Barry’s spell was only to make Captain drink the poison, and the murder attempt was on him. I totally didn’t get that. Between this and my question about “Junebug”, either mind-control spells are not very clearly explained in this show, I suck at understanding them, or both.)

(Shit, this list has transformed from future episodes wishlist into reactions to Reddit lol)

Since I was talking about Taako and Lup, here’s another passing thought: remember how Taako immediately wanted to be Like Them when he saw the lich duo? You know, the elven brother and sister?!

Not related to anything, but I just realized I can wear jeans as a stealth fandom reference and it's delightful :D

#the adventure zone #blah blah blah

2 notes · View notes

joeybelle · 7 years

Text

Starlight Chapter 5

Relationship: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Tags: Pre-Rogue One, Slow Burn, Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

“I know you don’t want to talk about your father.”

Cassian was back the next day and Cora was a lot more wary this time. After the slip up from the day before she couldn’t afford to let her guard down once again. He was sly and she was tired and that was working in his favour. Right now she would have preferred the screaming in the interrogation room to his calm, inquisitive gaze.

“So you can tell me something else. Something that has nothing to do with him,” he continued. He was standing in the middle of the corridor, hands nonchalantly shoved into his pockets, looking very at ease in his position of inquisitor. He gave off the vibe that this was a casual conversation instead of what it really was. But Cora knew better.

“No,” she said, simply. She was perched on the edge of the bed, arms crossed over her chest, looking as defensive as possible.

“What have you got to lose?” he asked, taking a few steps towards the cell, but still keeping his distance. There was a silent threat in the way he moved.

“My dignity,” she finally replied, never taking her eyes off him. She hoped she was making him at least a little uncomfortable with her staring. If it was so, he didn’t show it.

“You have to give me something,” he urged. “For me to be able to help you, I have to show them that you’re willing to cooperate. You look like someone who’s done worse deals than this.” He was using her own words in an attempt to get her talking, but Cora wasn’t falling for it.

“Yes, and the worst deal I’ve ever made involved you so I think you understand why I’m being rather wary.”

He got even closer to the cell and rested his forearms on one of the horizontal bars. Cora sneered at him invading her personal space even by a few centimeters. She was starting to become territorial, it seemed.

“I need to know if we can trust you.”

“I am pretty sure you already know that.”

“But they don’t. And they’re the ones you need to convince, not me.” He was right, she knew that deep down. She should do whatever was in her power to gain their trust and her freedom. Her loyalty didn’t lie with the Empire, so she could just tell them whatever they wanted to know and save her own skin. He even gave her the option to let her father out of the conversation and give them something else.

But she felt betrayed. She had done nothing wrong and yet they treated her like a criminal. There was no “innocent until proven guilty”. For them, she was born guilty.

“We need to know who Corinthia Enoch is before we can let you go,” he spoke and Cora wondered how could he lie with such a straight face. He was a spy, she remembered. Lying was his job.

“It’s Cora. No one really uses my full name.” Plenty of people used her full name and she hated them all. She hated Cassian too, but somehow, Corinthia sounded like an insult when he said it.

“What made you leave the Empire, Cora?”

Cora dropped her eyes to her hands and studied her nails like it was the most interesting thing in the world. She needed a manicure, she concluded. She wasn’t going to get one anytime soon, though.

“The Empire,” she started, “doesn’t really care about individuals. For them, we are slaves, we are drones, meant to do their biddings. And they use you.” She took a deep breath like the words she was speaking were putting a strain on her. “In the end, they will make you do things you don’t want to do. Like Bingo.” She paused for dramatic effect.

“Like what?” His poker face had changed into a look of confusion.

“It’s a terrible game, Bingo,” she continued. “Nobody really talks about it but everyone knows that they’ll make you play after the age of 65. It’s not like you have a choice, they make sure you have no will left after the age of twenty. But I’ve seen my grandmother play the game in the nursing home. It’s savage,” she concluded.

