A/N: First of all, a HUGE thank you for all your support! Much appreciation for my reviewers, followers, favourites and readers- may the Force be with all of you!

Note: Some planet names in this fic are made up (the one in this chapter for instance) and details of Jyn's and Cassian's pasts are from the limited bit we know plus some improvisation- BUT when I get my hands on Rebel Rising (and I assure you I WILL, soon enough), the Cassian & K-2SO comic and Inferno Squad (Disney's still taking my money for R1 material and I'm very happy about it) are released, I will be making alterations and turning this fic real authentic. Until then, enjoy the ride!:)

Chapter Four: (Definitely) Under Control

Six months later.

The dashboard lights flickered like blinking eyes, rapid and panicked, while a klaxon blared from the rear of the ship and bathed the crew in shifting red light. The blue streaks of hyperspace started by the cockpit windows but cut off in a split second. Instead the ominous recess of empty space spread out around them, too many directions, vast, endless, offering nowhere to hide or no cover if they chose to run.

Corporal Elies stood by the pilot's shoulder with a firm determination in his eyes and a set jaw; he wasn't especially calm on the inside, but he put up this front that was beneficial to his crew. "Can we get the hyperdrive back to work?"

The pilot, a rookie and younger than most, was pale in the glow of the overhead lights. Or maybe he really was pale, and it had more to do with valiantly repressed fear. "N-No. No, sir, there's a problem with the command signal from the computer. The hyperdrive isn't picking it up."

Elies muttured a curse under his breath, but he didn't let his composure crack. "Nothing actually wrong with the hyperdrive?"

"It only got our signal halfway. That's why we couldn't make the jump."

The Corporal clapped the young pilot on his shoulder, briefly noting the tensed muscle beneath, before turning to the rest of his crew who waited without orders, silent.

"Borisk, Orchre, go down to the engine room and get working on it. Everyone else, battlestations. We're expecting some company."

The thirteen men and women he faced all nodded in muted agreement, and proceeded with an unnerving kind of resigned calm like they'd already accepted their fate.

Elies didn't blame them. He was only this driven because he was in charge of the other lives on board, and while many of his crew were on their first big mission, he wouldn't call himself particularly experienced either.

It was his sixth big mission. It was his first time being in charge.

The klaxon stopped, then started again. It wasn't a warning about the hyperdrive this time. Another fleet had been caught by the ship's radar.

And soon enough it was all too real and very difficult to keep calm. An Eta-Interceptor leading a squadron of TIE fighters emerged behind them from hyperspace. The fleet drifted in silence for an entire ten seconds like a promise of death. Ten seconds didn't give them enough time to fix the hyperdrive and make another jump, but it was about enough time for the crew to man their stations and open fire on the offending fleet.

The volley that struck back was greater in magnitude and did more in damage to their freighter, rocking it, sending shockwaves rippling through the metal railings.

"Making the jump is our only chance," he told the pilot, before making his way across to where his crew wrestled with the on-board canons. A TIE fighter went up in flames. The explosion caught the wing of another fighter.

Elies had had no illusions about his crew's abilities, but he found himself being mercifully proven wrong.

In spite of its size the freighter did tumultuous maneuvers around the enemy fire that spat at them from all directions. The hull was hit twice, the floor lurched and a part of the tail end was blown off in a blossom of orange flame. But they weren't dead yet.

The interceptor led the remaining fighters- three of them- in an effective loop that circled them, surrounded their bulky freighter and cut off every one of the routes that led to vast, endless space.

And there was a clack and a loud hiss as the interceptor reappeared beside the hatch of their cargo hold.

"The hyperdrive!" the young pilot crowed from the cockpit. "It's back online!"

Elies felt his knees weaken, his feet numb. Every footstep to the front of the ship felt like something out of a waking dream, except there was no waking from this one.

"It's too late," he said, and guilt, wrecked conscience, fear broke out in his voice for the first time.

The pilot didn't hear him and clutched the lever to make the jump. He grabbed the younger man's shoulder sharply.

"Try that now and we're all dead."

The pilot didn't look ready to accept this. "We have one shot."

A clack and a hiss.

Elies closed his eyes and breathed hard, not wanting to face his crew and see their reactions.

