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#rogue one fic
dilf-din · 5 months
Note
for the bed sharing prompts: “the bed is big enough for two people without touching, but unfortunately there is only one blanket” + rebelcaptain 🥰
I’m afraid I went overboard…. 🙊 consider this my late whumptober contribution
Rebelcaptain (Jyn x Cassian)
WC: 2k
Warnings: whump, hurt/comfort, some medical situations, emotionally stunted Jyn
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“How much further, Bodhi?” Jyn called through the comms with gritted teeth.
“Just under a click until you’re there,” his voice came back with a touch of static.
“I can make it,” Cassian strained beside her, arm slung over her neck as he tried and failed to not put his weight on her.
“There’s a bunker every fifteen clicks,” Bodhi called out again, garbled but intelligible.
“I can’t make it fifteen more,” Cass breathed heavily, his forehead dripping with sweat. He heaved his good leg forward in sync with Jyn’s, behind him trailed a mangled ankle that he hadn’t had time to fully examine. Beneath his weight, Jyn was operating on adrenaline, senses on high alert for any more lurking threats as they hauled through the jungle as quickly as possible, her small frame propped up by an iron will.
Back on the ship, Kay and Bodhi watched the pale yellow pings of their friends on the radar and traced the map spread out before them with careful fingers.
“Your next clearing, to the right,” Bodhi instructed.
Jyn swallowed down her exhaustion looking for one last burst of energy to get them there. They had happened upon a grenade that never detonated, Cassian pushing her out of the way just in time to take the brunt of the blow to his right foot. His face was turning ten shades of white beside her as she searched for a bunker.
“Where is it?” she hissed into the mouthpiece.
“Look under the stone,” was the reply, and her face almost mirrored Cassian’s in color. He hadn’t mentioned it would be underground. For just a second, she was a child again, with shaking hands and a dying lantern waiting for someone to rescue her. The Kyber that hung at her breast felt heavy with grief. She wanted desperately to pull it out and envision the face of her mother. Snap out of it, she told herself. This time would be different. This time Cassian would be with her. Bum foot or not, she knew they would be safe.
Easing him to the ground, she ran her fingers under the edge of the deep grey stone with veins of moss jutting out of the lush forest floor until her fingers caught a latch. It swung open with the slightest creak revealing a short ladder.
“Can you make it down?”
“I have three good limbs. Hopefully that’s enough,” Cassian said, voice hinting towards the smallest joke, trying to find some glimpse of humor in their situation to calm her nerves.
With a boost from Jyn, he was over the lip with his good foot, clinging to the bars with sweaty hands.
“Please don’t fall. Oh, maker, please don’t fall,” she muttered as he made the short trek down. Her eyes were wild, watching every bit of their periphery, feeling alarmingly exposed outside of the cover of the trees. Once she heard his foot hit the soil below, he called up to signal that he had made it safely. She climbed down carefully, pulling the latch shut on top of them, finding an extra lock to slide into place from the inside. Hopefully, even with the explosion earlier, no one would know they were there. They were still so far out from the base, planning on doing most of their travel there by foot.
She eased her arm under his again, and though the air was heavy and dank, she was able to breathe easier. They hobbled down a short hallway using the lights on their blasters to illuminate the packed dirt walls, seeing a switch at the edge of the tunnel.
Jyn flipped it with her elbow, and a small room lit up in front of them. In the very center was a bed big enough for two people. To the left of it sat a commode and a small washbasin near a spigot, to the right, sat a cabinet that presumably held some sort of food. Across from the bed at the wall beside her was what appeared to be a medical chest. Jyn guided Cassian to the bed and lowered him on to the mattress. He swung his leg onto it with both hands, grunting as he adjusted it. She threw off her pack and blaster, kneeling beside the chest hoping for anything helpful.
“They have bacta,” she announced victoriously, gathering a bundle of supplies in her arms and dropping them on the bed next to him. Peeling her gloves off and setting them on the ground, she ran a weak stream of water into the basin and scrubbed the sweat and grime away as best she could. She ran two rags under the water before kneeling by his side again. One she draped across his forehead to hopefully provide some relief, the other would be to clean the wound.
“Thank you,” he huffed out, tearing a packet open with his teeth and drawing out a clean syringe to prepare the baca shot.
“Don’t thank me yet,” she grimaced as she carefully unlaced his boot and eased it down his ankle.
Cassian sucked in a sharp breath and pulled the rag from his forehead to stuff between his teeth. She peeled his sock down, trying not to focus on the smell, and cuffed the bottom of his pants to get a better look.
“I’m gonna have to touch it,” she glanced up at him.
He nodded and swallowed, closing his eyes as her fingers ghosted over the very swollen joint. The good news is, there were no visible pieces of bone. If anything was broken, it was all inside, and the bacta should help set everything right, or mostly right, while they slept tonight.
She dabbed with the rag to clean the injection site before removing the tip from the needle and carefully threading it under his skin. He bit down on the rag, trying to conceal his groan until she injected the first bit of liquid and he was hit with relief. It flooded every part of his foot that felt like it was on fire just moments ago. His breathing evened out as she emptied the dose and withdrew the needle, being careful to place the tip back on before tossing it in an empty crate.
Jyn fished a wrap out of her bag and carefully wound the long strip of fabric around his ankle, securing it with a small metal clip.
“Did you bring extra socks?” she asked as she balled up her jacket to prop his foot up even farther.
“Bottom of my pack,” he pointed towards the doorway where he had dropped it.
Jyn unzipped it and fished out a pair of socks identical to the ones he had on. She eased the other boot off his foot and slipped new socks onto both feet. She was rummaging theough her own pack for something when his hand caught her shoulder, gently but firmly.
“Thank you,” his brown eyes bore into hers, begging to not be ignored.
She reached up to squeeze his hand and gave him a soft smile, “Of course.”
For all the things he had done for her, this was a drop in the bucket. He had shown her an ocean of kindness in the time they had known each other. At night, she whispered prayers for them to both have a long life ahead of them, if for nothing else, to be able to repay him, to properly thank him for pulling her back from the brink and showing her a life of purpose again. She broke the gaze they were holding and mentally built that wall a little higher. Now was hardly the time nor the place to get sentimental.
They both had packed rations, but Jyn decided to check for anything there that would prevent them from dipping into their own supplies. She stuffed the rest of the bacta into her bag before crossing the room to examine the last cabinet.
The left side had a small stockpile of ration packs. She tossed two to Cassian and set two aside for her own. The right side was bare save for a single, thin blanket. She draped it over the end of the bed, and sat on the floor to tear open her food. Cass was already halfway done with his first one, having folded the lid of the pack into a makeshift spoon.
“There’s more if you want it,” Jyn mumbled through a full mouth.
“This is fine, thank you.”
They both ate their second packs in silence before Jyn gathered the trash and tossed it into the crate with the empty syringe and whatever mess of wires had been left in there by some other party. She unclipped Cassian’s canteen and tossed it over to him.
“Drink up. We can refill as much as we need,” she said, taking a long draw of water.
A small stream dribbled down Cassian’s chin soaking his collar as he drained the last of his bottle. Jyn tossed him one of the clean rags to dry himself while she filled his canteen and rested it against his side of the bed. He was struggling to keep his eyes open as the bacta was setting in. Jyn shook the blanket out over him and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead ro check for a fever.
“Might as well get some sleep and reassess in the morning,” she stated as she circled the mattress to drop down on the side opposite him.
“I’ll be good s’new,” he slurred while his eyes were already drifting shut.
Jyn switched on a small battery powered light and chucked her boot at the switch across the room to turn off the overhead lamp, hitting it on the first try. She drew her jacket in tight around herself, expecting the temperature to drop overnight, but knowing Cass would be cold from the bacta. It wasn’t until her head hit the pillow that she felt the exhaustion that seemed to have anchored itself to her after years of running. There was no sound in the room except for Cassian’s breathing, which had become a great comfort to her, especially after days like today.
She dozed off only to awake hours later with chills racking her body. She could tell by the faint patter coming down the hall that the planet had fallen into a downpour causing the temperature to drop much more drastically than it would have on a cloudless night. She scooted back to be flush with Cassian. He must’ve felt the movement, because his hand came out from under the blanket searching for her.
“You’re cold,” he said groggily.
“It’s raining.”
“C’mere.”
“It’s okay, you need the blank—“ she started, but was interrupted by him pulling her shoulder and rolling her towards him. She flipped the rest of the way, and welcomed the warmth of the blanket draping over her limbs. His arm sat securely behind her, thumb absently rubbing the small of her back.
She froze again, keeping her arms tucked tight between them. This must just be because of the drugs, she reasoned. Or maybe an unconscious response from an old lover.
“You can get comfy. I’m not going to bite,” he said softly, sensing her apprehension.
Slowly, she unwound her arms, draping one across his chest and nestling it under the edges of his jacket. The strong beat of his heart drummed against her skin, and she felt another layer of tension melting away. Tentatively, she adjusted her head on his shoulder, and he pulled her in even more snugly, taking care to tuck the blanket over her backside.
“Let me take care of you too,” he whispered into her hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.
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pedropascallme · 9 months
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Silence the Night
Pairing: sick!Cassian x gn!Reader
Summary: “Maneuvering yourself out of bed and to a standing position, you didn’t even bother shouting at him to stop pounding at the door, fully aware of his stubborn disposition and the way it coupled so perfectly with his incessant need to bug you. You opened the door and Cassian quickly lowered his fist to his side, smiling widely.”
Warnings: None :) Comfort and fluff with sick Cass.
AN: Post-Andor S1, pre-Rogue One. Yeah this plot makes little to no sense but give a girl a break. Sometimes I need to write silly little things about my silly little babygirl. 
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“Let me in.”
You flipped yourself over, staring at the ceiling from the comfort of your bunk having been pulled from your admittedly light sleep by the familiar voice on the other side of the door. There was no time for idling in the rebel barracks; meals were eaten quickly, conversations were cut short, sleep was not a given, and neither was coming home at the end of the day. Suffice to say, despite the stifled urgency in Cassian’s voice, you hesitated to let him in after the rude awakening he had caused you after a day of running in every direction. 
You heard a near whine of your name as Cassian continued his plea for you to open up. “I know you’re here. Come on!” He knocked on the metal that divided the two of you, then let out what you assumed was a sneeze. Maneuvering yourself out of bed and to a standing position, you didn’t even bother shouting at him to stop pounding at the door, fully aware of his stubborn disposition and the way it coupled so perfectly with his incessant need to bug you. You opened the door and Cassian quickly lowered his fist to his side, smiling widely. His sunken eyes were red around the edges and glassy. You frowned.
“See, there you go!” He pushed past you and into your room, “Not so hard to just open up.” He stripped off the tan jacket he loved so dearly and threw it onto the chair pushed into the small desk that took up the far-left corner of the room before falling backwards onto your bunk, arms spread above his head. He had gotten as comfortable in your room as you had in his; most intervals between flight patrol were spent together, most meals were eaten together, most secrets shared. He was the first person that had made you feel like you were meant to be rebelling, he had put effort into showing you that you had a place in these barracks and in this fight—and it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes, though he could be a pain in the ass.
 “Cassian,” you closed the door, flicking on the overhead light as you turned to face him, watching him blink to get used to the brightness, “why are you here?”
“Ouch.” He moved a hand to cover his chest, shielding his heart from your words.
“Why are you here right now?”
“To hang out with you.” He rolled over on the mattress and shifted his body upwards to grab your pillow and cradle it to his chest.
“I can’t—” You hardly managed to get the words out before he was tsking you.
“You’re not on the schedule for the next 8 hours.” He chided.
“I want to use those to sleep!”
“So, sleep. I’ll stay here.” He sat up and patted the place beside him to coax you toward him. You crossed your arms. 
“Cassian.” You raised an eyebrow. 
“Yes?” He sneezed again, trying to muffle it in his shoulder.
“Are you sick?” 
“No. Allergies.” He was trying to sound confident, but the quick counter gave away his defensive attitude. 
“You’re an awful liar. Get off my bed.” You walked over to him, attempting to pull him off the bunk to no avail. 
He protested by going limp and falling onto his back. “Let me stay.” He looked up at you, brown eyes pleading and hair falling over his forehead. “I can be quiet.”
“No, you can’t. And I’m more worried about you getting me sick.” 
“I won’t!” He sneezed, then smiled at you sheepishly.
You sighed, looking over at the clock on the desk and taking in the fact that arguing with Cassian had, per usual, taken up far more time than it was worth. You sat next to him, defeated. He hummed in content.
“I’m going to sleep.” You waved him off as he sat up to meet your gaze. “Are you just going to sit and watch me? Like some beady-eyed porg?”
“I’ll sleep, too.” He resigned to the fact that, although he had won a battle, you would not forgo the rest you so desperately wanted. You made a noise of approval, reaching for the pillow he had moved to the foot of the bed so that you could put it back in its necessary position. You crawled under the sheet and watched as Cassian took off his boots before turning off the light and coming to lie next to you. He positioned himself above the sheet, letting out a string of coughs and resting his head at a distance from yours on the other pillow.
“Don’t cough on me.” You mumbled, closing your eyes.
“I didn’t cough on you.” 
“You coughed near me.”
“That’s not at all the same thing.” He turned his head to look at you, waiting to see if he could goad you into another argument. You swatted at his chest. 
It wasn’t unusual to share a bed with another person on the base; between away missions and overcrowding and all the drills, you couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes the times you had huddled into a cot with another rebel. It was always more welcome when that rebel was Cassian, not only because of the familiarity you felt around him, not only because of the attraction to him that you tried to keep at bay, but mostly because of the blanket of protection he seemed to offer you. He was by no means a watchdog—he slept far too deeply to offer any sort of intruder alert—but his frame felt like a sort of safe haven from the galaxy at large. You had never found the courage to admit that to him, and expected that if you ever did, the confession would be met with his usual ribbing. 
