Author's Note: Thank you ever so much to those who left comments on my very confusing prologue! Here's the first chapter in all its muddled, atmospheric glory. I hope you'll enjoy it!
A very important note: the structure of this story, with the prologue and the beginning of this first chapter, is something I have unashamedly stolen from The Life and Times by Jewels5, the legendary Harry Potter fanfic that everyone - I mean, everyone - should read. I dare not compare my work to Jules'. Not in a million years.
Reviews are (almost) better than the fantasy of Colin Farrell as Gellert Grindelwald. So please leave one if you can.
Chapter One
Steal Me Awhile From Mine Own Company
We had not thought that we would have to fight in darkness, or that light would be our enemy.
Mea Allan, Daily Herald journalist, 1939
In 1944, Kes Dameron would (nearly) give up on what he wanted most.
In 1944, Shara Bey would ask a very important question.
In 1944, James Kay would break the rules for someone he loved.
In 1944, Bodhi Rook would wait for something much longer than he ought to.
In 1944, Cassian Andor would do something heroic against his better judgement.
In 1944, Jyn Erso would make a choice even when she had none.
And in 1944, Jyn Erso would kiss Cassian Andor. Or was it the other way around?
But more on that much, much later.
.
.
It all began with an umbrella and an arm band. The umbrella was black, as black as midnight, and much larger than any umbrella had any right to be, while the armband was shockingly white, as white as the blackout protocols dictated. He opened up the umbrella while a steady rain fell, covering the dark streets of London in a foggy, wet mist; the armband he had already offered to her with a slight nod of his head. He did everything grudgingly, as though he did not care one whit whether she made it home alive or not. At first glance, he looked nothing like the sort of man who would give the time of day to a young woman who had had too much to drink.
"Where did you get the umbrella from?" she asked him. She had not seen him with one while they were drinking inside the pub.
His jaws tightened. "I took it from behind the bar."
"So you stole it?"
His eyes - tired and brown and sharp - sized her up. "I didn't say that," he told her quietly. He scratched the back of his head in an absentminded manner. There were tiny drops of rain on the left shoulder of his uniform. "It's a long walk. Do you want to get under it or not?"
She made a show of frustratingly pulling on the armband; her head might be spinning from the alcohol, but she still wanted to maintain somesemblance of dignity, damn it. It would not do to make him think he could have his way with everything. He was a stranger, after all. A friend of a friend, of a friend, but still…a stranger.
"That depends," she said, lips pursed together stubbornly. "Are you going to murder me and dump my body in the Thames?"
She thought she saw a ghost of a smile flittered across his features, but when he spoke again, his voice remained impassive. "You think you're very funny, don't you?"
"Oh, I'm hysterical," she said dryly. "You're just not keeping up."
His eyebrows lifted, but he did not say anything. Perhaps he was annoyed…or intrigued, she could not quite tell. She sighed.
"Alright," she said, relenting at last. "I suppose you'll have to do, then."
She rolled her eyes, but she took a few steps forward so that his umbrella could shelter her from the downpour. Once she had stepped into his space, he looked down at her from his impressive height, something…unreadable swimming in his gaze. Flecks of gold seemed to be dancing in those eyes of his. But it could just be the light, she reflected softly…Then she realised that there was no light. Just the rain.
It was 1939. The war had only just begun, and Jyn Erso had had enough of rain.
.
Five hours ago, she had been sitting on the edge of her bed and reflecting on this very fact as she watched her flatmate get dressed for the evening. It had not begun to rain then, but she had heard the forecast on the radio that morning: a light shower, with a chance of thunderstorm.
"It's not going to rain, you idiot," her flatmate Shara Bey was saying loudly as she ran a brush through her dark, curly hair. Shara was tall, much taller than Jyn, and even in her cream-coloured slip with no make-up on, she looked stunning and impressive enough that it was a bit frightening. She glowered at Jyn in the mirror. "Why are you English always so damn pessimistic?"
