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azems-familiar · 7 years

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of all the truths i could not tell ch. 2

So err i have Worries about this chapter and if it flows and if it ends where it should and if it makes sense... i have no idea what i’m doing, if i’m honest?? but?? have some almost rebelcaptain

They spend five years with the Partisans, and in that time Jyn becomes a soldier. As hard as Lyra tries to keep her home, Jyn constantly heads out on the missions Saw will let her on.

“You can’t fight the Empire by doing nothing,” Jyn snaps out, hostile and harsh. “You might not like it, Mama, but at least I’m doing something .”

Lyra sighs and drags a hand down her face. “Jyn, you’re thirteen years old and you’re building bombs ! It’s not worth it. This is what I feared about living with Saw.”

(this is why she didn’t leave you alone)

Jyn tries to push the thought away, but it grabs on, burrows like roots through her mind, and she can’t seem to forget it.

Two weeks later, out on a mission, Saw hands her a blaster and tells her to hide in an abandoned bunker until he comes back.

It’s a full three days before Lyra appears in the door, haggard and exhausted and clutching a blaster in her right hand like it’s a lifeline. She takes one look at Jyn and calmly announces that Vera and Kestrel Dawn are compromised.

Once again, they run.

There’s a Rebel base on Dantooine, Jyn knows. One of Saw’s men, Kev Garesh, mentioned it to her once. When Lyra asks Jyn where they should go next, Dantooine is the first name to tumble past her lips.

“Why Dantooine?”

“Kev mentioned it once,” Jyn says with a careless shrug. “Said there’s a Rebel base there.”

Lyra pauses, as though considering. “I don’t know if we should try and find the Alliance yet. We might not be… welcomed.”

“I’m the daughter of a high-ranking Imperial scientist and you’re his wife,” Jyn answers. “What could possibly worry them?”

Lyra doesn’t react--visibly, at least--to the sarcasm dripping from every word, instead staying calm and consulting the holographic star map. “I think there’s a small rebel cell on Kafrene,” she says at last. “We might be able to help them out. We’ll need new aliases, though.”

And thus Jyn becomes Tanith Pontha. A new identity, a new persona, a new set of small gestures to put on like a spare set of clothes. She learned, with Saw, about how to fall so deeply into a character that no one could ever know; yet another set of skills Lyra doesn’t approve of.

Not that Jyn understands why her mother doesn’t approve of disguise. Their entire existence is living under a cloak, hiding their true names from even the ones they trust the most. Out of all of the Partisans, only Saw knew who Jyn and Lyra were. The only reason he was allowed to know is because he was the one who rescued them. Saw knew.

(saw left her)

Jyn seethes at the constant hiding, the scurrying away to vanish into the shadows the instant it seems like trouble is coming, but a part of her understands it, even as she burns to fight. It’s hard and it’s frustrating and it scorches her to run, but her Mama wants it and so she grits her teeth and puts her head down and does it.

They charter a pilot to take them to Kafrene. It’s a long flight through hyperspace, halfway across the galaxy, from their previous home on Onderon, and it leaves Jyn with plenty of time to think. Why aren’t they joining the Alliance now ? Surely the Rebellion--still in its fledgling stages, according to Saw, although it certainly has grown since the Partisans’ split--would welcome their help; Lyra is a strong-willed yet open-minded historian with all the skills of a diplomat, and Jyn is a fierce fighter and clever , skilled already at the arts of slicing and sneaking. And even though Lyra’s justification does make some kind of sense, if they’re just going to be using aliases anyway why does it matter when they go? If the Alliance never finds out who the third member of their shattered family is…

By the time they arrive on Kafrene, Jyn is no closer to understanding her mother’s motives, and so she pushes the thoughts to the back of her mind. That doesn’t mean she’s forgotten , though. Just… postponed. She’ll confront Lyra about it another day.

(she tells herself that enough times, and she almost believes it)

Daeja and Tanith Pontha disappear barely a year later, after a newly recruited Imperial defector starts asking too many questions.

“We’ll be sad to see you go,” the leader of the small cell, Rina, says. She’s speaking to both of them, but her words are directed to Jyn.