"They're boarding. If we try to hold them off, or prepare for the jump, the other ships are going to blow us into space."

"One shot-" the young pilot started to plead.

"I've been in this situation before, kid," said Elies regretfully. "I know what will happen if we try either of those. I wasn't captain of the ship that time, but I'm going to learn from my captain's mistake."

"We must have some chance," the pilot protested weakly. "Something, Corporal."

"An encrypted message taking a long cut to the Alliance," replied Elies, with all the quiet calmness of before. "We have three essential persons and no lullaby pills on board. That'll be enough to prompt them, hopefully."

"Roger that," replied the pilot, feeling his gut clench into a tight knot. Not because the lack of suicide pills was a lie, but because the blast doors to the central compound of the ship were starting to screech and give way to pressure being applied from the other side and shouts rang from the Imperial officers about to make an entrance.

Leton

Oddly pitched and horribly out-of-tune music rippled across the air, giving the tight space an even more claustrophobic feel. It was one of those bars that didn't get crowded for good service or good company or the like- it was only crowded for the cheap prices and only patroned by the lowest of the low, the bottom rungs of Leton's underworld. The singing and swearing of gambling circles made for consistent levels of noise, making it difficult for the auditary senses to keep focused. Jyn paid rapt attention with her eyes, looking from time to time over the rim of her mug at just one particular group of gamblers.

Quelling the tight knots of anticipation in her stomach, she made a move to slide out of her seat slowly.

One of the men of the gambling ring, an alien with leathery green skin, stood up while maintaining conversation for cover.

She squeezed her way past a bunch of Volpais, stone drunk, and casually headed for the door.

Soon enough she was taking quick steps down a crowded street on market day, and one glance over her shoulder confirmed that the whole group was following from a distance behind. Her momentary distraction was enough to cause her a misstep, and several bodies slammed into her when they walked past. The foot traffic was suddenly faster in her ears and louder, closer, then...

Jyn hauled herself to her feet and kept going, head ducked, painfully slow in the unbreathable path she tried to clear for herself. The men weren't far behind her. She wasn't sure how far, but the commotion rising from a few feet behind indicated it wasn't very far. The crowds were pulling apart in different directions. Not wanting to become an easy target, Jyn darted into one of the clusters that broke from the main body. Vocal arguments started between the vendors and prospective buyers. She was at the very back of the group.

The aliens from the bar had got sidetracked, but they now headed for her, determinedly shoving bodies out of their path. Jyn listened to instinct and dodged into a connecting road, hoping it didn't lead to a dead end.

It did.

She swore so colourfully with the language she'd picked up during her years with the Partisans that she was sure even the old prison bunkmates who'd wanted her guts would have been proud.

Jyn drew the blaster on her thigh and turned around just as six big figures, lead by a single leaner one, stepped into the mouth of the alley.

"You have cheated me out of profit for the last time, Kestrel," declared the figure at the head, a woman older than Jyn and taller, more commanding in her presence. She wore a collection of scrapped armour; Imperial parts here, bounty hunter there, odds and ends off the black market that made her look the deadly weapons racketeer she was. Two heavy blasters hung from the belt at her hip and an array of sharp metal spikes stuck out from underneath her jacket. Those who knew her knew those were daggers.

"That was last year," Jyn called, not backing down in the face of this threat.

She narrowed her dark eyes. "Then I will see to it that it doesn't happen this year." She nodded to her men. "I want her alive. Torture sounds tempting."

She turned on her heel and walked from in between her cohorts, ducking just as two crossed with their weapons and lunged for Jyn.

Her blaster clicked when she pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.

There was no time for fancy manuevers; on impulse Jyn dove head-first into one of the burly non-humans, winding him, before spinning around to catch the other with the butt of her blaster. The force of the impact made him stagger, uproar, and sweep at her feet with his staff.

She dodged to a side before it could work, but a new cohort caught her by the neck, hailing her five feet into the air.

The first recovered his breath and approached with restraints. He had only just started on her ankles when she grabbed at the thick hands holding her throat and used the momentum to lash out with her feet. The man with the staff made an agressive swing with his weapon and caught his comrade across the chest when Jyn hauled herself out of his way.

You can try your luck with that, but you're no Chirrut Îmwe.

