A.N. And now let's try a Bodhi POV!
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The following morning, Bodhi stumbles his way across the base alone. He'd made his way back to his room at some late hour the night before and hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, too stunned and elated. After returning Jyn's bed to her own room, he'd lain awake for hours, mind still trying to wrap his head around the fact that the Death Star was gone. That Galen's final and greatest defiance against the Empire had cost them their planet killer. That he, Bodhi, had honestly and truly made a difference in the galaxy. That was the part he'd had the hardest time comprehending and as he makes his way through the corridors, it still hasn't fully sunk in.
When he was younger, he'd wanted his life to mean something, wanted to give back to the galaxy and make his mark in a fantastical way. At the time, raised under the thumb of the Empire, that meant dreaming of becoming an Imperial Starfighter pilot. He'd envisioned himself going on many adventures to defeat the disloyal rebels he'd heard rumors of as a boy and ultimately joining the ranks of Imperial heroes. As time had gone on, however, and he'd been rejected from the Starfighter program, thus crushing that dream, something had begun to take root in his heart and mind. A seed of doubt that kept whispering in his ear: "this is wrong." At first he'd felt ashamed for doubting the Empire, but as the years passed, that whisper grew into a roar that drowned out any admiration he'd ever had for the Imperial system and the shame he'd first felt for doubting it disappeared. He'd been trapped in a role he detested, disgusted with himself that he didn't have the guts to cut ties with the Empire; he'd been too afraid of what would happen to him.
And then he'd met Galen Erso, the man who he wished could have been his father, and things changed. Galen must have seen the turmoil raging in him because the man began setting aside time for Bodhi. Time where they talked for hours, but never about anything politically related. Galen would describe some complex scientific process to do with the Death Star that Bodhi only half understood and Bodhi would tell Galen stories—usually very dry stories—of his time as a cargo shuttle pilot.
Several months into their friendship, Galen had greeted him for their usual meeting with a little more anxiety than normal. Bodhi was used to Galen always being calm and unflappable, so the sudden change had startled Bodhi and put him on guard as well.
"Bodhi," Galen had greeted him, "you and I have always danced around the question of our views towards the Empire, but I'm afraid the time has come and we can no longer afford to," Galen had informed him gravely. "Trust is something that has been absent from my life for thirteen long years, it's a luxury I have not allowed myself since the Empire forced me into their service."
It was the first time Galen had ever expressed outright his position against the Empire—though Bodhi had begun to suspect from small comments here and there—and it shocked the pilot.
"And now," Galen continued, "I find myself in the position of needing to trust someone with information of the utmost importance and there is not a doubt in my mind that I have chosen the right person."
"And who might that be?" he'd queried cautiously.
Erso had smiled. "You, Bodhi Rook."
"Me?!" he'd spluttered. "Are you sure we're talking about the same person? The man who failed to get into the Starfighter Program, who took years to qualify to even be a cargo shuttle pilot and who hasn't made a single vertical movement in the ranks since joining?!"
Galen had nodded, silencing Bodhi. "I've gotten to know you, Rook, and I can see the man you truly are, the one you hide behind the mask of an average, unremarkable pilot who no one would look at twice. You are far from an ordinary man—there's a goodness and strength within you that puts most others to shame—and you were incredibly smart to cultivate that mask of a commonplace man who keeps his head down; I think it's one of the only reasons you are still alive, and it's the exact reason why I know I can trust you."
"Galen," he'd tried to interrupt, "I don't understand—"
"I know," Erso had acknowledged wearily, cutting him off. "I'm about to ask you to do something that could quite possibly kill you and I need you to know I'm only asking because I know you, I see your potential and I know you can do it. It's the right thing to do. I wouldn't ask you otherwise."
Bodhi's mind whirled. Part of him had begun to hope that Galen was offering him a path away from the Empire, but years of living with a secret hate of all things Imperial, all while in the heart of the Empire, had left Bodhi cautious. "You think too highly of me," he'd protested. "I'm just a simple pilot who's a little confused as to his allegiance and who most certainly is nothing extraordinary."
"You're wrong," the engineer had countered vehemently. "If anything, there's nothing ordinary about you, Bodhi. And you're not confused about your allegiance, you know exactly where it lies, you just haven't been given the chance to act on it. Well, I'm here to give you the chance and beg you to take it."
And then Galen Erso had told him everything. About the Death Star, about its imminent test and about his greatest gift to the free world: a way to destroy it. Though he wouldn't give Bodhi specifics, he'd given him the data chip and pleaded with him to find Saw Gerrera. Had told the pilot to shred his mask and be the man he was inside. And Bodhi had answered the call.
