Chapter Three: Glory Saved for Heroes
The Alliance had secured its first major victory against the Empire, and it was clearly showing in the activities about the base at Yavin 4. To begin with, the medbay was full and most additional space indoors had been converted to some kind of extension of the medical facility. The casualty count had reached an all time high during the battle of Scarif, but that count had thankfully stopped once the battle was officially declared over. Few spirits at the base were elated. Even the grandest victories didn't come without a fair share of losses. For the Alliance, that loss was the sheer number of lives that had perished both on the shores of Scarif and on board the ships that had fended off the Empire's vessels and attempted to bring down the shieldgate.
At least everyone liked to think the battle was a victory. Word had not yet been received from Leia Organa regarding the Death Star plans.
Ground officers working in intelligence had set to work soon after the battle and listened in for uninterrupted days to every signal transmission they could tap into. Not even so much as a rumor about the plans they had sacrificed all to steal. The ground officers were listening to transmissions, and...
"Incoming message from a registered source, sir."
"Can't be. All registered communication devices are here on the base and disabled."
"Force..."
"Stop acting like every signal you tap into is going to give us something, Private."
"General. You really have to see this."
"Oh really? Impress me."
"The transmission is coming from...Rogue One, sir."
Bodhi set the ship to free-float on autopilot and left the communications wall, joining the others without any particular confidence in his expression.
"I tried," he told them, sitting down on the floor next to Melshi. While the lights on-board hadn't been completely switched off, the glow emitted had been considerably dimmed. It was still unclear just how much longer they would have to hold out with a limited fuel supply. "That was the fifth transmission I sent. If they're listening in at all, they'll receive it."
"We can always try again," said Melshi. "Don't sweat, Rook. You've done enough for us and the Rebellion as it is."
The ship descended into silence. With two out of three benches broken, the five men sat in whatever positions they deemed comfortable on the steel grey floor of the ship while Jyn caught some well-earned sleep curled under the remaining bench, behind Cassian and Sefla. They were all used to holding onto nothing but faint hope for long periods during missions, and used to the uncertainty that threatened to crush their spirits during these periods. Practiced endurance served them well now.
"So, while we're here," started Aren, cracking the long streak of silence. Conversation was necessary. It gave you something to anchor onto. At least in the present moment. It went well with faint hope. "You never did tell us how you got that fuel. Not an exciting story?"
For reasons known only to himself, Bodhi laughed silently. "No. Pretty exciting."
Melshi decided he didn't like the sound of that. "Please tell me you just visited an ordinary filling station."
"We...er," the pilot drew his knees to his chest, eyes twinkling with good humour. Cassian felt again that he would never understand the new additions to his team- Alliance soldiers, he knew them. He was one of them. But individuals like the defector pilot, and Jyn Erso, they were a different class of their own. "We visited a drug den, actually."
Everybody except Sefla was visibly taken aback by this revelation.
"I'm guessing Cassian's girl got into a fight?" he asked neutrally. "She's got an aptitude for that kind of thing, from what I've heard."
"You are this close to being shot as soon as I get my hands on a gun," muttered Cassian, leaning back against a leg of the bench and ignoring the sharp sting of pain that shot through his backbone at the touch. "What actually happened, Bodhi?"
"Nobody in the settlement spoke our language, and there weren't any humans around for a while," replied the pilot. "We attracted a lot of stares. And then this group of men step onto the street- a big group, we couldn't possibly hope to face them- with weapons. We tried to show that we were unarmed. They weren't convinced."
He recounted the events that had had his nerves wrecked before they were handed a container full of fuel by the largest man, Welk, and warned by him to make their way out of the place before the rest of the gang members decided they weren't handing out their resources to strangers for free. Nobody said a word of interruption during the narration. Once it was over with another stretch of tenseness followed, which ended earlier than the last one when Melshi commented, "That was a deadly gamble with your lives, so I'm pretty impressed that you're both here and alive right now. A word of advice. Next time you come across a bunch of armed thugs who outnumber you, don't pull out your blaster and shoot a couple of guys. A pity you had to learn that the hard way."
Bodhi had neglected to mention it was only Jyn who had tried to defend them, so he only nodded tersely. Thinking back on it he didn't regret that turn of events, not entirely. They wouldn't be out of that planet's atmosphere yet if they hadn't got their hands on that fuel. He preferred to think on the brighter side.
Melshi stretched his legs out as far as he could without intruding into Sefla's space. "I'm also impressed that Sergeant Erso bet on the same gun each time. But don't let her know that. We don't want to encourage any future neck-risks."
A remark from Sefla was prevented when the familiar tune of a communications wall beeped from the front of the ship. They sat straighter and listened in for what they hoped they would hear. A mechanical whirring, then a protocol transmission voice devoid of human emotion.
"This is ground intelligence to Rogue One. We hear you loud and clear."
Navigating their way through the uncharted system had proved challenging even with assistance from the Alliance, and it was at least half a day with fuel consumption reduced to a bare minimum before familiar territory loomed into view. Nobody on board had to speak out loud to make the exhilaration felt at the sight of the Rebel Base clear, because they all felt it- a home, whatever they considered home, a base, which they had thought they would never see again after Scarif. Closer to touching down, the interior of the ship filled with phantom images of the crew that originally left the Base on that ship. The realization struck harder that less than a handful returned now. Cassian, Melshi and Sefla had experienced the feeling before–but it wasn't a feeling that became mechanic, that you got used to. And none of their previous missions had proven as mortal as Scarif.
It was commotion on the ground where the ship touched down. What kind of welcome were they going to receive? By any chance were they going to be told that their sacrifice was in vain, that the Death Star plans had not reached the Alliance?
"Cassian," said Jyn as they stood before the lowering hatch, fear and dread threatening to creep into her words. "What if..."
Surprising even himself, the captain slipped his hand into hers, their leather gloves clenching. "We succeeded," he assured her, assured himself. "We succeeded."
"Come on, man," said Melshi, supporting him from his free side with an arm hooked around his broken back while Jyn took the other side. "Home at last."
The crowds kept their distance, leaving room for prepared teams of medics, but Jyn noted that the rebels maintained a respectful silence in the sidelines. That silence was for everyone who wasn't stepping out with them. It was infinitely more important to acknowledge their sacrifice rather than a hero's welcome, although many rushed to the front to salute their returning comrades.
