Author's Note: After writing a couple of very angsty and very depressing WWII stories, I decided that I needed to switch it up a bit! So I really tried to make this story lighter and funnier, with a lot more fluff. And just to make things different, Jyn is a total horndog in this and it is she who is crushing hard!
Again, please note that I am merely a lover of WWII history and not an expert. (See end notes for my research.) If you wish to make corrections, please leave a civil comment and I will get back to you. All questions - no matter how random - are also welcome.
Reviews are (almost) better than Jyn and Cassian making heart-eyes at each other. So please leave one if you can! Happy reading!
British intelligence has been very active in making things appear dangerous in South America. We have to be a little on our guard against false scares.
Adolf Berle, the United States' Assistant Secretary of State for Latin American Affairs
.
Nothing deceives like a document.
William Stephenson, head of the British Security Coordination (BSC)
1941
Somewhere in the South of Cuba
Jyn Erso thinks this is all a terribly awful idea.
Not the mission, of course; she has finally been won around to the necessity of it. No, it is not the mission itself that Jyn disagrees with, exactly; it is more the manner of it. And the manner of it is this: she has been sent to Cuba to carry out an important espionage mission with none other than Cassian Andor, the BSC agent who she finds infuriating as well as… appealing.
Yes. She likes to settle on the word 'appealing', if she can. Yes. 'Appealing'. That's it. A harmless enough word.
It has been days (too many days) of them travelling down from Washington together and sleeping in the same hotel rooms. Too many days of seeing him in various states of undress. (Curse the damn bathrooms! If only they have been larger, the man wouldn't have to venture outside to get dressed with only a towel wrapped around his waist.) Jyn is generally very good at focusing on the task at hand. But, of course, she is only human; close proximity with a man she finds attractive is never good for concentration.
Thankfully, Cassian Andor is fully clothed at the moment. He is peeking through the curtains of their small hotel room, his gaze stern and worried as he sweeps the darkened street below. Jyn is sitting on the bed, observing him quietly. During the past few months that they have known each other in Washington, they have never been close. But she knows him well enough to know that agitation is a foreign look on him. (Not that she has been noticing, of course.)
"You have been staring out the window for ten minutes now," says Jyn. "Our contact will show up when he decides to show up. Your staring is not going to help him arrive here faster."
"Kay is not late," corrects Cassian, his eyes still fixed on the street below.
Jyn scoffs. Ever since they discovered that their contact in Cuba is none other than Cassian's old army acquaintance, she feels like she already knows everything there is to know about Second Lieutenant James Kay. (Twenty-four years old. British. Etonian.) Cassian does not talk much about himself (most of the time, he hardly talks at all), but he does talk quite a bit about his friend.
"Of course, Kay is not late," says Jyn sarcastically. "I can't imagine how one can possibly manage such an extraordinary feat!"
Cassian's eyes darken and he almost looks embarrassed by her teasing.
"You don't understand," he says, shaking his head. "It is not that Kay isn't late; it is that he is never late. When we were in France, I had a dead leg so we couldn't keep up with our unit. But Kay said we'd get to Dunkirk for the evacuation by ten o'clock on the first of June. And believe it or not, came June the first, we were there on that beach, right on time, despite the Luftwaffe dropping bombs on us every step of the way."
"That was perseverance and luck. Not punctuality."
"I am simply saying that - "
"That this James Kay can shoot thunderbolts out of his arse?"
For a moment, Cassian looks like he is about to smile. But then he hastily looks away from her.
"I simply trust him, that's all."
"How romantic," says Jyn dryly. "Maybe one of his tires blew out."
"I don't think his tires - " Suddenly, Cassian tenses. "Wait a minute - I think that's him!"
"Thank Goodness," drawls Jyn, rolling her eyes. "He is only - what - fifteen minutes late?"
Cassian ignores her. He continues staring out the window for a moment longer before letting the curtains drop back into place. A few, short minutes later, there are knocks at their door. Two, at first, and then a pause, and then three more in rapid succession. Recognising the code, Cassian steps forward and unlocks the door to let the newcomer in.
Kay is everything Jyn has imagined him to be. Tall, rigid, with sharp cheekbones and fine features that scream Aryan purity. He is as light as Cassian is dark, and he wears his civilian clothes as impeccably as he probably wears his uniform.