The confusion on his face was replaced by irritation, but then it changed back to the expressionless mask he had before. Cora almost missed the frown. It made him look human.

“This isn’t a joke.”

“Why? Don’t you find it funny? Cause I can’t stop laughing. Been laughing for days now. This is the most fun I’ve had in my life.” She let out a snarky laugh. “Stop trying, weasel-face. I’m not telling you anything. You can take all your lies and your promises, fold them nicely and shove them where the sun don’t shine.”

“Cora…”

“Don’t say my name like we’re friends or something. We’re enemies, you and I. This rebellion of yours reeks just like the Empire. If I knew I was leaving that shithole for something worse I would have let you bleed out on the floor.” She took off her shoes and pulled her knees up on the bed. “I hope you are happy,” she said and all her bitterness resurfaced. “Actually no, I hope you are just as miserable as I am, but unfortunately I’m not sure you have feelings. Have a great day, Captain.”

She turned towards the wall and pulled the cover over her head signalling that the conversation was over from her point of view. She eventually fell asleep and when she woke up he was gone.

He was back the next day, like clockwork, but Cora ignored him completely. After a few failed attempts at striking a conversation he just leaned on the wall opposite her cell and waited. It was a silent battle of wills, and although he seemed better at it, Cora didn’t give in. It was a challenge, after so many hours of solitude she was yearning for human interaction. No matter how fond she was of Ben, a lichen wasn’t the best conversation partner. In the end he gave up and left.

Cora was sure he was going to be there the day after and the one after that, and the one after until he got what he wanted. And she was right. He was patient, he didn’t lose his temper, he was good at his job. The outburst of anger she had witnessed the day she met him was something out of the ordinary, probably triggered by his injuries. If he was still angry at her, she couldn’t tell, but somehow she prefered searing hot anger to cold disdain.

Cora’s body, but especially her brain, wasn’t getting used to being imprisoned. She wondered how others got used to it and survived years and years in prison. She supposed it would get easier to bare at some point, but right now her mental state was going downhill fast. All the things she refused to deal with while working for the Empire, all her bottled up feelings were now bubbling over and she wasn’t prepared for it. She didn’t want to have to deal with the things she had witnessed, or with her mother’s death, or her friend’s death or every bad thing that had happened to her during the years. Until now she just pushed them aside. I have a job to do, she thought, I have something to prove, I will think of them another time. Well that time had come and her brain was populating the darkness with her own demons. She wasn’t prepared. She was alone and scared and overwhelmed.

He found her with her back pressed to the cell door, her elbows on her knees, banging the back of her head on one of the iron bars. The sound resonated in the silent dungeon and its rhythm helped calm Cora down a little. She didn’t hear him coming, she only noticed him when her head didn’t hit the cold metal but the back of his hand.

“You’re going to get a concussion if you keep doing that,” he told her, and Cora was prepared to throw a snarky comment, but she didn’t have the energy to say it. What was the point, anyway? So she just watched him take a seat on the other side of the cage. He didn’t say anything else, expecting another session of being ignored.

“Cheyne 3,” she finally said, taking her eyes off of him and going back to staring at the wall. “You asked me why I left.”

He threw her an enquiring glance, but didn’t say anything. Cora was thankful for that. She didn’t know if she could say it out loud, but she had to try. After a night in which she woke up screaming after reliving the incident, she had to find a way to get it off her chest. She figured talking about it would help a little, and since she didn’t have access to a therapist, he was the next best thing. She didn’t care if he told them everything. At this point she knew she had no hope of ever leaving that cell. She just wanted to be able to sleep.

“About half a year ago, I was assigned to a direct action team,” she started, her voice hesitant. “I wasn’t a combat medic, I would never join the fight since I had failed my stormtrooper training rather unceremoniously years back, I would usually wait on the ship or behind the lines in a safe spot for the field medics to bring me the wounded. This is the closest I’ve ever been to battle, and I guess it’s easy to trick yourself into thinking you’re not part of it if you don’t pull the trigger.” Her nervousness was getting to the point where a cold sweat was starting to form on her forehead.

