Hello friends! Hope all is well! I've been playing with a bunch of ideas and head canons lately and decided to just combine all the drabbles into one big story. I'm not sure how many chapters there will be (I'm still at the mercy of work and grad school) but I'll try to update as often as I can! Feel free to let me know if you have any ideas you'd like to see written and I'll try to add them in for you!
There's not much dialogue in this chapter, it's mostly just set up. Maren is a character of my own design and I love her very much but this is probably the only chapter she will appear in for pretty obvious reasons. Hope you guys like it!
A/N: I own nothing =/
Summary: Cassian expects a lot of things but Bodhi is not one of them
Love is pain. Those three words burrow into his mind and stick to him like a barb. He doesn't remember who said them or why or what the context had been, all he knows is that it's true. Love is overwhelming and terrifying and devastating. It leaves craters of self-doubt and hesitation and insecurities scattered over every surface. Love is the most paralyzing, blinding force in the entire galaxy. That's why Cassian swears it off.
He had been in love once, long enough to know that he would never be the same afterward. Her name was Maren and she had broken him apart before either of them realized it. They met in the Outer Rim Territories, two children tossed into the middle of a war zone. Their fathers helped lead an insurrection on the ground while the children offered cover from above. Cassian threw bottles and Maren threw bricks; they became a team through proximity and circumstance.
Maren had been a constant, fixed object in his life from the time he was six years old and he couldn't remember a point in his life before he met her. Maren had been the stars in the sky and the air he breathed; she had been his everything.
He catches himself thinking about her from time to time, his mind drifting when he's not aware of it. It's been many long, painful years but sometimes he can remember the sound of her voice, the warm glitter of her golden eyes. He thinks about the way she used to laugh and how her dark amber skin seemed to glow in the late afternoon sunlight. He doesn't know how it happened and he couldn't have stopped it if he tried; loving her was as easy as breathing and it happened from one breath to the next.
They had grown up fighting the Empire, tooth and nail and blood, and had sometimes talked about running away together, taking to the stars and never looking back. It was a foolish, childish dream that both of them knew would never happen but it didn't stop them from staying up all night talking about the future and the life they would have together. That's the memory that stands out the most, falling asleep with Maren in his arms, the stars painting silvery constellations across her bare shoulders.
Their camp was overrun two days later, Imperial forces sweeping through the streets like a riptide in search of rebel fighters. He and Maren had been separated that morning, training and drills and duties pulling them in different directions. Cassian remembers explosions and fire, fighting his way through the camp to get to her, pushing through fleeing crowds and burning streets.
Their tent was in flames by the time he got there, Maren's father dead in the street. There was no sign of Maren and he felt a brief flicker of hope that she had somehow gotten away. It was dashed moments later when he found her behind the tent, crumpled and already cold. Maren died with a weapon in her hand and blood in her teeth; she died a Rebel and Cassian took up where she fell without a second thought. The Empire had taken her from him, destroyed the only thing that had been good in his life, and he vowed in that moment that he wouldn't rest until he saw them fall.
Love is pain. He had never known true pain until Maren died. He had been too young to remember the loss of his father, too young to fully accept and grieve his passing. He was there and then he was gone and Cassian didn't really understand it but he moved on. Maren's death struck him to the core, cut his legs out from under him and left him spiraling and desolate. He became jaded and bitter, cold to the world around him. He had a singular purpose now and that was destroying the Empire at all costs.
He fought for years, gathering information and rising through the ranks in the Alliance. Word came of a defector, an Imperial pilot who had betrayed the Empire and possessed important information that could lead to their destruction. Cassian took this report with hesitant optimism; he'd been burned by faulty information before and he wasn't anxious to do it again. If it was true it might finally provide them with the resources necessary to destroy the Empire once and for all. If it wasn't then they'd wasted their time and energy for nothing.
Jyn Erso is a surprise. He clashes with her almost immediately because she's way too much like him. She's stubborn and headstrong, furious with the Empire but too numb and jaded to fight back. She needs a reason to fight instead of running and discovering a possible message from her father is exactly the incentive she needs. She also needs a team and Cassian finds himself by her side as they travel to Jedha. It's an odd feeling, having a partner again, and it tugs at something deep and painful in his chest. He tries to ignore it and focuses on finding the pilot instead.
The hollow feeling only grows when they reach the desert planet. The streets are dusty and dry, lined with Imperial soldiers and messengers. It reminds him of the Outer Rim and the camp that went up in flames. It reminds him of Maren.
They find their defector in a dirt-walled cell, mumbling and dazed and clearly out of his mind. For a moment Cassian thinks this has been a waste, that their one shot at getting viable information to use against the Empire has been dashed. But then the pilot, Bodhi, looks at him, wide, glassy brown eyes meeting his, and Cassian feels like the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. The reaction takes him by surprise and it leaves him feeling like he's just latched onto a live wire.
