Author's Note: We are FINALLY here, guys. The end. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but as I was writing it, it grew into two chapters. So please enjoy!
The dialogue for Jyn and Cassian's phone call was written first by guineapiggie. The call is told from Cassian's perspective in her stories "Just Don't Take Too Long" and "All I Think About (Is You)". I'd encourage you to read them, "Emergency Contact" and "The Christmas Interlude" first to understand parts of this story. But if you can't spare the time, please enjoy this one just the same.
Reviews are (almost) better than high-quality Rogue One gifs. So please leave one if you can.
We each are young. We each have a heart. Oh, why should we thus stand coldly apart?
Louisa May Alcott
All the things I've seen
And the places that I've been
Don't mean a thing since I found you
All that matters now
Since I've won your love somehow
Are these plans that I keep making
Not to lose you
Wedding Night - Tulum, Mexico
Jyn sits on the sand and watches as the waves roll in closer and closer until they touch her toes and roll back out again. There is a full moon hanging in the sky tonight, its soft, yellow light illuminating the white shores, the few fishing boats docked at the pier and the trees swaying in the breeze. She can hear laughter coming from the restaurant. There is music, the sound of glasses clinking together, and what sounds like Bodhi and Kay shouting loudly in broken Spanish. Even Baze's gruff chuckles can be heard above the den.
For a brief moment, everything in her world feels right. It feels ordinary. Normal. Whole. Just like it must be for other people. Maybe this is what it was like for her parents before life found them and destroyed it all. Maybe this is what her father had promised her a long time ago when she was too young to understand that promises aren't usually kept…
Whatever I do, I do it to protect you.
The music in the restaurant changes. She hears Chirrut's amused tones, saying something she can't quite catch, and then the sound of Bodhi starting a Spanish karaoke song. What follows is an uncharacteristic howl of laughter from Kay.
Jyn smiles a little to herself and drops her left hand to touch the silvery water as it rolls back in. And there, she sees it again - the tiny band of gold around her finger.
She and Cassian had bought the rings from a nearby market along with the white dress that she got married in and which she is currently wearing. She recalls his smile when he picked up the rings and showed them to her in his open palm. She had kissed him, said it was perfect, but that he's not allowed to go with her when she buys the dress.
It is bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding, she'd told him.
He'd laughed and replied with, Yes, we don't need any more bad luck, do we?
The memory makes her smile even wider. Her heart swells despite her attempt to stop it from doing so, and the water trickles between her fingers, cold and warm all at the same time. And there it is again - that tiny gold band she can't get enough of looking at. Again and again, she sees it.
"It's strange, isn't it?"
She looks up and there is Cassian, standing barefoot in the sand, his trousers rolled up to below his knees. He is smiling warmly at her, a bottle of wine in his hand.
"It is…different," Jyn says and brings up her hand to stare closer at the ring. "It is a nice different, I suppose."
Cassian's eyebrows lift. "You suppose?"
"Well, I never imagined myself as a married woman before," she says, smiling up at him. "I don't really know how this works."
"You can start by showing up to your own wedding reception," says Cassian, but he doesn't look angry when he sits down on the sand beside her. He uncorks the bottle of wine and offers it to her. "I thought it was my duty as your husband to bring the reception to you."
She leans in, kisses him briefly and takes the bottle.
"I consider this a good enough start."
"Come here," he says, his voice teasing and warm, and she scoots closer until he can wrap his arm around her. She takes a sip of the wine while resting her head on his shoulder. Again, the world is soft and perfect, and the waves keep rolling in gently as though it would always be this way.
He bends down a little to plant a kiss on her head. "When I left, Chirrut just convinced Bodhi and Kay to sing a duet."
"However did he manage that?"
"Bribery," says Cassian, chuckling softly, and she can feel the motion reverberating through her entire body. "But they were already very drunk by that point. The bribery was just an excuse."
"I'd pay good money to see that."
"So why are you sitting out here by yourself then?" he asks. Even though his tone is smooth and casual, she can hear the fear hidden behind the words - the careful, almost breakable caution riddled in every syllable.
She puts the bottle down in the sand and winds her hand through his. And there, too, on his finger, is the same band of gold.
"I don't regret this, Cassian. Not one bit."
"I didn't say - "
"No, but you were thinking it. I said 'yes', remember?"
"You did, but I was the one who asked."
"So you think you're roping me into this against my will?" She glances up at him and his eyes do not flinch away from hers. "I said 'yes', Cassian. I said 'yes.' Are you regretting this?"
"No," he answers immediately. "No. And I don't think I ever will."