Cassian made a low rumbling sound, turning his head away from you to face the wall. You groaned, turning on your side toward him. “Cough.” He did. “Don’t torture yourself on my account, Cass.” You settled back into the mattress in your new position, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. 
“Don’t want to disturb you.” He whispered, ignoring the fact that you had addressed him at a normal volume, keeping up the front of really not wanting to get in the way of the sleep you craved. You kicked him lightly from under the sheet and he sneezed in your direction. 
“Don’t be a baby,” you kicked at him again, “and get under the blanket.”
“Why?”
“You’ll sweat out whatever it is you have.” Ultimately, your true intention was to be closer to him, to have him surround you more, but the concept of him recovering from whatever it is he had caught was an appealing one if this is how he was going to act while ill. He relented, pushing himself off the bed with his shoulders and feet to shimmy the sheet down and back over his legs and torso. You remained on your side with him on his back, trying to ignore the way his profile looked and the sounds of chatter and machinery outside your room. It was hard to imagine a life beyond all the pandemonium; at this point in your life, you had gotten used to the all-encompassing cacophony of the galaxy. Having been so young when the Senate came crashing down and the Empire formed from its ashes, there were times where it felt like noise was the only constant, and there was worry that accompanied the thoughts that maybe you would only ever know the tumult of the Empire—the screams and jeers and hushed conversations over fears that, at a certain and much earlier time, would have felt so outlandish, were now just a backing score. You rubbed your eyes and went back to tracing the shape of Cassian’s nose with your eyes. He turned himself on his side to face you, opening his eyes and staring back at you.
“What’s wrong?” He whispered, for some reason now genuinely feeling the need to stay hushed.
“We should see if there’s any soup tomorrow…” You murmured, trying to bury yourself into your pillow. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed to have been caught staring after putting up such a fight to allow you to fall asleep, it was more so the thought of having been using him as a distraction from the doubt you were plagued with.
“You’re also a terrible liar.” He traced back of his hand over your cheek in an effort to get you to emerge from your pillow. You turned back to him, grateful for the contact he was giving you. You took his hand from your cheek and clasped it in your own.
“What if it’s all for nothing.” You managed to whisper. You didn’t need to clarify what it was you meant, he of all people knew that any effort against the Empire was a long shot.
“It isn’t.” He was blunt, and you didn’t have to look at him to know his face was painted with the same thousand-yard stare you had grown accustomed to seeing him wear. Sometimes you felt guilty when it came to burdening Cassian with your cynicism and all the dread you harbored. He had told you about his childhood, about his foray into the rebellion, detailed how he had overcome all odds—and all you had given in return was your hesitation. 
“And if it is?” He examined you, his smile faded slightly, and even in the darkness of your room you could see how his eyes darted over your face.
“At least we’re doing it together.” He squeezed your hand. It wasn’t a complete answer, not that you had expected one. Nobody on the base would ever bring themselves to really contemplate the repercussions of the whole operation, of any greater failures. Still, the confidence in Cassian’s voice was enough to bring you peace of mind for now, at least. The two of you stayed like that, looking at each other, fingers intertwined and breathing in sync. 
“I feel safer with you, Cassian.” You broke the silence, feeling that now was as good a time as any to disclose the information to him. He said nothing, continuing to look at you and ruminating in the quiet. For a brief moment you felt the sting of rejection, but before you could come to terms with the idea that your confession had gone unheeded, you felt Cassian wrap an arm around you. He pulled you closer to him, pushing his other arm underneath your side to fully sweep you into his embrace. You felt his legs tangle with your own and the room felt soundless; something about how you felt his breath fan the top of your head or how his hands felt spread over your back made you feel a stillness you hadn’t thought possible. 
“You are safe with me.” He mumbled into your hair, and you leaned into him in an attempt to get as close as you possibly could. You felt his heart beating into you from the position you held, and you made a small sound of what was meant to be appreciation. You basked in the quiet, the calm seeping into your aching body and taking hold of your mind, settling your thoughts and insecurities. All you knew in this instant was Cassian, and his warmth, and his voice, and the way he smelled like smoke and x-wing grease and Alliance issued soap. You breathed deeply against him. He made another guttural sound.
“Cough, Cassian.” You whispered against his chest, and he did, trying not to interfere with the comfort you both felt in the newfound arrangement you had found yourselves in. “I was serious about the soup.”
“Mm,” he grunted, “like you were serious about sweating it out?” You smiled, moving your face slightly upwards so you could feel the soft skin of his neck against your nose. He kissed your forehead, his lips making gentle contact and staying pressed to you for a stretch. “Terrible liar.” He chuckled, letting his head drop comfortably on the pillow you now shared. You wriggled an arm out from between your bodies to swat at him again. He sneezed.
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pedrito-friskito · 1 year
Text
REBEL SUNS
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cassian andor has a bad habit of losing the things he loves.
the tragedy before the tragedy. before scarif, before jyn erso and the death star, fate had something else planned for cassian. something fleeting and fiery, something he could tell himself over and over that he couldn’t have, that he didn’t need. but something he was given, something he lost…you.
full disclosure: this story is sad as hell. there is no happy ending (we’ve all seen rogue one, we know what happens to captain andor in the end). but I wanted to give him something in the interim, something to fuel his rebellious desire a little further, something to show why he built up his walls, what made him the way that he was by the end. but mostly, I wanted to give him hope.
warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI (each chapter will have their own, but please start here before you dive into the story) DEATH, canon-typical violence and injuries, SPOILERS FOR BOTH THE ANDOR SERIES and ROGUE ONE (I highly suggest watching both before reading this if you haven’t already - there are lots of easter eggs and references!), mentions/depictions of blood, kidnapping, brief mentions of torture (no depictions), betrayal, mutual pining, smut, unprotected p-in-v, oral (f and m receiving), swearing, jealous!cassian, typical imperial behaviour (read: a bunch of assholes). reader dies in the end, the final chapter is rogue one from cassian’s perspective after the events of this fic. my askbox is always open if you want a heads up on anything else.
chapters + release dates under the cut!
summaries will be posted after chapters are released. chapters with smut are marked with *, chapters eight and nine contain explicit reader/character deaths.
chapter one: (take me back to) the night we met
cassian finds something familiar in the mud, and gets much more than he bargained for.
chapter two: how rare and beautiful it is (to even exist)
you and cassian pull a job for luthen, and something is starting to form between you and the rebel.
chapter three: just my soul responding (to the heavy heart I’m holding)*
things don’t go as planned on hosnian prime.
chapter four: takes one to know one (you’re a cowboy like me)*
cassian lets his emotions get the better of him.
chapter five: (we are all) living in a dream* - TBA
chapter six: there is a light (that never goes out)* - TBA
chapter seven: a sky full of stars (you light up the dark)* - TBA
chapter eight: (goodbye, goodbye, goodbye) you were bigger than the whole sky - TBA
chapter nine: I know the end (the end is near) - TBA
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mostthingskenobi · 2 months
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CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 17: The Absolution
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CHAPTER SUMMARY: Both Jyn and Cassian carry a lot of pain and darkness… and they don't have to hide it from each other. Enjoy some meaningful fluff.
Just want to say thank you to the folks reading this fic <3 I hope you are enjoying it :)
READ THE FIC ON AO3
THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.
——————–
CHAPTER 17: THE ABSOLUTION
He could hear her screaming.
The sound echoed off the star destroyer’s sterile walls and glossy black floor with a brittleness that stripped Cassian’s nerves.
He ran after her, down corridors, up stairs, through vaults. But she always disappeared around the next corner, dragged away by growling death troopers.
“Jyn!” He shouted her name over and over, running as fast as his exhausted legs would carry him, sweat beading on his brow and soaking through his shirt.
Her screams changed from frightened to desperate before abruptly stopping all together. The silence was more tormenting than the screams. He forced himself to run faster; he couldn’t let the Empire hurt her.
Cassian rounded the next corner and entered a dark hall, the walls black, the lights red and low. He skidded to a stop. There, at the end, stood Tarkin, his posture like a razor’s edge, hands behind his back, jaw jutting upward in a proud smirk.
On the floor between the Grand Moff’s feet was Jyn’s twisted and broken body. Blood seeped across the durasteel in a black pool.
“Come closer,” Tarkin demanded softly.
Cassian obeyed, taking slow, unsteady steps. The closer he got, the more Jyn came into focus. He knelt down and pulled her into his arms. He tried to wipe the blood from her face, tried to rouse her, tried to stop the dark wave of fear that threatened to swallow him whole. “Jyn,” he said gently, his voice breaking. Tears fell from his lashes onto her cheeks as he realized she was dead.
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“She told us everything she knew.” Tarkin leered. “Her blood is on your hands.”
A massive explosion suddenly shook the ship. Instinctively, Cassian protectively pulled Jyn tighter against him before turning on his knees to see what had happened. His breath froze in his lungs as he watched the star destroyer dissolved, replaced by a salty sea lapping on a sandy shoreline. The horizon blazed with a churning orange cloud that came racing forward across the water, consuming, burning, vaporizing everything in its path.
He clutched Jyn’s limp body against his chest, too weak to resist fate any longer, burying his face in her hair. He wanted to scream; instead, he squeezed his eyes shut until the flames devoured them…
…Cassian gasped and bolted up, promptly smacking his face against the over-hanging bulkhead. The blow dropped him hard and fast. Groaning, he clasped his aching forehead as the nightmare receded. He had known all along it was a dream; the unfolding scenes had never tricked him into believing they were real. But that didn’t make it any less disturbing.
Desperation, fear, exhaustion ran loops in his head.
And Jyn, her blood smeared across his hands, dead, empty, cold.
He shook himself, forcing the lingering discomfort away, and threw his legs over the side of his bunk before walking to the locker. Popping it open he gazed at his reflection in the mirror on the back of the door as he pulled on a shirt and pants. He looked more tired now than before he had gone to sleep. He gingerly prodded his face where he’d struck it on the bed; a bruise was already forming. “Good work,” he muttered sarcastically. He slammed the locker shut and went in search of food.
——————–
Rogue Crew had started playing cards in the evenings right after Scarif. It had been a simple way to keep each other company on Yavin, to offer a safe place to escape the residual disquiet they each carried, a touchstone of normalcy. Cassian didn’t usually have the patience for games and he found cards particularly boring. But laughing with people he actually considered his friends was a rarity, so he had taken advantage of it as much as possible. He was grateful to revisit the tradition now aboard the Redemption.
The group had a box turned on its side for a table positioned between their racks. Jyn made space for Cassian to sit next to her on her bunk while everyone else dragged chairs around the box’s other edges. They played sabacc and sipped a cold, fermented ginger tea that Chirrut provided. For a few hours they were able to forget the Empire and war and death.
“What happened to your forehead?” Jyn asked as they played.
Cassian wasn’t embarrassed. Instead, he smiled. “I hit it on my rack.”
Bodhi winced.
“You must have a hard skull,” Baze said, totally serious.
Melshi, who occasionally joined the group and was present this evening, snorted into his glass.
“You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself,” Bodhi said.
“Can you imagine? I survive prison, Scarif, and Tarkin only to kill myself getting out of bed.” It was the kind of dark humor they all shared.
They played until the hour grew late and only stopped when Cassian started yawning. The party broke ranks and, as he stood to leave, he caught Jyn’s eye. “You want to walk with me?” He felt Bodhi glance at them, listening in, so Cassian hurried to remove any inkling of something gossip-worthy. “I need you to bring me up to speed on the officers’ briefing I missed.”
“Sure. I’m heading up top,” Jyn said, rising to her feet. “I have to stop in the ready room to pick up orders.”
They moved through the rows of racks and maneuvered toward the corridor. “So, what did I miss?” Cassian asked.
“Nothing you don’t already know. The fleet is going to be in constant motion until a more permanent base can be found. They’ve been scouting locations for years, so there are some immediate possibilities. Brass is dispersing several teams tasked with making more comprehensive evaluations of these locations. We’ll be on standby until they return. No non-essential missions. Everyone is grounded until further notice.”
“Sounds boring and dangerous.”
“My thoughts exactly. When people get bored, they get sloppy.”
“Let’s just hope the Empire doesn’t find us.”
Jyn was suddenly uneasy. “The thought of the Empire attacking while we’re trapped on this ship terrifies me. We’d be sitting ducks; nowhere to run, no way to fight back.”
He realized she was talking about Rogue One and not the Alliance. For the first time possibly ever, she had a real sense of belonging and a found-family she wanted to protect. Cassian understood the alarm she felt; fear of loss had snapped at his heels his entire life.
“I used to think I was brave,” she carried on quietly, almost to herself, deep in thought. “But ever since Scarif, I feel like I’ve lost my nerve.”
“I don’t see that,” Cassian replied honestly.
“You don’t?”
“No. To me, you seem to have nerves of steel.”
“I wish I was more like you.”
That nearly stopped him in his tracks. “What do you mean?” he asked in disbelief.
“Every situation we’re in, you always seem to manage it. Nothing phases you, at least not for long. You have an uncanny ability to push on.”
Cassian suddenly felt very cold. “That’s what happens when you lose everything you’ve ever cared about,” he said darkly. “It changes your perspective on what’s tolerable.” He glanced at her. “You don’t think you’re like that? You’re not able to push on?”
She didn’t respond; her brain was sifting through a lifetime of memories.
“A woman who survived being abandoned, who lost her parents and her home; a woman who was cast out by Saw Gerrera only to end up being manipulated into helping the Alliance; a woman who risked her life to rescued a little girl in the Jedha streets and who climbed a burning-hot datatower to steal the Death Star plans?” He shook his head. “Jyn, you’re the strongest person I know.”
These observations meant more to her than Cassian would ever understand. Though she felt awkward accepting the compliment, she felt touched that he’d seen past what she showed on the surface. Even so, Jyn felt unworthy. “You didn’t see all the moments where I was weak, where I betrayed people to save my own skin.”
Their pace had slowed as they walked through the empty corridors.