"Cassian! I apologise for - " Kay's eyes land on Jyn and they grow wide at the sight of her. "Who is she?"
"Jyn Erso," says Jyn, getting to her feet.
"Cassian, I was under the impression that it would just be you on this mission," says Kay harshly, addressing his old friend as though Jyn is not in the room.
Cassian replies smoothly, "She's the cracksman we have working with us in Washington. We need her."
"As if you can't pick locks by yourself!" scoffs Kay.
"I can, but she is an expert. New York and Stephenson want to take every precaution." Cassian shrugs. "And if we were discovered, two young lovers breaking into a house for a secret tryst is more believable than a strange bloke stumbling around in the dark by himself."
"Has she been vetted?"
"Of course I have been vetted," Jyn cuts in, glaring furiously at Kay. "And please stop talking like I am not here!"
"I apologise, Miss Erso," says Kay, in a tone that says he is not apologising at all. "There are spies everywhere. And I don't know you."
So it is Second Lieutenant James Kay, twenty-four years old, British, Etonian, and a downright prick.
Jyn scowls. "And I don't know you."
"Jyn, stop. We are wasting time," interrupts Cassian, sighing. "Kay, why were you late? Is there something wrong?"
Kay shifts his gaze from Jyn back to Cassian.
"No. One of my tires blew out."
Jyn cannot help but smirk. Cassian pretends not to notice.
"Is that your car downstairs?"
"Yes. Do you have the map? The tools?"
"I have the map," says Cassian, tapping his black jacket where Jyn knows he has that precious piece of paper folded up and stored securely inside its pocket.
"And I have the tools," says Jyn, holding up the box in question.
"Alright. Let us go, then."
Cassian is the first one to leave the room and make his way down the stairs. Jyn, however, finds her path blocked on the landing by Kay, who begins glaring at her suspiciously after he has her cornered.
"Bloody hell, this is getting ridiculous!"
"Miss Erso, how well do you know Cassian?"
The question nearly makes Jyn blush. "He is my colleague," she manages to bite back. "Which means I do not know him well at all."
(Not for the lack of trying, of course. But that is neither here nor there.)
Kay's eyes narrow. "I do not care that you have been vetted."
"You should."
"But if you were to jeopardise this mission in any way or betray us - "
"Oh, am I that transparent?" Jyn asks mockingly and feigns a horrified gasp. "Three other Gestapo officers are lying in wait right now, ready to kidnap you both and bring you before the Führer!"
Kay's expression darkens even more. "You jape, Miss Erso."
"At least one of us does," she mutters. "It seems like neither you or Cassian are capable of it."
Kay purses his thin lips together and throws her one last, distrustful look. "This is a horrible idea."
"Sir, this is a horrible idea," says Jyn.
She is perched on the edge of her seat, staring incredulously across the desk at General Dravits Draven of the British Security Coordination. He is puffing and chewing on his pipe as he eyes her with that condescending look she hates so very much.
"Is it, Miss Erso?" Draven asks tightly.
Jyn does not waver. "Sir, however fickle the Americans might appear, they are people here in Washington who are already very sceptical of our organisation. Hoover himself is not a friend. There are - "
"I meet with these people on a weekly basis, girl. Don't you think I know this?" snarls Draven. "But it is not people like Berle or Hoover we must convince; it is those senators. We need the Americans to join the war now."
"Sir - "
"Would you have us continue using the likes of Louis de Wohl instead, Miss Erso?"
This time, Jyn does waver. Her eyes drop momentarily at the mention of de Wohl. Louis de Wohl is the Hungarian-born astrologer they have hired to spread false predictions of Hitler's downfall amongst the Americans. (Turns out they are a pretty superstitious lot.) Draven has scoffed at the plan at first, but New York has been desperate enough to let it through. Even nonsense propaganda is still propaganda - is what they keep telling themselves.
"Sir, de Wohl is a harmless trick. A shot in the dark," says Jyn. "But a forgery like this…the Americans will know for certain."
"Andor, what do you think?"
And, yes, sitting in the chair next to Jyn is none other than Cassian Andor, the cream of the crop of the BSC. He has been silent and still for most of this meeting, merely observing the heated conversation between the General and Jyn with an unreadable expression. Upon hearing his name, he sits up straighter in his chair. But he does not glance back at Jyn.