The man fell back, uttering a cry of pain, and she found herself sprawled on the ground, limbs aching.

The other three surrounded her, their shadows casting large spots of shade from Fenton's nearby sun. Jyn squinted through the sand in her eyes and groaned. So much for returning to this life with a plan.

Shackles sounded close to her ears, clinking, flimsy metal, and her first conscious sense was a soreness in every muscle, like she'd just got into a fight, lost very badly, and been strapped to the back of a speeder for a long, lurching drive.

She forced her eyes open to a dark enclosure surrounded by walls. She was chained flat to one of them.

"Kriffing hell," she muttered, noting the number of times each chain had been spun around her ankles and wrists- they were clearly not taking any chances. Large, overbearing and outdated combination locks kept each in place. Limbs spread out against the vast stone wall, it was as if she'd been made a target for a firing range.

Probably wasn't far off the mark.

She looked up to reverberating voices, noting they were coming from outside- closed corridors of stone that she herself had navigated once.

The voices halted at her door- a door that blended in seamlessly with the walls, impossible to spot without a pointer- before growing a little distant, moving away.

Jyn twisted her right wrist and stretched her fingers for the combination of the lock, barely reaching the first two digit-slots. She grunted, jerking her arm violently. The chains rattled, but didn't slip down. Her hands were red from the pressure.

She forced her back off the wall, making every one of the chains groan in their tight fixtures.

It was not easy staying away from the wall, but it wasn't an impossibility either. She struggled with the fixtures until she acquired the space to be able to crane her neck. With the side of her jaw she could reach the other two digits.

Jyn didn't have an excellent history of lock-picking. At a young age she'd learnt the basics, and with the advancement of time cultivated a considerable ability of making her way through tough ones, but things had rarely gone her way afterwards. She couldn't be discrete, Saw's rebels had told her. That was why she often got caught.

Voices by the door again. A heavy black bolt, camouflaged just seconds before, caught her eye as it started to draw back haltingly.

Jyn curled her loosened arms around the shackles and pressed her back against the wall.

The leader of the weapons-racket stood at the doorway when it was slid sideways into the wall, allowing Jyn a glimpse of the corridor beyond. More black stone and darkness. If she made it out of this prison, she'd be running blind to escape another one.

"There's no need to make things this difficult, Kestrel, you know that," she declared with only a few steps in. "All you have to do is give me the name of the person who sent you, and I'll spare the torture before your death."

Jyn snorted audibly, hoping the sound carried. "That's a crap deal and you know it."

The woman sighed in the manner of a generous host having difficulty with a particularly demanding guest. "I wouldn't be doing myself or anyone else in the trade a favour letting loose a dangerous criminal."

Jyn rolled her eyes. "How honourable of you."

"Who sent you?" she demanded, impatience showing. The two guards at her shoulders tensed at her tone of voice. "Who sent you the first time to steal from me?"

"You say that like it wasn't a thief I stole from."

"Thievery makes me a criminal, maybe, but stealing from me puts you in the category of a criminal lowlife," she hissed. "Spare yourself an agonising death and tell me what I want to know."

For a moment Jyn considered lying- but even if her lie was bought, she wouldn't leave this place alive. The truth was not an option even if she wasn't being stubborn. Word on the street was that the Empire was actively rounding up whatever that was left of Saw's rebels; the truth would have her handed right into the fingers of the Empire for a bounty far more satisfactory than her agonised death.

"Go ahead with the torture," Jyn answered. "At least I'll go down with the satisfaction that you never got what you wanted."

The woman's eyes turned dark in the shadow of the doorway, but she gave a curt nod and muttered an instruction to one of the guards before the door thundered closed again, rumbling as it slid, and once more cast her cell into a constricting expanse of solitary confinement.

Jyn uncurled from the chains and let her body drop, the force of where the restraints gripped the walls sending a single sharp shockwave through her back, hanging her frame in uncomfortable suspension.

She thumbed the lock again, dug her jaw into it, feeling the scrape of rust against her skin and her heartbeat, unrestrained, battering her ribs.

All the while she kept an ear out for the corridor. The slightest sound from outside clenched every muscle in her body beyond their present tightness.

Another sound, closer to her right ear. A click. It was blessed, enlivening.

"Force," she exhaled, releasing the terse breath that had all this time kept her gut twisted.