Jyn, the small girl with the fire of a thousand suns lighting her green eyes, the furious strength of a warrior woven into her bones, and the seething need to fight filling her lungs with every breath; she is only fourteen, but she’s already risen high in the ranks of the cell, and her loss will be felt keenly.

“It’s for the best, Rina,” Lyra says with a small, almost wistful, smile. “Good luck, and may the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you as well,” Rina echoes, and then turns and vanishes. The pilot she’s left them with looks over the two of them for a moment, then shrugs a little and boards his ship, clearly expecting them to follow suit.

“So where am I taking you?” he asks in a crisp voice.

Lyra hesitates, shoots Jyn a look, then nods decisively. “Alderaan. Take us to Alderaan.”

Aurae and Liana Hallick don’t spend very long on Alderaan; just long enough for Jyn to use her slicing skills to forge quality scandocs and let them establish their identities. It only takes a couple months--but in that time, they start to fall into some semblance of a routine. It makes Jyn itch , her skin crawling with the need to move . Random is safe; routine leads to predictability, and predictability leads to sloppiness and being found and a blaster bolt to the head. (If you’re lucky. The unlucky ones are taken away and never heard from again, probably dumped on some Outer Rim prison planet, left toiling away the last years of their miserable lives in the barest semblance of survival. If you’re quick enough, you can shoot the unlucky ones before they’re pulled on board an Imperial shuttle. Jyn’s done it before.)

But while Jyn chafes at the quietness of Alderaan, Lyra flourishes in it, like a flower basking in the sun. Her mother has always balked at fighting, preferring the diplomatic approach--if there was one. This time, at least, there’s a reason for them to be sitting still: Lyra is waiting for contact from the Rebellion.

Apparently, they’re finally going to seek the Alliance out.

The contact finally arranges to meet them at the spaceport, and it’s a mark of her confidence that Lyra has both of them pack all their belongings and bring the bags with them. The contact is tall, dark-haired and confident, his face a smooth, emotionless mask. A ship waits, the hatch open and inviting, behind him, but Jyn’s gaze is captured by his eyes. Dark and intense, flickering with the same deep burning Jyn feels in her own heart, they meet Jyn’s own eyes and in an instant she feels as though she’s been stripped to the bone. As though his eyes have seen straight through all the personalities and names and people she’s been and seen her for her she truly is.

(but that’s impossible, of course. she’s better trained than that)

There’s a long silence.

“My name is Aurae Hallick,” Lyra finally says, “and this is my daughter, Liana.”

The Rebel watches them for another long moment, searching Lyra’s eyes, then nods--apparently satisfied with what he sees. “Cassian Andor, Rebel Intelligence. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His voice rolls softly with an exotic accent that Jyn can’t place, one that she’s certain she’s never heard before. Before she can think better of it, she bursts out, “Whose name is that?”

“My own,” Cassian answers, almost sharply; his gaze sweeps over her again, appraisingly. Studying her, wondering why she’s so familiar with aliases.

(revealing her familiarity with false personas may not have been the smartest move, in hindsight)

“Thank you for meeting us here,” Lyra hurries to say, as though she can smooth over the awkward silence that’s descended over the three of them with simple pleasantries. “I take it we satisfied you, since you spoke freely to us?”

Cassian nods. “Your correspondence with the Alliance gave us the information we needed. General Draven wanted me to make sure you are who you say you are. Shall we?”

Jyn feels her eyebrows shoot up at the mention of correspondence with the Alliance, and she sends her mother a glare that Lyra steadfastedly ignores. Then the implications of Cassian’s last statement sink in, and she finds herself hiding behind a blank-faced front as she struggles to comprehend.

There’s no way he could’ve made a decision on them after only half a minute of silent observation; there’s still an entire flight to wherever the Rebel base they’re bound for is. And while on the ship--and maybe even after they’ve disembarked--Cassian will be watching them. Waiting. And if either of them slips up…

Well. Jyn’s fairly certain he knows how to use the blaster just barely discernible beneath his civilian coat.