"Because if you are, there's still time. We can sort something out. People get married all the time in Mexico on silly road trips. If we are not sure - "
"I am sure."
"We wouldn't have to break up. We could just take our time and - "
"Jyn. Just stop."
He presses his lips against hers, swallowing the rest of her words. He tastes of wine, of the sea, of the fire that's stirring in the pit of her stomach. When they finally break apart, she feels tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
"I'm not used to people sticking around when things go bad," she whispers, her eyes half-closed and her forehead pressed against his. "I'm not even used to people sticking around when things are good."
"Well, then," he says, his voice a little broken, and the hand he lifts to caress her cheek feels as light as a feather, "welcome home."
Six Years After the Divorce
Many times I've been alone, and many times I've cried
Any way, you'll never know, the many ways I've tried
And still they lead me back, to the long winding road
You left me standing here a long long time ago
London, England
Jyn never thought that teaching teenagers how to punch could be so therapeutic.
But now, as she stares at Cathy - who has as much aggression as Jyn herself had at the age of fifteen - she has no time to find the realisation amusing. Cathy is a tall, lithe girl who fights better than she talks, and now, she is unleashing another punch at Jyn. The punch is exactly what Jyn had taught her a punch should be - sharp, precise, with a hell of a lot of rage and power behind it.
Jyn dodges, swerving to her left, then parries with a punch of her own. Cathy ducks and responds with an uppercut that Jyn almost sees coming too late.
"Good," says Jyn, jumping back just in time. She slaps together the boxing pads she has strapped to her hands and levels Cathy with an impressed look. "You're much better than I ever was at your age."
The girl's answer comes as a series of fast jabs that Jyn blocks expertly.
"Move your feet," she snaps. "Loosen your shoulders a bit."
Cathy purses her lips in concentration, twists her body around and delivers a kick to Jyn's head. Jyn, barely missing a beat, catches it with the pad.
"Good," she says again. "You're improving."
The bell rings out, shrill and long.
Cathy moves back and drops her fists. "Am I?" she asks and her voice is quiet, small, completely different from the way she fights. "Can we go one more round?"
"Our time's up, Cathy," says Jyn. She begins ripping the pads off while pushing her hair away from her face. "And you know you're doing well. Do I have to keep saying it?"
"No, I just - "
"Confidence, Cathy, goes a long way."
"Yes, Miss Erso."
Miss Erso.
The name still rankles for many different reasons. One being it makes her sound like a middle aged English teacher - like the uptight ones she had when she was a child - rather than a boxing instructor at a South London youth centre. Another reason being it still reminds her of a time in her life when an extra 'r' in the title had made all the difference in her world.
Jyn notices the way Cathy's eyes drop in disappointment. Sighing, she reaches out a hand and gives the girl a firm pat on the shoulder.
"You're doing well, Cathy," says Jyn. She's not at good at this. Not at all. But she wants to be. Has to be. "Don't be too hard on yourself, okay?"
That is all it takes to bring a shy smile to the girl's lips. "Thank you, Miss Erso," says Cathy. She hesitates. "And I've been meaning to ask you. I know you're off on Fridays, but…"
"But what, Cathy?"
"Well, I was wondering if you could make an exception this Friday? For me?"
Jyn frowns, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from her neck and shoulders. "Don't you have school?"
"We have the day off, Miss Erso. And I have…well, I have no where else to go." Cathy's eyes drop away from Jyn's and she attempts to look casual while taking off her boxing gloves. "All my friends have plans and I don't want to stay home."
"I have the day off."
"I know, miss. But I thought…maybe a couple of hours? In the morning? I'll be here on time."
"Cathy - "
"Please, Miss Erso."
Jyn sighs. She wants nothing more than to say no. She values her days off. She has taken this trip home so she can travel, read, take walks - do ordinary activities she couldn't do in America because things there are now too intricately linked with him. Spending a precious day off in a dingy gym is not ideal, no matter how therapeutic it has become.
But Cathy… well, Jyn does not have it in her heart to turn away young girls with pent-up anger and reserved insecurities. At the end of the day, she was one herself.
"Alright, Cathy," she says and Cathy's face lights up with a smile. "Nine o'clock on the dot. I'll spar with you for two hours. Only two hours, do you understand?"
"Yes, miss. That's more than enough. Thank you."
Jyn can't help but smile back. "Now run along home. It's getting late."
Cathy gives her another grin before practically skipping away to the changing room. Chuckling to herself, Jyn tosses her used towel back into her duffel bag before strolling over to the front desk to get a drink of water.
The youth worker behind the desk, a hard-looking, tattooed man in his fifties, looks up as Jyn approaches.