Jyn and Melshi helped Cassian onto a stretcher before themselves following the team of medics. She was glad to be inside the medbay. It gave her a hope she hadn't actually felt since their departure to Scarif.
She'd rather be in medbay than before the Alliance High Command.
She wasn't examined for longer than a few minutes, but she stayed back as the others were strapped into bunks and patted over with bacta patches. Cassian was stripped of his shirt and she caught sight of his visibly damaged backbone for the first time- blue, black and fractured. She stepped away from the activity and lowered herself onto a cluttered bench. Medbay was full. There were still the rebels who'd fought over Scarif being treated for various battle scars. Many looked her way now with expressions she couldn't read. Shock that she was alive? Admiration? Did they blame her for their losses?
Deciding she couldn't take any more of whatever it was, Jyn stood up and walked out of the medbay with only a couple of backward glances. She was hit by the overwhelming need to find someplace secluded. Someplace far away from the staring faces and even further away from Mon Mothma, Draven and all the rest of the authority she had blatantly disobeyed for a mission that had gone so wrong and so...right. But they had no news of the plans. Right was an assumption. Too many lives had been lost. Wrong was a fact and confirmed.
Get a grip, she told herself. You've gone through worse. Now is not the time to lose it.
It was a neat little lie that she'd gone through worse. But Jyn Erso had been a survivor all her life, and whatever she had gone through she had survived. This ordeal would hopefully turn out just another feather in her cap, even if most part of her had high doubts about ever getting past it.
Secluded spots weren't hard to come by in the forested moon of Yavin 4. She found an ideal place- ideal enough- to isolate herself from the bustling, currently tense activity of the Allaince base.
If Rogue One had succeeded, it meant the rebellion was saved. It meant the rebellion had a future. What part would she play in that future?
I'm not prepared, she realized. There are weights pulling me down. My past.
There were indeed a lot of loose ends to tie. There was Lianna Halik and the dozen other faces she'd adopted in order to survive. There were debts and old scores to settle, things that needed to be figured out. She wasn't ready for the Alliance yet.
She promised herself she would tie those loose ends in the coming months, maybe year if she had understated the number of them. And then she would dedicate what was left of her life for the cause her father had believed in, the rebels on Scarif had died for, and the cause she now considered the only anchor adding meaning to her existence.
She would fight for that cause until she died protecting it, just like she should have done on Scarif.
Barely two hours had passed when Jyn's intuition started trickling her. The activities of the Base were still going on, yes, but there seemed to be a more...urgent aura about it now. Through the spaces between the trees she saw rebel troops rush into the main building. And pilots- all the pilots who hadn't been majorly inflicted over Scarif- into the briefing room.
She started making her way out of seclusion and through the heat of the action. Her every sense was on high alert. A surge of crushed hope rose back up again in her chest when she heard the words Princess Leia and plans.
"Jyn Erso!" she heard a voice call. She didn't recognized it or even manage to identify the speaker, only felt a clap on the back and several words of somber congratulation. Pilots storming into the briefing room paused to shake a hand she hadn't offered. Stiff salutes were thrown her way. She didn't know how to respond to any of it but it was all over before she could envision how.
Jyn dashed into the sterilized medical bay and found the ward she was looking for. Sefla was completely knocked out, broken arm receiving a steady flow of oxygen in a suspended position. Bodhi was twitching in his sleep while bacta patches worked on various burn wounds. Melshi sat upright in the bunk beside Cassian, eyeing his unconscious comrade with unbidden worry. For a split second she dreaded the worst had happened. Then she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest and thanked the Force for it.
"You're back," noted the Sergeant dryly.
"They got the plans," blurted Jyn, relief, joy and dread threatening to crack through her voice.
Melshi sat straighter. "They got the plans? And they're...they're going to destroy the Death Star...now?"
"That's what it looks like," said Jyn, suppressing the crushing doubt in her chest, trying stubbornly to sound assured. "They're rounding up all our pilots to explain what's in those plans."
"You know what this means, right?" Melshi clasped his hands together tightly, resting his chin on them, easing the stress from his forehead. "We've done our part. There's nothing more we can do from here. The ultimate result of our efforts and those sacrifices, relies on those pilots now."
"And may the Force be with them," muttered Jyn, sitting down on the squat table at Cassian's bedside. She looked at his unconscious form, the lines that creased his brow even while he slept and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed the artificial air of the medbay, shivering at intervals. He deserved this bit of sedated rest, at least, after all he had gone through- for the Rebellion, for her. Stealing the Death Star plans had been for the Rebellion. But climbing back up the data tower after the fall that did this to him, firing at the man who had been responsible for everything that had gone wrong in her life, their tight embrace on the beach as certain death leapt across to meet them...in her twenty one years of existence she hadn't known anyone who understood her needs more than the Rebellion's captain did, even though he hadn't known her for longer than two days. Maybe it was that inexplicable understanding they shared that allowed her to imagine his pain now. Absently Jyn reached for the limp hand by his side, encasing it in both of her own.
"Hey," said Melshi quietly, a smile in his voice. It was an unusual voice coming from the Sergeant. "The nurse droid said he'll be alright."
"Is he going to be able to walk again?" asked Jyn, who wasn't one to let go of reality.
Melshi laid himself flat on his bunk and pulled the thin sheet up over his frame. "I've seen that injury before. He'll be alright."
"Just like that?"
"It won't be an easy recovery, I'll guarantee that," Melshi relented with a frustrated sigh. The girl didn't want the truth honeyed and disguised. He supposed he could respect that. "There'll be difficult times. He probably won't cooperate with medical advice. But do I doubt he's going to get his way in the end?"
Jyn studied the Captain's features in the dim lighting. She had known those features for only a couple of days, tops, but she already owed him a lot. Maybe she owed him everything she had left to give. "I don't know, Sergeant. Do you?"
Melshi snorted, flicking off a fluorescent lamp that bothered the space above his bunk. "No. Not in the slightest bit."
The Alliance had very few reasons to throw parties, but their very first hard blow against the Galactic Empire was a reason well justified. She wished she didn't have to be here.
Not everyone knows the full story, Sergeant Erso, Sefla had been kind enough to come after her, sit her down and explain after she had stormed out of the briefing room without even offering a foul word as explanation. That includes General Draven and most of those people in there who weren't happy with us. You can change things if you take up on Mothma's offer.
I can't do that, she'd said. Look like some kriffing hero who saved the Rebellion. What about everyone who died on Scarif? What about you and Cassian?