She doesn’t dare shift her gaze to her mother, trusting instead that Lyra has come to the same conclusions. Instead, she lifts her eyes and stares into Cassian’s--a challenge. Within his gaze, she sees confirmation of her realization, and more--he knows that she knows, but he’s not going to say it aloud. And neither will she.

Tension shimmers in the air, thick enough to be almost tangible, until it’s abruptly snapped by a mechanical voice. “I have calculated that there is a seventy-three percent chance that Liana Hallick will attempt to disable you and redirect the ship as soon as we make the jump to hyperspace.”

The voice is immediately followed by the appearance of a tall, hulking black form in the ship’s open hatch--a shape instantly recognizable to Jyn. Acting on instinct, she jerks out the blaster on her hip, aiming it at the KX-series droid. “What the kriffing hell…” she starts, only to be cut off by a quick motion by Cassian.

“It’s okay, he’s friendly, just… put that thing away before someone sees you with it,” the spy manages to get out, and after a long second, Jyn does as he suggests. “Aurae, Liana, allow me to introduce you to my copilot, K-2SO. He’s been reprogrammed--he’s not dangerous.”

“On the contrary, I believe there is plenty of evidence to show that I am quite dangerous,” the droid says, and Jyn could swear that the flat voice is somehow sarcastic .

(which is completely ridiculous. droids don’t have personalities, everyone knows that)

“Sorry,” Cassian apologizes, shooting K-2SO a look that clearly says ‘shut up right this second’. “He tends to say whatever comes into his circuits. It’s a side-effect of the reprogramming.”

Before the talkative droid can respond, he hurries Lyra and Jyn up the ramp and onto the ship. “K, get the ship running. The quicker we get out of here, the better.”

Grumbling something under his breath (Jyn has no desire to know what he says), the droid climbs the ladder into the cockpit as Cassian closes the hatch behind the two women. “Sorry about him,” he apologizes again. “You can set your stuff down somewhere and sit; I’m going to get us into hyperspace, and then I’ll be back to answer whatever questions you might have.”

“Where are we going?” Jyn asks, ignoring the sharp look Lyra sends her way. She doesn’t move from her position in the center of the ship, staring at Cassian, even as her mother moves around behind her, sliding to a sitting position on one of the narrow, hard benches with her bag beside her. They have a right to know the destination, and Jyn silently tells Cassian this with her eyes.

He hesitates; she can tell even leaving her alone with a blaster makes him uncomfortable, and the idea of giving her the location of the Rebel base goes against every instinct he has. She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders, determined. “Trust goes both ways,” she tells him quietly, and after a moment he exhales heavily.

Resignation flits across his face and he nods, slowly, almost reluctantly. “Yavin 4,” he mutters after another long hesitation. “We’re inbound for Base One.”

Then he spins away, climbing fluidly up the ladder and vanishing in the cockpit; Jyn barely has enough time to settle herself on the bench opposite her mother before the ship rumbles and shudders around her, leaping into the air with a creaky, metallic groan. She doesn’t even have the time to get used to the motion of the ship before an almost-familiar lurch in the pit of her stomach signals the jump to hyperspace

(she could get up now, climb the ladder, shoot the droid in the back of the head and slam the butt of her blaster into cassian’s temple; take the ship wherever she wants to go, finally free)

(she could)

(she doesn’t)

Her fingers clench spasmodically around the edge of the black plastoid bench, her heart jittering in her chest, and her breaths shudder out of her in rhythm with the creaking of the durasteel walls.

She waits.

#rebelcaptain #rogue one #lyra lives #cassian x jyn #cassian andor #jyn erso #lyra erso #k-2so #i really don't know what i'm doing #but the snarky droid is here so???