"Erso, you've got mail."
"Where's it from, Steve?"
"America. And how many times do I have to tell you not to use this centre as your home address?"
Jyn shrugs, putting her bottle under the nearby water tap. "I'm moving flats every few weeks, Steve. This is the only place where people can reach me."
"Don't know if I should be glad about that," murmurs Steve. "We're not even paying you. I'd ask, 'what's your angle?', but you never give me a bloody answer. Not once."
Jyn smiles coyly. "Interested, Steve?"
"As long as the kids like you, I don't care one bit," he says, but there's no mistaking the way he brushes aside her quip with more force than necessary. "And here. Take your mail." He tosses over the envelope and Jyn catches it by the tips of her fingers. "And remember. Change your bloody address."
Jyn grunts in reply, her attention already diverted to the item in hand. Her face immediately lights up when she sees the name on the corner of the envelope and she wastes no time in ripping it open. A cream-coloured piece of paper slips out.
You are cordially invited
to attend the Graduation of
Mister Bodhi Rook
from US Aviation Academy
on July twenty-second
at ten o'clock in the morning
Grinning, Jyn quickly makes her way back to where her duffel bag is, takes out her phone and captures a picture of the invitation.
- You : [20:03]
Got your invitation in the mail today.
Bloody proud of you.
See you in a few weeks, pilot.
She doesn't expect a reply right away because of the time difference. But her gaze lingers on the screen for a few seconds, willing the tick to turn from grey to blue, indicating that Bodhi has read her message. But when it doesn't happen, she stores the phone back in her bag, slings it over her shoulder and heads for the changing rooms.
Bodhi still hasn't read her text by the time Jyn finishes her shower. She nods goodbye to Steve and makes her way to the nearby bus stop. It is still light outside, with the summer sun hanging in the sky, and Jyn joins a line of people queuing up for the 345, the bus that will take her from Brixton down to Clapham Common.
Ever since she left America a year ago, Jyn has travelled all over Europe. She has seen the beauty of Amsterdam, the canals of Venice, both the magical and seedy sides of Paris. But England, although never quite home (she had a home once, but it hadn't been a place), has a familiar rhythm. A sort of deep-rooted beat, perhaps, that Jyn can never shake from her being no matter how hard she tries. She doesn't miss her old life. Not really. At least not like the last time. Here, the ache doesn't go away, but it is lessening. She tells herself it is because he is not here. That if she puts an ocean between them long enough, perhaps one day the ache might even disappear completely.
She used to think that everything is easier with him, but now she has learned that it can be harder too.
The sun begins to set by the time she unlocks the front door of her flat in Clapham. Her flatmate, a Polish woman in her late thirties, is lounging in their small living room and barely glances up at the sound of the door opening. Jyn makes straight for her tiny bedroom without saying hello. What is the point? She is going to move again in a week or so anyway.
She only just dumped her bag on the bed when her phone buzzes.
- Bodhi : [20:54]
Great!
Chirrut and Baze got theirs as well.
They're coming over from China for the ceremony.
Jyn finds herself smiling broadly as she types a reply.
- You : [20:55]
That's amazing!
It's been ages.
Bodhi, I'm so excited for you.
- Bodhi : [20:56]
Make sure to bring a graduation present.
Preferably something expensive.
- You : [20:57]
Don't push it.
- Bodhi : [20:57]
Hahaha!
- Bodhi : [21:00]
Jyn…
- You : [21:01]
What?
- Bodhi : [21:06]
I'm gonna invite Cassian and Kay.
So they might be coming too.
Her fingers pause over the buttons.
The last time she had seen Cassian, it was a year ago. She had been lying in a hospital bed with a bullet wound in her side and he had driven down to see her simply because… Well, she still doesn't like to think about why he'd done what he did. She has been reminding herself every day since that there is no point in wondering about something that shouldn't matter.
She'd told him to leave, she remembers. She can still recall the way his eyes lingered on her face when he said goodbye, the way it made her heart beat a little faster, the way she wanted nothing more than to ask him to stay and not to leave her after all…
But that's not the way it works, is it? You don't beg your ex-husband to return. Not when you're the one who walked out the door.
She should have expected this. Of course Bodhi would invite them. It is Bodhi, at the end of the day; the man is practically made out of second chances. But seeing the words typed down, more solid than she has feared, is another matter entirely.
A beat. A pause. It feels like an eternity as her fingers hover over the screen. Eventually -
- You : [21:12]
That's not a problem.
I'll see you there.
She tosses the phone onto the pile of unwashed clothes on the floor and ignores it completely when it buzzes Bodhi's next replies.