"Sir, is the map here?" asks Cassian.
"Yes," replies Draven. He unlocks a drawer and brings out a large piece of paper. He unfolds it several times and flattens it across the table. "Bryce in Latin American Affairs sketched out the first draft. We sent it to Station M and they came back with this, all in forty-eight hours."
Both Cassian and Jyn lean forward to inspect the map. Despite her previous reservations, Jyn lets out a gasp.
"Sir, it's - "
"Exquisite, I know."
Jyn lets her fingers trail across the paper's stained surface, along the black lines of the Swastika, and along the crumpled, torn corners. There are even handwritten notes in German, squeezed in between the dividing country lines. If she had not been informed of the map's true creation, she would have believed it was genuine.
"No one forges documents like the Canadians," says Draven gruffly. "Andor, what do you think?'
Cassian runs a slow hand through his hair and he is close enough to Jyn that the movement makes his elbow brush against her shoulder.
"It is definitely impressive, sir," says Cassian softly. He is still staring at the map, his eyes hard. "Giving the Lufthansa routes straight into Panama and Mexico is a particularly deft touch. And the division of the continent into five vassel states…well," - a dark expression crosses his features - "it looks outrageous. But knowing the Nazis, I wouldn't be surprised if a version of this actually came true one day."
"They will deny it, of course," says Draven.
"Of course they will, sir. But that will make them look even guiltier," says Cassian. "This will cause quite a stir in the American press. Hopefully the isolationists in the congress will be rattled."
"That is our aim, Andor."
"I'm guessing you already have a plan in mind, sir?"
"There is a Nazi safe house along the south coast of Cuba. We haven't raided it yet because I like to keep my enemies in sight." Draven cracks a toothy grin that makes him look like a vicious bulldog. "We sneak in and drop the map there. I will leak the information of the safe house to the FBI, they will raid the place and hopefully discover the map. And with any luck, Donovan will hand it up to Roosevelt himself."
Jyn nearly smirks, but resists the urge just in time. Draven makes the plan sounds ridiculously simple, as if the Americans wouldn't suspect anything. As if one forged document could make the congress ditch its neutrality acts and join with Britain against the Germans in a heartbeat.
"And us, sir?" Jyn asks. "What does Cassian and I have to do with this?"
"I'm sending you both to Cuba for the drop. Andor, because I trust him and because he speaks Spanish. And you, Miss Erso, because of your skills as a cracksman." He gives her a strained smile. "And because you are not the sort of girl who is content with being shut up in an annex, making coffee and answering phones."
Jyn feels the heat rush to her face; being read by Draven is not as bad as being read by Cassian, but it is still not a pleasant experience.
"Are you on board, Miss Erso?" asks Draven.
She cannot help herself and her eyes flicker over to Cassian. For the first time in this meeting, he returns her gaze, and there is a small - almost imperceptible - smile playing around the corners of his mouth. She swallows the lump in her throat and hastily looks back at Draven.
"Yes, sir. I'm on board."
"Good girl," says Draven and he gives her a stern nod. With the pipe clamped between his teeth, he begins folding up the map. "We will discuss the mission in more detail tomorrow. I have a bloody party to get ready for. These damn Washington socialites…from the way they behave, you'd think there isn't a war on."
It is a sentiment which Jyn herself has thought of many times. Ever since she arrived in Washington, it has been a shock to the system. Compared to the rubbles and the greyness of London, blitzed by the Luftwaffe, Washington looks like an untouched paradise. It is filled with flowery gardens, unrationed food, men in fancy suits, and women with pearls around their necks.
Jyn is about to voice her agreement with Draven when Cassian asks, in a strangely strict tone, "Sir, what if Jyn and I were discovered?"
"Then you would be on your own," Draven says.
The silence stretches on for a few seconds. Then, Cassian nods.
"Understood, sir."
"You already know how these things go, Andor," growls Draven. "Now, both of you, get back to work."
Cassian turns around to face Jyn once they are outside of Draven's office, with the door closed tightly behind them. His careful smile is widening into a grin.
"What?" snaps Jyn. She hates it when he smiles at her. Really, she does.
Cassian takes out a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. She stares at him, and tries to look away as a few tendrils of hair fall carelessly into his dark eyes.