He was quiet for so long Jyn worried she’d said the wrong thing, confessed too much, and now he was second guessing how he saw her. “We aren’t born strong,” he finally said quietly. “We’re made strong by our mistakes. Sometimes terrible things have to happen in order for us to find our potential.”
Cassian had told her a little about his past; she knew demons haunted them both. In her opinion, she had no right to judge people by their history, though she didn’t extend that courtesy to herself. Jyn knew what she was; a survivor, a rat. Cassian seemed ready to absolve her, but she wasn’t sure she could forgive herself yet. She’d been lost, walking a dark and lonely path, but seeing her father again, meeting Cassian and the rest of Rogue One, had righted her, had given her a light to follow in the storm. Galen Erso sacrificed himself for the greater good; Jyn wanted to be more like that and less like the tip of a spear that Saw Gerrera had made her.
“Strength isn’t the same as being brave,” she finally replied. “Fear brings out the worst in me. You never seem to be afraid. I wish I could be like that; I wish I was fearless.”
Cassian stopped walking and turned toward her. “I’m not fearless. I’m always afraid.” She looked up at him in disbelief. “Ever since I was a boy I’ve been afraid, but I don’t let fear keep me from taking action.”
They looked in each other’s eyes for a long time.
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“I know you’re feeling a little exposed, a little unsafe; after everything that’s happened I’d expect nothing less. But that doesn’t mean you’re not brave,” he said. “I’ve never seen someone manage their fear like you.”
Jyn bit her lip and looked away. “There’s a moment I can’t get out of my head, where I pushed through, managed my fear. It’s a moment that made me hate myself.”
She didn’t elaborate so he asked, “When?”
“On Scarif. After you fell.” She curled in on herself, withdrawing from him. “I didn’t want to just leave you there.”
Cassian understood; being left behind, abandoned, discarded caused a pain in Jyn’s heart that might never be healed.
“You told me to keep going. I knew I had to. But I hated myself for it. Whether you were alive or dead, I was surrendering you to the Empire.”
“We had a job to do. We were fighting for something bigger than ourselves, something important.”
Her cheeks became hot, though she managed to remain composed. She looked up at him. “You’re important, Cassian.”
An expression flashed across his face that Jyn had never seen, something vulnerable and raw. She saw him catch his breath.
“Has no one ever told you that before?”
His eyes were fixed on her, his breathing heavy as he fought to control a sudden wave of emotion, his mouth turning down at the corners. Jyn had unknowingly hit a nerve. She stepped nearer and took hold of the front of his jacket.
“I’m nothing special,” he said, his voice dark and low.
“That isn’t true.”
He shrugged. “I’m just one person.”
Her grip constricted and she pulled him closer. “You are important. To the Rebellion, to Rogue Squad… to me.”
His gaze tightened, as though he were receiving kindness for the first time in his life and the experience was so overdue it pained him.
Jyn suddenly understood; he truly believed he was expendable because no one had ever told him otherwise. She cupped his face in her hands. “You’ve given so much of yourself. We all use you; we all take from your strength. It isn’t fair.” He gripped her wrists and leaned into her touch, needing the comfort. “You might tell yourself that you have nothing left to lose, so there’s no harm in risking your life for the cause. But I think it’s the opposite. You know the pain of loss so intimately that you sacrifice everything in the hopes of giving others the safety you never had.” His breathing had become shuddering rasps as her words cut through every piece of emotional armor he wore. “I’m proud of you, Cassian.”
He stiffened, fighting back feelings that threatened to overwhelm him.
Maarva’s final words rang in his ears, delivered to him in a dark sewer by his best friend Brasso, words layered with the forgiveness and absolution only a mother’s love could offer. Tell him, none of this is his fault. It was already burning, he’s just the first spark of the fire. Tell him, he knows everything he needs to know and feels everything he needs to feel. And when the day comes and those two pull together, he will be an unstoppable force for good. Tell him, I love him more than anything he could ever do wrong.
He had always lived by his own code. But the Empire’s never-ending ruthlessness had hardened Cassian over the years. Jyn had unwittingly made him look at himself with fresh eyes. At first, he hadn’t liked what he discovered. But, in a short period of time, she had reignited his sense of self, unintentionally reconnected him with who he wished he could be without the Empire looming over all existence. Cassian wanted to be strong without being brutal. He wanted to be brave without being callous. He wanted to thrive without desperation. If Jyn was proud of him, perhaps that meant he had begun achieving these small victories. They hadn’t known each other long, but she always made him feel seen, like he existed with more intensity now that she was in his life.
Cassian wrapped his arms around Jyn, pulling her body against him, his hands pressed across her back. All he wanted was to hold her, to feel safe, to disappear into a reality where Scarif and Tarkin and IT-O droids didn’t exist. Jyn responded instantly to his touch, pressing her cheek against his, almost sighing with relief as her arms went around his neck. He closed his eyes and thought, I love you more than anything you could ever do wrong.
——————–
END NOTES
NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE REACH” - Perhaps it's a proximity trope…but I don't care. It's my story and I can do what I want :) You're welcome.
Thank you for reading!
Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!
Much love!
——————–
READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)
READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”
READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”
READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”
READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”
READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”
READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”
READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”
READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”
READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”
REACH CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”
READ CHAPTER 11 “The Reprieve”
READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”
READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”
READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”
READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”
READ CHAPTER 16 “The Rogues”
READ CHAPTER 17 "The Absolution"
READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”
READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”
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jynrso · 7 months
Text
some of it remains (but your love is unmoved)
hey all! this is the fic that i've been working hard on over the past few weeks. it's the first fresh piece i've written in over a year – the oneshot i posted a few weeks ago ("not without me / not without you") had a rough draft and outline so i had a bit to go off. this was a completely new story and i didn't intend for it to be this long. . .13.5 and 6k words later, here we are! jyn's experiences are based on my own. i got a concussion about 3.5 years ago and i still get icepick headaches to this day (that i never got before). while i don't get migraines, they are pretty bad. when i was thinking to myself about jyn's role as a brawler, i figured she'd get hit in the head pretty often –– and from that, this fic was born. title from "as it was" by hozier read it on ao3!
Jyn Erso has always had a remarkably thick skull. 
Not in the sense that she isn’t intelligent. Rather, ever since she’d learned how to fight, she’d quickly found that she could bounce back from blows to the head quicker than her comrades. Hits that would render other Partisans unconscious usually only dazed her; if she got knocked down, she pushed herself back up in seconds, returning to the fight with her brutal efficiency hindered only slightly by slight dizziness and a burgeoning headache. 
As a brawler, with the reach of her truncheons keeping her in close contact with her targets, she’s more exposed than a long-distance soldier. Though her armor absorbs many of the hits she takes, by favoring hand-to-hand combat, it’s not uncommon for her skin to be littered with various bruises and abrasions from hits she’s doled out and ones she’s taken in return. Even with her gloves, her hands often take the brunt of the damage; out of every place on her body, her hands are the most heavily scarred. 
But despite her fighting prowess and experience on the battlefield, she’s had her fair share of close calls. Even she isn’t completely unaffected by someone slamming the butt of their blaster against her skull. The scar snaking up from the top of her forehead into her hairline speaks to that; a few years ago, she’d been hit so hard by a stormtrooper that it had not only knocked her out but also needed stitches –– ones she had to do herself without the credits for proper medical care. It had never healed right, the scar angry and raised to this day, but she’d escaped with her life . . . and only a few consequences. 
The chronic headaches ––  the bad ones –– had begun during her stint in an underground fighting ring, just after Saw abandoned her on Tamsye Prime. In an attempt to earn enough credits to survive, she’d played her strengths to her advantage and fought numerous other sentients for money. Though she’d won more fights than lost, her opponents usually got in a hit or two; and, with the lack of protective gear, the blows she’d taken had often been more debilitating, especially in the aftermath. 
But in the middle of a war, a headache here or there is hardly her biggest problem.  
It’s not like she’s bleeding out or has any open wounds. A stim shot usually takes care of the worst of the symptoms and dims them to a more manageable level. And when that doesn’t work, in the years after Saw, she’d hole up somewhere dark and quiet and ride it out for a few days by herself. With her high pain tolerance, she can push through just about anything, even if it means spending a few hours incapacitated. 
Her last . . . episode had been right after Scarif. She doesn’t remember much of what’d happened after Bodhi had picked her and Cassian up from the beach but she recalls moments of blinding pain. The agony from her burns from the blast had only just been overshadowed by the splitting in her skull, feeling as if someone had taken an axe and cleaved her in two. 
Ever since, however, she’s managed to keep her headaches under control and everyone else in the dark. But with the recent destruction of Alderaan and the move from Yavin IV to Hoth, it’s only a matter of time. With the amount of pressure and stress slowly building up on her shoulders, she just hopes that she’s alone when the inevitable happens, and strong enough to ride out the pain when it comes.
When Jyn wakes, unusually bleary-eyed and out of it, Cassian’s no longer in bed next to her.
The sheets on his side have long gone cold. Faintly, in the back of her mind, she remembers him leaving earlier that morning; before his departure, he’d briefly woken her up with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered urge to go back to sleep. Not recalling much more than that, she assumes that she’d fallen back asleep and pushes herself up into a sitting position. 
As soon as she moves, a slow, heavy ache makes itself known in her left eye, radiating back toward her skull. She curses softly, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand, hoping that the pressure will help ease the oncoming pain, but to no avail. Even when she presses harder, digs her fingers into her hairline, the steady throbbing beats in time with her heartbeat. 
A pit sinks in her stomach. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, the pain of it a distraction. Even though her head doesn’t pound badly now, she knows from experience it’ll only get worse as the day goes on. And if this is one of those headaches. . .
Fuck, and she actually has shit to do today. She and Cassian are flying out in the afternoon for a surveillance and scouting operation at the abandoned rebel base on Dantooine. Bodhi’s swinging by later ––  shit, maybe sooner than she thinks, glancing at the chrono and seeing what time it is –– to help her get the ship ready while Cassian takes care of the pre-flight briefing with Draven. 
Okay. Okay. She exhales, throwing her arm over her eyes as she lays on her back in the messy remnants of their bunk. It’s not the ideal situation but it could be worse –– she just has to get out of bed and get ready while her pain is still manageable. Then she just has to meet Bodhi, get to the ship, and take off for Dantooine without indicating something is wrong, then find somewhere hidden and quiet to ride it out by herself. 
(There’s no way in hell Cassian is going to let her get away with that, a small voice in the back of her mind reminds her but she pushes that thought away for now. Once they get into the air, she can figure out an excuse. She just has to get there first. )
Groaning, Jyn hauls herself out of bed, wincing when the simple movement jars her already tender head. Without bothering to flip on the lip, she fumbles around in the dark, picking up random pieces of clothing they’d scattered across the ground the night before. 
In the bathroom, biting back a curse as the cold finally begins to hit her, the warmth of sleep finally wearing off, she quickly gets ready in the relative silence and dimness of the ‘fresher. 
There’s a basic medkit under the sink, equipped with bandages, a few bacta patches, and hyposprays. It’s meant for the occasions when either of them has minor injuries but doesn’t want to go to the medbay. Though it’s here for this purpose –– and she knows she should grab something –– she still hesitates. It’s not that bad (yet) and she’s pushed through worse. And there’ll be times in the future when they have a greater need for these supplies. . .
With her thoughts feeling like static, it’s difficult to concentrate enough to make a proper decision. Before she can, someone knocks on the door and shakes her from her daze. She flinches at the sound, wiping a shaky hand down her face as her head protests the sudden loud noise. 
“Fuck,” she mutters, rocking forward on her heels and leaning forward against the sink, so far that her forehead nearly touches the smudged mirror. The medkit looms in her peripherals but she ignores it, convincing herself that she’ll be fine. (She’s always fine –– she has to be ). 
In a burst of strength, she pushes up and away out of the bathroom, heading toward the door. 
“Jyn!” Bodhi brightens when it opens, then almost immediately falls when he looks at her properly. “You –– you look like shit!”  
“Thanks, Bo,” she mutters, leaning against the doorframe as she pulls on her boots. “Good morning to you, too.” 
Frowning, he rubs the back of his neck as he peers in closer, head dipping down and wide eyes scrutinizing her disheveled appearance. “Well, it’s actually closer to afternoon, now, but –– ” 
“Still morning,” she grunts, straightening. The edge of her vision goes fuzzy for a few seconds, threatening to white out completely; she steadies herself on the wall once again and exhales heavily, then forces herself upright.
“Do you –– do you need to go to the –– ” 
“No,” she bites out forcefully. Her voice harsher is than she intends but the pain makes her feel brittle, fragile even, and she can’t help but overcompensate. “Just –– I just had a bit too much to drink last night. That’s all.”  
Both of them are keenly aware of just how well she holds her liquor and Bodhi is much more observant than people give him credit for, especially around the people he cares about. He frowns, eyebrows tugging together, and while his expression tells her exactly what he’s thinking, he’s also picking up on the hidden details in her own. 
But for whatever reason, either her voice or the stubborn look in her eyes, he doesn’t comment on her flimsy excuse and nods instead, perhaps not wanting to put up a fight when it’s clear she’s looking for one. 
She doesn’t miss the concerned look in his eye when she walks out of the room a little slower than usual. He stays close to her as if expecting to catch her if she falls, arms nearly brushing as he keeps her pace. 
His intense attention makes her uncomfortable, her ears reddening from the unfamiliar notion of having someone care about her. She’s fine. A headache isn’t anything to make a fuss over, and really, he’s making a big deal out of nothing.  
“I checked out the ship you’re taking this morning,” he says, keeping up a steady stream of chatter as they navigate through the halls of Echo Base. She only half-listens, occasionally offering up hums of agreement as he speaks, but it’s growing more difficult to keep her focus solely on him. “There isn’t too much to do but . . .”
After a few minutes, they reach their destination. When the noise and brightness of the hangar bay hall hit her full force, Jyn sways on her feet, eyes closing as nausea swells low in her stomach. Bodhi grabs her elbow to keep her steady but she just barely feels the touch, the hammering in her head overshadowing every other sensation. 