When Jyn is woken up by the sound of her phone ringing a few hours later, it takes her a couple of seconds to get her bearings straight.
She is back in England, she tells herself. Not America. In a rented flat in South London. It is almost pitch black in the room, the only source of light is her phone that's on the floor. Her head spins as she sits up. She has to give herself a few seconds before she reaches down and grabs the item off the thread-bare carpet.
Her first thought is that it is Bodhi, calling to check up on her like he always does whenever the topic of Cassian is remotely breached. But she doesn't recognise the caller ID. Frowning, she presses answer, and her voice comes out hoarse and rough.
"Hello?"
"Jyn."
She knows that voice. There have been days when she thought that she's forgotten it. Days when she has wished that she could forget it. But now, upon hearing it again, she realises that she probably never will.
"Cassian?"
"Jyn, is this a bad time?"
Suddenly, the shock is replaced by panic and she almost trips over her words when she asks: "What's going on? Did something happen?"
"No. Well. Some idiot blew up my car, but - "
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine, wasn't even anywhere near it when it happened; Antilles's and Dameron's were rigged too, they blew yesterday so I knew... Everyone's fine."
"Good. Okay," is all she manages to whisper. She closes her eyes briefly, drawing in a long breath. She has to ask the question, hasn't she? Damn it all. "Then why are you calling?"
"Come home, Jyn."
So this - this is what it feels like when your heart drops.
The world doesn't stop moving, but it might as well have.
She drops her hand that's holding the phone, reminds herself (like she does every time she sees him) that it is over, over, over, and that whatever they both say or feel is just them fooling themselves.
Think with your brain, you idiot.
She bites her lip and makes sure her voice is firm when she brings the phone back up and says: "Kay said you were sober."
Because that's what Kay told Bodhi and that's what Bodhi told her. It took him two stints in rehab, she'd heard. Two stints in rehab for him to stop drinking excessively and two nights of heavy drinking for her to dull the guilt.
"I am," he says. "I am sober."
She manages to bite down the pain. But the anger…well, the anger is another beast altogether. It is rearing its head, making the words pour out of her like a dam had been broken.
"That's all I ever wanted to hear, you fucking idiot, that's all I was waiting for!" Despite her best effort, her voice is shaking like mad. "I waited, Cassian. Six seconds after I slammed our front door. Six minutes, six hours, six days, six weeks, damn it, six months... but six years? Who do you think you are? How can you ask me – six years – you're such a fucking asshole. Six years, it takes you six years to decide you want to put up a fight? Asshole."
He says nothing and she wishes he would. Because it is embarrassing and tragic as hell that it takes only three words from him to undo all the work she has put into getting over him.
"Why the hell now?" she asks, and her voice breaks despite herself.
"Because I could've died today," he replies softly, "and I didn't even know if they'd call you if I had. I wasn't even sure if you'd - "
He trails off, leaving her to piece together the rest of his unsaid sentence.
That she would what, she wonders? That she'd come to his funeral? That she'd care?
There have been dreams over the years. Of him with a bullet in his head, of a knife protruding from his side, of a corpse washed up from the river. Every time they saw each other over the years, she kept telling herself that each time might be the last, and if so, she would give anything to go first. She doesn't think she could live with the alternative.
"You sound tired," he says, interrupting her train of thought.
"Yeah, because it's the middle of the night and you fucking woke me up."
"Where are you?"
For a second, she considers not telling him. But then -
"England."
He sighs and the familiarity of the sound destroys her a little.
"I'm sorry I woke you. I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't. I didn't tell you."
"Of course you didn't," he mutters. "Well, I'll... let you sleep. Have fun in Europe."
"Cassian, wait, what the hell am I supposed to make of –"
"I want you to come home."
"Cassian –"
"That's all I need you to know."
She leans back against the headboard, closes her eyes. Wills herself not to cry.
It would be so easy to say yes. After all, 'yes' is only one word. Just one word. Only a syllable. She could simply let it roll off her tongue, let it slip out…
But -
"I can't," she whispers.
"We were young and we fucked it up, Jyn, but things change. And I just want you to know that I'm not going to stop waiting and I'll be here if you ever change your mind."
The tears being to fall, silent and burning against her cheeks. If only things were that easy, she thinks. If only life were that sweet and forgiving. If only…
"Cassian - "
And she is surprised by how much his name sounds like a 'yes' once it is said out loud. She thinks she can feel him smiling through the line.
"Goodnight, Jyn," he says, and she hates the warmth in his voice. "Sleep well."
The call disconnects and she drops the phone into her lap.