She was so tempted to let it go at that, give her red palms and aching fingers a break. But relaxing now didn't make the prospect of a future any more likely.

Taking caution not to spill the chains off her liberated hand just yet, she reached for her left wrist, the chains ironically making the manoeuvre possible. She quickly worked her way through, taking every advantage of her free hand, and in half the time of before the second lock clicked. Jyn calmed her breathing to an almost normal pace. She had reason to hope, now, if that was something.

The guards had no subtlety entering the cell again, giving her enough time to haul herself up by the chains again and stick her back to the wall, like a properly restrained prisoner with no hope of escape.

Before they noticed she hauled herself a little higher, putting the lock on her wrists just above the two stocky, burly men's reach.

"I wonder what this one did to piss off the Queen," snorted the guard nearest to her. "Looks puny."

The Queen, thought Jyn, and almost sniggered.

"The puny ones always piss her off," replied his partner, assessing her with narrowed eyes like a pricey piece of furniture. "Remember the scrawny bald kid?"

"That one got the pit treatment pretty bad."

"She cut off his leg and let it bleed while they dragged him to the pit. Kid's screams got the place haunted."

I'm sure I warrant a bigger punishment than that, mused Jyn, but kept her gaze blank as the guards reached for her wristlocks.

Reached, but didn't get there.

"Who's the shavit that did this?" the first one started, annoyed. "Does he expect us to stand on something?"

"There's no other option," muttered his partner. "We'll do the legs first."

"Hold it right there. You know it's a dumbass idea to free the legs first, supposing..."

"Supposing this puny thing got her hands free? Look at her, Bote. She's stoned. Scared out of her pants. She hasn't even got her head in order."

Jyn didn't even blink.

"The legs, fine. It's not like she could mess with us anyway."

The two started flicking the combinations of the locks around her ankles. A click and a click. The pressure crushing the bone at her ankles eased out, allowing for a rush of blood.

"Now hold her down, just in case. I'll deal with those damn wristlocks."

The other guard clasped his massive palms around her freed ankles while Bote made his very best effort to grab the lock she held out of his reach.

Jyn shook off her vacant expression and struck.

The chains on her right hand came crashing down on him, slamming against his neck and spine and knocking to the ground with a thud. The second guard doubled back and drew out his blaster, but by that time Jyn had dropped herself from the wall and she lunged, chains dangling behind her.

She caught him on the head with a chain, making him hiss with pain and lose his gun, before rushing forward and driving a fist into his gut, making him splutter, black out.

She shook the manacles from her arms and legs before picking the gun, pointing it at the unconscious guards, and...

Leave no loose ends. Wasn't that the entire purpose of this self-imposed mission anyway?

Cursing, Jyn pocketed the blaster and made for the exit.

She heaved the door closed behind her, cautious of making noise, and slid in the bolt, clipping the lock that connected it to the wall. That was a loose end tied.

She whirled around to find an endless expanse of stone corridor, travelling far and deep into increasing degrees of darkness.

She recalled bits that would help from her last time in the building. The best course of action would just be to hide in the shadows.

She walked fast, searching for the nooks and corners she knew should be there, somewhere. She passed an arch to an empty black room. But she couldn't turn back, so she held out for the next one.

Noises from the passage behind her, far away yet too close for comfort. Confusion and disorder. The other guards had found something.

Shouts started to follow from behind.

Heart pounding in a constricted chest, she darted into one of the arches, a doorless portal to a pocket of darkness, darker than the stone corridor. She stuck to the walls inside and moved with caution. There were various objects that acquired the space of the room. She couldn't make out what they were, but one wrong step and and she'd stumble, alerting the voices in the corridor to her presence.

She held her breath. A glance outside confirmed they weren't here, not yet. She stepped out of the room and strode a short distance in the corridor for the next one.

She was taking her chances, but it was a good chance. The guards would follow the corridor right down to where it ended, assuming she'd had enough time ahead of them to escape. But Jyn didn't know these pathways, and for all she knew she could run right into waiting reinforcements if she took the instinctive path.

She slipped out of this room and into the next one, the sounds of running and shouting growing close, dangerously close.