"You don't want to go to Cuba with me," says Cassian amusedly, blowing out smoke. "It's not that you don't want to go on the mission. You just don't want to go on it with me."
Damn it. How does he know?
Jyn forces herself to glare at him, hoping to God he has no idea how much her stomach is fluttering.
"I never said such a thing."
"You didn't have to," Cassian states matter-of-factly. "I can tell. You have this scowl on your face whenever you're displeased."
"I don't - "
"Jyn, I know we're not friends," says Cassian. His playful smile drops away, and there is something…incredibly earnest in the way he looks at her. "But I'm good at my job."
"I know that."
"And I hope you know that you can trust me."
"I do."
He scoffs. "You're an awful liar, Jyn."
"Cassian, it's not that I don't trust you…"
"Then what?" he asks. Not angrily, of course. (Cassian hardly ever gets angry.) But curiously. Sincerely.
But she cannot tell him. She cannot. She does not even know how to tell him. So they end up standing there, eyes locked, waiting for words that will not come.
Eventually, Cassian sighs. He looks away first and inhales deeply from his cigarette.
"Alright. We'll do the drop and then that's that." he says. "You don't have to like me."
She hates it whenever he walks away. Really, she does.
Kay stops the car on top of the ridge, at an abandoned petrol station, overlooking the coastline. He turns off the engine and turns around to face Jyn and Cassian, who are sitting in silence in the backseat.
"Are you ready?" asks Kay.
"As ready as we'll ever be," says Jyn glumly. She begins tying her hair up into a ponytail. Both she and Cassian are dressed all in black, with light summer jackets to guard against the night air.
Kay's eyes narrow in anger at her quip. But he, mercifully, decides to let it slide.
"While you are carrying out your task, I will be parked here," Kay tells them, but looking only at Cassian. "You already know where the house is. There is a patrol every forty-five minutes or so. I will honk twice in warning, but the policemen are on bikes so you should hear them coming regardless."
Jyn hears a click, and she turns, just in time to see Cassian stowing an item into his belt.
"You brought your gun."
Cassian shrugs nonchalantly. "I like to be prepared."
"Then I would like - "
"You're not getting a gun, Miss Erso," says Kay sharply, before continuing as though nothing has happened. "It is now one o'clock. The pubs and restaurants will be closed by now. At two, after you are done with the drop, I will drive by the coast road and you will meet me at the end of the street. I cannot stop and linger, so please be there on time. If you miss the mark, we meet an hour later, at the docks. Understood?"
"Yes, Kay," replies Cassian, sighing.
"And here." Kay reaches into his breast pocket and produces a key. "This opens the front door. And the safe is inside a wardrobe in the main office. An important document like this map wouldn't be lying around on any old desk so you must place it inside the safe."
"What type of safe is it?" asks Jyn.
"A Banham. An old one." Kay's eyebrows quirk up at Jyn. "I trust this is not a problem?"
"No, it's not," Jyn says, smiling acidly back at Kay. She reaches out a hand to take the key and stores it in the box with the rest of her tools. "Now, what's next?"
"I will drop you off at the end of the street. At our pick-up spot. It is not safe to drive past the houses."
"Good," says Cassian hastily. "Let's go, Kay. Let's get this over with."
Jyn tries to convince herself that Cassian's hurried manner does not bother her; he only wants to get the mission done and it does not mean that he wants to get away from her as quickly as possible. After all, this is why she herself has chosen to come, isn't it? To complete this very important mission and not to spend time with him like a lovesick teenage girl?
But when Kay slows the car down, she can't help but feel a slight pang of hurt when Cassian scrambles out with hardly a backward glance at her.
"Here," Cassian tells her sharply as Kay speeds away. His grip on her elbow is impersonal - cold, even - as he steers her down the street. When they get to the safe house, he opens the gate and walks behind her as they make their way up the darkened path to the door.
"Key," Cassian mutters.
Jyn quickly takes out the key Kay has given them and puts it in the lock. She turns it. But -
"Bugger!"
"What is it?" Cassian hisses.
"They changed the locks. Do you think they know we're coming? Maybe we should - "
"They can't possibly know," says Cassian calmly.
"I'm going to kill Kay."
"Can you pick it?" Cassian turns on his torch and shines it at the door.
"It's a Yale lock," Jyn says, biting her bottom lip. "Of course I can."