She doesn't know how long she sits there in the dark, looking at it.
She stares at it like the conversation had been a dream. Maybe it had been a dream. Perhaps this is one of those instances when her subconscious reveals a desire she can't bring herself to acknowledge when she's awake. It wouldn't be the first time.
She rubs the sleep from her eyes. Pinches herself in the wrist.
No. Not dreaming.
She lifts a hand to her face and finds the tears still plastered to her cheeks.
Come home, Jyn.
Six years. Six bloody years. She laughs out loud and the sound is broken - like tiny shards of glass that crack and creak when someone steps on them.
Her phone says she has seven unread messages from Bodhi. She opens up the app, reads them one by one, too numb to do anything else.
- Bodhi : [21:05]
Are you sure?
Cause if you're not sure, we can talk about it.
I know it's hard. Believe me.
But maybe you guys are better now?
- Bodhi : [21:30]
Well, if you say you're fine, I guess you're fine.
I'm sorry.
I just think it's time we can all be friends again.
The last message makes Jyn's heart clench with ache for her best friend, and before she realises what she is doing, she is dialling Bodhi's number.
He picks up faster than she thought he would.
"Jyn?"
She coughs a little, tries to smooth over her voice before she replies: "Hey, Bodhi. I'm sorry, do you have a minute?"
"Wait a second."
She hears Bodhi talking to someone in muted tones. Then there are footsteps, the sound of a door opening and closing.
"Okay. I'm here. Everything alright?" asks Bodhi. "You didn't reply to my texts so I thought I should give you time. I didn't - "
"Bodhi," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, "Cassian called."
A pause. The silence is enough for her to picture the shock stealing over her friend's expression.
"What - what did he want?"
"He wants me to come home."
"Fucking hell," Bodhi swears under his breath and she nearly doesn't catch it. Another pause, longer than the first one. Then -
"What did you say?"
"I said…I said I couldn't."
"But - but - you wanted to. Right?"
She inhales sharply. "Yes."
And she almost curses at Bodhi for knowing her too well.
I've seen fire and I've seen rain
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I'd see you again
The gate is a rusty old thing. As Jyn unlocks and pushes it open, it creaks and groans like it has millions of secrets it loathes to give up. The place has the air of a garden that has been neglected for years. There are weeds growing every where, grass shooting up untrimmed and uncut, vines snaking along the bricked path, along the walls of the little church and around each headstone. The earth beneath her feet is rich and wet from the morning's rain. As she steps on it, it sinks and softens like heavy sand.
There is only one other person in this graveyard. An old man who looks like he is in his sixties, hunched up in a frayed summer jacket, bending over a grave many rolls down from the gate. From where Jyn is standing, she sees the bunch of dried flowers the man is holding, the way his knees quake when he crouches down to put the flowers on the ground.
The day is grey and lonely, with too many clouds in the sky and too many memories swirling in the air.
Jyn wanders along the rolls of headstones, reading every name. Some of the headstones are grand and old, with fancy letterings and pictures on them. Some are simple with just the person's name chiselled in in a common font. She sees flowers on the ground. Roses mostly. And she is reminded once again why she has always hated the flower. Love and death - those are the only things roses are good for, she has learned.
Thankfully, the graves she has come for has no flowers. Not even roses. She finds them after five minutes of searching. They are side by side, like she'd hoped they would be. At the back of the graveyard, half-hidden behind an overgrown shrubbery. She nearly misses it. Nearly walks pass it. Nearly doesn't see the names carved on the stone in rigid letters without any dates of birth or death.
Lyra Erso, reads one stone. Galen Erso, reads the other.
Jyn stops, stands before them, and reaches out a trembling hand to touch the cold, smooth surface of the stone on the left.
"Hi, Mama," she whispers, and the sound of her voice twists and turns in the quiet air, irrelevant and unheard by anyone except Jyn herself.
She moves her hand to the stone on the right. Newer, smoother, with less scratches on its surface.
"Hi, Papa."
Whoever buried Lyra and Galen Erso had chosen the same inscription for both their headstones. Jyn trails her fingers over the verse, trying to make sense of the words.
For sin shall not have dominion over you: for ye are not under the law, but under grace.
Romans: 6:14
She frowns, not fully understanding its meaning. But she files it away for another day.
Not caring one bit that her jeans will probably get wet, she sits down on the ground. She opens up her satchel and draws out a rumpled bouquet - sunflowers - and places them upon her mother's grave. Bright yellow against the dark brown and green of the earth and grass.
"Your favourite, Mama," she says, her voice heavy. "A guy was selling it outside the tube station. I didn't - I didn't want to come empty handed."