He didn't have time to focus on it or even acknowledge then, not when they were fleeing Jedha or bouncing across the galaxy in search of the killswitch plans for the Death Star. Bodhi came with them, hesitant and doubtful and far too fragile for the dangerous fight they found themselves in. He had been with the Empire, yes, but he was not an Imperial; Cassian recognized that within seconds of meeting him. Bodhi wanted to help, fight back, prove himself to the Rebellion. Cassian wanted to keep him as far away from the Empire as possible.
Cassian couldn't explain it, didn't even have an acceptable word for it, but the wiry pilot stirred something in him that he hadn't felt in years. Something he hadn't felt since Maren died.
It was different this time though, more sudden and jarring. His love for Maren grew over a period of years, respect and friendship turning into love and devotion. With Bodhi it was a lightning strike, bright and brilliant and devastating. His love for Maren was accentuated by her bravery and fearlessness, her bright laugh and her clever eyes. Bodhi is all small smiles and self-conscious fidgeting and no matter how hard he tries, Cassian feels himself being tugged down further with every minute.
All of that nearly comes screeching to a halt with Scarif. There are too many close calls, too many unknown variables, and too many times when Cassian accepts that the sandy beaches of Scarif will be his grave. He keeps Jyn close but he loses contact with Bodhi and the radio silence feels like a punch in the gut. The beaches burn just like his camp did and he's certain Bodhi has met a similar fate.
Against all odds they somehow manage to survive. He doesn't know how and he doesn't question it; they flee Scarif just seconds before the planet is destroyed. Bodhi is at the controls, burned and bruised and bleeding, but he's alive and Cassian feels like he's able to breathe again.
It's not until a few weeks later that he's able to actually sit down and really concentrate on the strange, foreign emotions he swore he'd never feel again. The adrenaline has finally worn off after countless near death experiences and he doesn't spend every waking moment on edge and jumpy; the only thing to face now is himself.
He's angry at first, not at Bodhi but at himself. This shouldn't be happening; he vowed to never let himself fall like this again. But falling is about the only thing he can do and he has no way to stop it once it's begun.
Jyn is the one who forces him to accept it. She understands without him telling her and the look she gives him is one of affectionate annoyance. They've grown closer since Scarif (nearly being vaporized on a beach tends to have that effect) and Cassian loves her like a sister. And, like any good sister, Jyn is not about to let him waste his chance with their doe-eyed pilot when it's so obvious there's mutual pining there.
Cassian avoids it for as long as he can until avoidance is no longer an option. He's stubborn but he has nothing on Jyn; arguing with her was about as effective as arguing with a rock. She nudges him in the right direction and blocks the door with her hands on her hips to make sure he doesn't back out. There aren't many things Cassian Andor has ever backed down from in his life but defying Jyn Erso is one of them.
He finds Bodhi sitting in one of the hangars, back pressed against the wall and long legs stretched out in front of him. The pilot's eyes are fixed on a ship being repaired a few stations away, mindlessly flipping a small piece of scrap metal back and forth between his fingers. It takes Cassian a second to realize it's a fragment of the ship they'd taken to Scarif.
Bodhi smiles when he approaches, brown eyes warm and soft as sea foam. His hair is much shorter now, patchy and cut down to the scalp in some places. His burns had healed easily but it would take a while for his hair to grow properly. Bodhi didn't seem to mind it though; his goggles covered up most of the patches anyway.
Cassian joins him on the floor, shoulder-to-shoulder with the pilot and suddenly feeling more self-conscious than he ever remembers feeling in his life. They don't speak for a while after he sits down, comfortable silence settling between them in the repair hangar. For once it's Cassian's turn to fidget and he opens his mouth three times before a single word comes out.
When they do come, however, the words pour out of him like a sieve, unstoppable once he's begun. He feels like he's rambling, running sentences together and making up words along the way. He needs to get the words out and in the open though because he thinks if he keeps them in any longer he might be consumed by them. He talks for five solid minutes and in that time he doesn't remember ever taking a breath. He's light headed and anxious by the time he finishes speaking and he's never felt more vulnerable than he does in that moment.
Bodhi just smiles at him then, carefully linking their fingers together and brushing his lips along the backs of Cassian's knuckles. It's such a soft, tender gesture that the air catches in the back of Cassian's throat and, as is so often the case when Bodhi is involved, the captain can't breathe. They sit in the hangar, hand-in-hand, and talk about the future.
Cassian expected to feel a lot of things when the Death Star was destroyed and the Empire was defeated. He expected to feel pride and triumph and excitement combined with guilt and sorrow for all those who had fallen along the way. He expected to feel a resurgence of remorse and grief for Maren, to mourn for her all over again when he realized that she never got to see the final outcome of their lifelong battle. He expected a lot of things but never expected to fall in love again. He never expected Bodhi Rook.
Love is pain, his brain supplies helpfully and oh, he was miserable.
Thanks for reading guys! :D