She takes out her wrench and selects the appropriate pick. She clamps it between her teeth as she uses both her hands to insert the wrench.
"You can switch off the torch now," Jyn says.
"But you won't be able to - "
"I think I can pick a simple Yale lock in the dark, Cassian."
Thankfully, he does not respond to her sharp tone. He stays quiet as he watches her work. The lock is simple enough. A four cylinder pin with a bolt. And it takes her only a little more than ten minutes to work the pins. The final click, when it comes, makes her smile broadly with pride. She gives the door a small push and it cracks open with hardly a sound.
"Well done," says Cassian, his voice surprisingly warm. But it is too dark to see his expression.
"Come on."
They slip inside, closing the door firmly behind them, and Cassian switches his torch on again. The light sweeps over a simple house which has been turned into an office space. There is a kitchen to the right and a staircase leading up to the second floor.
"This way," says Cassian. He has found the main office to their left. It is clearly bigger than the other rooms in the house, with a large desk, a couple of chairs and two cabinets.
"There!" says Jyn, pointing to a very small wardrobe. It is squeezed into one of the corners, next to a window and just behind the desk. It is an unfortunate location; the wardrobe is clearly visible from the street outside if someone were to pass by.
Cassian strides up to the wardrobe and throws open its doors. But upon seeing the safe, he lets out a swear word in Spanish.
"What is it?"
"Unbelievable," mumbles Cassian.
Jyn pushes him out of the way and crouches down to examine the safe. She, too, swears loudly.
"Your friend is an unreliable arse," Jyn grumbles angrily. "This is the new Banham. The latest version. Not the old one like he said."
"Can you pick it?"
"I can try." She begins opening up her box and examining all her tools. "Give me half an hour. If I can't get it open by then, we'll leave the map in one of the drawers."
"I suppose that's all we can do."
"Shine your torch here."
He scoffs. "You're not doing it in the dark this time?"
She rolls her eyes. "And this is an inopportune moment for you to develop a sense of humour."
She hears him chuckle lightly, but he complies with what she has asked. They remain crouched there in front of the wardrobe, with his torch shining on the safe, as she sets to work.
It is very, very slow-going. The work complex and arduous. And Jyn has no idea how much time has passed while she works. She begins to sweat, and while she fiddles with the wrench and the picks, she has tooccasionally lift a hand to wipe her brow. To his credit, Cassian does not try to distract her with conversation. He is crouched beside her, watching quietly as she swears under her breath and picks away.
Then, faintly, as if from a great distance, the sound of a car horn, honking twice.
Cursing, Cassian instantly switches off the torch. But through the window, they see a thin stream of light, flashing down from the end of the street. There is no mistaking the sound of bicycles which accompanies it.
"Fuck!" Jyn yanks her tools out of the lock, rendering all her work useless. And before her brain can form a better plan, she is dragging Cassian into the tiny wardrobe with her, pulling the door shut with shaking hands to hide them in.
"Jyn - "
"Be quiet!"
She has not thought this through. Not at all.
Damn it. Oh, no, no, no, no.
Their fronts are pressed together in the small space of the wardrobe. Her head is level with his chest, his chin almost resting on the top of her head. Both her hands are folded to her breasts while his are wrapped around her entire body. And their legs…well, one of her thighs is pressed against his while her other leg…she blushes at where her other leg is pressed up against.
"Jyn," Cassian whispers, and his breath is hot against the side of her face, "I just have to - "
He tries to remove his hands from her waist. But the tiny space makes the manoeuvre an impossible one to achieve. It is also too dark for them to see, and when he tries to put his hands on a more appropriate place, he ends up putting them on a place that is even more inappropriate.
"Sorry!" gasps Cassian, pulling away as though he has been burned and almost hitting himself in the face.
Jyn blushes even deeper. But then, with some unexplained courage, she grabs hold of both his hands and drags them up to circle around her neck.
"There," says Jyn in the most professional voice she can muster. "They're safe here."
Silence. The only sound is their own breathing, heavy and much too fast.
They are close enough to kiss. But they are already close enough to feel the other person's heartbeat. To be aware of every single, tiny movement the other person makes. He must know how much her body is aflame - how much her skin is tingling underneath his touch - because he is moving in closer, his mouth almost at the column of her neck.
But they are on a tight schedule, and Jyn curses silently when she hears herself whisper, "I think they're gone."