A chilly breeze blows pass, ruffling the grass and the leaves on the ground, but Lyra Erso sleeps on.
"I'm sorry it took me so long," says Jyn and she is surprised by how easily the words come. She didn't expect to speak; she didn't even know she had anything to say. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I was…angry, I suppose. Really fucking angry."
She makes a sound and it is half in irony, half in sadness. Her fingers trail over the blades of grass.
"Bodhi's doing really well, Papa. You would be proud of him. He's about to be a pilot soon. He takes really good care of me, like he promised you he would. He - he misses you."
In the corner of her eye, she sees the old man walking back towards the gate. It makes her think of the rows of roses. Of a sunflower in a tiny pot by a hospital bed. Of a car on fire. And without thinking, she continues.
"Papa, there's this - this man. I think you and Mama would like him. At least, I hope you would like him. There's this man and - and…I don't know what to do. Please…Please….tell me what I should do."
There is no reply. Only the rustling of leaves and the sound of her own breathing. She draws in air. Tells herself to keep it together. Not to make a scene. Not to break down. Especially not again.
She brushes a hand lightly over the sunflowers. She sees a petal that's bent and she smooths it over carefully, hating herself for getting everything wrong. They talked about coming here together - she and Cassian. Long ago, before they were even married. Seeing the names Lyra Erso and Galen Erso without him by her side makes her feel like she is doing everything out of sequence.
She almost laughs at the irony and presses her palm against the bible verse. She imagines that she is looking into a pair green eyes similar to her own, and not at a slab of unfeeling stone.
"Papa, I hope you and Mama are happy, wherever you are. But I don't even know if there's a place where that's possible. Heaven seems like a fairy tale, doesn't it?" She pauses, inhales heavily. Her throat is tightening like she is about to choke. "I walked through Hyde Park today and I remember how we used to do that together. Back when I was little. You carried me on your shoulders, Papa, do you remember that? I weighed more than a six year old ought to weight and Mama thought you were crazy. But, then again, you always were a little crazy." She smiles brokenly. "I keep wondering what you'd make of all this. Of everything. I wish I could talk to you. See you. Know you a little better. Sometimes - sometimes it seems like I didn't know both of you at all, but I still miss you something awful and it feels like it will never go away."
The first proper tear slides down her face and she brushes it away hastily. Her hand reaches down to the ground, and the earth is fresh and warm beneath her skin. She whispers softly: "I wish I could make you proud."
A small ray of sunlight peaks through the grey clouds, shining exceptionally bright. It is a fleeting moment - a brief interlude when the world is basked in gold and warmth. A respite, perhaps. But it comes and goes as quickly as the way the grass flickers beneath her fingers at the slightest touch of a breeze.
And Jyn has to remind herself that it is not an answer. That it is only a coincidence on the back of many other coincidences. Because, at the end of the day, no matter what she says, stones cannot speak and stones cannot hear.
Baze is getting old.
He can feel it in his knees, most of all, and in his back. It doesn't help that there is almost no leg room on an airplane. He is dying to push his seat back, but the person sitting behind him is a Chinese woman in her eighties. Despite his own discomforts, Baze can't bring himself to encroach upon her space any further. He hates that he is feeling considerate, and he can only mumble incoherently under his breath as he shuffles and shifts in his seat.
Everything bothers Baze - the plane, the seatbelt, the turbulence, their journey. However, Chirrut, who is sitting to Baze's right, is showing no signs of discomfort. The blind man has his hands folded in his lap and he is smiling peacefully in his sleep. Chirrut's blatant disregard of their uncomfortable situation is probably what bothers Baze the most. Because, damn it, isn't one allowed to be a little confused and disgruntled by it all?
"You are worried," says Chirrut suddenly.
Baze stares at his partner. He should really stop being surprised by Chirrut's clandestine instincts. But somehow, he is still astounded by it after all these years.
"I haven't said anything," Baze grunts, not wanting to give Chirrut the satisfaction. "How would you know?"
"Would you really like me to answer that?"
Baze glowers. "I can see that you're enjoying this."
"Immensely."
"I don't - "
"You worry too much, Baze Malbus."
"And you don't worry enough, you old fool," says Baze, and even though there is an edge to his voice, he can't quite mask the affection behind it. "You are never bothered by anything. It is a dangerous way to live."
"I never worry because you do the worrying for the both of us," says Chirrut, smiling again.
"Someone has to."
"Don't you trust me?"
Baze scoffs. "Of course I trust you. Which makes me worry even more. We are moving back to America with nothing but the clothes on our backs. We don't even have a place to stay."