They hadn't known each other very long, but the man had utterly changed Bodhi's life. He'd given validation to Bodhi's discontent with the Empire and most importantly, he'd given Bodhi the chance to make a difference and the strength to be a better man. For that, Bodhi will be forever in his debt.
All of these memories and thoughts rattle around in his head as he enters the medical wing, making his way to the room he'd been told was Cassian's. He hasn't seen the captain since they'd parted ways on Scarif, beyond seeing two tiny figures on a beach from the windows of Rogue One and Chirrut telling him he needed to land. As the roar of the Death Star's blast had approached, he hadn't thought twice.
He doesn't know why he hasn't visited sooner, but thinks it's probably because one, he wanted to work on getting his head on straight and two, he wanted to give the injured man time to heal. Now that he'd been informed this morning by some tall, blond, flamboyant medic that Cassian is doing much better, he'd decided to visit. He feels bad for sneaking away from Baze—his constant shadow since he'd first awakened in the medical bay of the base—because he knows the man is only trying to protect him, but he needs the breathing room and the alone time knowing he can stand on his own two feet. He'll apologize to the warrior later.
Bodhi walks into Cassian's room as the door slides open and immediately wishes he hadn't. The air practically suffocates him with the amount of anger permeating it. A sandy-haired man stands in the middle of the room with his back to the door, arguing with Cassian, who is dressed in simple cotton clothes and standing stiffly at attention while facing the man, his eyes staring resolutely at a point over the sandy-haired man's shoulders. It is Cassian, therefore, who sees Bodhi first. His eyes flick to Bodhi as the pilot enters and the cold, detached gaze makes Bodhi want to disappear, until Cassian registers who it is and his eyes soften, before they return to staring at a point now just over Bodhi's shoulder.
Bodhi will be the first to admit that he is not medically trained, but even he can see that Cassian should not be standing, and most certainly shouldn't be standing at attention. The captain is putting on a good show and Bodhi admires his strength, but he can see the tension in the other man, the slight hunch to his shoulders in an effort to take pressure off of his still damaged core. Not to mention the fact that he leans ever so slightly to his right in an effort to keep the weight off of his more injured leg. It incenses Bodhi and makes him want to slap the severe-faced man forcing Cassian to stand, but he doesn't. When all eyes turn to him, it's tempting to sink into the floor. "Uh," he stammers, "I think I'll come back later."
"Bodhi," Cassian's firm voice stops him from fleeing. "There is no need for you to leave. You have every right to be here."
He doesn't say it, but Bodhi can hear the underlying meaning: please don't leave. At his friend's silent plea, he stiffens his spine, lets the door close behind him and crosses his arms. He won't leave Cassian alone to face this pompous nerf-herder. It's the least he can do after all that the Captain has done for him.
The General loses interest in Bodhi and turns back to Cassian. "Captain Andor, it is completely impractical to award every person involved in the battle of Scarif a medal of appreciation. There were hundreds of people involved. Where would we draw the line? What's to stop any person involved in a battle from here on out from demanding a medal?"
Cassian's face hardens at the man's callous talk. "This has nothing to do with practicality. We are talking about people, General Draven, most of whom lost their lives. I am not requesting that you award every person a medal, I am telling you that I refuse to be honored unless every person who volunteered in the first wave is honored as well. While everyone involved deserves thanks, the volunteers who did the right thing even when it went against the Alliance's orders deserve recognition."
"Which is exactly why you should be part of the medal ceremony this afternoon for the two men who blew up the Death Star. Without you, they couldn't have done what they did!" the General exclaims.
"Without us," Cassian stresses the plural pronoun. "I did no more than the next rebel who volunteered. I certainly don't deserve a medal, but they do."
"You're insufferable! I'm trying to reward you!"
"Which is precisely the problem!" Cassian yells, accent thickening as his cool exterior finally cracks. "I could care less about being honored! You only wish to award me because of my rank and you are depriving more deserving people—with lower rank or with none at all—their just recognition! Not recognizing the true courage and sacrifice of all those involved—something that the Alliance should be proud of—is a crime worthy of the Empire!" Cassian exclaims passionately.
Bodhi watches this exchange silently, doing his best to offer moral support to Cassian and all the while watching in awe as he stands up to authority for the sake of others. His calm, his courage, his unwavering belief in what is right, this is the kind of man Bodhi has always wanted to be. Bodhi decides right then that he is going to learn everything he can from Cassian. He's going to become the kind of man Galen thought he could be.