Sefla ran his hands through his hair frustratedly, looking for the words. They can't honour us. It would...encourage insubordination in the future with others.
They wouldn't have got the plans if you had listened to them, Jyn argued, furious.
You have to take the medal, Jyn.
It's selfish and doesn't respect the sacrifice everyone-
No. It'll put our mission in the history books. Ten years from now nobody is going to remember what happened on Scarif unless you accept a medal at the event celebrating our first victory against the Empire.
She looked at him with both doubt and belief battling for prominence in her expression. I shouldn't be the only one.
Draven will have it no other way. But we need this bit at least, Sergeant. For the memory of everyone who won't be mentioned. You have to take one for the team.
She and Bodhi were taking one for the team. They were the only surviving members of Rogue One whose names would be honoured anything. Not because any real honour was in store. Because propaganda, and because people needed to see faces that inspired hope and inspired them to join in the struggle for peace and freedom in the galaxy. (Well, no faces would be entirely revealed in the official broadcasts because of the security threat, but people would still notice if the faces weren't clean.)
Also, people already part of the Alliance military did not need to see faces that inspired disrespecting authority and running off on unsanctioned missions- hence Jyn and Bodhi. Only. Weren't officially part of the Alliance when they committed the crime.
Jyn Erso was representing hope. For tonight only, she looked like high society and she had been scrubbed clean, waxed and powdered. None of the battlefield grime that had stuck like a second layer of skin since Scarif remained now, and her arms and cheeks glowed with a radiance they had never before possessed. She wore an actual dress that showed the skin at her neck that been extracted of grime and the lengths of her arms that were now hairless, spotless. She hadn't been given a choice. Hope had to look good, and victory had to look absolutely stunning. It didn't help that Hope and Victory had never dealt in a dress before.
It was only twenty minutes into the party and she was shrinking further and further into her preferred corner, desperate now to catch a glimpse of familiar faces. She had received handshakes and several words of congratulation, but it was impossible not to feel the burn of animosity and distrust that came her way from most directions.
She had kept a constant eye on the exit double doors. It had been long enough.
Just as she turn around to head for the doors without looking back, she slammed into the chest of one of the well-dressed attendees who probably wanted her dead.
A dozen unpleasant scenarios sped through her mind in a split second, and the apology was out of her lips before she could even process the words.
"It's okay, it's okay," A familiar voice assured her quickly. "Are you alright?"
She pulled at the cartilage in her nose, which had collided hard, while over her hand she looked at the person she had slammed into. "Bodhi!"
The pilot smiled awkwardly. "Thank the Force. I didn't think you'd recognize me with all the sweat gone."
Despite the throb in her nose, Jyn had to chuckle at that. "Clean suits you," she teased.
"You look amazing," Bodhi said without reservation, offering her a sincere smile minus the reluctance of before. He had also been given good clothes and a makeover. She knew she wasn't imagining it: his face was several shades lighter than it had been on Jedha and after Scarif. His hair had been throughly rinsed to deprive it of the sweat and blood that had dried on the strands over the past few weeks, and his burn wounds had been patched up for the most part and blended with his skin.
"I look uncomfortable," she corrected, grinning. She held out a folded arm.
"Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"No one will notice."
Bodhi laughed, hooking his arm around hers. "Okay. But only because I don't want to go through this alone."
"Neither do I," she admitted, leading him away from their corner of near-seclusion and into the thick of the crowd, with simulataneous hopes only of not being a stationary target for the looks that burned.
The room had high walls and plenty of breathing space even though it accommodated most personnel on the Base and a couple of distinguished invitees as well, so moving wasn't a problem. Avoiding those personnel proved difficult. The looks followed them.
She should never have agreed to this. Did High Command really believe that the daughter of the Death Star's engineer and an Imperial defector could inspire hope in people? They had already made enough enemies. And now they were going to be honoured for it, a slap in the face for the people who believed that their unsanctioned mission had brought the rebellion nothing but pain. They would make more enemies tonight.
"How's Cassian doing?" Bodhi asked her quietly as they wandered without aim, keeping their senses on high alert.
She tried to keep her voice from quavering as she spoke. "He's been in bacta for the past two days, unconscious. The medical droids aren't letting me in, but they predict he'll be fit enough to walk in about a month's time."
Bodhi started. "A month?"
Jyn bit her lip and nodded tersely. It was all the answer she could supply.
She suddenly reversed her grip so that she was the one clutching his forearm, and she clutched tight like some kind of warning signal. He tried to follow her stare in alarm, but she quickly glanced the other way and hurdled him in that direction. They hadn't made it far when a voice made Jyn stop.
"Well, if it isn't the only debtor to ever rip me off," someone said smugly from behind them. "Doesn't look like you've forgotten those six hundred credits plus interest either, Kestrel."
Jyn sighed, consenting grudgingly to this turn of events before turning around. Bodhi followed suit, unsure what to expect.
It was a young man about Jyn's age, maybe Cassian's, dressed in a jacket and shirt that looked like everyday attire except for being buttoned up, with only slightly combed hair and a superior smirk.
"I'm the only one?" Jyn asked sarcastically. "Forgive me if that's hard to believe."
If the man was offended, he covered it well behind an even wider smirk. "Don't think I'm still hung up on that money, darling. I have a load enough to buy out Jabba's palace now. I actually just wanted to ask what you're doing here."
Jyn didn't drop her poisonous glare. "I could ask you the same thing, Solo."
"Never pegged you as the type to throw your lot in with these people," Solo commented in response, wholly ignoring her inquiry.
Jyn's scowl intensified. "You knew me for less than seven days."
"After which you disappeared into space with six hundred credits plus interest owed. I could pretty much guess. Why am I meeting you now?"
"Why am I meeting you now, smuggler?"
Solo scoffed. "Sweetheart, are you seriously telling me you haven't been hearing my name around this place for the past five days?"
Bodhi wrapped a hand protectively around Jyn's forearm, though he wasn't sure if the protection was for her or himself.
She still looked cold enough to freeze Mustafar over. "No. Don't call me sweetheart."
The man rolled his eyes with obvious incredulity at her expression. "I distinctly remember saying I didn't want the money."
"Come on," muttered Jyn, turning in the other direction while he still held onto her. "We're not sticking around him."
The crowd grew thick in front of them, so they were stranded in the spot for a second too long.
"Who is she?" someone asked curiously.