She couldn't risk another peek into the corridor or to move to the next room. Holding her breath and, feeling around for the furniture, scrap parts, weaponry stored in the mocking darkness, Jyn moved deeper into the room, being careful her shadow didn't coincide with the dim light from the entrance.

She felt machinery, droid parts. Speeders in storage, but too rusted and loud for her to consider making use of. Her progress, if it could be called progress, was painfully slow and measured.

Her knee struck a part of metal hard- she doubled over but had the sense to keep her mouth shut and her breath mute. She cautiously straightened her legs again, straightened her back, her hands at her sides for any other obstacles...and fingers settled on her shoulder.

The attacker was quick, but Jyn was quicker. She grabbbed the hand, turned around and drove a fist into his face knowing that they normally didn't scream out loud when punched there.

But he didn't stagger, just wavered, and gripped her forearms. Jyn was slammed into a wall she hadn't noticed amidst the sea of clutter, a knee in her gut, hands on her shoulders for added impact.

When the counterattack didn't hurt as much as it should have, Jyn opened her eyes and tried to make sense of the situation in the dark, but minute streaks of sunlight had infiltrated the corner, allowing her to see the familiar brown orbs admonishing her silently.

She dropped her defensive stance and released the tension in her muscles. Most of it.

"I was under the impression you wanted to fake your death, not actually get yourself killed," said a highly unamused Cassian Andor, whose features were sharp in the beam of light that fell across them, sharp enough so she could make out the colour of his eyes, the bristles on his cheeks that had grown ruggedly but complimented the angles of his face, the creases on his brow that were almost in full force now. Much as it drew her mind to the elevator ride on Scarif, his features now were significantly different from then. Then, he had looked unguarded, brow creased but not out of authority, and his eyes had spoken volumes she was afraid to delve deep into. Now he regarded her with the same scrutiny of a reproachful commanding officer whose glare just dared her to do something stupid again. She felt she would, just in return for that glare and to spite him.

"I had it under control," she bit back instead, challenging his look with a glare of her own.

"Right," said Cassian skeptically, and she didn't miss the undertone of scathing sarcasm. "Because facing down a group of thugs with a blaster that doesn't work is definitely under control."

Jyn huffed irritably, shifting under the placement of the knee still buried in her stomach. "How long have you been following me?"

Seeming to finally trust that she wouldn't run away, he slowly removed his knee and hands, settling to lean back on a leg and cross his arms instead. "Long enough to know you were getting into trouble."

"Right," Jyn crossed her own arms, mirroring his action.

Her eyes darted to the source of light, an open space between the black stones that made the building, then back again to catch his gaze fixed on her with a subtle intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"What are you doing here?"

At the same time he said, "It's been six months, Jyn."

She dropped her arms and met his eyes again, the tone of his words striking hard. A sudden surge of guilt rushed her insides and she looked away just as quickly, avoiding his gaze.

"I...I know," she stumbled for words. "I'm sorry. It's...it's been hectic. If it means anything, I missed you."

Before he could respond to that, a loud clang sounded from nearby and shouts and footsteps flooded the corridor.

"Come on," said Cassian urgently, and darted out of the light and across to the next wall. Despite the steady beam of sunlight, the space ahead was dark, constricting. An illogical fear of the dark gripped at her insides, just for one wild moment, but the noises of excitement grew louder and she followed in a hurry.

The room was bigger than any of the previous ones, and save for that single corner just as dark. Scrapped machine parts lay in hazardous storage leaving little room for free movement, and it felt imposing, imprisoning...a hand found hers in the dark and urgently tugged her ahead, guiding her through the mess of invisible obstacles until light poured into the room once again. A hole the size of a window had been smashed into the walls from the outside, and through it she glimpsed street, harsh sunlight and foot traffic.

Cassian urged her forward and she crouched, dropped to all fours and crawled through the hole.

If there was anything unusual about a person emerging from the foot of a building and onto the pavement, nobody on the streets showed it. She staggered to her feet just as Cassian crawled out after her, glancing over a shoulder as he did.

They hurried into the thick of the crowd just as the excitement from within the walls reached a new high.

The market-day crowds hindered their progress, made it slow and painful and increasingly risky.