She feels him pause. Hears him clear his throat. "Um. Alright. Then let's - "
"The safe."
Jyn pushes the door open and they both stumble out, gasping much too desperately for air. She does all she can do not to look at him; immediately, she crouches down on the floor to continue her task.
Well done, you bloody idiot.
"How much time do we have left before the pick-up?" Jyn asks, still not sparing him a glance.
"Less than fifteen minutes."
Thankfully, Cassian says nothing else and lets her work in silence. The minutes tick on and on, every second more excruciating than the last. Until finally, there is a loud click, the sound deafening in the silence of the room.
Unable to stop herself, Jyn lets out a triumphant, "Ha!" She turns the dial, and the safe is open at last.
"Well done, Jyn!"
Cassian is grinning at her in the torch light, his face radiant and beautiful. It does things to her, really - this happy and proud look of his. It makes her stomach do somersaults and her heart skip like she is a hopeless fool.
"The map," Jyn stammers.
Cassian quickly produces it and she slides it into the safe, in between other sheets of documents. The rest is smooth and quick after that. They lock the safe, the front door, and dash up the street, his hand resting protectively on the small of her back.
They arrive at the pick-up spot with nearly five minutes to spare. But before Kay can make an appearance in his car, they hear the soft, clinking sound of bicycle chains. And, yes, torchlight, coming up from the other end of the road.
Jyn groans. "Do these policemen ever sleep?"
She looks around frantically, but they are at a crossing, with no obvious places to hide.
"Come here," says Cassian.
And suddenly, he is grabbing her by the hand and pulling her toward him. They stumble backward to the side of the road, his back making contact with the wall of a nearby house.
"Cassian, they're coming - "
It happens faster than she could ever anticipate. His lips on hers, aggressive, needy, begging. Her head swims with both pleasure and shock. But before she can let out a sound, her mouth opens of its own accord and she is kissing him back. The sound he makes causes her to tremble in his arms.
So this is what it feels like.
Her hands are in his hair and on the back of his neck. His tongue darts against the roof of her mouth and then he is biting gently on her bottom lip. Pulling, pulling, pulling…
"¿Qué pasa? ¿Qué pasa?"
Cassian tears his lips away from hers. (And, bloody hell, the loss of his mouth causes a whine to escape from her.) There is torchlight shining on them both and she can hear the voices of two policemen, asking more questions in Spanish.
"¿Quién eres?"
Jyn feigns an embarrassed sob and buries her face in the front of Cassian's jacket. Cassian, however, begins complaining loudly in rapid Spanish, his arm wrapped around her as tightly as a lover's.
The policemen and Cassian argue for a few minutes longer. Until finally, it is the two policemen who retreat, muttering under their breath as they go.
"What is it?" Jyn whispers. "What did you tell them?"
"To mind their own business," says Cassian, smiling a little. "That it is not a crime for a man and a woman to sneak out at night and make love."
"Oh." She feels a blush creeping up her cheeks again and she disentangles herself from him. "Well, that was very quick-thinking on your part. I see it worked. They're gone."
"You were quite quick-thinking yourself, with dragging us into that wardrobe."
"Well, it was the only place - "
Unfortunately, Kay chooses this very moment to arrive. His car rounds the corner incredibly quickly and slows to a crawling pace in front of Jyn and Cassian. The door to the backseat is already open.
"Get in!" Kay hisses.
Jyn practically dives inside the car and Cassian follows quickly, pulling the door shut after him. Kay speeds up and they are away at last.
"Both of you look flustered," says Kay, eyeing them in the rearview mirror. "What happened?"
"Your stupid key didn't work and the Benham's a new one," replies Jyn, trying her damnedest to slow down her breathing. She is purposefully not looking at Cassian. "Next time, double-check your information, Second Lieutenant."
"There won't be a next time," says Kay coldly. "Certainly not with you, Miss Erso."
"Kay," Cassian sighs, "it's fine. No one got hurt."
"Cassian, I apologise if - "
Jyn snorts derisively. "Oh, so you're apologising to him, but not to me?"
"Jyn, let it go," says Cassian, not looking at her. "And Kay, we all make mistakes. It happens."
"Not to me. I hardly ever make mistakes."