“But then we were sent on Cheyne 3.” She let out a shaky breath. “With the DA you never know where they send you beforehand. At least, I never knew. They just sound the alarm and you have to board the ship in less than 3 minutes. They give you the orders on the way, in code, and medical personnel like me isn’t allowed to know. Only after the mission finished I found out the orders were to completely wipe out a rebel outpost on Cheyne 3. Not that I could have changed anything even if I knew.”

Cora turned her head and threw Cassian a glance. He wasn’t looking at her, but had his gaze fixed on the opposing wall. She had to wonder if maybe he knew what she was talking about. Maybe it was a bad idea talking about it.

“Go on.” She heard him, but he didn’t move to meet her gaze. She sighed and continued. She was well aware that she was digging herself into a hole.

“I stayed behind, as always. Waiting by the ship, hoping it was just an extraction and we could soon go back to the star destroyer and get some sleep. But then I realized it wasn’t. They took out the flamethrowers and the big guns and meticulously tore the place down. And all I could do was look.” Her voice faltered. She wanted to stop, but she had promised herself that she was going to do it.

“There was this boy.” Her voice was weak and every word she spoke drained her of energy. “I think he was younger than me, but not by much. He came running from the base towards our ship. The left side of his face was badly burned. I offered to help him…” Her voice faltered. His image had haunted her numerous times, whether she was sleeping or awake.

“I didn’t get to do anything before our captain came and shot him dead. He told me not to waste my energy or the supplies on the enemy.” Only after she pressed her hands to her face did she notice she was crying. How embarrassing to cry in front of a stranger, she thought wiping her cheeks as discreetly as she could.

“I just stood there watching him, dead in the black sand, unable to move. Eventually the troops came back and we took off. As I patched some of them up I heard them complain that the mission didn’t go as they thought it would. They were meant to be taken by surprise and finished off easily, but even so they put up a fight and killed three of our own. The stormtroopers were talking like the ones they had just massacred weren't people like us.”

“Back at base I told my superiors I was done with this, that I was leaving the army, no matter the cost. Two days later there was a disciplinary hearing and I was stripped of my rank and put on hold until further notice. Then, my father came.” There was a bitter taste in her mouth and she was starting to feel lightheaded. Her hands were trembling, almost undetectable.

“He hadn’t visited me in years, but the moment my career was at stake he came running.” She let out a shaky laugh. “We had tea. And he told me that I was stupid for letting the death of a rebel get to me like that, but that I had always been too gentle for war. I am still not sure if that was a thinly veiled insult or not. I could never tell what he was thinking.”

“He told me that he was going to make it all better. Clean my record, give me back my ranks. He’d find me a job away from the front lines and I’d just have to take it for a few years until they transferred me to a research facility. I nodded and I agreed to everything he said. I didn’t have the power to tell him the only thing I wanted to do was run as far away from the Empire as possible. And how could I?” She turned to look at Cassian, but he still wasn’t returning her gaze. “My mom died for the Empire, my father loves it more than he loves his family. How could I tell him that I was such a coward? That I was ready to betray?” The words hurt. She had never voiced her thoughts but now that she was hearing them out loud it hit her how pathetic she really was. How weak.

“I packed a bag the moment I settled on that star destroyer. I planned my escape route and I waited for an opportunity to leave.” She pressed her hands to her face for a moment, trying to relieve the burning sensation behind her eyes. “And then one day you came, and I left and now I have no future…” She didn’t say it like she was blaming him for it. No, her brain had taken a complete 180 and was now telling her that she deserved it, it was her fault. She was spiralling down with nothing to hold on to.

“Is that all?” he asked, after a few moments of heavy silence.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice a mere whisper.