Jyn smirked as she removed her cigarette from her lips. Unlike her friend, she was still in her dressing gown, her hair still tousled from her afternoon nap. "And why are you Americans always so bloody loud?"
Shara made a tutting noise. "A Guatemalan-American, honey. Not just an American."
Jyn rolled her eyes. If she had a pound for every time she had heard Shara make the correction, she would be a wealthy woman by now.
Shara continued airily, "Besides, who knows when we'll get to go out for a drink once we join the ATA?"
Yes, there it was again, the palpable excitement in Shara's voice. It made Jyn smile. The Air Transport Auxiliary had announced that they would be accepting female pilots, and ever since she and Jyn had been accepted into the program, Shara could not help but slip the subject into every conversation. It did not matter whether she was talking to people her own age or to Mrs. Gibbs, their old landlady; Shara could talk about flying until she dropped dead. She was unapologetically fearless that way. Jyn had become friends with her a few short years ago when they were the only two people in flight training who did a spin when they were specifically told not to.
"We'll have time for plenty of drinks," said Jyn, lighting a new cigarette. "You just want to go to the pub to say goodbye to your soldier."
"He's not my soldier," Shara admonished.
"Well," said Jyn, who had had this argument with her friend countless of times before, "he is a soldier, and he is leaving." Kes Dameron would be part of the second wave of British Expeditionary Force being sent to France.
Shara immediately stopped brushing her hair. A strange expression stole into her face. "All this leaving schtick is already getting old, don't you think?" she mumbled, attempting to look perturbed. "Men assume they can make us do whatever they want because they might die in a couple of months."
"Well, they might," said Jyn, although she was somewhat amused.
Shara snorted as she ferociously resumed the brushing of her hair. "Please! There's no fighting in France yet. They're just…there, dicing and whoring."
Jyn laughed. "I don't think Kes is the whoring type."
"He keeps asking me to be his girl," said Shara, frowning.
"Well, what did you say?" asked Jyn, even though she already knew the answer.
"No, of course." Shara put down her brush and began putting on make-up with more force than usual. "I already told him when we met. I'm not looking for anything serious. But, damn the man, he keeps asking and asking."
"He likes you."
"Well, I like him, but he doesn't have to be a baby about it."
"Well, he really likes you."
Shara whirled around to glare at Jyn. "Are you telling me to say yes?"
"I'm not telling you to say anything." Jyn shrugged. "I'm simply pointing out the obvious."
Sighing, Shara turned back to the mirror and changed the subject hurriedly. "I wish you would get dressed already, Erso."
"Get dressed for what? For sticking around like a sore thumb while you and Kes slobber all over each other?" She stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray. "I'd rather go dicing and whoring."
The brush hit Jyn squarely in the stomach and made her laugh. "Careful! If I get injured, you'll have no friends in the ATA!"
"I don't seem to have any friends now." Shara stuck out her tongue at Jyn before grabbing the dress she had hung up by the door. The dress was deep green, with sprinkles of fake diamonds circling the waist. "And you wouldn't be alone with us, I'll have you know. Kes is bringing a friend."
"A friend?"
"Well…that's what he told me when he called."
"I'm assuming this friend is male?"
"Honey, you know he is. I can't be the only one having all the fun."
Jyn rolled her eyes, reaching down for the newspaper on the floor. "Thanks, but I'll pass."
Something else hit her hard in the shoulder. This time it was an empty tube of lipstick. And Jyn looked up to see her friend, now looking resplendent in her green dress, holding another brush in her hand.
"I mean it, Erso. Get dressed," said Shara. "I'm running out of things to throw at you."
The pub was in Leicester square, a tiny little establishment that one would miss if one had not been looking for it. With all the windows entirely covered for the blackout, the place blended in with the rest of the grey and cream-coloured buildings, a mere hovel but one with hidden secrets. Hardly a single ray of light escaped out onto the street. It was November, which meant it was already dark by the time Jyn and Shara arrived.