Jyn scoffs and, suddenly, Cassian is wrapping his hand around her wrist, as though cautioning her against saying anything else. The touch feels instinctual, and he pulls away immediately after her body twitches in surprise.
Kay, however, misses nothing; his eyebrows fly up as he stares at them in the mirror.
Cassian clears his throat awkwardly. "Everything is fine, Kay."
"So you keep saying, Cassian," Kay says, his tone cutting. "But I say otherwise."
Jyn groans inwardly. And all she can do is swear silently at General Draven and the very man who is currently sitting next to her - whose mouth has captured hers only a few minutes ago.
Again, this is all a terribly, terribly awful idea.
Jyn learns that you do not talk about awkward missions until much, much later.
For she and Cassian, 'much, much later' happens to be late October when they are back in Washington, a few months after they have returned from Cuba. It is Navy Day when she finally finds the courage to approach his small office in the annex and knock sharply on the door.
"Come in!"
She pushes the door open and finds him sitting on his desk, smoking a cigarette. His eyes are fixed on the small television in the corner of his room.
"Cassian, I bring a message from the General."
Cassian whips around immediately. And that look returns again - that look he has whenever he sees her, ever since their trip to Cuba. Soft and warm, but also incredibly awkward.
"Oh, Jyn. What message?"
"The General wants you to search for Dahl. He's disappeared again. A certain councilwoman is asking for him and Draven is afraid that this time, she is not going to take 'no' for an answer."
Cassian sighs wearily and presses a hand to his temple. "When do I have to find him by?"
"Tomorrow morning. There is a luncheon he must attend with the councilwoman."
"He is probably with that actress again." Cassian sighs once more. "Alright. Tell the General I'll bring him in tomorrow."
"Oh. And one more thing."
"What's that?"
Jyn thrusts the cup of coffee at him. "I made you coffee."
Cassian pauses. "You…made me coffee?"
"Yes." She shrugs as carelessly as she can. "It is what I do around here, isn't it?"
"I didn't ask you to."
"Well…"
"But thank you."
Cassian reaches out to take the cup from her, and their fingers brush briefly. The tingle that surges through her brings her back to Cuba. To his body pressed up against hers and his tongue in her mouth…
Get a grip, Erso.
"Cassian, I want to - "
"Jyn, it's alright. You don't have to say anything. I have been meaning to apologise for a while now."
"Cassian - "
"I really am sorry."
She frowns. "You're sorry? Whatever for?"
"For Cuba."
"Cassian - "
"If I overstepped the mark - "
"You didn't."
"I thought - "
"It saved our skins, didn't it?" She cracks a small smile. "And it was all for the mission."
"Oh, I see. Thank goodness." He draws in a short breath. "So we're good?"
She nods. "We're good."
Jyn thinks she should say something else at this moment. Perhaps something which will make the situation clearer for both of them. But, like always, she is never good at using her words when it comes to matters of the heart. So she forces her eyes to stray away from his and land on the television screen instead.
"So…what are you watching?"
"The President's Navy Day address," says Cassian. He makes room on the desk for her and she sits down next to him. His cup of coffee is resting precariously between them. "Cigarette?"
"Yes, please."
He lights one for her and they sit there, smoking. Watching as Roosevelt drones on and on, even though she is not listening to a single word he says.
Jyn thinks this is rather nice: she and Cassian, with the cigarettes and the silence. Normal. Peaceful. She wants more, of course. Much more. But until she learns how to ask for more, this is almost enough.
Then, suddenly, she feels Cassian stiffen beside her.
"Jyn - "
"What?"
"Roosevelt! Listen!"
"…I have in my possession a secret map made in Germany by Hitler's government - by the planners of the new world order. It is a map of South America and a part of Central America, as Hitler proposes to reorganise it…"
Jyn's heart is jumping out of her chest. "Cassian, could it be - ?"
"Our map!"
"…this map makes clear the Nazi design not only against South America but against the United States itself…"
"Cassian!"
Her hand instinctively reaches out for his. At first, he looks surprised by the touch, but then he grips her hand back just as tightly. And they hold on to each other like this - like it is for dear life - as Roosevelt continues his speech.
Yes, it is obvious now. It is their map. The same map that was sketched out within the walls of this very annex and sent to Toronto to be forged. The very same map Jyn put into that Benham safe she unlocked in Cuba, all those months ago, with Cassian by her side.