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azems-familiar · 7 years

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of all the truths i could not tell ch 3

Search #myfic on my blog to find the other 2 chapters of this.

sooo this feels really awful and choppy and idk but i'd really appreciate some like opinions that it's maybe not??? and that it's long enough??? because it feels really short and err yeah so this is me apologizing in advance in case it really does suck also have i mentioned i'm making this up as i go along because yeah i am and this wasn't exactly supposed to happen but *shrugs*

also a friend from over on nanowrimo.org made a cover for this fic and it's beautiful and if someone could help me figure out how the fuck to get it to show up on here that'd be great

Chapter 3

Jyn steps off the ship, carefully, hesitantly, staying just behind Lyra, blinking in the sudden light. Yavin 4 is, apparently, a jungle planet; the U-wing has landed on an open space between two massive ziggurats, ancient stone accented with trailing greenery and faded carvings. Predictably, Lyra is entranced by the crumbling monstrosities; however, all Jyn can see when she looks at the ziggurats is the tactical (dis)advantage of building a base beneath the giant equivalent of an ‘X marks the spot’.

Of course, who knows how long the base has been here--she certainly doesn’t, at least--and the Empire hasn’t found the Alliance yet, so maybe it’s a decent location after all.

Cassian leads the two of them across the landing pad and into the hangar, and it seems as though he took her words about trust to heart, since he not only lets them walk behind him but also left his droid on the U-wing. Or maybe she’s overthinking things. But the apparent lack of concern about her and her mother is more than a bit unnerving. Everything is so… open, almost--Cassian didn’t even bother with an alias or ask them many questions. Nothing like the Partisans.

Saw would never have given out real names so casually, nor would he have let them see so much of the base. There would be bags over both Jyn and Lyra’s heads, their wrists in binders behind their backs, searched and disarmed and kept completely harmless until they were in the very center of the base. Jyn has escorted more than her fair share of men and women to the center of Saw’s stronghold. Some of whom ended up facing Bor Gullet.

(she doesn’t want to think about bor gullet right now)

Well, if the Alliance is going to be lax about security, she might as well take advantage of it. Quickening her steps, Jyn comes up alongside Cassian. “Where are we going?”

Cassian’s stride never falters, his face still and blank. “I’m taking you to Senator Mon Mothma. She and General Draven want to talk to you and your mother, to get a feel for the two of you. I'll then be asking you a few questions to determine what kind of training you'll need.”

Training. Jyn takes a breath, keeps her steps even and smooth, trying not to show any emotions on her face. Right. Liana Hallick would need training.

Liana Hallick had not spent five years among the Partisans.

Jyn wonders, idly, what the Rebellion would do with the wife and daughter of an Imperial scientist. After all, there's not really much that the two of them could do for the Rebellion, on principle; Lyra is a diplomat and a historian, with some knowledge of guerrilla warfare tactics from their time with Saw Gerrera, and the fierceness of a fighter when she has little other choice, and Jyn is a warrior, hardened and powerful and strong, with fire in her veins and steel in her bones and blood in her shattered glass smile. There's no doubt the Rebel Alliance could use them.

The only question is, would they?

Could the Rebels trust that Jyn and Lyra Erso wouldn't even ever dream of selling out the Rebellion to the Empire that stole their third member?

Jyn rather thinks not.

It's not necesarrily against the Rebels, the generals and senators and politicians who make up the core of the leadership of this ill-fated Rebellion against the all-powerful Empire; it's more like the idea that no matter how much Jyn and Lyra could bring to the table, there's always a chance that somehow, the Empire could use Galen Erso against them, to the downfall of the Alliance.

(hence why the aliases. lyra believes that the less they tell the rebellion, the better. even the senators like mon mothma, who would more than likely lean towards trusting the erso women, even they must not know. must not be allowed to know.)

Jyn lets a soft breath huff out between her lips and watched Cassian for a moment, then sighs and, shrugging internally, breaks the silence. "What kind of training?"

Cassian hesitates before answering. "Basic weapons training, hand-to-hand combat, simple tactics. The kind of things one needs to know to be a member of the Alliance. Depending on what you show aptitude in, you could be rerouted to a pilot--for flight training--or placed underneath an Intelligence officer to be assigned to that department. I would hazard a guess that neither of you are particularly political..."

Lyra snorts. "I consider myself to be a fairly decent diplomat, actually," she explains with a sarcastic laugh. "You'd be surprised at the things I can do. I really rather prefer talking over just blowing everyone up or shooting everyone. Violence is not always the best way to solve a problem."

"When the problem is as large as the Empire, Aurae, I don't feel like we have much of a choice," the Intelligence agent answers.