"Girl who ripped me off of some good money a long time ago," Solo snorted. "I said we were square, but she didn't like me anyway."
"I'm betting you weren't very nice," his friend quipped. "Hey, miss...?"
Jyn dropped her head and drew in a long, deep, infuriated sigh. She crossed her arms and turned that way again. "May I help you?" she asked a little less-than-patiently.
"Listen, I'm sorry if Han was being a jerk," the blonde boy said earnestly. He outstretched a hand, offering a smile. "Luke Skywalker."
She shook the hand, masking her reluctance, and wondered which one of her many aliases she would go by. Considering that her name would be ceremoniously read out anyway, it wasn't a question. "Jyn Erso."
A slow change came across Luke's face when the name rang a bell. She let go of his hand and almost rolled her eyes. There starts another blame game.
Han raised an eyebrow. "Force's sake, Kestrel, you have another one?"
"She's Jyn Erso," Luke hissed, unexpectedly. "Have some respect."
"I knew a Kestrel Dawn and she certainly didn't warrant my respect," Han scoffed a tad petulantly, but didn't say beyond that for the sake of curiosity.
She would've snapped something nasty at him if she wasn't still taken aback by Luke's defending of her name. That wasn't something that happened everyday.
Bodhi stepped in and held out a hand. "You're the pilot who..."
"...blew up the Death Star," Luke finished cheerfully, shaking his hand. Somehow he had said it. The dreaded name of the Empire's weapon that Galen had spent most part of his life building, and rigging. Normally mention of the name brought back painful memories, nightmares. Luke's words only brought back memory of the video footage he'd seen of it exploding in streaks across the evening sky.
"Right. Of course," Bodhi hastily withdrawed, glancing at Jyn and praying this wasn't too much for her to take in at once. He had been on his feet for four days since the incident, and had spent most of it in the mess hall and with the friendlier technicians who were willing to show him the ships they were repairing, probably unaware of his history or the Imperial cargo pilot he had previously been. He had caught bits and pieces of the news being whispered around the base, in the mess, among the technicians. He knew a few names and what was being credited to them. Jyn, however, had spent that time period on her feet and arguing with the protocol droids in medbay, pacing the sterilized hallways, snatching her chances to sit at Cassian's bedside and talk quietly to his sedated form. More than once he had joined her outside the ward, but she had never been in the spirit for more than two words at a time.
She only nodded wearily, managing a half-smile. He imagined the thoughts playing in her head. He imagined that, just like him, she was only glad it was over, that Galen's work and Scarif and all the lost lives had paid off in the end. "Thank you," she said simply, meaning it for everyone who couldn't be here today.
"We could never have done it without you," returned Luke, who was apparently not very good with understanding the gravity behind words. "I heard a lot about your mission and all the risks you took. I would love to meet the rest of your team."
She wasn't angry, but her heart ached at the reminder of how many of them there used to be and she found herself remembering everyone possible. Chirrut. Baze. Little sister. K2. Still she swallowed down the surge of emotion and, smiling, thrust Bodhi forward by the shoulders.
"You're the pilot!" exclaimed Luke.
"I'm...the pilot," Bodhi confirmed uncertainly.
Luke was soon enough talking X-wings and hyperdrive brands, occasionally throwing in questions about the mission that brought him to the Rebellion while Bodhi tried his level best to keep up. Jyn met Han Solo's stare from over their heads.
"I heard about the mission to get those plans, but you were a part of it?"
He sounded more disbelieving now than stuck-up, but Jyn wasn't willing to let go just yet. "I still don't know what you're doing here."
Han rolled his eyes. "Honey, I was a part of the mission that blew up that thing. And we rescued the Princess. You're welcome."
She stared him down for a moment and processed this. It seemed so unlike the smuggler she'd known in a previous life, but then again she had only known him as well as he'd known her.
She finally offered a hand. "Well then, I think it's time I had some respect for you."
He grunted at the choice of words, but smirked nevertheless and shook it. "And I for you, hon, but don't expect me to be a generous creditor and let you get away with any future swindlings."
Even though they spent the next half hour in conversation with familiar faces- Luke, Han, and Aren a while later- the night didn't drag on long enough before Jyn started to feel the pang of apprehension churning in her stomach. Bodhi must have felt it too, when she'd answered that they were scheduled to receive their medalsany moment now, because he had wanted to go over to a corner table and sit with a drink, preferably an indelible energy shot that he could later throw up while he regretted ever having survived Scarif.
A garrison of uniformed soldiers were moving into formation up front, making room in the middle for an aisle. A procession was heading for the stage at the end of it. From their corner they couldn't make out much.
"Come on," Jyn said quietly, tugging his arm. "We need to know what's happening."
They found seats in the fifth row behind one of the formations. It was a long distance off from the stage and they still couldn't see much, but it meant the others seated with them hadn't noticed them yet.
A member of High Command whom Jyn found vaguely familiar from her three times in the conference room delivered an address on courage, endurance and hope, how the three had brought the rebellion its first major victory against the Empire. A moment of silence was called for in difference to all the lives that had been sacrificed, either in the battles that had lead up to this victory or under the Empire's rule. Scarif and the Death Star plans were mentioned. Another council member stepped up to deliver the rest of the story.
The crowd turned especially affectionate as the Princess walked to the front, dressed as elegantly as Jyn had ever seen. She thanked her rescuers. Luke and Han were bestowed medals well deserved.
Jyn reached across the armrest and found Bodhi's hand, the anxiety easing off her shoulders the slightest bit when she remembered there would be someone else to share her pain with her.
"Come on," he said gently. "Let's get this over with."
She didn't even have the time to half-smile before a uniformed Corporal appeared at the end of their row, across from the six or seven people who sat with them. He gestured a little more urgently than she felt was strictly necessary. They had just squeezed their way out of the row it was revealed why.
"Sergeant Erso, we have a change of plans."
Jyn furrowed her brow slightly. "What change?"
"I don't know," said the Corporal, starting to lead them along a side of the garrison, where their urgency would not get noticed. "But I was told to inform you to be prepared for some of the things you'll hear on stage."
It didn't sound good. Bodhi crossed his arms arms his chest to restrain his suddenly alarmed heartbeat. "Why would they ask us to be prepared for that?"
"Everyone's busy," the Corporal shook his head. "Nobody had the time to explain. Now smile, please."