“ ––yn! Are you okay?” 
Bodhi’s voice grows louder and more nervous with each passing second she fails to reply. Jyn barely manages to clamp down on her flinch, forcing her eyes open and gritting her teeth as her head protests. 
“Fine,” she rasps, then licks her dry lips. Just one more hour, at most, and she can lie down; she just has to get to the ship first. “I’m fine. Where –– where’s the shuttle?” 
He pauses, scrutinizing her once again. “Listen, if you’re not feeling well, we can––” 
“I said I’m fine!” she reasserts, a bit harsher than she intends. Her head throbs at the raised tone of her voice. She sighs. “Look, can we just –– ” 
It’s clear he doesn’t entirely believe her. With all the time they’ve spent together since Scarif, he knows what her normal behavior looks like –– and this isn’t it. “Jyn, you really should –– ” 
Her eyes flash in irritation. She doesn’t need to be coddled. “If you want to stay here, be my guest. But I’m going to finish up packing the ship.” 
Once again, he must see something in her face that ends any possible argument. For him, this is a losing battle. Sighing, his shoulders slump in the face of her stubbornness. “All right. Come on.” 
Leading her to a ship in the back of the hangar, she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other and pushing down the pain as best she can. No matter how lightly she steps, the impact of her boots against the ground sends electricity radiating up from her legs to her head, a dull thumping that seems to grow the longer she spends in the hangar bay. 
She blinks and then they’re there. Almost robotically, she nods as Bodhi’s mouth opens and he begins to talk, only catching the tail end of whatever he says. He gestures toward the remaining crates of supplies that need to be loaded onto the shuttle and Jyn doesn’t bother to respond, turning toward them and setting her shoulders in preparation. 
(With her back turned, she misses how his mouth thins, how he reaches out for her but drops his arm after a few seconds. She misses the determined set of his eyes, the way he seemingly comes to a decision before setting to work himself.)
It’s easy to lose herself in the repetitiveness of the task. With only the pain in her head to keep her company, she tunes out the rest of the hangar bay and loads up the ship. At least in there, the lights aren’t so bright and the noises around her are muffled some by the thick durasteel walls. 
A blink and it’s done. It’s been –– how long has she been doing this, so lost in her head? 
For a few seconds, she stands in the cargo bay and looks down at the crates without really seeing them. Her hands flex at her sides, fingers still primed to hold a box. But then a particularly painful jolt of pain goes through her eye and she hisses, pressing the palm of her hand against the socket. When it eases, her brain recircuits and she remembers her purpose, rocking back on her heels. 
She turns to look for Bodhi, not finding him in the cockpit as expected. Instead, when she heads down the loading ramp to look for him, she sees him a few feet away, looking in her direction and talking in hushed voices with Cassian. 
Jyn scowls in irritation, hands curling into fists at her side and marching over to them. She has a good idea of what Bodhi’s telling him –– that she’s been acting weird, that there’s something wrong with her, that she isn’t capable enough to go on the mission. All those thoughts jumble in her head at the same, overlapping and intensifying what’s already there. 
“I’m fine!” she barks when she makes it over to them, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her chin up in defiance. Her jaw tightens, the muscles in her body bunching up and tensing. “I don’t know what he’s telling you but –– ” 
Cassian holds up his hands and Bodhi takes a step back when faced with her sudden burst of rage. “We’re just going over take-off protocol since Bodhi isn’t coming with us on this one,” he explains gently. 
Her anger deflates from her as quickly as it’d arrived and she closes her eyes briefly as her skull throbs in protest. Embarrassment at her outburst curls low in her gut but she refuses to let it show. 
“Great,” she mutters, shoving her hands deep in her pockets and turning away from them. Her cheeks redden, ears burning beneath her hat. “I’ll be on the ship if you need me.” 
If her behavior hadn’t been a cause for concern before, it certainly is now. She hunches in her coat, keeping her head down as she stalks to the shuttle, the snarl on her lips acting as armor to repel any stares from overly curious recruits that she gets on the way back. 
Cassian isn’t far behind. She’s only been on the ship for a few beats before he joins her, standing close enough that there are only a few inches between them. When she looks back into the hangar bay, Bodhi’s still there, his body language anxious and worried in the distance. 
She scowls, feeling betrayed and like they’re ganging up on her. She’s clearly fine –– she’d gotten everything on the ship quickly and efficiently. What complaints could they even have? When she turns away, she determinedly keeps her gaze focused on her datapad and makes a point not to look at Cassian, even when his presence 
Finally, he breaks the stalemate, not bothering to pretend he doesn’t know something is wrong. “Bodhi says you’ve been off all morning.” 
“Did he,” she says flatly, her eye twitching. Her mouth twists and she resolutely stares down at the datapad but not truly seeing the words on the screen. 
“I’m not going to push you,” he replies steadily, his voice not changing despite the derision in hers. There’s no judgment, nothing but concern despite her growing frustration. ( Stars, she doesn’t deserve him. ) “But if something’s wrong, you can tell me.” 
If he hasn’t picked up on it, then she must be successfully hiding the worst of her pain. When she turns to face him, she lets a little bit of her raggedness show, exhaustion written on her features. It’s not a lie, not truly, but a misdirection instead. Let him think this is the root of the issue. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” 
One of his eyebrows ticks up, likely remembering how she’d barely moved when he’d left their bed that morning. He doesn’t believe her, not entirely. But whatever he must see in her face must be enough to convince him that she’s all right for now. 
He nods slowly, brows tugging together as he considers her words, but doesn’t drop the matter entirely. “You can sleep once we make it to hyperspace.” 
It feels like an order rather than a request but she knows the decision is ultimately up to her. Too exhausted to disagree, the throbbing pain on one side of her head sapping all of the fight out of her body. 
Cassian hesitates, giving her a chance to pull away, then reaches out to cup her cheek. She closes her eyes when his thumb brushes against her cheekbone rhythmically; it doesn’t relieve any pain but his touch soothes her, comforts her in a way that only he can do. 
“Let’s finish getting the ship ready,” he says softly, and, eyes still closed, she nods once again. 
It doesn’t take long for them to finish; apparently, Bodhi had gotten more done than she’d realized while she’d lugged crates of supplies back and forth. Feeling almost as if in a trance with only a dull throbbing pain to keep her company, before she even realizes it, they’ve completed everything else and prepped the shuttle for take-off.  
(Dangerous, Saw’s voice barks in her head when she blinks in confusion, her body acting on auto-pilot as she buckles herself in and mechanically pulls on a pair of headphones. Just because you’re with someone you trust doesn’t mean you’re safe. Focus, my child.)
With one last wave to Bodhi, she closes the cargo bay door without another word and joins Cassian in the cockpit. Her limbs feel heavy, eyes squinting against the bright lights flashing on the dashboard. It takes her more than one try to get her seatbelt buckled in. 
Numbly, she forces her awareness out of the cave in her mind and does her best to pay attention when Cassian completes the pre-flight checks. It only takes a few minutes ––  she thinks, her thoughts feeling as if they’re moving through sludge –– before they’re up in the air. 
“Calculating jump to hyperspace,” he says. She clenches her jaw, nods, and prepares herself. 
The jump to hyperspace is worse than she’d expected. She presses the back of her head into her seat in an attempt to keep it steady and her white-knuckled hand gripping the armrests so tight she shakes. Against the roar of the engine, she inhales and exhales short puffs of air, eyes squeezed tight. It feels as if her brain is rattling against her skull, sharp pinpricks of pain hitting her through the eye in full force. 
One particularly bad pulse through her head has her biting down so hard on her tongue that she draws blood. The sharp sting at least provides a distraction, the coppery, metallic taste now filling her mouth becoming something to latch on to other than pain. 
But it’s getting more and more difficult to keep herself together. The combination of the lights, the noise, and the jerky movements of the shuttle around her have flayed her control almost entirely. She can’t do this, she can’t do this, but she has to, she has to keep it together for just a few more secon––
The ship stills. 
The only sound in the cockpit is her sharp, rapid breathing that she struggles to quiet and the hum of the engine underneath her feet. Though she can’t see him, she’s acutely aware of Cassian at her side. She hears him take off his headset and set it down on its hook above the dashboard, then hears the creak of his seat as he turns, presumably to face her properly. 
Hears the low, comforting sound of his voice when he tentatively asks, “Jyn? Are you okay?” 
“`m’fine,” she mumbles after a beat, her brain taking longer than usual to comprehend his words properly. Even though it’s very clear that she’s not, she can’t quite abandon the ruse just yet, still hanging onto rapidly disappearing threads of composure. “Just. . .” 
She trails off, swallowing down a wave of nausea. In the silence that follows, her stomach churns, due both to anxiety and her migraine; if she moves, even slightly, she’s going to throw up all over the floor. To tamp down on that, she focuses on her breathing: ragged inhales that catch before they make it to her lungs. 
Cautiously, she cracks her eyes open, just a slit, to see Cassian leaning forward in his seat, gaze tight with worry. His fists are curled against his knees, his body tense with the effort of not reaching out to her. She imagines he wants to check her over himself and see what’s causing her pain but not without her permission. 
“Are you hurt?” he asks. She can hear the desperation in his voice, likely compounded by the fact that he hadn’t pushed her to tell him what’d been wrong earlier. “Jyn, please. Did someone hurt you? Are you––” 
“Fine,” she cuts him off weakly, ignoring his growl of frustration at her protests. He’d reluctantly taken her by her word earlier but that’s not going to work anymore. The ruse is up; it’s so incredibly clear that she isn’t fine, the jump to hyperspace having rattled something loose in her brain. “It’s. . .” 
She pauses, licks her lips, then decides ––  what the hell. She can’t physically keep her walls up much longer. Her eyes flutter close, the pressure in her head abating only slightly with the lack of light. Finally, she says, “My head.” 
“Did you fall? Jyn, let me check––” 
“No,” she swallows, fumbling with her words. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, her thoughts slow and sluggish. “It’s –– it’s a migraine. I think. I, um, get them. Occasionally.” 
When Cassian doesn’t reply, she opens her eyes to see what he’s doing, feeling nervous and exposed. She watches as he gingerly stands and reaches over her, flicking off the lights in the cockpit and dimming the space as much as possible. While it isn’t completely dark, with switches on the dashboard still blinking, it’s a marked difference from how bright it’d been before. Her breath leaves her in a stuttered exhale as her shoulders relax slightly. 
His voice is quiet when he asks, “Better?” 
“Yeah,” she rasps. It is. “Thanks.” 
A beat of silence passes between them before he tilts his head to the side, in the direction of the back of the ship. Though it isn’t large and not meant for long-term travel, there’s a small bunk room and galley just behind the crew’s quarters. Though he doesn’t say anything, Jyn knows what he’s asking. 
“No,” she grits out. She keeps her head still but follows him with her gaze. It’s a struggle to get the words out. “I don’t . . . need to rest.” 
“Jyn. . .” 
“No.” It feels like her last line of defense. It’s a stupid hill to die on but she can’t seem to let it go, barely clinging to what little she has left. Even though she knows that Cassian would never treat her differently  –– and he never has when she’s come to him injured or in the aftermath of a nightmare –– she’s not unlike a feral animal when hurting, flinching away and attacking the hand that tries to help.
He’s seen her at her worst, has held her through it, has seen more of her than anyone in this galaxy ever has. But used to a lifetime of sharing a bunk and never truly being alone, she’s learned to keep her pain quiet, to remain small and unobtrusive in moments of true vulnerability. Cassian and the rest of Rogue One have slowly broken down some of her walls but there are some things she doubts she’ll ever be able to shake fully.
But then Cassian whips out his trump card. 
“Please, Jyn? For me?” And if his saying please hadn’t been enough, he adds softly, “My back has been sore all morning. Lay down with me?”
“Just for an hour,” she relents ––  barely. “And you have to actually lay next to me.” 
His eyes soften. “`course. Come on.” 
She stands slowly to try and offset the dizziness that she knows will come, but it doesn’t work. She bites the inside of her cheeks and closes her eyes when it washes over her, her head throbbing in time with her heartbeat. For a few seconds, she worries once again she might throw up all over the ground but swallows it down. Fuck, it hurts so badly. 
There’s this urgent, wild urge in the back of her mind to cry out for her mother –– she feels like a child again, scared and in pain, and wanting nothing more than Lyra’s comfort. 
Finally, when it passes, she opens her eyes again, breathing heavily. Cassian stands a few feet away, one arm outstretched in case he needs to steady her. He’s not even trying to hide his worry anymore; she’d reassure him in any other situation but she’s just so tired. 
Slowly, she makes her way to the bunkroom with Cassian close behind. It’s not far, and soon, she’s perched on the edge of the small cot, shoulders hunched forward. 
He reaches out and touches her arm gently. That one small gesture eases a knot of tension in her body and she sags like a puppet whose strings have been cut. “I’m going to grab you some water. I’ll be right back, okay?” 
Feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable, she doesn’t like the idea of him leaving her sight right now. But at the thought of water, she swallows, her throat dry. Slowly, she nods, her head heavy and protesting the jerky movement. 
She keeps quiet and doesn’t move until he returns with a glass of water in hand. Despite the position likely being hell on his back, he crouches next to the bed, offering it to her. 
Silently, she reaches for it with a shaky arm, just barely managing to take a few sips without spilling before handing it back to him. He takes it, but not without a small sigh and a look of concern. 
“You need to stay hydrated.” As quiet as it is, his voice is still too loud. 
Not having eaten anything all day, she’s keenly aware of the hunger and thirst steadily growing in her stomach. But it’s no match for the pain in her head and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to keep anything more than water down if she tries. “No,” she manages. But then, to appease him, she adds, “Later.” 
“All right,” he says finally, setting the glass on the small desk a few paces away. A pause. He shifts on his feet, and she’s just about to order him to move from his uncomfortable position when he speaks again, “I grabbed a hypospray. It’s yours if you want it.” 