Lyra presses her lips together in a thin line, but doesn’t speak.

Cassian waits for a moment, then increases his pace ever-so-slightly, the blank mask back on his face; even his eyes are shadowed, hidden, and although Jyn prides herself on her ability to read people, she cannot find any emotion in his eyes. The face of a spy.

(and a good one, at that; surprising with how young he must be, only a couple years older than she is)

If Cassian notices her attempt, he shows no sign. (There’s no if about it; he’s too good not to notice. He just chooses not to react, for some reason she cannot fathom.) And then there’s no more time for conversation, because he holds up a hand to stop them in front of a door. There’s not much about the door to set it aside from all the other doors they’ve passed, but he steps forward with the same calm confidence he’s carried with him since Alderaan and knocks. There’s a second of silence, and then a voice calls out, “Enter,” just as calm and composed as Cassian himself, and then he opens the door and Jyn lays eyes on Mon Mothma for the first time.

(Later, the only thing she will remember from this first meeting is Mothma’s appearance; regal and calm and composed, everything her voice sounded like, a bastion of peaceful diplomacy in the storm-tossed sea of the Rebellion’s cold war. One of the things Jyn remembers is the look on Cassian’s face--deference and yet something more , something intangible, born of respect but mixed with something like disdain. Later, she’ll wonder if it’s related to the fact that Cassian is a spy; he’s seen the worst the Empire has to offer and more, has been through and done unimaginable horrors in the name of the cause, and yet while Mon Mothma is a strong leader she also still refuses to give up on a peaceful solution.

But that comes later. And right then, the only thing that matters is that they stay safe, uncompromised, they’ve survived the first investigation, the first test, but now comes the second, more thorough one, and if they fail this…)

(Later, she will also wonder if her own certainty about the coming war influenced her opinion of Mon Mothma in some way.)

“Welcome, Aurae and Liana Hallick, to the Rebel Alliance,” Mon Mothma says courteously. (Jyn has a feeling Mon Mothma always speaks courteously.) “My name is Senator Mon Mothma. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I’ve heard many good things from General Draven about you; he’s assured me that the two of you will fit in quite well here, and I want to pass along those assurances. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be here today to meet you.”

There’s a small pause, wherein Jyn shifts uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny of both Mon Mothma and Cassian, and Lyra struggles to come up with an appropriate answer. “Thank you, Senator,” she finally decides on. “Liana and I are in your debt for making this transition possible. I know it’s not usually your custom to expose yourself like this…”

Mothma smiles, warm and welcoming. “Only because we don’t usually have people reaching out to us. In the cold war--for lack of a better term--that we’re in right now, it’s considered more prudent by most people to remain neutral.”

The datapad lying on the table in front of the senator chirps an alert, and a flicker of irritation crosses her perfectly schooled expression. She glances down at the datapad’s screen and purses her lips. “I was hoping to have a little more time to speak with you, but it appears I have other matters to attend to. Forgive me. Sergeant Andor, would you find them temporary quarters and then begin their evaluations?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cassian-- Sergeant Cassian--responds with a crisp salute. Mothma acknowledges him with a quick nod, her eyes already drifting back to the datapad, and Cassian turns to Lyra and Jyn. “Ms. Hallick, Liana, if you would come with me, please…”

“Call me Aurae,” Lyra says back, then turns to follow him out the door. “Liana, are you coming?”

Jyn hesitates just inside the room, glancing back over her shoulder at the Senator, who is looking decidedly more upset with each passing second. As though she feels Jyn’s gaze, Mothma lifts her gaze from the datapad--

Their eyes meet.

There’s some strange, unspoken thing that flows between the two of them, in that moment; an acknowledgement, perhaps. (Of different views, of the futility of seeking peace, of the painful inevitability and hopelessness of war, and its cost)

And for a moment, Jyn almost begins to understand Mon Mothma.

Then Lyra calls out, “Liana?” and the moment shatters like spun glass, Mothma returning to her datapad as though nothing happened at all.

“Right behind you,” Jyn calls out, and leaves the room without looking back.

