Have some more introspective stuff.
Again, reviews are most welcomed.
When Cassian feels his hands tremble, and he knows he's too far from his next drink, he repeats a phrase to himself.
Sometimes it's when he's in the heat of a battle, a battle gone bad, bodies dropping by his hand, at the butt of his blaster.
Sometimes it's on the escape, on the way out, and he's sitting beside K-2 in the worn seat of whatever dusty ship they happen to be piloting, and he's watching brilliant streaks of hyperspace, electric purple and blue stream past the viewport as his stomach churns violently.
Sometimes it's when he's lying in his bunk at night; sleep evading him, mind replaying whatever mission he's just completed.
The mantra pops into his mind during these times.
He knows that rebellions are never easy. He knows that sacrifices need to be made for the greater good. He knows this just as he knows that it is natural to feel trepidation at having to do some of the things asked of him by his superiors.
He first took a life when he was a teenager.
An innocent bystander who had stumbled upon him and an informant.
The man had heard too much. He stood; mouth agape, eyes frantic, ready to run. He didn't know whether the man was going to run away, or run and tell, but he couldn't afford to wait and find out. His blaster had come out and the silencer had muffled the noise, so there was no need to keep it drawn for anyone else.
The informant had paid it no mind; trading posts like Enceri had seen far worse things done in the street in full view, but Cassian couldn't get the image of the man's face out of his mind. He felt physically sick.
He'd managed to hold it until he was back on base, but as soon as his bunkroom door had shut behind him, he ran to the fresher and was violently ill in the sink.
In the mess-hall that night, a commanding officer had approached him, sat opposite him as Cassian poked at the food on his tray, not eating a single bite.
His stomach had been in knots and his mouth tasted like ash.
The officer, whose name escapes Cassian all these years later, had told him; "everything you do, you do for freedom."
Cassian had nodded, and thought little of it until the next time he had to kill someone.
It surfaced in his head as he had shot the man, like a bird taking flight, and morphed into something entirely of his own making.
Everything I have done, and every life that I have taken, has been in pursuit of freedom.
Now, it was his own.
His own to repeat, over and over, until the words meld together as he whispers it silently to himself like a reverent prayer, his own version of a holy mantra.
He has never been religious. He has no time for gods or goddesses or deities. He doesn't know much about the Force, but he doesn't trust it cares much about him.
But he understands the drive that belief gives a person. The strength it can offer them.
And he needs strength to keep fighting for his beliefs.
Freedom.
Freedom by way of the Rebel Alliance.
That is something he believes in, truly believes in; his dogged pursuit of freedom; freedom for the whole galaxy. It is the thing that puts fire in his belly; drives his legs when he feels he can't run or climb or even stand on his own two feet anymore. It gives him breath when his lungs are burning, through smoke or fire or sheer exhaustion. It keeps his heart strong when he has to see or do unspeakable things.
Everything I have done, and every life that I have taken, has been in pursuit of freedom.
It is the thing he thinks of when he sees children, and he feels a pang in his chest as he wonders whether he will ever father his own.
A boy with a pilots reflexes or a girl with a sharp-shooters eye.
It is the thing he thinks of when he wonders whether he will ever feel the comfort of finding a partner, someone who will love him for his devotion and his loyalty and battered, dreamers soul, despite all his rough and ragged edges.
Everything I have done, and every life that I have taken, has been in pursuit of freedom.
It is the thing that keeps him on the right path. The path he has to take to keep fighting and keep striving towards his cause.
The mantra reminds him that there is a reason for the way things are and the way they have to be.
Everything I have done, and every life that I have taken, has been in pursuit of freedom.
So when he is lying atop a rocky outcrop in Eadu, rain pelting down on him, finger resting on the trigger, with Galen Erso in his sights, the mantra comes to his lips.
Everything I have done, and every life that I have taken, has been in pursuit of freedom.
He huffs, shakes his wet hair from his eyes, rolls his shoulders back and re-settles himself.
Everything I have done, and every life that I have taken, has been in pursuit of freedom.His finger rests feather-light on the trigger, barely touching it, just kissing it.
Everything I have done, and every life that I have taken, has been in pursuit of freedom.It is the first time the mantra has failed him.