"You watch your tongue, Captain! Those are treasonous words and you're very close to insubordination! Someone needs to beat some sense into that thick head of yours!" the General snarls, stepping forward to shove Cassian roughly.
Cassian's eyes widen fractionally as he stumbles backwards, flinching in pain, and Bodhi sees red. How dare this bastard physically threaten an already injured hero who is just standing up for what's right! I'm not about to stand by silently and let my friend get hurt!
"Actually," Bodhi speaks up, steeling his nerve, "I think you should listen to him."
The severe-faced man whips around to scowl at Bodhi. "And who in the Galaxy are you!?"
Intimidated by the General's aggressive tone, he widens his stance and raises his chin. If Cassian can face down this bully while he's half dead on his feet, the least I can do is try. "My name's Bodhi Rook, sir."
"And what gives you the right to voice your opinion?!"
"Uh, well, because I'm the pilot," he stammers. Brilliant, Rook. What a scathing response that was! I'm sure the man is quivering in his boots! Job well done. You might as well melt into the floor now! his inner voice berates.
"The pilot?" the General scoffs. "We have tons of pilots. What makes you so special?"
Bodhi can't answer that because he doesn't believe there is anything that sets him apart. His resolve wavers beneath the General's blistering gaze, but suddenly Cassian is standing by Bodhi's side.
"This," the Captain states confidently, standing tall and proud, all traces of earlier pain gone, "is the man who brought warning of the Death Star to the Rebellion. Without him, the entire mission against it would have failed and this base—along with the entire Alliance itself—would be nothing more than lost hope and pieces of debris floating in space."
"Ah, the Imperial pilot, you mean," Draven clarifies dismissively.
Bodhi doesn't think it's worth correcting the man, but Cassian obviously disagrees. "Ex-Imperial pilot," Cassian emphasizes vehemently. "Bodhi Rook conducted himself honorably during the mission to Scarif on behalf of the Alliance and is as worthy and loyal a Rebel as I have ever had the pleasure of working with."
The General opens his mouth to issue an angry retort, but, just at that moment, the door behind Bodhi and Cassian opens. Both men step quickly to one side, revealing a woman in white who Bodhi recognizes as part of the Council.
"I think I've heard quite enough, Draven," the woman greets coolly. "You spewed your poison loudly enough that I could hear you conversation all the way at the end of the hall. I wouldn't be surprised if half the base could hear it."
General Draven flushes angrily and once again opens his mouth to speak, but is once again cut off by the woman. "General Draven, I respect your position within this Aliiance and I thank you for all that you do for the Rebellion. You and I have had our differences, but I implore you to truly hear what I'm saying. I encourage you to listen to everyone and not value ranks so highly as you do. Sometimes the 'lowliest' of people can make all of the difference; isn't that what this rebellion is built on? Just yesterday, a farm boy destroyed the greatest weapon this galaxy has ever seen. Days before that, a band of rebels that included countless people you've probably never given a second thought to came together and won the first true victory our Rebellion has ever seen. If we do not honor them, then I agree with Captain Andor: we are no better than the Empire."
The man stares at her in silence and Bodhi thinks he's heard nothing, so he's surprised when the General nods grudgingly. "I hear you, Councilor Mothma. Thank you, and thank you Captain Andor, for showing me the error of my judgement," he grinds out between clenched teeth. "While I do not agree with all that you have said, you have helped me see that honoring all of the volunteers is not the small, meaningless gesture that would invite more trouble than it's worth, that I initially thought. I shall make the necessary arrangements. Good day," he bids farewell curtly, exiting the room.
While not a complete change of heart, it's a step in the right direction.
The woman—Councilor Mothma, Bodhi now knows—lets out a sigh and moves to follow him. "I'm sorry I did not arrive sooner to spare you that. Now, I have an entire base to move, so I must depart, but I will see you this afternoon at the ceremony. Good day, gentlemen." And she's gone.
"Kriff," Bodhi remarks in awe. "What a woman."
"Yes, she's quite something," Cassian agrees.
Something in his voice doesn't sound right to Bodhi, so he turns to the other man with concern, watching in horror and surprise as Cassian practically deflates before his eyes. He curls forward to relieve muscles trembling from the effort of keeping him upright and begins listing dangerously to one side.
"Whoa!" Bodhi exclaims, reaching towards the Captain and grabbing onto his arm in order to keep him from falling. "Hold on there, don't fall on me now."
The other man huffs tiredly. "I don't think I have much say in the matter."