[=|=]

After what feels like days of questions (but is only three hours, according to the chrono on the wall), Cassian finally decides he’s gotten enough information from the two of them.

Jyn’s under no false pretenses--this was an interrogation, to see if they are worth the risk, to see if they’re who they pretend to be; she can only hope that his dismissal of them means they’ve passed. Not that his manner or tone could give her any clues. The entire time, he’s been cold and impersonal, asking questions with little regard for sentimentality or extraneous information, cutting to the quick, efficient and sharp.

She supposes that’s why he’s already an officer, at the tender young age of eighteen. (Or so she guesses; he looks around eighteen to her, and acts like it in rare moments--flashes of humor in his brown eyes when she cracks a joke raunchy enough to earn a reprimand from Lyra. There’s a hint of a smile flickering on his lips when she talks about her fierce desire to take down the Empire, and for some reason or another he doesn’t suppress the emotion in his eyes. Not that she can identify it, anyway. Everything about Cassian Andor is a mystery--not least, the reason why he runs around with that kriffing droid .)

“There you are, Cassian,” K-2 says, choosing that precise moment to shove his way inside the small room they’re in. “You have been gone for three hours and twenty-six minutes. This is an unreasonable amount of time. The ship needs repairs and I got wet and require an oil bath.”

“Hello to you too,” Jyn mutters under her breath, without thinking. She rolls her eyes at the droid’s antics, rising from the chair and stretching stiff muscles. “If we’re done here, are Mama and I free to leave?”

“Yes, of course,” Cassian answers quickly, following her example and standing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a ship to take care of, and a droid who can most certainly take care of himself,” he adds when K-2 levels a vicious glare at him. (How a droid without a ‘face’ can glare is beyond Jyn, but she’ll be damned if he doesn’t somehow manage to make it happen.)

Lyra nods as though this is completely reasonable. “Of course, Sergeant Andor.”

“Which way is the mess hall?” Jyn interjects, deciding to ask the important questions now. And, besides, she’s hungry.

Cassian raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. “I’ll show you there myself,” he says after a moment of consideration. “My ship can wait a few more minutes.”

She hesitates, then nods. This will work, even if it’s not quite what she had in mind; she’s not entirely sure she’s ready to socialize with the man who was quite prepared to kill her the instant she acted suspicious. “Lead the way,” she says, then, unable to resist: “Does the droid have to come?”

K-2 straightens, stares at her with an air of affronted dignity (she still doesn’t quite know how he manages it). “I’ll have you know that I am used to going with Cassian wherever he goes,” he begins.

“K, leave it,” Cassian says with a sigh. “Go get your oil bath, alright? Then you can help me with the ship.”

K-2 makes a noise that somehow approximates a grumbling sigh before turning and clanking away. Jyn nearly makes a comment about stealth, but falls silent at the look Lyra gives her--a look that clearly says to stop antagonizing the man .

Reluctantly, she stops.

“Anyway, the mess hall?” Lyra asks, stepping around Jyn to walk towards the door. “I think both Jyn and I are ready for dinner. It’s been a long day.”

(a long day of sitting around doing nothing on a ship, she wants to retort. she doesn’t.)

(she thinks about it for a long time, though)

(possibly too long, by the look cassian gives her, as though he knows exactly what she’s thinking)

(and maybe he does. she still can’t read him)

Cassian nods. “Right, yes. This way.”

Jyn follows him down the hallway, almost painfully conscious of the stares of the soldiers they pass, and forces herself to walk with her head up and shoulders back. She will not let them intimidate her.

As though she hears the thought, Lyra turns and glances back over her shoulder, and when their eyes meet, she smiles.

[=|=]

The next few weeks are spent in endless rounds of training. Jyn only sees her mother at mealtimes and at night, and she sees Cassian even less often; maybe once or twice a week. Occasionally, he’s close enough to exchange a few words with; even though she doesn’t really like him, he’s one of the few people she knows at the base, and there’s something about him that almost dares her to find out everything she can about him. He seems to share that, at least, and she can only hope that she figures him out before he unearths her true identity.