Kes Dameron was half-English and half-Cuban, with the same dark hair and olive skin as Shara, and when he stood up to greet them, he towered over them both. He had an easy smile and brown eyes that seemed to laugh more than he himself did, which was saying a lot.
"I see you've dressed up for me," he told Shara. There was an ease to the way he kissed her on the cheek and pulled her down to sit beside him.
Shara made a show of slapping him lightly on the shoulder, before gesturing to his uniform. "And I see you haven't."
"Oh, well, you keep insisting we're nothing special." Kes shrugged, eyes twinkling playfully. "So I didn't bother."
"Oh, for goodness' sake!"
"Jyn, nice to see you again," Kes remarked instead. "Have you grown taller since last I saw you?"
"Haha. Very funny, you." Jyn plopped herself into the chair across from the pair, and that was when she first noticed the man sitting beside Kes. He was half-hidden in shadows, half-sipping on a pint of beer, quiet as a mouse. He had not stood up when she and Shara entered, and had remained still in his seat, almost disappearing into the wall like an unremarkable furniture. "Who's this, then?"
When the man's eyes met hers very briefly, it was she who looked away quickly.
"Oh, this is someone from my unit," explained Kes. He looked rather apologetic. "Cassian Andor."
"Hello, Cassian Andor," said Shara cheerily enough. She reached across the table to shake the man's hand. "Shara Bey."
"Yes, I know who you are." He had an interesting accent; definitely not English.
"This is my friend, Jyn," said Shara, nodding.
The man threw another briefest of glances in her direction. "Nice to meet you, Jyn."
"Nice to meet you too," said Jyn.
And that was all they said to each other for the next hour. It was up to Shara and Kes to keep the conversation going, and they did so in the only way they knew how: funny, engaging, with sprinkles of kisses and banter. Jyn joined in whenever she could, until the pub came to life around them and it became harder and harder to make themselves heard above the den of the crowd and the music playing from the wireless set. Cassian Andor, the dark mysterious man in the crisp uniform, said nothing; he simply nursed his drink, staring sullenly around the place, looking like he wished he could be anywhere else. Jyn found herself glowering at him whenever she could.
What is the bastard's problem?
Eventually, Kes pulled Shara to her feet and they joined the other couples dancing on the floor. Jyn finished her third pint and slammed the glass down on the table harder than she had intended to. The man called Cassian did not even blink.
"Are you going to sit here like a mute all night?" Jyn demanded at last. She could not quite help herself; her tongue always became a bit loose after a few drinks.
Cassian Andor looked mildly amused. "Beg your pardon?"
"You heard me." Jyn smirked. She refused to look him in the eye. "Why even bothered coming along?"
"Dameron can be very persistent when he wants to be. And I had nothing else better to do."
She turned in her seat to study him. He was not bad-looking in the dim light; there was something attractive in the downward curve of his mouth and the way he kept rubbing his jaw casually. Those cheekbones were also the work of the devil, she could not help but think. Too bad the rest of him was so infuriatingly…silent.
She heard herself asking, "Don't you have a girl of your own to spend your last night of freedom with, Cassian Andor?"
"No."
"Any other friends?"
"I prefer the company of only a few."
"Nothing sordid planned as a last hurrah?"
"Can this pub be qualified as sordid?"
She groaned. "Bloody hell, you're dull."
"Speak for yourself, Miss Jyn Erso. You're also here alone." She thought she caught a glimpse of a smile, but he took a sip of his drink, drowning it away.
"Well, I didn't - "
"How long do you think it'll take for your friend to break my friend's heart?"
That was unexpected. She stared at him. "You're being cruel."
"I'm being realistic." He lifted his pint and gave a mocking toast to Shara and Kes, who were still dancing at the far end of the room. "Dameron has more decency than sense. While your friend…"
"You don't know her," Jyn snapped. Anger flared up within her as quick as flames trickling up a dry branch. "She's a good person."