They hadn't noticed they were already at a corner of the stage, close enough to see the light dancing off the members of the Princess's procession. Already they were being ushered where everybody would be able to see them.
Jyn almost gracelessly stumbled onto the raised platform, and would have even fallen if Bodhi hadn't had the quick reflex to grasp her elbow. Not looking up, not wanting to see the faces staring their way, she moved with quick steps. From a reasonable enough corner of the stage she dared to lift her head, just slightly. Bodhi was staring straight ahead.
The look on his face made her snap to look forwards, hoping, guessing, dreading. Beyond the orderly garrison were the various personnel of the rebellion- she could only see them because they were standing.
A tall figure in white swept into the space ahead of them and took a stand behind the podium. Jyn recognized the commanding way in which she stood, short red hair fixed neater than her own.
Subconsciously Jyn reached up to tuck one of several loose strands behind her ear, wishing she hadn't given her hairdresser such a difficult time.
The lighting shone too brightly in her face, and she almost felt panic at seeing the empty space beside her. No, not empty space. Just distance. Bodhi fidgeted with his hands behind his back a couple of feet away from arm's length. She was not alone.
"...the courage to risk everything even with the odds stacked against them," Mothma was saying. "But were it not for this foolish courage the Empire will have further tightened its iron grip on the galaxy, the Death Star will have had the means to bring further destruction, and the rebellion will have been crushed. For those reasons the Alliance believes that every honour we have to offer, we owe to the Rogue One squadron."
A bolt of electricity shot up her spine and she jolted. Her hands trembled behind her back, uncontrollably, her eyes widened and shook. The open skin at her neck was prickling at an impossible rate, and her knees were suddenly weak.
This was not the original plan.
She had been at the meeting. A majority of High Command hadn't been in agreement with honouring the whole squadron. That was why she had abruptly left in the first place.
"We all feel the loss of Jedha City and Alderaan," Mothma recounted, lowering her eyes a fraction. "And it is no secret that we normally put the blame where we can see it. I know that people among the Alliance still blame Galen Erso for the construction of the Death Star and all it took away from us."
Unexpected. Entirely unexpected. She wasn't prepared for this, to hear her father's story again. She had spent too many years of her life hating her father, believing when Saw presented his Intel that Galen was a bastard working for the people who had killed her mother. How far she had been from the truth, all her life. Everything he had done he had done to protect her, and she had hated him for it.
"But the facts are clear before us today and as those facts present, the Empire is the only name we can hold accountable for the mass destruction we witnessed in the past weeks. Galen spent twenty years of his life in treason against the Empire, not the Alliance. It was the flaw he built into the Death Star that allowed us to destroy it and save others from the fate of Alderaan and Jedha city."
She hadn't got this far without being strong and brazen. She found her composure cracking. Her vision was starting to blur behind tears she couldn't fight back.
"In light of services rendered, the Alliance extends a full pardon and promises that the name Erso will this day forward carry only honour and respect with it."
She must have audibly sobbed, or blinked back her tears too hard, because Bodhi turned over his shoulder and offered her the slightest of acknowledging nods. She swallowed hard and nodded firmly back. The tears still threatened to spill, but it was only a dire threat at best.
Mon Mothma turned to face them, an expression akin to gentle understanding present in her features, in the crease between her brows.
"All of High Command have agreed as to what your squadron deserves, for services rendered," she said, only for them to hear.
She noted the questions they weren't asking, and smiled slightly.
"Captain Andor sent his report through. Anyone who previously thought appreciating an unsanctioned mission was bad idea asked that your team was pardoned and the mission made official, although I'm sorry there wasn't full approval for getting the others on stage tonight."
If Jyn had been shocked before, now she found herself startled and at a complete loss for words. Cassian? How had Cassian managed to write and submit a report from intensive care and a medically induced sleep? The reports from Melshi and Sefla had meant nothing, but Cassian had convinced them from inside a bacta tank?
The mission was being given official status. Rogue One was being pardoned. With that status came the declaration of the names that had sacrificed their lives in battle- names that would go into an official record, names that would become legend. The rebellion's first victory against the Empire. The team that risked impossible odds.
It was more than she could take in at once, but she forced her herself to accept it anyway and she was happy. Contented, at least. At peace.
Mothma turned back to the masses and announced in a voice that carried, "The surviving members of Rogue One will be felicitated with the highest honours of courage reserved in the Alliance. Those who sacrificed their lives for the cause will also be given the full honours and remembered this day and into the future. I salute the team behind the destruction of the Death Star-because they have taken a leap for us- towards the downfall of the Empire and the start of peace and freedom in the galaxy."
Jyn didn't know what to expect from the crowd and in light of this development she really couldn't care less.
But there was acceptance in many faces. Not all of them, but many.
Applause rose from the audience when the medals were slung around their necks.
After that the night went smoothly, even though Jyn wasn't sure whether to attribute it to the Alliance's new attitude towards them or the drunkenness that soon enough took over the majority. When Sefla turned up, drunk to the point that he was having trouble keeping the contents of his stomach, to challenge her at arm-wrestling, they decided it was time to discreetly slip away from the celebration.
They walked in silence down the deserted corridors, dimly lit now because nobody was around to use them. Only a handful of protocol droids stood guard at long intervals.
"Cassian-" started Jyn, hoping it wasn't the worst way to start a conversation after the infinite stretch of silence.
"Of course," Bodhi shook his head, smiling knowingly.
She was about to ask him what was up with that look, but they arrived at the entrance of the medical bay before she got the chance.
"Is it open to visitors at this time?" Bodhi asked only out of curiosity, because he knew she wouldn't care if it wasn't.
Jyn confirmed his suspicions. "No, but the droids here like me, and the doctors are at the party playing drinking games."
A nursing droid looked up from a reclined position when she pushed the door open. It appeared immediately dismayed.
"You again."
They like me, Jyn mouthed to Bodhi, who didn't know whether it was more appropriate to chuckle or roll his eyes. Technically they weren't supposed to be here, and they were already in hot water for disobeying regulations.
"He's in bacta," the droid said dismissively. "You're wasting your time."
This must've been the general kind of term for go ahead in the rapport Jyn had built with the droid, because she nodded and proceeded to the back of the expansive and dimly lit room, past numbered wards and bunks of which only three were occupied. After a while the droid got to its feet and followed them noisily, not at all concerned if it would wake the sleeping patients.