Cassian shrugged off his jacket- why anyone needed a heavy jacket in this climate she didn't understand- and draped it over her shoulders. Understanding, she pulled her arms through. "Hair," he said, and she removed the characteristic bun fixed close to her scalp, shaking the locks out. Hopefully she should be unreconizable from behind now, hopefully.

The crowd parted with the various stalls where the marketplace began, and much like before an aisle created itself in the middle to allow easier forward movement. They were not covered, but they weren't swamped either.

"Don't look back," said Cassian, gripping her forearm as they settled for an almost casual, unsuspecting stroll, even though their feet shuffled faster than a stroll to create a distance, just in case, just in case. For all the world they looked like an anxious couple trying to pass through to the end of the market. They wouldn't be the only ones.

A triumphant exclamation from not far behind and a blaster bolt flew over their heads.

They both swore in different tongues before breaking into a run through the thinning crowds and the scorching Leton sun.

Everywhere civilians parted, alarmed, threw themselves out of the line of fire and let them dash through. Let their pursuers dash through, too.

More shots were fired their way, missing by fractions, missing by sheer dumb luck. They crossed the exit of the marketplace, running into a town square of several winding alleyways. Cassian chose one without the slightest hesitance and she darted in after him, not daring to hope they'd escaped the guards.

Shouts of pursuit and blaster fire followed like disaster sirens.

They rounded another corner. And another. The buildings were growing now, taking on urban faces, the roads were neat tar instead of hot sand. It didn't shake off the sweltering heat. It didn't shake off their pursuers, either.

"Bad idea," breathed Jyn as they stumbled into an open field, rural again, kept running.

"Not so bad," exhaled Cassian, eyes on the black ship gliding fast towards them mere feet above the sand, leaving waves in its wake.

Jyn didn't have the time to be awed. Blaster fire surrounded them, zapped past her ears, grazed her clothes at cutting velocities. Her feet threatened to give out, the voices threatened to kill her. Cassian got hit in the shoulder, but his only response was to wave his hands urgently at the speeding ship.

The black shuttle- in a dangerous pause for thought Jyn felt it was a monster- finally lowered wafer-thin canons and opened fire on the closing guards.

They went into hasty retreat, she could tell from the sounds, but a few guns kept firing. There was nothing for it. The pilot swiftly turned the ship around and an open hatch beckoned them.

They made the slanted half-climb up the ramp in mid-air, nearly falling but not, the ramp closing up before they'd cleared it.

They landed in an undignified heap on the floor of the shuttle at the foot of the door.

Cassian yanked her out of the way as energy bolts indented the door, and they were soon out of firing range and speeding into the bright, burning sky.

They took a moment to catch their breaths before untangling themselves, stepping shakily back on feet that weren't ready to stand again just yet.

"Nice ship," panted Jyn, grabbing onto an overhead rack for support.

"We're going to need it," said Cassian, equally exhausted, a hand scrunched on his right shoulder.

"Does the Alliance finally require my services, then?" Jyn summoned the strength to quirk an eyebrow over her breathlessness.

"Depends on which part of the Alliance you ask," Cassian replied with a wince. "Two-thirds of the council approved your assistance for this mission, but Draven wasn't too intent on it. Seeing as more personnel is going into getting the new base in order and dealing with the swarm of Imperial defectors getting into contact after Scarif, at the end of the day he said I could make my team from whoever the hell I wanted."

"And that includes me?" Jyn's eyes were drawn to his hand, the blood seeping into it from under his sleeve.

"The Council means to put Rogue One back together. Think if this assignment as a test-run."

Her eyes were back on his face again, but she wasn't sure what kind of expression she wanted to wear. Gratification after the irrational fear that the Alliance would make her work with people she didn't know, who didn't know her? Surprise that the higher-ups they'd all blatantly disobeyed were considering stitching them together as a task force? The bitterness that had eluded her for months now about being one who survived where more deserving people hadn't?

Instead she said, "Let me see that."

Cassian glanced at his bloodied hand and folded the material over the blood another time, pressuring the wound. "I'll be fine."

"You won't be for much longer if you let it bleed," argued Jyn, stepping forward. "Let me."

"I'll get Kay to have a look as soon as he- Jyn."