"She maybe a good person, but she's a child."
"Like I said. You don't know her," she repeated, harsher this time. "And who the bloody hell are you, thinking your friend is so perfect?"
"Dameron is not perfect," said Cassian patiently as if talking to a child. "But at least he knows what he wants."
"And my friend doesn't?"
"Not even close."
Jyn scowled at him and considered throwing her empty glass at his stupid head and knocking that weary, pretentious look off his face. She wanted to spit at him. To make him understand that he knew nothing about anyone. To make him feel as unguarded and irritated as she felt. But the only words that came to her were: "You're uncommonly rude for an officer in uniform."
He did not miss a beat. "And you're uncommonly angry for a pilot."
Before Jyn could offer a retort, a different voice rang out. "Pardon me, miss, but might I buy you a drink?" Jyn looked up and saw a youth around her own age, golden-haired and with a wide, toothy grin, hovering near their table. "I see you've finished yours," continued the lad in a lilting Irish accent. He lifted up a pint brimming with beer.
Somehow, Cassian bristled. "I don't think - "
"Oh, yes, please, I'll be delighted!" Jyn said quickly to the Irishman. She threw Cassian one last contemptuous glare before gesturing for the newcomer to join them.
And this was the start of the rest of the night for Jyn. The Irish lad took up Kes' empty seat and kept the drinks coming, pint after pint. Before long, he and Jyn were downing them all and laughing at something or other, almost rolling onto the floor. Jyn did not know what the man called Cassian Andor made of it all; she made a point not to look. She knew she ought to quit while she was ahead, but restraint had never been one of her best qualities. She was annoyed and angry with the world, and damn it, she had always been one to set fire to things that made her mad.
Suddenly she found herself swept up on her feet. The ground shook beneath her. They were dancing, she thought, she and the Irish lad. Or was it someone else? Well, whoever it was, he was smiling at her and laughing merrily at everything she said. A pair of blue eyes, then green, then black. The wireless was playing a lovely song, one of her favourites, although she could not recall the name of it for the life of her. Another pint was pushed into her hand. "More drinks!" someone shouted.
She was hoisted up on someone's shoulders. She called for Shara, but Shara did not appear. Then suddenly she had darts clutched in her hand, and she was throwing them at a dart board at the back of the bar. God, she hoped she hit the target, but she had no way of knowing. "More drinks!" another person roared, and another pint materialised in her hand. Time rushed pass, and everything blurred together like the pictures she kept seeing in her sleep every night, with the sounds and the sights making her as drunk as the alcohol. The memories did not seem so bad now, she thought wistfully, when the stranger let her off his shoulders.
The world turned around her. She heard herself laughing, but the laughter sounded as though it was coming from another person entirely.
"Come on," someone was saying, pulling on her arm.
"More drinks!" she shouted. She heard cheers.
"Come on," that someone said again, as though from very far away. "It's late."
"My handbag…"
"Your handbag?"
"I had…a handbag." A dark-blue handbag. Or was it black? Her head was spinning. She reached out blindly and found herself wrapping her arms around that someone's neck. That someone was warm, incredibly warm. The touch made her go dizzy. "Shara…"
"Shara's gone," that someone replied. She caught the voice better then. A man. She almost stumbled into him, but he steadied her just in time. She felt the scrape of a beard against her cheek.
The closeness of another body brought last night's dream rushing back to her, and she had an absurd desire to weep. The sobs bubbled up inside her like a volcano. And the faces…so many faces. But the man's hold on her arm was firm, and somehow, it stopped the first few tears from falling. He led her outside, through the crowds of dancing and drinking men and women, some in uniform and some not, and past the packed tables and dark corners. The pub's door snapped shut behind them with hardly a sound. The darkness enveloped them in an instant, and something wet hit her cheeks. At first, she thought it was her own tears, but then she realised it was raining.
She struggled out of the man's grip and steadied herself against the door. "My handbag," she said again stupidly.