Cassian's frame was suspended inside the tank, illuminated eerily under the surgical lights and in the glow of the gelatinous bacta that held him. Air bubbles danced around the wall of the tank in the only real sign of movement.
"When did he wake up?" Bodhi asked the droid.
"Yesterday," it replied in a bored tone. "Noon."
Jyn bit her lip, not looking particularly thrilled about that. "He woke up for the first time in five days and wrote a report?"
"Recorded," corrected the droid. "He didn't have the strength to write."
Jyn surveyed the Captain's slacked features with her eyes, wondering how that worked. He had to be disoriented, painfully so. And confused. Out of touch. His fractured spine must have been killing him.
And his first conscious action was to record a narrative of their mission for High Command?
A highly effective narrative, as it happens, as if he had known all that was at stake, everything that was going on.
Maybe he had heard her talk to him while he slept, sedated. She knew it wasn't a possibility, but nothing else explained it either.
"He puts duty before everything, doesn't he?" commented Bodhi admiringly from beside her.
"Yeah," Jyn reached a hand out to place it on the wall of the tank, the closest she could get to touching him. A small smile started to break out on her face. "But this was one for the team."
"The patient at bunk six has been insufferable for the past week," the protocol droid reported routinely to the chief medic in charge of the ward. "Myself and the other droids in Ward Number Two would greatly appreciate it if you discharged him today."
The medic looked over a stack of forms unconcernedly. "How long has he been in here?"
"Three weeks that have felt like a decade to myself and the other droids. His infuriating behaviour is interfering with our computing systems."
The medic just went back to his paperwork. "Sounds long enough. Give him his brace and get him out of my ward."
The droid walked away, as satisfied as a droid could get. He rapped on the cubicle wall that surrounded this patient and two empty bunks. The response was immediate.
"Do you have good news?" Captain Andor called from inside, and by the sound of it he was swinging off the side of his bed - most inappropriate considering his condition - and pulling on a shirt.
"For me and for you, Captain. You are being discharged today."
The Captain slid open the cubicle door at once. "You're serious?"
"Yes," he eyed the annoying organic life form with as much disdain as a droid could muster. "But you are not allowed to leave without the brace the doctors designed for you. And I am to inform you that no field missions must be undertaken until doctor's notice."
Cassian treated him to a scornful look, but gave it up and went back to gathering his things. He wasn't going to admit to the smartmouthed protocol droid or anyone that sparks of hot pain still surged up his spine when it felt a lot of pressure or that his walk was now tainted with a limp he just couldn't seem to shake off. He glared long and hard at the metal structure lying on his bedside table before picking it up resignedly.
"The doctor told me you were informed how that works," said the droid.
Shrugging off his shirt, Cassian gingerly slipped the straight plank of metal over his upper back and made the cloth straps meet around his chest and ribs. It felt stiff, unnatural. Without it he wouldn't be able to stand up free of a great amount of pressure weighing down on his spine. It wouldn't be noticed over his shirt, maybe. But the difficult manner in which he had to walk would probably be obvious from a mile off.
He left the medbay and the droids he'd grown to vehemently dislike over the past week, purposefully avoiding most of the people he regularly worked with when he had to cross the common area. Foreign as the feeling was to him, soldiers with pronounced limps weren't unusual to come by in the Alliance. He kept his senses on high alert for whatever tidbits of information he could snap off conversations- his three painful weeks of treatment had pretty much cut off most ties with current affairs. The Death Star being destroyed was the last he'd heard. Also intel of shifting base to Hoth. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. From what he'd heard of the the planet's weather, it wouldn't serve his newfound inflictions well.
No field missions until further notice, he reflected bitterly. Cassian wasn't made for ground work. Working in intelligence and working from the base was like studying scenery through a keyhole and being expected to paint a full canvas of it. With each limping footfall it started to feel more and more like ground intelligence was the direction in which he was headed.
From his survey of the overcrowded common areas he didn't catch sight of any of his fellow survivors of Scarif save for Sefla, whom he didn't feel all that inclined to approach because even across the room the Lieutenant's half-grin promised a volley of merciless jibes. Insufferable, that man. More than Cassian used to give him credit for.
Speaking of which, Jyn wasn't anywhere around either, so the disgruntled Captain made for his own private quarters instead. If anything the brief period spent investigating the common areas had drilled into him just how serious the nurse droid's warning was- his limp more than looked pronounced, it felt like dead weight being dragged a mile to just walk. He slid the door behind him and flicked on a single dim light before slumping down on the bunk that he was suddenly glad was placed close to door. He played this thought several times over in his head. If he didn't have the strength or the willpower to walk from his door to his bed...
Cassian leaned against the wall and gathered his knees close together, telling himself that the pain in his backbone was nothing, that he felt nothing. It wasn't like the doctors had said he wouldn't be able to venture out into the field again. He just had to give it time. In a little bit of time it would all be fine, and his service to the Rebellion wouldn't be limited to painting what he saw of the galaxy through a keyhole.
A little bit of time. A couple of years maybe.
Cassian grunted, forcing himself to the edge beside the plastic crater in which his personal possessions- as personal as they got- were haphazardly stashed. Utility belts, collector's blasters, various odds and ends for ship parts, startup chips...nothing that a ground intelligence officer would find useful, but a stash of jewels as far as the field was concerned. Maybe this one time he should work against his better judgement. Find one of the lenient medics, maybe. He might get the go-ahead to do real work in a little less time than was officiated.
His rummaging through the crate had spilled a lot of the smaller items over, but he was glad for the opportunity of stubbornly gritting his teeth against the pain and hunching over to pick up the pieces. Starter chips of a dozen or so freighters he'd hijacked over the years, memory sticks, batteries...
His fingers closed around a minute memory chip, surprised he had picked it up in the dark. He habitually felt for the initials scraped into the surface. K...2...
"Force," breathed Cassian, feeling his fist clench around the precious piece like a lifeline.
He grabbed it off the floor along with a jacket, tucking it deep into one of the pockets inside. Not feeling the ache in his arms at all, not one bit, he slipped the sleeves over his shirt and yanked the zipper all the way to his chin, forgetting the tight harness around his upper body. And he was out of his quarters without shutting the door behind him, an oversight he had never made in all his years serving the Rebellion.
He dashed back into the public area without even feeling his left leg like dead weight. There were several ships parked inside with repairs being done on them, but a majority of Alliance officers were making their way to the meal hall. He avoided the glances being thrown his way. He probably looked like a medbay-escapee at the moment, which wasn't very far off the mark.