"We do have a place to stay. The school."
Baze swallows. Yes, the school. Chirrut's dream. The martial arts school he finally managed to open in America after years and years of toiling from one grubby Chinese restaurant to the next. Baze had supported the endeavour, was incredibly proud of it, but it had always been Chirrut's dream and Chirrut's alone. And when Baze suggested they move back to China and leave the school behind, Chirrut was generous enough to go along with it. But now - now that they're going back - Baze is reminded again by how much he hates and loves Chirrut for always being infuriatingly good.
"I know this is not what you want," says Chirrut. His voice is softer, its tone no longer teasing. "I know you don't want to leave home and that you don't like America as much as I do."
"I don't like America at all," mumbles Baze.
Chirrut smiles. "Yes. You have made your sentiments quite clear over the years."
"It is not about Bodhi's graduation," says Baze hastily. "I am proud of him. I want to be there for him. It is just - "
"The moving back."
Baze sighs. "Yes." His eyes drop to his lap. "I know I have asked you this before, Chirrut, but are you sure about this?"
"I am sure."
"But things are…complicated. Why now?"
"Why now?" Chirrut smiles, turning to face Baze with a sad and regretful expression on his kind face. "It is because we are a family and we have forgotten that during these last few years. It is time we all remember again."
Baze lets out an exasperated sigh, but from the way Chirrut circles a hand around his wrist, he knows that his partner understands how he is feeling.
Yes, Baze hates and loves Chirrut for being good. But he hates and loves Chirrut even more when he is right.
Can't you see, oh, can't you see
What that woman, Lord, she been doin' to me
Can't you see, can't you see
What that woman, Lord, she been doin' to me
Cassian leans against the hood of Kay's car, smoking a cigarette, as he waits for his friend outside the precinct. The sun is shining brightly today. It is a crisp, fresh morning with hardly a cloud in the sky. There is no sign of rain, with only a gentle breeze blowing pass. A perfect day, Cassian thinks. Hopefully, it is a good omen for what's to come. He has never been one who believes in such things, but hell, he'll take anything today. He needs all the help he can get.
"Cassian! Cassian!"
Cassian looks up at the sound of his name and sees a little boy with curly hair and a toothy grin running full pelt towards him.
"Poe?"
Cassian barely has time to throw away his cigarette before the tiny ball of energy collides with him, wrapping its tiny arms around his leg.
"Cassian! Cassian! Daddy said you were - "
"Poe! Poe! Leave Mister Andor alone!" a voice shouts out in Spanish and Kes Dameron emerges from the building, looking a little bit worse for wear. "And what have I told you about running off like this? You're supposed to tell me first before you go - "
"But, Dad! Dad! Cassian's here!"
"Hey, little man," says Cassian awkwardly, trying to disentangle the child from his leg. "Maybe you should listen to your dad."
"I'm sorry about this, Andor," says Kes. He pulls Poe away from Cassian and lifts his son up in his arms. "This guy never stays still. I swear - "
"Nah, it's okay," says Cassian, waving a hand. "Is this 'bring your kid to work' day, Dameron?"
"Hell would have to freeze over before Draven'd let that happen," smirks Dameron. He moves his head to the side as Poe makes a grab for his hair. "Shara has to work today and we couldn't find a sitter so I have to bring him along." He frowns, looking at Cassian carefully. "I thought today's your day off, Andor. What the hell are you doing here?"
"Oh, well." Cassian gestures loosely at Kay's car. "We - uh - we're travelling somewhere."
"Oh, yeah? To where?"
"Bodhi's graduation," replies Cassian, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. "Flight school, you know."
"Oh! Say congratulations for me."
"Will do."
"And…uh…" Dameron's signature grin returns. He winks at Cassian. "Are you…well, will you be seeing her?"
Cassian feels the heat rush to his face. Dameron is never one for mincing words. Probably because the man is as fearless as he is friendly. Cassian remembers his phone call to Jyn a couple of weeks ago and how Dameron caught the tail end of that conversation by accident. Dameron had asked him point-blank and without any pretence if he still loved her. And, of course, Cassian couldn't lie. Dameron has a way of doing that to a person.
"Um…yeah. We - uh - we're going to run into each other."
Poe grins brightly up at Cassian."Does that mean you're not gonna be sad anymore?"
"What - "
"Poe!" cries Kes hastily, covering his son's mouth with his hand. "I apologise for that, Andor. He's a smart little fella. He picks up on things, you know."