"I think you might have lost it," replied the man. "While you were…dancing and drinking with strangers. I think you were…throwing darts at the barkeeper at one point? Impressive."
She might be drunk, but there was no mistaking the amusement in the man's tones. She turned, squinted through the slight rain and fog. It was Cassian Andor, and he was standing a few feet away, his hand outstretched toward her. He was holding out a white armband, similar to the one he himself now wore.
He inclined his head slightly. "Put this on," he said. They both knew she had to; it was part of the blackout safety protocols so that passing cars and other pedestrians could see them in the dark.
"I have…I have my own. In my handbag."
"Your handbag is gone," Cassian Andor repeated. "I have an extra one."
She took it from him automatically. The fabric felt coarse in her hand. "Where's Shara? And Kes?" she asked him again.
"They've gone."
Bloody Shara, she cursed inwardly. "I need…I need to take the bus home."
"No buses this late," Cassian told her confidently.
"This late?" Jyn's head spun again. "How late is it?"
"Late," said Cassian. "Where do you live?"
She hesitated, but then something wild within her urged her on. "Kennington Road. Just across the river."
Without a hint of….anything, really, Cassian simply said, "I'll walk you."
"You don't have to."
He shrugged. "It's not a problem. Like I said, I have nothing else to do."
She noticed for the first time that he had an umbrella when he opened it up, and she asked him curiously where he got it from.
"I took it from behind the bar," he replied.
"So you stole it?"
"I didn't say that. It's a long walk. Do you want to get under it or not?"
"That depends. Are you going to murder me and dump my body in the Thames?"
"You think you're very funny, don't you?"
"Oh, I'm hysterical. You're just not keeping up."
With the blackout, almost all the city's street lamps had been put out and all windows covered. Even the cars driving pass only had their sidelights on, with their bumpers painted white. Jyn and Cassian managed to stay on the pavement and avoided the roads by looking at the white markings on the concrete; a passing female ARP warden gave them an approving nod. Only the lions in Trafalgar Square seemed to gleam black and magnificent in the moonlight. Jyn imagined their marble fur must be smooth to the touch; if only she were tall enough to reach them as she walked pass. The rain was clearing her head a little, and the soft, cold wind began to stir her senses back to life. There was a kind of peaceful sweetness to Central London at night.
Cassian said nothing as they crossed the square and strolled past Nelson's Column, then down Whitehall and on past Downing Street. He merely took her elbow sometimes and steered her off the road whenever a car drove by. His posture - straight, hard, efficient - never changed, but she had a feeling that he kept his strides small so that she could keep up.
Finally, once they caught sight of the Thames, Jyn could not stomach the silence any longer, and said sarcastically, "Nice night for a walk."
For a moment, Cassian seemed surprise that she had spoken up, and he hesitated a little. "I suppose."
"Don't you like the rain?"
"I'm afraid I prefer sunshine."
She was not surprised. "Where are you from, Cassian Andor?"
Another brief moment of hesitation. "I was born in Morelos."
She frowned, trying to place the city. "Morelos? That's in…"
"The south of Mexico."
There was a story there, and if she was sober, she could have unravelled it. She cocked her head sideways. "How come you're here, then?"
He shrugged. When he replied, every syllable was weighed down with more caution than they previously were. "I've spent some time here. Joined the army here. My mother was English."
"She was English?"
"She's dead."
"Oh." And in a voice that was incredibly still, she said, "My mother's dead too."
Another moment of silence. Then he remarked humourlessly, "Well…shit happens, I suppose."
She almost laughed at that, but did not. A broken sound did escape her, though, like a laugh that had somehow gone wrong.
They were now at Westminster Bridge, and she decided to look up at him, finding his eyes with her own. Behind him, the Houses of Parliament and the Big Ben stood silhouetted against the dark sky. The moonlight touched his face gently, and it made him look like one of those tired soldiers she had known when she was younger. The thousand-yard stare, barely formed, but there still.