There’s a protest on her lips that dies when he interrupts, anticipating what she’d planned on saying, “We have more than enough supplies. It won’t be missed.” 
Jyn licks her lips, then dips her chin in a slow nod. 
Cassian’s jaw works briefly, clenching and unclenching before his expression finally smoothes. He knows her better than she knows herself, she thinks –– and they both know how stubborn she can get about soldiering through her pain until the last possible moment. For her to give in now without too much complaint tells him exactly how bad her pain is, what she’d been trying to hide from him all day. 
Without a word, he waits until he catches her half-squinted gaze before slowly bringing the hypospray to her neck. She tilts her chin to the side slightly and closes her eyes; her breath stutters in her lungs when his warm hands brush against her skin, looking for the artery. 
“Dispensing now,” he murmurs and she doesn’t have the energy to hide her flinch when the cold medicine enters her bloodstream. 
The small, barely there movements of her body send shockwaves of pain through one side of her skull. Her whole body tenses, muscles rigid. She keeps her eyes squeezed to better ride out the wave washing over her, ebbing and throbbing; even as she feels the hypospray beginning to take effect, it isn’t immediate. 
Now that she’s sitting, with no more tasks left to complete, she properly takes stock of her pain, it feels as if someone is repeatedly taking an ice pick to her head, stabbing her eye socket with each throbbing beat of her pulse. Before she can stop it, a small whimper leaves her mouth before she presses her lips tightly together so no other sounds can escape. 
“You don’t have to do that,” he says softly. She feels him brush her cheek with his fingers lightly, then moves some of her hair off of her face. “You don’t have to hide from me, Jyn. What do you need?” 
She doesn’t have to do much to convey it. Without speaking and moving as little as possible, she finds his arm in the dark and pulls him toward her. Gingerly, Cassian stands –– she can hear his joints popping as he does so –– and maneuvers himself over her and onto the cot. 
He settles stiffly next to her with his back to the wall; at first, he doesn’t move, likely not wanting to cause her any more pain. But as soon as she feels him at her side, she reaches for him immediately. He is, as always, a lifeline for her, an anchor in the middle of the storm. She turns onto her side, curling into him, desperate for some sort of comfort, a distraction from the pain, if only for a few seconds. And even though it must be hell on his back for him to curl over her like this, he does so, anyway, his body a shield between her and the outside world. 
Forehead pressed against his neck, her fists gripping his shirt with a white-knuckled grip, he quietly murmurs nonsense into her ear. All she can do is cling to him in a moment of uncharacteristic weakness strength and breathes. 
Hours later, Jyn opens her eyes, slowly waking up. She doesn’t remember falling asleep but the combination of Cassian’s presence and the hypospray’s effect eventually lulled her to unconsciousness. She blinks once, twice, feeling a hundred times lighter than she had earlier; the pain in her head has abated to a manageable ache –– still there but not as debilitating. 
She tilts her head upward, the tip of her nose brushing against Cassian’s face. He’s in the same position as he’d been in before, curled around her protectively. Still asleep, his face is relaxed, his breathing slow and even. 
As much as he needs the sleep, she’s unable to resist her next impulse; she tilts her chin slightly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his mouth. It’s short and sweet, lasting only a few seconds; and even though it’s a selfish want, her heart skips a beat in her chest when his eyes open, warm and brown, blinking down at her. 
It’s a testament to how much he trusts her that he doesn’t tense upon awakening. Rather, his expression warms, mouth tugging into an indulgent smile. “Hi,” he murmurs, voice rasping. 
“Hi,” she repeats, her smile a mirror of his. When he moves to brush his lips against hers again, she meets him eagerly, basking in the afterglow of the morning and the relaxed feeling that only sleep can bring. 
“How are you feeling?” 
She hums. “Better.” 
“Good.” His arms tighten around her, firm but loose enough that she can pull away. She doesn’t. “You scared me, you know.” 
She stays silent as he continues. “When Bodhi told me he didn’t think you were feeling well, I didn’t think it was that bad, not when you marched over to us a minute later. But then, after we jumped. . .” he closes his eyes briefly, licking his chapped lips. She wants to smooth the wrinkle between his brows with her thumb. “I thought you would have told me that it was that bad.” 
Is that disappointment in his voice? Shame curls in her gut. Had their positions been flipped, she would have felt just as helpless. “I know. I should have.” 
“Why didn’t you?” An open question. If he’s judging her for it, he keeps that out of his voice. 
“I don’t know,” she says finally. “It’s. . .It’s not that I don’t trust you, because I do, but. . .” she shrugs with a shoulder as best she can while lying on her side. “Just habit, I guess.” 
A habit formed after years of being alone, exacerbated due to Saw’s abandonment and how quickly her ties to the Partisans –– her foundation of self, her family –– had been ripped out from underneath her. It had been necessary to hide the vulnerable sides of herself for survival, instincts that she hasn’t quite shaken now that she once again has a team she can rely on. 
He licks his chapped lips. “Have you . . . seen someone about this? A medic?” 
“Once.” After her symptoms had lingered long after a particularly bad head injury, Saw had forced her (not that she had much choice with how sick she’d been) to see one of the Partisan’s medics. “With how many concussions I get, this sort of thing. . .happens, they said.” 
Cassian hums. “Will you see one of the Alliance’s medics when we get back?” 
“I don’t think there’s anything they can do,” she argues. She can handle it –– not to mention that, with how many injuries those doctors have to deal with on a daily basis, she’d just be wasting their time. 
He stays silent but the look in his eyes tells her he doesn’t like her answer. “There might be medicine that could help.” 
“The hypospray worked well enough,” she retorts grouchily, cuddling closer to him so she no longer has to meet his gaze. His heartbeat beats a steady tempo against her cheek. 
He brushes her bangs back behind her ears, his hand lingering on the side of her face. Perhaps reassuring himself that she’s still in one piece, that she’s no longer in as much pain as before. “To prevent this sort of thing from happening so often.” 
She scowls. “It doesn’t happen that often.” 
“Jyn. . .” he sighs. “What happens if we’re out on a mission and you’re like this? If –– if something happened to you, I couldn’t. . .” His jaw clenches, eyes flashing at the thought of the hypothetical. 
Knowing he’s right –– it has happened out in the field but never to this degree –– she stays silent. 
“Let’s make a deal, all right?” She remains quiet, listening. He continues, “You go to the medbay when we get back, see what they can do. I’ll come with you. And then, in return, when my back is bothering me, I’ll go. But we tell each other, all right? When we’re hurting. Trust goes both ways, remember?” 
“Trust goes both ways,” she echoes softly, tipping her head back from his chest and onto the pillow so she can better look at his face. Her headache has been subdued to a dull throbbing, a far cry from the agony she’d felt earlier. “You promise you’ll go?” 
“If you do, I will,” Cassian says. “And you’ll tell me next time your head hurts, yes?” 
“Fine,” she concedes with a grumble, though her displeasure fades when he gathers her back up in his arms and kisses her forehead gently. Her breath hitches at the feeling of his lips against her skin. 
“We have a few more hours before we reach Dantooine,” he tells her softly. “We should get up, grab some food. When’s the last time you ate?” 
Even though she hasn’t eaten anything all day, the remnants of nausea still remain in her system. She makes a face, wrinkling her nose at the thought of leaving the bed and Cassian’s embrace. 
“You said your back was sore,” she says instead. Regardless if it had only been a ploy to get her to bed, his back bothers him more often than not. It won’t hurt to rest a little more, especially not when they’ll be in hyperspace for a while still. “Lay here with me?” 
The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles down at her. It’s the type of true smile she so very rarely sees outside of when they’re alone together, the one that never fails to make her heart swell in her chest with a type of love she’d never thought she’d ever feel. “Always.” 
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eatsleepandsing · 1 year
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Melshi meets Cassian and Jyn's daugther
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waterpancakeao3 · 2 years
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Writing a fix-it fic is like
Does saving this character's life rob their story of its catharsis?
Yes.
Is the story richer for the heroic and tragic end?
Also yes.
Am I going to let that stop me?
No.
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incognitajones · 1 year
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W(NL)IP Wednesday
As promised earlier, a finished story!
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Practical Exam
2500 words, rated T 
“The new human, Clem. What have you got against him?” Saw asked.
Jyn shrugged. “I just don’t like him.”
[For @luciechat​, as thanks for pinch-hitting in the 2022 RCSS exchange.] 
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theputterer · 11 months
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Chapters: 27/27 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Fringe (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus Characters: Cassian Andor, Jyn Erso, Galen Erso, Baze Malbus, Chirrut Îmwe, Bodhi Rook, Mon Mothma, K-2SO (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Science Fiction, Dubious Science, Slow Burn, Jyn vs the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, Cassian vs Love as a Force of Fearlessness, Background Relationships Summary:
In a warehouse in Boston, mysterious crystals seemingly blossom overnight. A crime syndicate in Harlem uses super cells to develop a form of telekinesis. A subliminal messaging system on the dark web causes brain tumors. An energy clip fires lasers without needing to be reloaded.
Something is happening. And it's up to a small, unique FBI task force to investigate it.
As the pieces start to connect, it becomes increasingly clear: There is more than one of everything.
[A FRINGE AU]
---
a full year later, and this Long (LOOOONNNGGG) National Nightmare is done. thanks to everyone who came along for the ride. it truly has been a weird one.
xoxo, theputterer
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r0gerr0ger · 8 months
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White Light
(1469 words)
Eventually, perhaps, they might have told her. Might have recovered from that day and all that came after. Time and distance making it easier to confess. But as it is, they don’t get the time. Or the distance. Because they are not supposed to be alive. And that catches up with them, in the end. Like she knew it would. It catches up with all of them. (Like a wave of white light. Consuming, consuming, consuming.)
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softnasty · 1 year
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is #wipwednesday a thing on tumblr…? used to do it semi-regularly on twitter when i was in mdzs fandom but it's been soooo long now. anyway. bit of rebelcaptain that i already shared in the discord 👀 politics au fun vibes lessssgo
When Jyn defects and goes to be Gerrera's campaign manager, the second thing Cassian does — after asking Kay how the fuck that's even happening, with the ironclad NDAs and non-compete clauses that they all have, right, no special treatment? — is realizing how this means that Jyn unilaterally put an end to their thrice honored tradition of hooking up at the yearly Alliance Intergalactic Conference. The third thing he does is asking Kay to review the fine print again — it doesn't fly well: Kay asks him if he's doubting his legal skills and flings his law school diploma at him, frame and all, when Cassian dares to say that he took two law classes back in college so like, maybe he could have a look as well to make sure?
[more under the cut!]
He doesn't even mention that he only took Intro to Business Law and Intro to Media Law like, almost ten years ago at this point. Figures that probably wouldn't help his case after the diploma flinging and Kay shutting the door to his office right in his face. Cassian doesn't do anything else after that. Sits on his hands and waits for the shitstorm to inevitably hit.
It's 7:30am in Coruscant. He's had five hours of sleep (generous, his running average for the month is around four point five), two coffees (one iced, one hot — decadent and self-indulgent, for no reason at all) and a diploma thrown at his face (painful and honestly irresponsible as the unofficial poster boy of Mothma's campaign — Kay should know better). He's had worse mornings. Better ones, too, when Jyn was still by his side, sitting at the desk across from his instead of parsecs away after throwing away a job she'd held for nearly five years and whatever fraught relationship she'd had with Cassian.
It's fine. Cassian needs to make it to 8am to pull the first opinion polls number on this shitshow and prep Mothma for the press. Then he needs to make it to 8:35am when she'll go on live television and announce whoever the fuck as new campaign manager. Then—
Kay opens the door to his office again.
"Did Jyn mention any of this to you?"
Cassian gives him a look. Searches for something he could throw at him. The heaviest thing on his desk is his laptop and he really needs that.
"What the fuck do you think? What kind of relationship do you think we have, Kay?"
He flings a balled-up sheet of paper at Kay and misses. Kay closes the door to his office again.
7:32am. Yeah. Cassian's had better mornings for sure.
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dilf-din · 8 months
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Yeehawgust Day 3: Wanted Poster
Rebelcaptain Western AU (Outlaw!Jyn & Cass)
WC: 1450
Characters: Cassian Andor, Jyn Erso, Syril Karn
Rating: T
Warnings: typical western violence, light language, playing god with star wars canon and added western elements
A/N: howdy y’all! This one was fun, I’m definitely going to be doing a few more mini fics for them this month. Barely proofread so sorry for any typos. Without further ado, please enjoy the misadventures of Fulcrum and Stardust ✨
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Order. The Empire craved order. It needed order to survive. It relied on systems and balance and people who could keep everything in check. It relied on subdued civilians with the fight beaten out of them. A list that extensive took cold and competent people, and Syril Karn was one of the best.
Syril was the head of a system of sheriff’s departments located in the desert colonies. It wasn’t a glamorous station by far, but it was a busy one by way of crime, and being entrusted with it was a high honor. He was due for a promotion soon and had been prepping his case to present to the council the afternoon that everything transpired.
He awoke just like any other morning, five minutes before his alarm, ever the overachiever. He shaved his already smooth face, buttoned his shirt all the way to his ivory throat, and secured his gun at his hip, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. He had a plain breakfast of toast and eggs and listened to the morning news broadcast over the crackle of his radio. He checked the watch on his wrist and double checked it with the clock over his stove before pushing back from the table. Just one more day’s work to get through before his meeting with the council. He smiled smugly as he locked the door behind him, and headed down the walk to his barn.
His dark dapple grey horse stood dutifully in his stall, all saddled and ready for a day of patrolling and intimidating civilians.
“Good morning, Zero,” Syril said with a nod, dismissing the stable boy who assisted him in the mornings. “Today’s the day,” he whispered into the stallion’s ear, causing it to flick against his cheek.