Where was the ship? Where was that blasted ship? He knew for a fact that they hadn't discarded it in spite of its scrapyard-winning condition. For reasons he couldn't understand Jyn had personally appealed to Leia Organa herself that it was allowed a shot at repair when the towing boys had ignored the request. He had not seen her during the one week he'd spent conscious and in unnecessary bedrest– or ever since we landed from Scarif –but Taidu Sefla had gleefully kept him updated on her little acts of vigilantism for no price at all but the automatic scowl he was treated to everytime the phrase your girl came up.
It caught his eye. Not in the scrapyard, no, but with sparks flying off the hull that was being reinforced. Only a single pilot worked on it. Just the pilot Cassian wanted to see at the moment.
"Bodhi!" he called, trudging forward without letting his limp show. Not at a moment like this. Now was crucial.
"Captain?" the pilot asked in greeting, surprised. He pulled down his full-face mask and set aside the hullwork flame so his puzzlement was conveyed. "Aren't you...er, aren't you supposed to be in medbay?"
"I'm officially out of there now," informed Cassian with a slight shrug of the shoulders. Casual. Like the affliction in his backbone and legs didn't mean his world was caving in on itself.
Bodhi responded with a couple of careful nods. He could see where the conversation was headed. Cassian Andor didn't look like a relieved man just out of medbay and simply glad to be alive. "That's great. Pretty great. We were starting to get a little worried."
"And I have clearance for ground work."
Of course, his assumption hit the mark. Bodhi frowned in question like this wasn't suspected from the beginning. "So soon?"
Ignoring the skepticism, Cassian rested his back against Rogue One's screeched hull. "Have you been occupied these past few days?"
"No, just flying ships and fixing things," Bodhi shook his head, because he wasn't going to be distracted that easily. "You're really cleared for ground work?"
The Captain answered this question with one of his own. "Are you up for a partnership assignment?"
The pilot immediately snorted, picking up the hullwork flame and switching it on. "No way, Cassian. Jyn told me to watch out for you while she wasn't around. And I can clearly see that limp you're trying to hide."
"Look, Jyn wouldn't..." Cassian kneaded his forehead tiredly. What did she care so much about? Why did she have to care? It didn't matter. It didn't mean anything. The last time she'd seen him he was probably shivering to his teeth in a bacta tank attached to life support. In his mind that was a long time ago, and he was more than capable of simple field work today in spite of what the medics and their nursing droids and Jyn assumed of him. "She wouldn't mind this assignment. I can stick to the flying if that makes you comfortable."
Bodhi considered this only for a moment before going back to his work. "Even if you were okay for an assignment, neither one of us can take another unsanctioned mission. General Draven and anybody who still doesn't believe Scarif was justified are watching our backs."
Cassian could already feel the brief respite from having found the chip being mercilessly crushed under the weight of authority, of duty, of a possibility he had known all along but refused to acknowledge. Would this have to wait?
He felt the chip's presence, small, entirely significant, secure inside the space of his pocket. He felt the maddening absence at his shoulder that a month of dreamless sleep hadn't managed to cure.
When would he get another chance?
Cassian held his breath and played his card, wishing there was a better way of going about it, but knowing that his years of practiced lying and negotiating would yield results. "I am indebted to you for both myself and the Rebellion, Bodhi, and nothing I do will ever be enough to pay off those debts. But you also know what debt feels like. What would you give to pay off a debt like that, for a friend?"
The fire went off and the pilot looked at him. It was one of the most frank stares he had ever been treated to, and considering his experience that was saying something. "There are a very few people I owe so much to," he said quietly. "Most of them are gone."
Cassian reached out to squeeze his shoulder, but not for the sake of his method. "I'm not asking you to do this for me," he said truthfully. "And I wouldn't ask you in the first place if it wasn't a low-key, low-risk mission with a ninety percent chance of success. We'll just drop in at an Imperial scrapyard, scavenge what we can."
Bodhi snapped to look at him, the Jedhan's eyes wide with realization. "There's a way to...bring him...really?"
"Would you do it for him?"
He could see the dust and the sand hurricane around him as NiJedha crumbled to nothing in seconds. His mind was addled and he wasn't the one flying the ship that saved his neck.
"Yes," said Bodhi, not remembering when he had ever sounded so certain. "But we are not telling Jyn about this."
The Base at Yavin 4 only increased in activity when the shift started, and the cargo pilots only grew busier and greater in number while the common areas flooded with creates of weaponry and surveillance equipmet being moved out. The location of the next base was highly classified, need-to-know information, but she and most others had got word of mouth that it wasn't nearly as charming as the current base. She would miss the shift anyway. It was her teammates- and especially the ones still on the road to recovery- whom she was concerned about.
Despite her small stature Jyn didn't find it easy navigating through the bustling crowd. She knocked sideways into too many people to keep on apologizing. But when in the distance she finally caught sight of the person she was looking for she almost wished she hadn't. Jyn was a realist. She knew it when she wasn't preared to say or do something.
Still, she steeled herself and pushed forward, squeezing through the tiny gaps between the crowd.
Cassian appeared in light conversation with someone she couldn't make out, probably because the other person was standing behind a wall and out of her sight. Cassian and light conversation? She almost couldn't belive it. But he looked like eternities of stress and hard labour had been lifted off his shoulders. He looked...younger, somehow. It almost felt sacrilegeous to interrupt.
You're just making excuses, her realistic side pointed out distastefully. That's cowardice right there. What are you afraid of? There's nothing he can do, even if he wanted to.
Why would he want to? Scarif was done with. They were free to go their own separate ways again.
She steeled herself and approached him, carefully.
Cassian noticed her first, but he looked up with a smile she'd only seen twice before. As she neared he gestured at the person behind the wall to keep quiet, a most unusual, snippy gesture. He crossed his arms when they were the only ones standing in the corner space. Them and the mysterious...wall-personality, that is.
"Cassian," she started, not wanting to make this any more drawn-out than it had to be. "We need to talk."
The Captain didn't appear unduly worried by her tone of voice. "Of course. There's someone I'd like you to meet first, though."
Jyn was about to object, say that what she had to tell him was serious, but on his cue a seven-foot-tall Imperial KX model droid stepped out from behind the wall.
She stumbled several steps back. She met the droid's bright yellow-ring eyes and stared into its alarmingly familiar features.