She had met men who were shipping off to war before. Usually they were green boys, eyes blazing with hope of glory. Even Kes. But Cassian looked as though he already carried the war with him; it set heavy on his shoulders and is visible in every line on his not-so-young face.
Strange, she mused, for someone so young.
The Big Ben tolled for midnight.
You can find your soul in London, her mother had told her once, a long time ago, back when she was still alive. It was those words Jyn thought of now. Her mother's face, almost half-forgotten, seemed to float before her in her mind's eye. She had only lived in London for a short period of time when she was very small. She had grown up in Berlin, across the ravaged continent of Europe, but those places were nothing but poisoned memories to her now. London was different, she reflected. Here in London she was still…whole.
"You're…strange," she heard herself say to Cassian. Or maybe it was the city talking…or the alcohol…
He frowned down at her as they began walking again, across the bridge and toward the river bank. "Strange how?"
"You're…I don't know." She could not find the right words to make him understand.
"You're strange too," said Cassian. "You're going to join the ATA as a female pilot."
"So is Shara. I don't see how that's strange."
He did not elaborate, but said, "They require women with flying experience. Hours. Where'd get them from?"
"The hours?"
"Yes."
Jyn made herself shrug nonchalantly, but the dreams rushed back. "I…I had practice. I took…lessons, of sorts."
She and Shara would be heading for ATA training in a couple of days, she wanted to tell him but didn't. Soon, it would be to the skies. And although she knew they would be stuck with ferrying planes for the RAF rather than combat flying, she would take all that she could get. She hated being grounded just as much as Shara did. She missed the freedom and the vastness with an ache so painful that it twisted her up inside. Her ghosts were quieter up in the sky.
He seemed to understand her silence. "You don't want to talk about the past."
"Yes. You don't mind, do you?"
"Not particularly, no." He smiled thinly, and the smile stretched over his weary face, making him look a little younger. "I suppose that's for the best."
They made it across the river and started down south, winding down streets and alleys, crossing small squares and empty junctions. When they reached Kennington Road, Jyn prodded Cassian in the direction of her building and he let her climb up the steps without uttering so much as a word. She lingered there on the top stone, turning around to look at him properly again. The rain had petered out a little, but not completely. There was a street lamp nearby, its yellow light dimmed and broken, a freak among the rest of its dark fellows.
"Thank you," Jyn said, "for the walk."
Cassian shrugged again and did not smile. "Your welcome."
A jolt of madness seemed to spur her on. "What do you want?" she demanded, her voice suddenly harsh.
He flinched. "What do I…want?" He sounded puzzled.
"Yes, what do you want?" She crossed her arms. "You must want something. Giving me the armband, the umbrella, offering to walk me home…"
"You don't trust people much, do you?" His mouth thinned into a straight, angry line. "Why would you assume that I'd want something from you?"
"Well, it's your last night off, isn't it?" She knew she should stop talking now, but she ploughed on. "You don't seem like a social bloke, but you're out at the pub anyway, probably hoping to take some girl home. Do you want to climb up these steps and let me take you inside? Isn't that what you're looking for? A quick fuck before you get shipped across the channel?"
His expression hardened even more, but still he did not move. "Your words, not mine."
"So you're not denying it?"
He sighed. "I didn't say that."
"You don't say anything."
"Why does it bother you so much that I don't talk much?" Cassian spit out the words angrily. "I don't owe you an explanation. We don't know each other. We're not friends."
She recrossed her arms; she could not argue with that. But she asked again, stubbornly, "So?"
"Your friend asked me to look after you before she left with Dameron," said Cassian, his voice now as hard and still as his expression. "I wasn't thinking of seducing you. I simply did what your friend asked me to do. But I'm glad you have such a high opinion of me. I'll remember that."
"That's not what I - "
"Goodnight, Miss Erso."
And before she could think of anything else to say, he turned on his heel and stalked off.