"Yeah, it's festering," noted Jyn matter-of-factly, his hand held away, already taking a good look at the wound from the rip the blaster bolt had caused in the process. Her left hand keeping his adrift, she tore the long sleeve completely from where it was ripped, and gathered the mostly blood-soaked material as a strip to tie around his shoulder. The Partisans hadn't had the luxuries of bacta or more than one medical droid per base, so she'd learnt what she could of field medicine because in her line of work there had never been a time it wasn't called for.

Cassian looked like he wanted to protest, but eventually resigned himself to the futility of it and kept still while she tied her knot.

"Your jacket saved me from getting the same damage," said Jyn as she finished, drawing away from the wrapped wound. "They wanted us alive either way."

Cassian nodded. "I figured. Who was that you were running from?"

"Nethi, leader of Leton's biggest weapons racketeering service. We may have crossed paths...unfavourably about a year ago, and six years before that. Saw sent me the first time."

"And you had to go back because?"

"Because she's been trying to hunt me down ever since, and I thought I could..."

"Fake your death to put her off for good."

She was caught between glowering at him and a wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You're too good at this, Andor."

Cassian noticed the conflicting expressions and smirked, though slightly. The look of near-fondness reserved for so few and seen by close to none was apparent in the creases about his eyes, the look when he'd said Welcome home, but it wasn't to last long.

"Oh, you got her back in one piece," came the disdainful monotone of a faimiliar droid as a tall, slouched chassis ducked through into the common area from the cockpit. "That comes as a surprise after what you just went through, being frail and susceptible organic beings."

"At least I wouldn't short-circuit if a wire was cut," retorted Cassian under his breath, giving Jyn an almost apologetic look before brushing past his droid and into the cockpit, which was a long distance off and hidden from view by a wall and doorway.

"I am to show you to your quarters," declared Kaytoo. It wasn't so much a declaration as a mundane statement of fact.

Now this did surprise her. "I have quarters?"

If the droid could roll his eyes, he would have. "As you can discern on your own, Jyn Erso, this is a big ship."

She was saved from having to respond to that when another figure, lean and scruffy and welcome, left the cockpit and headed for her in quick strides.

"I was pretty worriedabout you these six months, Jyn," started Bodhi, a nervous laugh in his throat. He stopped before her to examine her state, wearing obvious concern and warmth and relief, and she couldn't help but reach out and pull him into a bone-crushing hug. Bodhi hugged her with equal ferocity, only letting go when it started to hurt.

"How are you?" She asked, holding him at arm's length. There wasn't much in the way of difference since the last time they'd met- he had the same beard, same hair, looked harassed but clean- except maybe he looked a little less harassed and a little better fed, on second inspection.

"Never been better," replied the pilot, shaking his head. "The new Base is...not comfortable, but I've been learning to fly X-wings and that's worth it. Well. Almost worth it." He regarded her quietly. "I think I should be asking you how you've been. We just picked you up from a firefight and Force knows what else you've been upto."

Jyn managed a strangled laugh. "No cause for concern, Bodhi, don't worry."

He looked skeptic. "Are you sure?"

"I was doing fine."

"According to the data I have of your activities of the past six months, you had less than a forty percent chance of survival on average," scoffed Kaytoo.

"Those are good odds," rebuked Jyn, stepping back to cross her arms. "What about my quarters, though? There's no point giving me a bunk to myself if I don't have possessions to load into it."

Bodhi was suddenly averting his eyes self-consciously. "Well, we thought about that, so we dropped by at your place-"

"After I'd left?"

"Of course. Just to gather whatever you'll need here. It was Cassian's idea," he added quickly.

"I'm glad we don't have to turn back to Leton," said Jyn, easing his concern.

She followed Kaytoo down a hallway of dull white lighting, wide enough for three people and composed of machine parts, gray and rugged. Still, it struck her that the ship was large and accommodating enough to house Kaytoo without him having to bend in half- his characteristic slouch was another story. She figured the corridor winded around the back of the ship. After one closed door and the engine room it curved, and two more rooms opened up in the wall to her right. Kaytoo kept marching on, but she paused before the first one.

Sefla and Melshi looked up from their game of sabacc in surprise, as if they'd never known she was coming.

Incredulous, she asked, "You didn't hear the ship firing? The firefight outside?"

Sefla whistled, shaking his head slowly. "They really weren't lying about the soundproofing on this thing, were they?"

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