"…some Americans - not many - will continue to insist that Hitler's plans need not worry us, and that we should not concern ourselves with anything that goes on beyond rifle shot of our own shores…"
"Jyn?"
"What is it?"
"We did it," says Cassian.
She turns to look at him and there is something bright and terribly exultant in his expression. His eyes are twinkling at her. She has never seen them twinkle before, and they make her feel as if she is seeing a side of him that is only reserved for her.
"The neutrality acts still haven't been repelled yet," says Jyn. Her voice might be calm, but her head is spinning. "It is only a small step."
"A small step towards a giant leap, perhaps."
"Oh God, I hope so," she says.
She thinks of her London, almost entirely destroyed by Luftwaffe bombs. Then she imagines American tanks, weapons, and soldiers rolling into Europe and Africa, bringing them all just a bit closer to victory.
"Thank goodness for Cuba," says Cassian. "I quite enjoyed our time there, you know."
"As did I."
"Do you know what I have learned on our trip?"
"No." She is grinning stupidly now. "What did you learn?"
"I've learned…that maybe you don't dislike me after all."
And this time, when he kisses her, it is as though they have all the time in the world.
"…and when we have helped to end the curse of Hitlerism, we shall help to establish a new peace which will give to decent people everywhere a better chance to live and prosper in security and in freedom and in faith…"
.
.
.
Author's Note: Yay! Kay is finally introduced into this series! And it is such a nice change not to write something super angsty for once. But, considering I am who I am, I'm sure there's more angst coming in the future! But now, onto the (very) dense history:
- Even after the attack on Pearl Harbour (December 7, 1941), the United States was reluctant to join in the fighting, with isolationists in the congress constantly against it. The British Security Coordination, or the BSC, was a covert organisation set up in America on the orders of Winston Churchill in May, 1940. Its mission was to further British interests in the Americas, investigate enemy activities and convince the United States to join the war by any means necessary. These means included hiring an astrologer to spread false predictions of Hitler's downfall (Louis de Wahl), planting pro-British propaganda, and sleeping with American councilwomen in the hopes of swaying their anti-British sentiments.
- The headquarters of the BSC was in New York in the Rockefeller Centre, where the head of the organisation, the Canadian spymaster William Stephenson (Intrepid), operated from. The BSC also had an office in Washington. I chose to place Jyn, Cassian and Draven there after reading an excellent book called The Irregulars: Roald Dahl and the British Spy Ring in Wartime Washingtonby Jennet Conant. I heartily recommend it if you wish to learn more about the BSC's activities during the war.
- The mission to Cuba and the forged map are all true. The Nazi did have a safe house in the south coast of Cuba, the BSC did manipulate the FBI into finding the forged map there, and Station M was really a base in Toronto where the British forged documents for the war effort. However, BSC agents in Washington like Jyn and Cassian wouldn't have been the ones sent down to Cuba to carry out the task. I just had to stretch this possibility a bit to make the story flow better!
- The Bryce mentioned by Draven did exist. Ivar Bryce was an agent who worked in the Latin American affairs section of the BSC and was the person who sketched out the map based on how he imagined Hitler would divide up South America. Many different versions of this map existed, but most of them shared this one trait: the division of the continent into vassel states.
- The Roosevelt's quotes were taken from his Navy Day address on October 27, 1941. Roosevelt was very much for the United States joining the war, and him mentioning the map in his speech (there is no evidence to prove that he thought it was a fake) had a hand in later dismantling the neutrality acts. These acts were passed by the United States Congress in the 1930s to ensure that the US wouldn't "become entangled again in foreign conflicts."
- After Roosevelt's speech, the Nazis vehemently denied that they had anything to do with the creation of the map. But their denial made them look even guiltier. The map was mentioned again when Germany declared war against the US after Pearl Harbour. They called the map "evidence of American provocation".
- Hoover is J. Edgar Hoover, the first director of the FBI, who famously did not get on with Stephenson. Donovan is Colonel William J. Donovan, who passed the map onto Roosevelt. And Dahl is none other than the famous author, Roald Dahl, who became a BSC agent in Washington in 1942. I really recommend reading Jennet Conant's book (mentioned above) for more of his amazing exploits.
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Please, please let me know what you thought of this story! Questions are also welcome. I would LOVE to hear from you.