Blast it all!
Jyn stared after his retreating back for a few moments until he was swallowed up by the dark. Then she began unlocking her front door, muttering curses under her breath. (Thankfully, she had kept her house keys in her coat pocket, and not in her handbag.) She stomped up the stairs loudly, not quite caring that she might wake the old landlady on the second floor. It bothered her - the stupid, tiny misunderstanding with the stranger she had just met. This Cassian Andor, with the shrewd eyes and the subtle smile. She was embarrassed, she realised, as she unlocked the room she shared with Shara. She groped around and switched on the light. Her flatmate had not yet come home. Jyn was not expecting her to any time soon. And I could have had taken advantage of it had I not been so off my head!
"Put out that light!" someone yelled from across the street. One of their annoying neighbours, probably.
Cursing, Jyn realised that their blackout blinds had not been put up. She made her way across the room, yanked up the thick, black paper from the floor, and plastered it roughly with tape against the window pane. Outside, the rain continued to fall, and she groaned loudly, remembering how clumsy and awkward her words had sounded coming out of her mouth.
She threw herself down onto her bed without getting undressed, and the last thought she had before drifting off to sleep was how she shouldn't have drunk so much tonight. It was very foolish of her….so very foolish…
When Jyn woke, it had stopped raining, and sunlight was streaming in through the window; the black curtain had been removed. She sat up in the bed, her head still groggy, and found Shara Bey sitting in front of the mirror. Her friend had obviously just come in; she had the same hair from last night, the same make up. The green dress was gone, however, and it took Jyn a moment to realise what the American was wearing: the dark-blue uniform of the ATA.
Shara noticed her in the mirror, and said curtly, "Good. You're up."
"Had a good time with Kes, didn't you?"
Shara's eyes flashed strangely, but she replied, "It was fine." She drew out a pin from her hair. "I saw you were having a grand ol' time with some Irish fellow. I told Cassian Andor to walk you home before Kes and I left."
The memory of last night rushed back and Jyn grimaced. "Thanks for that."
"Was it that bad?"
"It wasn't bad. It was just…strange." She shook her head, trying to chase away all the absurdities and her less than stellar moments. God, how bloody drunk was she? And the man had been…civil enough too. Attractive, even. But cold. Almost too cold. "Well…at least I wouldn't have to see him again. I'm bloody grateful for that, trust me."
Shara did not reply. She smoothed out the creases in the shoulders of her uniform with a serious, quiet look in her eyes. Later, Jyn promised herself. I'll ask her what's wrong later. It must be something to do with Kes Dameron, she suspected, like it always was whenever those two met up. But it was too early in the day for a very serious conversation, especially with this bloody hangover she had.
"Thank you for dragging me along last night," Jyn found herself telling her friend.
Shara's mouth twisted up in amusement. "I thought you hated it."
"Yes, but I can't blame you for my own tendency toward self-sabotage. Nor was it your fault I decided to drink an Irishman under the table. And…"
"And what?"
Jyn shrugged, and said quietly, "I forgot how beautiful London looks at night."
Shara rolled her eyes. "Do you have to be so incredibly British?"
"And do you have to be so incredibly insensitive?" retorted Jyn, but she let out a chuckle nonetheless. She swung off the bed and came to stand behind Shara, and they both stared into the mirror together. Their contrasting reflections stared back at them just as solemnly. "What's with the uniform, Bey? We're not there yet, you know."
"I know," said Shara quietly, uncharacteristically so. "I thought I'd just try it on."
"Feeling a bit wonky?"
Shara frowned. "Wonky?"
"You always get a little…odd after you meet with Kes." She had not wanted to say it, but it was getting more and more obvious.
Shara lapsed into silence for a few seconds. Her dark eyes softened when she whispered softly, "Do you think he'll be alright?"
"Kes?"
"Yes."
Jyn could not help but remember Kes' laughing eyes and how very different they were to Cassian Andor's tired ones. She put a hand on her friend's shoulder, squeezed it gently. "I don't know," she said.