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The toe of Jyn’s boot drug lazily against the wooden floor, tracing a series of crooked lines in the dust as she swayed back and forth in her hammock. Her left arm hung down as she rolled out the cylinder of her worn revolver before swinging it shut in a repetitive motion. The sound of metal against her leather gloves soothed her as she waited for Cassian’s return. Sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the wood casting beams of pale yellow light through clouds of dust. Jyn had her bandana pulled over her nose to keep the dank, musty smell out. As far as hideouts go, this definitely wasn’t the worst place they’d landed. Cassian’s old friend, Ruescott, had opened up his attic space to the pair as they were currently on the run.
“Just one more job, then I promise we’re out of here for good,” Cassian had promised. Their days spent trekking across the continent with a string of livid Imperial officers on their tail were coming to a close.
People easily fit into two categories around these parts, those who disagreed with the Empire, and those who were pissed off enough to do something about it. Jyn and Cassian fell into the latter category.
The truth was, Jyn didn’t mind this life. She would’ve been bored being a housewife on a homestead somewhere. She liked the thrill of the chase, the disguises, the planning. She lived for the adrenaline rushes, the lies, the cons. Robbing those bastards blind was her reason to get out of bed in the morning. To spit in the face of the people who had killed her parents, killed Cassian’s family, left them alone in the world until they found each other.
Jyn and Cassian met back to back in a shootout trying to pinch some artifacts getting delivered to an Imperial temple. Apparently their informant had slipped up and given the tip to both of them. They took down an entire swarm of Imperial grunts in no time and escaped with their loot in tow. They hadn’t parted since that day, finding more than just a convenient partnership.
But Cassian was growing tired from running for so long. He had planned this last heist for months now, detailing everything down to the meter, the second, the dollar amount. They were planning to clear out the vault of the Aldhani treasury, a nearby town infamous for its heavily guarded store of Imperial wealth and weaponry. It was an affluent little offset in the midst of desert poverty, a real diamond in the rough. They had been waiting for the cattle drives to start making their way through town to set everyone into action, spending the last few weeks holed up in a sloping room that was somehow too wet and too dry at the same time. The prior night, Cassian and Melshi had gone to set charges on a nearby bridge that allowed the passage of the steers into town, hoping that the commotion would draw the law enforcement away to deal with the buildup of livestock and people alike. He had headed out to check and see that everything was falling into place while Jyn waited behind. The likelihood of them being recognized while they were together was high. Their faces were plastered on wanted posters across every nearby town. “Fulcrum and Stardust, wanted dead or alive by the Empire.” Jyn took to cutting her hair and pilfering new outfits as much as she could. Cassian, on the other hand, was a little harder to conceal.
Just then, she heard footsteps below her plodding into the house. She straightened herself and waited for the attic stairs to drop down and that crown of dark hair to pop through the opening in the floor.
Cassian ascended the creaky stairs and clambered into the small room out of breath.
“Well?” she asked impatiently. His face broke out into a wide grin under the thick mustache he had grown out.
“It worked. It couldn’t be more perfect. They’ve got a lot of the regular sentry men helping redirect people to another bridge on the east side of the river. Almost everyone in town is out there watching the commotion.” He took her cheeks in his hands and pulled down the black bandana to reveal her lips slightly parted in awe at the report.
“I’m going to get you out of here, Jyn. We can go anywhere, build a home, hide out from all this shit.”
She was now mirroring his toothy grin with one of her own and leaning forward to place a quick kiss to his lips.
“Let’s go get our prize then, yeah?”
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Syril’s route today had changed. The commotion at the Aldhani bridge was drawing in support from all over. He saw it his duty to go supervise, nose turned high in the air, cheeks burning from the spring sun, none the wiser to the fact that one of the biggest entities under his jurisdiction was being bled dry just a few minutes away.
Cass had somehow commandeered a wagon and hooked it up to their two steeds. It was pulled up behind the treasury being piled high with sacks of coins and other valuables. Jyn was waiting in the wagon to tie everything down and throw a blanket over top while Cassian made a few more trips. She had discarded the white bonnet she had been using to shield her eyes from the sun, and had used one of her knives to cut her skirt off at the knees giving her easy access to her boots and thigh holsters. Cassian’s last trip consisted of two new rifles, a couple of explosives, and as much ammo as he could carry.
“That it?”
He nodded, and shed the officers coat and cap he had taken, leaving them next to Jyn’s discarded garments. He was left in gray trousers, overalls, and a loose fitting white shirt that he rolled the sleeves on before hopping up onto the bench. He lent a hand down to Jyn who swung up next to him just as they heard the sound of voices coming from inside the vault where they had left the back door cracked open.
“That’s our cue!” Cassian snapped the reins, and the horses took off.
Jyn’s braids whipped wildly in the wind as she turned to see two officers emerging from the dark room and shouting. She aimed her revolver and hit one dead in the chest, and the other in the shoulder. He cursed as he fell into the sand, blood streaming through his fingers as they grasped his wound desperately. She blew the smoke from the tip and twirled it on her finger before setting it on the bench between them.
“You’re crazy,” Cassian said with a wide grin.
“We both are,” she laughed right at him.
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thatannoyingbitch · 5 months
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Everyone needs to go read this fic right now!! I love it so much. It's such a well-done slow burn.
Rated Teen and Up, Jyn Erso/Cassian Andor, Original Child Character. Andor Compliant. 25 chapters, 104,039 words as of posting.
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pedrito-friskito · 1 year
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REBEL SUNS - CHAPTER ONE
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series masterlist | main masterlist
summary: cassian finds something familiar in the mud, and gets much more than he bargained for.
word count: 3.2k
warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, *SPOILERS FOR ANDOR*, light-ish to start! descriptions of canon-typical violence, injuries, blood, talk of the rebellion and the empire, luthen is an enigma and cassian is a little bewildered.
a/n: and off we go! god, I am having so much fun writing this story, and I’m honestly so proud of it. I’m probably gonna cross-post this on ao3 as well (who is she), but any and all comments are appreciated, and my askbox is always open 🤍
✨I no longer have a taglist! if you’d like to be notified of future works (and chapter updates!), please follow @friskito-library and turn notifications on!✨
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Someone’s following you.
They’re not being subtle about it, that’s what worries you most. 
You don’t recognize the face, mostly shadowed by the hood pulled over their head, obscuring the eyes. There’s a thick scar over the mouth, an unforgiving expression. You see the blaster at their belt, the hands curled into fists. You can outrun them, if you’re smart about it. If you can make it just a few more blocks, there’s a path you can take, one that’ll take you down under the sewer system, spit you out the other side of the city. If you can just get there then—
Something hard smacks against the back of your head, and the world goes dark.
+
He doesn’t have time for this.
People are waiting for him. Luthen is waiting, back on the ship. He had a job to do, and he’s done it. Now, it’s time to go back. To go home. Well, wherever home happens to be for the time being.
But you’re in his way. Not purposely; he nearly tripped right over you in his haste to get back to the landing pad. It’s pouring rain — not uncommon for Arkanis — and it’s left his boots caked in mud, his hair plastered to his skull. It’s cold, enough so that his teeth chatter as he stumbles over your boot, catches himself on the rail before turning back to see what broke his step.
He thinks you’re dead, at first. You’re not moving, face-down in the mud, sprawled on the edge of the path and draped in a soaked coat. He spies the blaster on your hip, the spot of blood on your upturned cheek. Your eye is ringed with a blackening bruise, and Cassian’s eyes travel up before he sees it, half-clutched in your grasp, the gold chain still looped around your wrist, the familiar blue crystal smeared with dirt.
Sky kyber.
Maybe he does have time for this.
It’s odd enough, finding a body dumped at the edge of the path like this. It’s far from the city itself, out of the way and leading to the landing pad tucked behind storage buildings. That’s why Luthen picked it: obscurity. But the spot you’re in, the fact that you’re face-down, bloodied and beaten, it makes his brow crease. Someone must have dumped you; there’s no other tracks in the mud, no other signs of a struggle.
The crystal is warm as he pulls it from your limp grasp. He lets his fingers skirt your wrist, checks for a pulse, holds his breath until he feels it. He jams the kyber in his pocket, stuffing the chain in with it. He’d left it with Vel, after Aldhani. He never expected to see it again. And last they’d been informed, Vel was laying low on Chandrila, so…how did you get your hands on it?
For a moment, he nearly leaves you. He doesn’t know you; he doesn’t owe you anything. You’re carrying stolen property, as far as he’s concerned. Why should he help?
His mother’s voice in the back of his mind has him crouching at your side, rolling you carefully into his grasp, throwing your arm around his neck. 
You’re dead weight, and he grits his teeth as he stands. The rain is coming harder now, and it splatters your face, smearing the blood and dirt. You don’t so much as flinch, and it worries him for a moment; you still have a heartbeat, but that doesn’t mean you’ll survive.
Cassian tries to catalogue your injuries as he carries you back. Besides the black eye and the bloody cheek, there’s a mark around your throat, one that looks unmistakably like a hand. Someone choked you, or tried to.
If there’s anything else, he can’t see it. You’re weighed down more by the heavy jacket around your shoulders, zipped to your sternum, a belt across your chest. He should have checked you for weapons, he realizes too late, but huffs quietly, cursing Maarva’s voice in his mind as he continues down the path.
You do what’s right, Cassian. You always have.
The ramp to the Fondor lowers as soon as he’s within sight, and Luthen pokes his head out a moment later. Cassian’s used to him by now, the gruff orders, the demanding demeanour. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. The Rebellion needs men like him, Cassian knows.
But he’s never seen the old man shocked. And as he walks up the ramp, you curled against his chest, that’s exactly what he sees.
“What…?”
“I found her,” Cassian says, pushing past Luthen, stepping onto the ship, “face-down in the mud. She’s injured, I don’t know how bad. Someone must have dumped her.”
The ramp whirs as it lifts again, the doors sliding closed. Luthen is pale, his eyes wide. Cassian lays you out on the passenger’s seats. “So you decided to bring her back here? We don’t…” He trails off, swallows thickly. “We don’t even know who she is. What she is.”
Cassian stares at his companion a long moment. Up until now, he’s never had a reason to doubt Luthen. He took the man for what he was, what he made clear he had set out to be. But looking at him now, the lie is plain on his face.
“Don’t lie to me,” he says simply, narrowing his eyes at the old man. “You know exactly who she is.”
“I—”
If he was going to lie again, the words die on the old man’s tongue as Cassian fishes the stone from his pocket, gripping the chain and letting it dangle, holding it between the two of them. “I found this in her hand. I left this with Vel. After Aldhani, after I took what I was owed. You told me it was important. Vel would not have given this to someone without reason, would she?”
Luthen says nothing, eyes flicking between the blue crystal and your unmoving form.
“Would she?”
The old man sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. He won’t look at Cassian, but snags the kyber from him, shoving it in the pocket of his cloak.
“Who is she, Luthen?”
He takes a few steps back, puts some distance between him and Cassian. He leans against the wall of the ship, crossing his arms over his chest. Luthen says your name, the syllables sounding heavy on his tongue. It’s obvious he hasn’t spoken of you in a long time. “She’s a fence. Best one in the Outer Rim. Before Aldhani, the Rebellion was funded only by quiet senators fed up with the Emperor’s power, wealthy families who wanted to do their part. Sure, we have more than enough criminals at our disposal, mercenaries and the like, but most of them barely have enough credits to get themselves by, never mind fund a Rebellion. It wasn’t enough.
“Then I found her. In a market on Tatooine, selling jewelry that had once belonged to Queen Amidala. Legitimate stuff, too, no fakes. She tried to run when I approached her at first, thought I was ISB. Her family was taken, you see, her brothers conscripted to the Imperial Army, their parents killed. She was just trying to make her way across the galaxy, hoping to find a lead on her brothers, trying to make a name for herself on the black markets. Lots of powerful people there, you know. Lots of names, lots of faces, lots of favours owed.”
Cassian just stares at Luthen. “Where did she get the jewels?”
Luthen huffs a laugh. “You know, I never asked.”
“So you hired her.”
“Enlisted, more like it.” He pulls the kyber from his pocket, lets it lay in his palm. “I told her I would help her find her brothers in exchange for her work. I found the items to sell, artifacts, jewels, weapons, what have you. She stole them, sold them, and the money was funnelled back into the Rebellion.”
“Until Aldhani.”
“Before that,” Luthen continues, staring down at the stone. “There was a collector, on Hoth. Had a slew of kyber, signets and the like, bits of the Old World, remnants of the Jedi. Stubborn old fool, but he was willing to negotiate, and she was up for the challenge. I took her there, waited. He’d only give her the Kuati signet, but she took it, paid him for it, started to head back. Until a squad of Troopers showed up, one of the Emperor’s lackeys seeking the same thing we were. She tried to get back, I tried to meet her halfway, but they were everywhere, swarming from all sides. The planet, it’s all ice and snow, steep cliffs and ledges. She caught a blaster bolt in the side, went toppling over the edge. I tried to grab her, but she slipped away.” He pinches the kyber between his fingers, holding it up to the light. “Leaving me with this. I thought she was gone.”
“You didn’t look very hard,” an unfamiliar voice says, and Cassian whips his head in your direction, eyes widening as he sees you move to sit up, gripping your side with gritted teeth. You spit blood onto the floor, wipe at your reddened lips. Your knuckles are bruised, which he hadn’t noticed, and you lean your head back against the wall once you’re upright, eyes narrowing at Luthen. “Tell me you have bacta. Or med-nog.” You wince, adjusting slightly. “Or both.”
“Cassian, get the kit,” Luthen answers, waving a hand in his direction. Cassian does as he’s told, watching from the corner of his eye as he heads for the compartment where the med kit is. Luthen stuffs the kyber back in his pocket and crosses the distance to you, dropping into a crouch in front of you.
“I thought you were gone,” he says to you, and Cassian hears your sharp inhale.
“Well, I wasn’t.” He glances over his shoulder as you wince again, eyes squeezing shut. “I clung to the edge of the fucking cliff for hours, waiting for the Troopers to leave. Couldn’t feel my fingers.”