Bodhi shifts his grasp so that Cassian's arm is slung over his shoulder just in time, as one of the Captain's legs gives out. Bodhi's unprepared for the added weight—and there's more weight than he anticipated, given that Cassian is not much taller than he is (the man must be all muscle, he thinks distractedly)—so he staggers a few steps before steadying. Bodhi's injured arm twinges a little as the weight pulls at it, but Cassian is in worse shape than he is so he thrusts the pain away. "Let's get you sitting before you make us both fall."
Cassian says nothing, only clamps his lips in a tight line, which Bodhi thinks is a pretty good indication of just how much pain the other man is in. He wishes the General were still here because now he has the gumption to actually slap the man for what he did. Since the General is gone, Bodhi settles for imagining it in great detail.
Stumbling their way to the bed, Bodhi manages to get Cassian lying down without injuring either of them further.
"Thank you," Cassian gasps, collecting his breath.
"Oh, you're welcome," Bodhi says in surprise, not used to being thanked. "But really, it's the least I could do. I mean, you've done way more for me, so…" he trails off, not sure of where to go from here. He realizes he's never really spoken with Cassian outside of a life-or-death situation and he's worried an awkward silence is about to fall, until the other man speaks up.
"How are you doing?"
At first, Bodhi doesn't know how to answer that question because he wants to answer honestly—not just the usual "I'm fine" response that people typically expect when they voice that question, because he knows that's not what Cassian's asking—but he doesn't really know the honest answer. There have been moments when he's felt okay, particularly after his talk with Jyn, but there have also been moments he's wanted to break down sobbing in an isolated, dark corner. Also, his arm still aches because he hasn't bothered to get it treated beyond his initial stay in medical—he's been a little preoccupied—but it's his mind, really, that hurts the most.
Everything they've been through since Jedha would have anyone's mind reeling and struggling to come to terms with events, but Bodhi's mind is a thousand times worse because his was already fractured by Saw Gerrera and he never had time to put it fully back together.
He must have been quiet for too long because Cassian calls lowly, "Hey, are you okay?" his voice, quiet and intense. It's so reminiscent of the first time Bodhi ever heard it back in Saw Gerrera's prison, the voice which helped his broken mind remember who he is and start healing, that he considers sharing what he hasn't spoken to anyone about.
"Well? Uhm? Not really," he confesses hesitantly.
Cassian's eyebrows furrow in concern, but he stays silent, for which Bodhi is grateful. If Cassian had said something, the pilot doesn't think he would have had the courage to continue.
"I've got some scrapes and cuts—though nothing so bad as you or even Chirrut—but, well, that's not really the problem," he admits. Now or never, Rook. Do you trust this man? Do you trust him not to look at you differently? He thinks back to the time when his mind was scattered in a million different directions and he no longer knew who he was, until a voice had called to him. The voice of the man sitting before him. Yes, I trust him.
"Have you… have you heard of a Bor Gullet and what they do?"
Cassian's eyes narrow. "Yes…"
He looks down at his hands, unable to maintain eye contact. "Well, there was one at Saw Gerrera's that I—with which I got a rather up close and personal visit. Gerrera thought I might be a trap and wanted to verify that I was who I said I was and that I actually had been in contact with Galen Erso..." he pauses, shuddering at the memory of the creature approaching and latching onto him, turning him inside out all while Gerrera's high, whispy voice droned on in the background. "It, it ripped open my mind, Cassian. It ripped it open and took each piece of me and tore it further to shreds. All I could do was sit and scream as it displayed all of my faults and shortcomings before me, destroyed the few cherished moments in my life and laid waste to my sanity."
He breathes in shakily, a single tear leaking out of his eye to fall down onto the floor. "I—I lost any sense of myself, utterly and completely. I sat in that cell, desperately trying to scrape together some understanding, some scrap of who I was, but I couldn't do it. I had nothing to anchor me. Not until… Not until you came along, and I can't thank you enough for what you did. I wouldn't be here without you." He stops there, having laid everything out bare on the table, already cursing himself for his weakness. What were you thinking?! What possessed you to share such a vile, pathetic moment in your life! He waits for the pity. Waits for the judgement that will send him spiraling down into a pit of self-loathing. But it never comes.
Instead he hears explosive swearing and looks up in astonishment to see Cassian's thunderous face."Spineless, worthless excuse for bantha fodder!" the man fumes. "If he were not dead already I would—" he snaps his jaw shut, cutting himself off forcefully. Then he looks at Bodhi with kind eyes. There's no pity there. "You, my friend, continuously amaze me. I don't know anyone, anyone, who has survived an encounter with a Bor Gullet and come away intact, let alone then proceeded to participate and play a crucial role in a major mission."
Bodhi's stunned, unsure of what to say to that. He hadn't known what to expect, but he certainly hadn't expected praise. He hardly thinks he's worth praise.