Shara let out a small, broken laugh. "You're supposed to say he's going to be alright."
"Yes, but…"
"But you can't, I know."
Jyn's grip tightened, wishing she could give her friend some words of comfort even though she knew she had none. For her, the war didn't begin this September, but many years ago when she was just a child; when her mother had fallen to the ground with a bullet in her chest, and her father had been taken, lost, killed. She had already had a taste of this war, and the taste was still bitter on her tongue.
"How do I look?" asked Shara, her eyes staring straight into her own in the mirror.
Jyn smiled. "Fearsome."
"You think so?"
"Yes. Definitely fearsome."
Shara lifted a hand to cover Jyn's, and in a rather more serious tone than they usually used with each other, said, "Thank you, Erso."
Jyn saw her own smile turning a little crooked. "Your welcome, silly."
They continued staring into the mirror - Jyn in her askew and slept-in party dress and Shara in her spotless uniform. The two women in the glass looked back at them, unsure but unwavering, as though they were offering their twins their silent approval. Yes, they did look fearsome, Jyn thought, but how incredibly young they seemed. Almost too young. Somehow, the thought made her sad.
A storm was coming. The young never last long in a storm.
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Author's Note: I know I keep saying it, but multi-chapter stories are so difficult for me to write and this is no exception! *wails with exhaustion*
This chapter is my love letter to London, my favourite city that I miss so much. Kes and Shara's heritages are inspired by the heritages of Oscar Isaac's parents. Now onto the history:
- This chapter takes place in November, 1939. Britain declared war against Germany on September 3, 1939. The British Expeditionary Force (BEF) were dispatched to France right away, with more deployments until their number reached nearly 400,000 by March, 1940. No fighting actually took place until May, 1940. The British troops were assembled along the Belgian-French border during this period of 'The Phoney War' and spent most of their time digging field defences. Of course, for some, "dicing" and "whoring" also took place.
- The Air Ministry suspected that Britain would suffer night air bombing attacks and came up with the blackout where man-made lights on the ground would be extinguished. Blackout regulations were imposed two days before the war was declared, with preparations beginning as far back as 1937. A limited version of the blackout had already been introduced in 1915 during WWI. The blackout was lifted in April, 1945. Vera Lynn's popular song, "When The Lights Go On Again", was inspired by this.
- Blackout protocols included thick black curtains or paint to stop light from showing through windows, and shopkeepers having to find new ways for customers to leave and enter their premises without letting any light out. Street lights were turned off or only partially turned on, pedestrians had to wear white arm bands or gloves, and coats of white paint were applied to steps, curbs and car bumpers. Railways were also blacked out. In 1939, the blackout was so severe that even the red glow from a cigarette was banned, and only car sidelights were allowed, causing the number of people killed on the roads to double.
- Air Raid Precautions (ARP) wardens enforced the blackout, making sure that no light escaped from any building. They also issued gas masks, reported and dealt with bombing incidents, as well as directed people toward bomb shelters. "Put that light out!" was one of their common phrases.
- The ATA or the Air Transport Auxiliary ferried military aircraft, performed air ambulance work, and flew service personnel on urgent duty, using pilots who were considered to be unsuitable for the RAF by reason of age, fitness or gender. The ATA began recruiting female pilots on 14 November, 1939, with the first eight women pilots accepted into service on 1 January, 1940. Pilots from 28 countries flew in the ATA, and I will be writing more about them in a future chapter. I obviously skewed the dates a bit here so Shara and Jyn would already be ATA pilots, or ATA pilots in training, by the time they meet the guys.
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PLEASE leave me your thoughts or questions. Interacting with you guys is always the best thing about writing fanfiction!
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Up Next: "We Few, We Happy Few" - in which Cassian, Kay, and Kes try to make their way to Dunkirk. (Hopefully I'll manage to post this the week the film "Dunkirk" comes out.)