"Yeah, but - "
"A sign of how truly pathetic your life has become, detective," says another voice. It is Kay, strolling out of the precinct with a bag over one shoulder and a jacket over the other. "Even a five year old knows the ins and outs of your love life."
Cassian glares at his friend. "That sounds…wrong."
"Merely stating the truth," says Kay, opening up the car door and tossing his bag into the backseat. "Dameron, how lovely of you to come and see us off."
"It was Poe's idea," says Demeron, grinning.
"Can Cassian and Kay come to dinner, Dad?"
"Not today, little man. They have places to get to."
"But - but - "
"I'll tell you what, Poe," says Cassian, reaching out to tweak the kid's nose. "How about when we get back from our trip, eh? I promise we'll drop by."
"Speak for yourself," mutters Kay, earning a laugh from Dameron.
Poe, however, seems to only have eyes for Cassian. "You promise?"
Cassian smiles. "I promise. But now Kay and I have to get going."
"Give them a wave goodbye, Poe," says Kes and Poe lifts both his hands to wave madly at Cassian and Kay.
Cassian chuckles while Kay simply frowns as he slips into the driver's seat.
"Good luck, Andor," says Dameron. His grin is replaced by a friendly and reassuring smile that is almost too kind for Cassian's liking. It is the one thing that endlessly bugs Cassian about Dameron - his unshakeable positivity. "I hope it works out. I really do. You deserve it."
"Yeah, well…" Cassian opens the passenger's door, looking anywhere but at Dameron. He wants to say something else - anything else - but all he can manage is an awkward: "I - uh…thank you."
But Dameron seems to understand. He places a strong hand on Cassian's shoulder.
"See you when you get back, Andor."
"Yeah. You too, Dameron."
Kay gives Cassian a long sideway glare after he gets into the car and closes the door.
"What?" asks Cassian, shrugging at his friend.
"It is interesting."
"What's interesting?"
"Seeing you have other friends."
Cassian rolls his eyes. "Let's get going, Kay. We're wasting time."
Kay smirks, but he puts the car into gear and steps on the accelerator. "Poor little Poe, though," he says casually. "Something must be wrong with him."
"Why would you say that?" asks Cassian, incredulous.
"Well, he's met you three times. Only three. I've met him four times. I bought him a nerf gun and a colouring book. You got him a bag of crisps. But somehow, he thinks you're the greatest thing since slice bread. And it's not like you have ever been good with children."
Cassian shrugs, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "What can I say? Maybe it's a South American thing."
Kay makes a tutting noise, but offers no reply. Cassian, still smiling, reaches over to the backseat and retrieves a book. Kay glances at it, arching an eyebrow sceptically.
"Please tell me you've brought along more than a book and a change of clothes."
"Well, I brought more than one change of clothes. We're staying more than one night, no?"
"But you didn't bring any gifts?"
Cassian gives his friend a pointed look. "We agreed that we're going to pick something up for Bodhi along the way."
"I didn't mean Bodhi."
Cassian looks away immediately and mutters: "I bought flowers."
"Flowers?"
"Sunflowers."
"You bought sunflowers?"
"She likes them. She has always liked them."
"Cassian - "
"What is it, Kay?"
"I know I was the one who put the idea in your head - "
"You weren't," says Cassian immediately. "The idea was already there. You just…prodded it along."
"Well, still, I just want to make sure that you're ready for this. For seeing her again." Cassian feels Kay's gaze landing on him, holding him hostage. "No second thoughts?"
There is worry in Kay's tone - unmistakable and barely concealed - and it gives Cassian cause to look back at his friend. The awkwardness and the shyness are slipping away, replaced by a bright, burning feeling he recognises as blind courage.
"Second thoughts?" says Cassian, surprised. "Kay, I have no second thoughts. I asked her to come home and I meant it." His lips thin into a determined line. "After all, I've come this far. I couldn't face myself if I gave up now."
Kay looks away and sighs with resignation.
"Then I suppose we are fucked either way."
Cassian chuckles. "Yes, I suppose so."
We live through scars this time
But I've made up my mind
We can't leave us behind anymore
We'll have to hurt for now
But next time there's no doubt
'Cause I can't go without you anymore
.
.
.
Author's Note:
Next Chapter: Grace
"Jyn," says Kay, his voice low and calm, "we need to talk."
She scoffs. "Damn right we do."
...
List of songs used in this chapter (in order): Townes Van Zandt's "Lover's Lullaby", The Beatles' "Long and Winding Road", James Taylor's "Fire and Rain", The Marshall Tucker Band's "Can't You See?" and James Bay's "Scars". Thanks also to Hozier's "Like Real People Do" and "Cherry Wine" for the inspiration.
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