"Thank you for sharing with me," Cassian continues through Bodhi's silence. "I know that can't have been easy and I am honored that you trusted me anyway."
"Thank you for listening," Bodhi returns, voice rough with emotion. "Just, don't tell anyone else, please. I—I don't think I'm ready for that."
"Of course. I will take it to my grave."
Bodhi pales. "There's no need for that!"
"It's a figure of speech, Bodhi," the man reassures the pilot gently. "I have no intention of dying anytime soon. In the meantime, if it helps to talk or you ever want a listening ear, I am here for you."
Bodhi blinks, unaccustomed to having friendship and comfort offered so freely, without strings attached. He has to fight down the emotions that threaten to close his throat. "Yes, well, thank you. I'm sure I'll take you up on that offer. I mean, you've obviously had a lot more time than I have to get used to these sorts of things and I'd appreciate any tips you have for handling them."
Cassian snorts. "I can't be that much older than you."
"What? Of course you are!" the pilot exclaims. Cassian had such an air of confidence and experience mixed with world-weariness that Bodhi thought the other man was older for sure. Plus, he was a captain, and usually it takes years of experience to be promoted to captain.
"Oh really? Just how old do you think I am?" Cassian demands, one eyebrow raised.
Bodhi winces. Walked myself right into that one… "Uh, thirty-three?"
"Well at least you didn't say forty," the man grumbles. "But you're wrong. I'm twenty-six."
Bodhi's shocked. "No you're not."
Cassian stares at him in silence.
Bodhi backtracks quickly. "What I mean is, actually, that you have the air of someone much much older!"
"So you're saying I act like an old man."
"No!" Bodhi disagrees, horrified. "You just—I thought—well—"
Cassian's lips quirk up in amusement. "Would you like a shovel? It might help you dig yourself into that hole a little faster."
Bodhi snaps his mouth shut, realizing his attempt is futile. Instead he blurts, "Sorry!"
Cassian just waves it away. "I've been called worse, believe me. Being seen as 'old' doesn't even make it onto the list of top hundred." The man pauses. "Actually, it probably doesn't even make it on the top two hundred."
It's hard to wrap his head around, that this man who's done so much and is clearly such a respected officer in the rebellion, is only a year older than Bodhi himself. And while Bodhi's not going to try to explain to Cassian why he thought he was older—because that didn't work out so well the first time—it's not that he looks old, it's that he seems too knowledgeable and confident, too world-weary for someone who's only twenty-six. Bodhi has seen how much responsibility Cassian carries on his shoulders and the pilot had thought for sure that the rebellion wouldn't require so much from anyone as young as their mid-twenties. He guesses he was wrong.
They talk for a while longer, about home planets and such, all easy conversation to understand each other better. Well, really it's Bodhi that does most of the talking while Cassian listens attentively, occasionally offering a comment or two.
Eventually Bodhi decides it's time he left, if for no other reason than to find Baze in order to stop the man from frantically searching for him (which he's sure he is) and apologize to the man. He rises to leave, bidding Cassian farewell and promising to see him before the ceremony. Just as he's about to cue the door to open, Cassian's voice stops him.
"You should get that arm looked at again."
Bodhi freezes. He'd never mentioned his injured arm, only that he'd gotten some scrapes and cuts, but Cassian had figured it out anyway. Damn him and his observational skills! Without turning around, Bodhi tries to refuse. "No, it's really not that bad. And besides, I'm really not interested in the sympathy and pity that whoever treats me will look at me with, nor am I interested in being treated like a fragile person about to break," he reveals, thinking that if anyone would understand his feelings, it would be Cassian.
"Ask for Vorin Yevez and say that I sent you. Vorin won't give you any sympathy or treat you like you're about to break, trust me. He's no-nonsense and blunt, and even borderline rude sometimes."
After quiet consideration, he relents. "Okay. Thank you." The door slides shut behind him and he still has a smile on his face when he pivots to walk away down the hall and nearly runs smack into Baze, who is leaning nonchalantly against the wall.
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A.N.2 Well Bodhi sure had a lot to say... longest chapter yet, I think.
I recognize, of course, that Draven probably isn't all bad, but I didn't find him particularly warm and fuzzy in the movie and therefore I'm not shining a beautiful light on him in this chapter.
Bodhi and Cassian are just friends in my story. I fully respect all of those who ship them, but for this story, they're just friends.
And there we have it so far! Much more to come. Please feel free to share your thoughts, your likes and dislikes, as I take them into consideration when editing and adapting my story. And what do you all think of the present tense format? Like it or hate it?