Cassian balks, turning back to the wall. A memory swims to the surface of his mind; him and Melshi, clinging to the cliffs on Narkina-5, Melshi’s heavy accent barking at him that he couldn’t feel his hands, that he couldn’t climb back up. Tell me they’re leaving.
“You fell.”
“Not very far,” you throw back, and he hears you huff. “Honestly, Luthen, do we really need to dissect this? I’m alive, no thanks to you, but Maker, this hurts.”
“Cassian!” Luthen barks. “The kit!”
Startling, he pulls the entire kit out of the compartment, setting the large box on the floor and sliding it across to Luthen. You’re glaring at Luthen, your eyes fiery.
“The med-nog is in the cockpit,” he tells Cassian, who just nods, trying to shake the memory from his head, rubbing a palm over his cheek before stalking towards the front of the ship. 
As he steps through the door, he hears you: “Who is he?”
Luthen’s response, clearly said with a smile: “A Rebel.”
He snags the flask from where it’s tucked in the side of the pilot’s chair, heading back to you quickly. Luthen’s tending to your injuries, helping you shrug out of your jacket, and Cassian takes it, holding it for a long moment, not quite sure what to do with it. He just watches as Luthen cuts away part of your shirt, baring your injured side. It looks like blaster burn, and he covers it with a bacta patch, giving you a cold pack for your eye, inspecting the shallow cut on your cheek. 
You wince hard when he wraps your middle in bandages, keeping the bacta in place on your side, and Cassian remembers the metal flask in his hand, stepping forward to hand it to you. Your fingers brush as you take it from him, your one visible eye crinkling at the corner. “Thank you.”
He just nods.
You keep staring at him, cold pack held to your blackened eye. “I heard about Aldhani,” you say simply, jutting your chin towards Luthen as he gathers the kit and goes to put it away. “It’s all anyone could talk about a few weeks back. That was you?”
“Sort of,” Cassian says, realizing he’s still holding your jacket. “I should…I’ll clean this for you.” He turns on his heel, heading towards the fresher at the back of the Fondor, and you call after him.
“Wait,” you yelp, leaning forward, wincing when it irks your side. “Shit, this hurts.” You take a swig of the med-nog. “There’s a holo-pad in the pocket,” you say, gesturing towards the jacket, “and my blasters.”
He walks back to you, steps close enough until you can reach into the dripping jacket, pulling out a holo-pad, two more blasters, a pouch of credits, a vibro-blade. Once your belongings are piled beside you, the holo-pad resting in your lap, you lift your gaze to his again, a half-smile on your mouth.
“Thank you, Cassian,” you say, and Cassian stutters, realizing Luthen told you his name before he could decide if he wanted to use a fake or not, “for saving me.”
“Oh,” he mumbles, jutting a thumb over his shoulder, “Luthen, he was the one who—”
“Luthen left me for dead a long time ago,” you say, your face pinching for a moment before it softens again, though the slight wince of pain remains. “Not many men would find someone laying in the mud with kyber crystal and not just leave them there. So, thank you.”
Cassian swallows so hard he can feel his throat bob. His eyes are locked to yours. “You’re welcome.”
“Who was it,” Luthen calls, breaking the strange tension that has formed between you, “that attacked you?”
“I don’t know,” you reply, and Cassian takes it as his cue to go, heading for the fresher again.
It’s easy enough to wipe the mud from the outer layer of your jacket, the fabric waterproof and tough. It’s lined with durasteel in a few places, he realizes, chest plates and curves around where your ribs would be. Once he’s done with your jacket, he tends to himself, cleans the mud from his boots and his own jacket, shakes the rainwater from his hair. He can still hear you and Luthen, the thin door to the fresher doing little to muffle your voices.
“Was it someone you’ve stolen from?” Luthen asks you. “Someone you’ve sold to?”
“I told you, I don’t know.” You’re exasperated, clearly. “It’s wasn’t anyone I recognized, and you know me, Luthen. I know every face I’ve ever worked, sold or stolen.”
“So it was a hired hand. And they grabbed you in broad daylight?”
Silence. He wonders if you’re glaring at the old man. You seem to have a penchant for it. A heavy breath. “Knocked me out right in the middle of the city. People don’t get involved here. People don’t get involved anywhere, not since P.O.R.D.” Cassian grits his teeth, leaning against the door. “They took me to some warehouse — no, I don’t know where, before you ask. Questioned me for a few hours,” a harsh wince, “beat the shit out of me.”
“Questioned you on what?”
You let out a watery laugh, and the sound is so laced with pain that it fills Cassian’s chest with pity.
“The Rebellion. They wanted to know what I knew.” Another silence. “I didn’t tell them anything, Luthen, so don’t even think about asking.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You’re not the only one who knows how to read people, old man.”
Cassian has to stifle his laugh. You’re fiery.
“Cassian said the kyber was in your hand.”
“It was,” you confirm. “Once they decided to release me, they said they’d take me back. I put it around my wrist to keep it hidden. I’ve been desperate, Luthen; the plan was to sell it once I got back to the city, but instead, they shot me in the side and knocked me out again, dumped me on the side of the road, and I woke up here.” A huff, almost a laugh. “Imagine my surprise.”
“Vel gave it to you?” Luthen asks. “You saw her?”
“I was on Chandrila for a few weeks,” you reply. “Lots of wealth to spread around there, but I’m sure you know that.”
“Watch it.”
“I want it back.” A pause. “The kyber, Luthen. It’s mine, by rights.”
“What rights?”
“You left me for dead, took off from that fucking planet without so much as confirming if there was a body or not. I nearly got myself killed finding it. It’s mine.”
“It’s worth—”
“I know what it’s worth,” you bite. “Give it back.”
There’s some shuffling, the quiet clink of metal, a low sigh. “I never meant to abandon you on Hoth. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Another pause, the sound of boots on the floor. “Luthen?”
“Mmm?”
“Do you trust him?”
“He can hear you, you know.”
“I’m aware.”
Luthen’s smile has returned, it’s evident in his voice. “As much as I trust you.” The old man gives a little laugh. “You two will probably get along, you know. Two of the more tragic lifetimes I’ve known.”
You laugh in return. “Is that so?”
More silence follows, and then Cassian hears the loud whir of the Fondor’s engine sparking to life. He steps out of the fresher, your mostly cleaned jacket in one hand, pushing his other through his wet hair. You’re sat in the same spot, the ice pack still pressed to your eye, but he catches the flash of gold at your throat, the kyber crystal evidently tucked down the front of your shirt.
“Thanks,” you say quietly when Cassian hands you your jacket, letting it sit on top of the pile of your stuff. The holo-pad is still in your lap, a man’s face illuminating the screen.
“Who is that?” he asks, moving to sit in the seat next to you, reaching for the buckles. You reach for your own, but your face pinches in a wince and Cassian stops to help you, guiding the straps over your arms carefully, avoiding your injuries best he can.
“My brother,” you answer, settling back against the seat as he tightens your straps.
“Luthen said they were taken,” he says, brow pinching as he leans back in his own seat. “Conscripted?”
Biting your lip, you nod, looking down at the holo-pad. “I had three brothers, before. Parents, a home, pets, the whole deal. Now it’s just me and him.” You rest your hand on the screen, tapping a finger against your brother’s outline. “Everyone else is dead.”
“That’s why you joined the Rebellion?”
You nod once, and then, “I have to find him. Somehow.”
“And you think Luthen will help you do that?”
You scoff. “Luthen only does what’s in the best interest of the Rebellion. I know that. But, doing what I do puts me in contact with a lot of…interesting people. And if that’s what I have to do to find my brother, then so be it.” You look at him slowly, lowering the ice pack. “Why did you join?”
“It’s like you said,” he replies, “everyone else is dead. And this? This is the only thing that’s ever made any sense to me.”
“Fighting?”
He nods. “If we don’t fight back, what chance do we have? What hope is there?”
The corner of your mouth quirks, eyes shining. “Rebellions are built on hope.”
NEXT
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mostthingskenobi · 2 months
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CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 16: The Rogues
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CHAPTER SUMMARY: Some gentle fluff to entice you… Do I have an agenda? Yes, I do. Enjoy!!!
READ THE FIC ON AO3
THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.
——————–
CHAPTER 16: THE ROGUES
Describing how the Empire murdered his crewmates had shaken Cassian’s nerve. He stood in the corridor outside the ready room, grinding his teeth, breathing deeply through flared nostrils. Part of him wanted to hide in his quarters and avoid facing anyone, but his more practical nature, the part of his consciousness that guided most of his decisions nowadays, told him isolation was a bad idea in his current state. Solitude would lead to unrestrained self-reflection; sitting alone in a dark room while guilt ate him alive was the last thing he needed.
Instead, he went in search of Rogue Crew. Cassian craved their company, their awkward companionship, their grounding reassurance. He was their official commander, but they were such a mismatch group of dissidents the Alliance wasn’t quite sure how to utilize them. They were lumped into the Intelligence branch but that was a vague rubric. Cassian wondered if the Alliance’s ambiguous approach toward Rogue One had to do with the fact that none of the members, apart from Cassian, were actual sworn-in soldiers. Jyn was the only one who’d been assigned a proper military rank, but there was no guarantee that she or any of the other members would stick around for an extended period. Even so, as long as they remained, they were Cassian’s responsibility.
He found them in the mess hall eating donuts and drinking coffee.
“You all look bored,” he said, sliding into the seat next to Jyn.
“You finally look alive,” Baze replied totally deadpan.
Cassian smiled as he reached past Jyn for a donut.
“Welcome back,” Chirrut said warmly.
“Thanks.” Andor took a bite and gestured at everyone. “What did I miss?”
“We’ve been put on leave,” Bodhi answered. “Well, everyone except for Jyn.”
Cassian looked at her. “Really?”
“No explanation. They all got notified this morning,” she said.
“Maybe because they’re going to call you in for more debriefing?”
Jyn shrugged. “More like they have something especially fun planned for me.”
“It can’t be worse than anything you’ve already done.”
She laughed darkly. “True.”
“I’m on leave too.” Cassian bumped his shoulder against hers. “Sorry you have to miss out on all the relaxation, Lieutenant Erso.”
“Bastard,” she teased.
“Now that you’re better,” Bodhi said enthusiastically, “you should start playing sabacc with us again at night.”
“You’re still doing that?”
“We stopped for a bit.”
“When you got yourself captured and we had to rescue you,” Baze interjected.
Bodhi stuttered, nervous that Andor would be annoyed by the guardian’s jab, but Cassian just laughed. “We’ve started playing again,” the pilot continued. “It helps pass time living on this ship.”
Cassian hated playing cards but Bodhi was right, ship life for a grounded crew could be tedious at best. “Sure, why not.”
“Great!”
“Together again as we should be,” Chirrut smiled.
After a little more chitchat, the group gradually disbanded with the understanding they would meet again after dinner. As they stood and began to part ways, Jyn and Cassian naturally drifted together and walked side by side out into the corridor.
“Thanks for the clothes,” he said, leaning toward her and lowering his voice. “You didn’t have to do all that.”
“Planning on wearing medical pajamas to your debriefing, were you?” she smiled.
“Where did you get them?”
“There’s an exchange on board.”
“Can I pay you back?”
“You can pay me back by never getting into trouble like that again,” she chaffed him. “Anyway, you needed them,” Jyn continued, not giving him time to reply. “You lost everything on Yavin.”
“Except this,” he said pulling down on his jacket. “I don’t know how you managed to save it.”
“I brought it with for some reason. I stuffed it in a duffle before we launched your rescue mission.”
“Did you have another premonition? You always seem to know what’s going to happen.”
She absentmindedly brushed her fingers over the kyber hanging around her neck. “Maybe,” she said, betraying her troubled heart.
After a few silent beats Cassian spoke so quietly Jyn almost couldn’t make out what he said. “I wish I had listened to you.”
She knew he was referring to the last time they walked Rebel corridors together, when she’d tried to warn him about Tarkin. Now there was even more unspoken trauma hanging between them; he felt responsible for their fresh discomfort and she felt nervous that their suffering wasn’t yet over. Cassian was strong and wily and intuitive; seeing him broken and cowering beneath the Empire’s boot, bleeding on a durasteel prison floor, was unsettling to say the least. “I wish you had too,” she replied without reproach. “But nothing that happened was your fault.”
He changed the subject quickly, not ready to dive into the reality of his horror. “Where did they assign your quarters?”
“I have a rack with the rest of Rogue One in the main bunk room.”
“I still can’t believe they have you sleeping in there. You’re an officer, you should have a private room.”
“They don’t have the space for a spare like me. I’m not an officer of your stature; I’m just riffraff from the gutter.” She shrugged, only half joking.
“We were all riffraff in the gutter at one point. That’s why we’re rebels. But you should at least be with the other officers.”
They had made their way back to Cassian’s quarters and were now standing in front of his door. Jyn swept her arm dramatically and said, “You mean living in the lap of luxury like you? How do you like your broom cupboard?” she teased.
“It’s hardly big enough to turn around in.”
“At least it has a door,” she scoffed. “The only thing between me and fifty-nine snoring grunts is a fabric curtain. Do you have any idea how loudly Baze snores?!”
He smiled, enjoying how easy it was to talk to Jyn.
“How long are you on leave?” she asked.
“Four weeks.”
“Wow!”
“I know,” he was genuinely pleased. “The last time I had this much freedom I’d just broken out of prison.”
Jyn had a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Which time?”
He smirked. “I only broke out once.”
She looked offended. “I beg your pardon, but doesn’t breaking out of Tarkin’s cellblock count for anything?”
“Technically you broke me out.”
“I did.” She smiled and crossed her arms over her chest in mock bravado. “I’m quite proud of myself.
“You planning to go anywhere?” she eventually asked.
“I’m not allowed to leave the ship. They’re keeping tight control over who comes and goes until they find a new base.”
“So, you’ll be around?”
“Looks that way.”
She couldn’t deny she was glad.
“Any idea why they didn’t grant you leave?”