He got up and left. No goodbye, no even a glance in her direction. Now she felt guilty for talking. Yes, he deserved a boot to the face for being a dick to her, but the story had obviously shaken him and Cora didn’t really want to share her demons with anyone else. She should have thought about that before she opened her mouth. If she was going to unload on someone she should have expected to have an effect on them. Honestly, she didn’t think he’d be anything but professional, taking notes on a datapad, asking questions and trying to check the veridicity of her story. But he was human after all and she knew nothing about him. Maybe they were his friends she had witnessed being massacred.

She ran her hands over her face, the dried tears making the skin feel flaky. She was very tired and a bit nauseous. She didn’t feel any better. She had expected that her chest would feel lighter and she would feel some sort of relief, but the deep, dark feeling of guilt and shame was still there, constricting and cold. She got up and sat on the bed, completely demoralized.

The hallways were crowded and noisy, but Cassian felt disconnected from everything. It felt like the world around him had a life of its own, one that he wasn’t part of. He moved between them, careful not to bump into anyone, following his own path. Where it would take him, he had no idea. He was so used to following orders and letting others decide for him that he had no idea where he was headed. To another fight, he figured. Always to another fight.

He thought about what Cora had told him. He knew about Cheyne. He knew it very well. He had recruited some of the rebels that died there that night. He had trained some, and a few were good friends of his. He never thought he would ever meet an imperial that was there that night and let them live.

But she was crying. Alone and broken in a dark cell that she won’t be leaving anytime soon, he just couldn’t bring himself to end her life like that. He felt sorry for her. But at the same time he hated her and all she represented. The cruelty of the Empire, the gross disregard of human life. She was right, even when she was trying to mess with him a few days ago: the Empire didn’t care about individuals, they only cared about numbers.

He reached his living quarters without bumping into anyone he knew. That, or they just noticed his irritable demeanor and avoided him. Whichever it was, he was thankful no one wanted anything from him and he could hide from the world for a few hours.

He collapsed on one of the chairs in front of his desk and stared into space for a few minutes. He felt tired, even though he hadn’t been on a mission in a while. The inactivity was getting to him. He would rather be off world, actively fighting, than grounded, watching how the doctor was slowly losing her mind. But this was his job too, no matter how cruel it seemed.

He opened a drawer and grabbed a bottle of jet juice he kept on hand for the nights when he had trouble sleeping and took a big gulp. The taste was just as horrible as he remembered it, but it was useful for numbing the brain. He took out the data pad and opened her file. He took another sip of the liquor before he started inserting the new information he had on her. Failed stormtrooper training. Witnessed the attack on Cheyne 3; further enquiry needed. Mental state: unstable.

Cora woke up in a strange position, her head under the pillow and an arm dangling over the edge of the bed. She remembered Cassian leaving after the interrogation and the crying fit that took over her moments after, but she had no idea when she had fallen asleep or how long she had slept. A lot, by the looks of it.

She yawned, stretched her aching muscles and went to the sink to wash the dried tears off her face. Even the cold water was lukewarm in this prison and Cora wondered if she would ever have access to a normal bathroom again. Maybe as a last wish, like some people request a last meal, she will ask for a last shower. At least she will die squeaky clean.

She turned around to go back to bed before something caught her eye: there was a book on the food tray slot. An actual book. And also a bar of chocolate. She took them both in her hands and started grinning from ear to ear.

The book looked cheap. It was worn out with the corners bent and broken, the image on the front cover almost impossible to discern. But it was a rather thick book and for Cora that was all that mattered. It meant she had something to occupy her mind for the time being.

“Look, Ben!” she addressed the lichen in the corner. “He gave us a book! Now we have something to read. And also a chocolate bar because apparently he thinks I’m five and he can bribe me with sweets.” She ripped open the wrapper and shoved half of the candy in her mouth anyway. She wasn’t crazy about sweets, but right now anything that didn’t taste like mildly flavoured mud was a godsend.

“Now, let’s see what the grumpy captain likes to read in his free time.”

Previous chapter

Masterlist

#cassian andor x ofc #cassian andor

6 notes · View notes