"Does she honestly not recognize this as the same body I had before?" he asked Cassian.
The voice. The attitude. There was only one droid she had ever known to sound so infuriating, and there was no mistaking him for anyone else.
"Target practice!" exclaimed Jyn, grabbing the droid's metal fingers in her own. She didn't think twice about wrapping their erstwhile friend in a crushing embrace that didn't reach much above his hip. "How?"
"Did she and I become friends?" K-2SO asked Cassian, looking his way for an answer. "There is a significant thirty percent improvement in her attitude towards me since the last time we spoke."
Jyn pushed her lithe frame away from the droid's hulking chasis and joined him in looking to Cassian for an explanation.
"I had Kay's personality and memory backed up on a chip I kept at the base," he told her. "I made it his responsibility, eventually. He updated it on a regular basis. I'd completely forgotten about it. Turns out the last time he updated was...right before we went to Scarif."
There was some silence at the reminder. There would always be.
"Kaytoo knew it could have been the end," said Cassian quietly. "He knew, but there was also that point five percent chance we would make it. That's why he updated it, I guess. Just in case we made it, and he didn't."
He shook his head, shrugging off the memory and the pain that came with it, turning to face her fully. "What was it you wanted to say?"
Jyn suddenly felt the weight of doubt and dread on her shoulders once again. He really had no idea, then? Not even Bodhi had conveyed it to him? No, of course not. She hadn't asked anyone to make her explanations for her. She kind of regretted that now. "Right," she averted her eyes, a little in Kaytoo's direction, although she didn't expect much assistance from that quarter. "I should have told you earlier, but you weren't in the best condition."
The droid tilted his head at her slightly, accurately predicting the direction in which this was headed.
"With the Rebellion I've found something to live for," she started hastily. "To die for. But..."
"But?"
"But I have some unfinished business," she buried her fists into her jacket pockets, not exactly taking her eyes off Kaytoo. "Loose ends to tie. I'm not...ready for the Rebellion. Not yet. I'm going to have to return to my previous lives for a while before I can officially become a part of this fight."
She didn't have to be looking his way to notice the change in his expression, the slight drop of the smile around his lips. "People believe you're dead, Jyn. Doesn't that tie up all loose ends?"
"People believed I was dead a long time ago. It's my other identities I'm concerned about. Those are the loose ends I have to tie," Jyn brought herself to meet his eyes. "There are...enemies I've made, debts I have to settle. I can't join the Alliance as Jyn Erso until Tanith and Lianna and all the rest of my identities are killed off."
Cassian didn't respond for the longest while. He rubbed his eyes in, formulating a reply but not speaking, the air between them growing thick and unbreathable with each passing second.
K-2SO tilted his head a little closer to her ear. "Do you want to know the chances that your latest choice isn't being taken well by the captain?"
Cassian looked up at his revived droid with barely restrained annoyance. "Shut up, Kay. Jyn, I understand. It has to be done. Minimizes a lost of risks in the future."
Kaytoo nodded in his own wise way. "Yes, he's definitely not taking it well."
"Do you want me uploading you into a sweeper droid's body?" hissed Cassian. He shook his head, looking back Jyn's way. "When will you be leaving?"
"Lieutenant Sefla is willing to fly me to Coruscant tomorrow," she replied. "Only tomorrow, so..."
"I see," murmured Cassian, stuffing his hands in his pockets, pursing his lips lightly. "And when will you be back?"
"As soon as I possibly can," said Jyn, an honest promise, the best she could currently afford. "But if you need me any earlier than that, you're welcome to come find me."
Cassian nodded, considering. "Sounds fair enough. Where do I look?"
Jyn laughed a little. "Intelligence officer, aren't you?"
He couldn't resist. He had to chuckle at that. "Alright, Erso. I'll keep close tabs on you."
Jyn reached out to wrap her arms around his back, even if she had to stand on her toes to match their heights. "Goodbye, Cassian."
Cassian returned the hug without question.
"I'll see you soon, Stardust," he returned, appreciating the feeling of her hands on his spine, the familiar clutch at his jacket's billowy fabric. For a brief moment he stopped hearing the noise of the base around them and didn't suffer the pain in his back. With Jyn it was easy to forget everything else existed, like on Scarif when he'd been able to push thoughts of the Death Star aside to only focus on this significant, diminutive figure that symbolized everything he had lived for.
He felt her stand straighter in his arms and regretted the nickname.
But Jyn only slipped from him and threw a mock salute his way, a grin on her features before she disappeared into the crowd again. She called back a few words he didn't manage to catch, but the unheard words somehow stayed adrift in the distance between them, over the heads of the cargo pilots and military personnel.
"You're smiling," observed Kaytoo.
Cassian scoffed, covering up the bout of self-consciousness that came with snapping back to his senses. "So your circuits work well enough to identify."
The droid shrugged his partially thin, partially bulky frame. "I merely wish to inform you of the possibilty that you've grown attached to the Erso girl."
The Captain treated his longtime friend to his trademark threatening scowl, a scowl that had actual years of real threat behind it. "One more unrequested observation, Kay, and it's the sweeper droid for you."
"Do you deny it?" asked the droid nonchalantly.
Cassian veered away from their corner so he could snatch a blaster from a passing weapons trolley. "How equipped are you to survive something like Hoth?"
"Better than you are," replied K2, who'd always had the attention span of a desert-dwelling bantha. "My bodywork is corrosion, fire and cold-weather resistant, and I also come equipped with a de-frosting feature that would be most advantageous in snow or blizzard conditions, which the integrated network informs me is relatively commonplace on Hoth."
"I'm only going to say this once, Kay," admitted Cassian at last, allowing himself a rare smile. Those smiles were few and reserved for unguarded moments, like an unexpected rebel victory or the return of a comrade long declared dead. In recent years, though, the ex-Imperial droid had got his fair share of that smile on dizzy nights when the Captain had risky emergency painkillers flowing through his veins that rendered him practically wasted. Kaytoo's duty those nights was to hide their ship and make sure Cassian didn't shoot the wrong person- or several people, depending on his dosage- while the medication did its work. Yes, they were a team, and they were back together. "But I missed you. I really did."
A/N; I love Kay and I wouldn't write this story without him. More insight to his relationship with Cassian plus memories of Scarif coming up soon, but the plot is going to develop into another high-stakes mission because who doesn't want to see the team back in action?
Please honour me with your feedback!:)