She threw up her hands. “No, and I’m a little nervous about it. Why everyone but me?”
“They haven’t given you any assignments?”
“Nothing.”
“And you’ve already been debriefed?”
“A few days ago. They had me hand in the IT-O databank and they debriefed me at the same time.”
“You just handed it in a few days ago?”
“When we brought you into the Redemption’s medical bay, we arrived way ahead of most of the fleet. They were all still in the battle over Yavin while you were floating in a bacta tank. Draven and Mothma just arrived.”
“Did you…” he suddenly looked nervous. “Did you watch any of it?”
She took a step closer but didn’t touch him; she didn’t want to invade his physical autonomy after he had been manhandled by the Empire. “No,” she said gently. “Of course not.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you had.”
“I saw everything I needed to see in person.”
Cassian’s jaw tighten as his gaze drifted down and away. “That was the worst moment,” he finally said quietly, “when I saw you. I thought they’d captured you.” His eyes became dark as he stared at nothing. “Tarkin said he would make me watch while he tortured you.”
Jyn was horrified by the notion but tried to hide it from Cassian.
“I don’t think anything scares me more than the thought of them doing to you what they did to me. I’d rather live through it all again than ever have them lay a hand on you.”
Jyn bit her lip, fear and anger and guilt getting the better of her. “Cass,” she breathed.
He abruptly looked up at her, startled by the nickname.
“I’m…” she didn’t know what to say. Sorry felt grossly inadequate.
He stared down at her, his expression intense and troubled. “Thank you for coming after me,” he whispered. “I’m glad you came when you did. I think if they’d had the chance to move me to the Death Star no one would have been able to find me.”
Her eyes became fierce. “I would have broken down every single door until I’d found you.”
Emotion flickered across his face before he managed to subdue it. “You risked a lot to save me.”
“I’d risk everything to save you, Cassian.”
Each understood the weight of their confessions.
Jyn’s commlink suddenly beeped loudly in her vest pocket. She reluctantly broke eye contact with Cassian and reached for it. He waited patiently while she retrieved the message. “All officers are being called in to a briefing about the state of the fleet. You want to come or do you want to officially be on leave?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to sleep for a while. But fill me in later?”
She nodded. “Of course.” They shared a warm, knowing smile before she turned and headed up the passageway toward the ship’s central hub.
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END NOTES
NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED "THE ABSOLUTION" - Cassian's demons are still hovering in the background. He and Jyn share a very meaningful moment.
Thank you for reading!
Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!
Much love!
——————–
READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)
READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”
READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”
READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”
READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”
READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”
READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”
READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”
READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”
READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”
REACH CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”
READ CHAPTER 11 “The Reprieve”
READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”
READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”
READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”
READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”
READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"
READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”
READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”
READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”
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jynrso · 8 months
Text
not without me / not without you
.....hi everyone!! it's been a full year since i've written anything but lately i've been in a rebelcaptain mood (honestly i have to thank rifle for this, their fics are amazing and have definitely inspired me to write) and thought i'd whip something small up!
this is self-indulgent and fun, and i've got a few other oneshots i'm working on, so i hope you enjoy!
read it on ao3!
“Whoever does it first wins, then.”
Baze reaches out to shake Jyn’s hand gruffly, nodding. “It’s a bet.”
“What’s a bet?”
She spins around at the sound of Cassian’s voice, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Ignoring the way her stomach flips at the sight of him  –– not that she'll ever tell him but he looks unfairly good in that blue parka of his –– she quickly attends to redirect the flow of the conversation, despite knowing her efforts are likely futile. 
“Aren’t you supposed to be in a briefing right now?” she asks suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. 
“Got out early,” he replies breezily, not letting her off the hook. “What’s this about a bet?”  
Baze shifts behind her, expressive neutrally impenetrable. She once again ignores his question entirely; even without his Intelligence training, he knows her far too well for her to be able to lie convincingly to him. “We’re just getting ready to head out.”
He narrows his eyes at her. A beat of scrutinization later, he turns to Bodhi, understanding from past experience that she won’t say a word unless she wants to. “What were they talking about?”
Bodhi opens his mouth, then sends a furtive glance at Jyn. She shakes her head, widening her eyes slightly. They both know there’s no way in hell that Cassian would be okay with the bet. Considering how much Bodhi worries too much about her and Baze’s safety when making impulsive decisions like this one, she’s begrudgingly impressed he’s managed to go this long without saying anything. 
“They were–well, they–”
She grabs Bodhi’s arm before he can spill, and starts dragging him toward his tauntaun. “We don’t have any time to chat,” she calls over her shoulder. “We really need to go check the borders. You know how it is. Lots of Imperial drones floating around these days.”
Baze grunts in agreement, hoisting himself up on his tauntaun. Jyn pushes Bodhi toward his animal before making her way to her own. Cassian stops her before she can. “Jyn, wait. Please tell me you aren’t doing something stupid.”
“When have I ever done something stupid?”
He opens his mouth to respond almost immediately, but she cuts him off, already knowing his answer. “Don’t answer that. We’ll be fine, Cassian. Don’t worry.”
His mouth evens out into a tight line. “I always worry,” he mutters but lets her go. With one foot in the stirrup already, she mounts her tauntaun with ease. “Please be careful.”
“I’m always careful,” she tells him cheekily. In response, he looks at her flatly, not having to say anything, and she rolls her eyes, digging her heels into the side of the tauntaun. It rears up, then starts forward, with Baze at her side and Bodhi trailing behind them. She winks and calls behind her with a wave, “See you in a couple hours!”
--------
“Cassian is going to kill us,” Jyn groans, leaning her head back against the icy wall and closing her eyes. The cold seeps up through the floor and through her thick layers, but she can’t find the energy to stand, not with the way her whole body aches in protest every time she moves. 
“Cassian is going to kill you, little sister,” Baze mumbles from somewhere to her left, slumped in a similar position. “Maybe Bodhi, too. But Chirrut is going to kill me.”
“Nobody’s dying out here,” Bodhi intejects, then adds quickly, “ –– And no one’s getting killed, either.” Jyn cracks open an eye, lazily watching him hover over the two of them. “The tauntauns had all of out medical supplies. And they ran in the–the attack. But. . .” he wrings his hands. “We’re fine. I’m just gotta. . .”
“Don’t you dare comm anyone,” she snaps, trying to lean forward to snatch the device out of his hand, but the movement shoots agony through her side. Still, she persists, her pride winning out over her well-being. (It’s really not that bad.) “Fuck– fuck. Don’t–”
“I don’t want you bleeding out in some cave!” he retorts, worry flashing in his eyes. “Your side, is it. . .?”
“It’s fine,” she grunts, shifting slightly. Thanks to the cold, the bleeding on her side and hip has slowed to a sluggish pace. Pointedly not looking at the pool of red underneath where she sits, she raises her chin definitely and reasserts, “I’m fine, Bodhi.”
“I’m fine too, if anyone’s wondering,” Baze says with a grunt. When she turns toward him, he’s trying to stand, but his movements are shaky. He, too, hadn’t come out of this unscathed; almost as soon as she’d charged the beast, he’d been quick to follow with his repeater cannon. Somewhere in the middle of the fight, he’d gotten knocked back, landing hard against the cave wall.  
“I’m pretty sure you–you have a concussion,” Bodhi says, leveling him with a stare that sends him back to the ground. “I’ll calling Cassian. We need an medical evac.”
As Bodhi busies himself with the comm, Jyn turns to Baze. “So does this mean that Bodhi won the bet?”
Baze shakes his head. “Bodhi was never apart of the bet. It’s still on.”
“Good.”
“No, I, uh, I’m pretty sure I won,” Bodhi interrupts, raising his head to look at them. “I was the first one to kill a wampa so—I won the bet.”
“Dumb luck,” Baze grunts.
“I shot it!”
“You emptied your entire clip into its head after we wore it down for you,” Jyn informs him with a raised eyebrow. “There was no way you could have missed. Besides, you never shook on it.”
Bodhi rolls his eyes, turning away from them and fiddling with the device in his hands. “You two are just jealous that I–Cassian!”
The voice on the comm fades in and out before Cassian's voice comes out clearly, asking, “Bodhi? What’s wrong?”
“Um, we need a medical evac. Jyn and Baze–”
“We’re fine, Cassian,” she cuts in, struggling to push up against the wall and get over to where Bodhi is sitting, but she’s not able to keep the strain out of her voice as she moves. “Don’t worry about us.”
“Jyn? What happened?”
“We’re just. . .” she falters, glances around. The pain makes her sloppy, dredging the depths of her brain for a possible excuse she’d normally have at the ready. “We’re taking a quick break. It’s colder than we thought.”
“The bet was to see who could kill a wampa first,” Bodhi says loudly, speaking over her protests. “So–they both charged it as soon as they found one.”
“We did not charge it,” Jyn hisses.
“You charged it,” Baze tells her. “I only followed.”
“Don’t try–”
Cassian mutters a string of curses under his breath. “I’ll get a team assembed and head out as soon as I can. Send me your coordinates. And Bodhi –– don’t let them move.”
“I’ll do my best,” Bodhi promises, shooting a look at the two of them. “See you soon, Cassian.”
They’re silent for a few moments, the only sound is the wind whistling outside of the cave before Jyn announces, feeling a bit like she’s facing down an Imperial firing squad, “Well. We’re fucked.”
--------
 “Bodhi? Are you there?”
Bodhi scrambles to his feet at the sound of Cassian’s voice at the mouth of the cave. “Yeah! Yeah, we’re all here. Alive.”
Cassian ducks into the cave with a medic at his back, and strides ahead of them. His expression is pinched with worry. At the sight of the two of them propped up against the wall, he rushes to her side, eyes immediately going to the pool of blood underneath her. “Where are you hurt?"
“I’m fine,” she says on instinct as he cups her face, searching her eyes for any pain. His thumb unconsciously strokes a few lines against her cheek, his touch warming her skin even through his gloves. “My side is just a little. . .banged up.”
"Jyn. . ." 
"I'm not lying," she insists but he says nothing. All he can do is stare down at the wound on her side, the lines on his face growing tighter and tighter with worry as the medic begins to cut away part of her clothing to expose her injury. 
He leans in closer, trying to see over her at what the medic's doing. As he does so, the fur of his parka hood brushes against her skin. "Jyn," he says again. "I distinctly recall asking you to be careful.”
“I was careful,” she stresses. Cassian shifts to the side but remains crouched next to her. Combined with the cold, the position must be hell on his back and leg, but he doesn’t move to get up; however, when she turns to tell him that he doesn't need to be so close, the medic pokes at her side hard enough that she flinches, the words dying on her tongue. 
In response to her wince, Cassian reaches for her hand, squeezing it gently. Her wound really isn’t that bad and she really doesn't need him to hold her hand. . . but she doesn’t tell him that. Instead, she squeezes back in what she hopes is a reassuring manner, sinking into the small amount of comfort it provides her. 
“What happened?” he asks tersely, perhaps in an attempt to distract her from the pain as the medic stabilizes her injury enough so it doesn’t worsen on the return to base. 
Ever since Bodhi had called him, she’d been planning on what to say. Before she can even start, though, Bodhi cuts her off. 
“She hopped off her tauntaun without a weapon and charged the wampa,” Bodhi snaps. “Then Baze –– their bet to see who could kill one first––” 
Jyn widens her eyes, her jaw dropping in shock at the uncharacteristic outburst. Bodhi blinks, looking as surprised as her to have said that out loud, then backtracks, perhaps to apologize. “I–”
“No, you’re right, Bodhi,” Cassian says, looking down at where she’s sitting. There’s a crease between his eyebrows that she wants to rub away with her thumb. “Neither of them were careful.”
She sighs heavily, hitting her head against the wall. Baze grunts next to her but keeps silent. The medic stands at her side, breaking the silence that follows. “Sergeant Erso is stable enough to be moved, sir.”
Cassian nods. “Thank you.”
With that, he bends down to sweep her into his arms bridal style. Jyn’s eyes widen, an undignified noise coming out of her mouth before she covers it with a spitted curse. “Cassian––”
“You lost your walking privileges when you charged a wampa,” he mutters, curling her tighter to his chest as he carries her outside the cave. His bad leg drags behind him slightly, making his gait uneven, but he makes no move to set her down. Behind them, the medic assists Baze to his feet, keeping a firm hold on his arm when he mutters something about being able to walk on his own.
She grumbles under her breath but when they emerge from the cave and step out into the biting cold, she buries her face into his coat to hide from the wind. 
He sighs, hitching her up in his arms further. “You can’t be making foolish bets like this, Jyn. Not when you’re risking your life unnecessarily.”
Unable to let it go entirely, she argues weakly, “The bet wasn’t foolish –”
“Yes, it was.”
Cassian’s firm response makes her pause. After a beat of contemplation, she exhales, knowing he’s right; it’s an odd feeling, having someone care about her this much. It isn’t something she’s used to. Navigating these sorts of conversations is like walking blind through a minefield. 
“Okay, fine,” she agrees reluctantly. Remembering the look on his face when he’d rushed into the cave, she adds, “I . . . didn’t mean to worry you.” 
“Just don’t do it again,” he tells her. “No more bets like this.”
"Fine," she says, the pain in her side draining her energy to argue. "No more bets." 
(Since he’s said nothing about it, she assumes that friendly competitions are fine, but doesn’t push the matter any further.)
"I'm glad you're safe," he murmurs, so quiet she barely hears it over the whistling wind. “You’re not allowed to die, you hear me?” 
Not without me goes unspoken.
Even though her injury hadn't been life-threatening, it could have been so much worse and he hadn't been there with her. He doesn't have to say it, it's clear in his face –– Bodhi's call had scared him. On the beach, she'd been prepared to die in his arms. Now, she can't stand the thought of them being apart when it inevitably happens. 
Instead, she reaches up and grips the label of his jacket. When he looks down, she meets his gaze evenly. "You aren't either."
Not without you goes unspoken.
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