(she’s beginning to like the rebellion. she really doesn’t want to leave it behind)

He disappears for a couple weeks, returns looking haggard and weary with K-2 quiet (for once) and almost dispirited at his side. A mission, she guesses, and one that didn’t go so well; or, maybe, success wasn’t as sweet or fulfilling as she’d thought it’d be. She could ask him, could go search the base during one of her breaks and corner him, but the thought has little appeal. She’s not even that curious. It’s just--

(what does it take to make that hard of a spy come home like that?)

Nothing.

It’s nothing.

(she doesn’t tell lyra about it, doesn’t want to see her mother’s eyes)

And then, nearly three months after arriving at Yavin 4, Cassian walks up to her one afternoon and says, “Come with me,” and the carefully constructed routine of the past weeks shatters.

[=|=]

“Where are we going?” Jyn asks, struggling to keep up with Cassian’s long strides. He glances over at her, alters his steps ever-so-slightly, matching them more to hers. “Cassian?”

(he never said she had to use his rank, and she does know his name, after all…)

“I have a mission,” he answers shortly, “and I’m allowed to take a few soldiers with me. I’ll need help. I’ve been keeping an eye on your training.”

And that, she thinks, might be the closest thing to a compliment she ever gets out of him.

“But where are we going ?” she persists in asking, giving him a meaningful look. “And what’s the point? What are we doing? I’m not ready to just leave--”

“I understand,” he responds. “Which is why I’m taking you to your room, first.” His voice drops. “I’ll give you more details when we’re someplace private. This is a confidential mission.”

Confidential. Right. “You’ll at least tell me what I need to pack, right?”

“You don’t need anything other than what you can carry on you.”

Jyn sighs, then nods. It’s not very specific, not at all, but at least she has a better idea of what to bring now. (Well, sort of. Not really.)

Lyra’s in their room when she steps inside, surprisingly. “Mama? What are you doing here?” she asks, frowning. “Shouldn’t you be out doing… whatever it is you do?”

(they don’t really talk about the daily routine too much. she’s not quite sure why )

“I heard you’ve been chosen for a mission,” Lyra answers, voice soft. “I wanted to come say goodbye. And to give you something.” She reaches up to her neck and unknots a plain cord, draws it out from beneath her shirt--a glimmering, roughly cut kyber crystal. “Trust the Force, Jyn, and everything will go as it should,” Lyra finishes, whispering Jyn’s real name almost inaudibly.

“You’re giving it to me?” Jyn feels her eyes widen with astonishment--the kyber crystal necklace had been a gift from Galen, and it was one of the only things Lyra still had to remember her husband by.

Lyra just smiles and nods, tying the cord around Jyn’s neck then stepping back. “You should get ready,” she says instead. “Wouldn’t want to keep your commanding officer waiting,” and there’s a tightness in her smile, a strain in her eyes, but she refuses to show it in her voice. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

Before Lyra can leave, Jyn takes a step forward and hugs her tightly, pressing her face into her mother’s shoulder, drawing courage and comfort from the familiar pair of arms around her. Then, slowly, reluctantly, she steps back, gives Lyra a smile and a nod and then goes over to her bed to get what she came for--a pair of clothes less distinctive than the Alliance uniform she currently wears, her collapsible batons, and her blaster. She changes while her mother leaves and then quickly wraps a scarf around her neck before returning to the hallway where Cassian awaits.

He doesn’t waste time asking her if she’s ready to leave or not, instead simply walking back down the corridor towards the hangar.

(a part of her notices that he keeps his strides short for her)

It’s not until they step inside his U-wing, however, that he speaks.

“Recently, Draven received some new intel from one of our informants. He asked me to verify the information. You and I will be travelling to an Imperial-controlled planet and spending a few days undercover in an attempt to, for lack of a better term, slice our way into the Imperial network in search of proof.”

At the mention of slicing, Jyn straightened. “I can help you out with that,” she says, only to be met by the smallest of smiles.

“I know you can,” Cassian answers, the smile flickering around the corners of his eyes and teasing his lips. “That’s why I asked you to come.”

“So,” she asks, slowly, hesitant, “where exactly are we going?”

“It’s your basic intelligence mission,” he says, evading the question. “I’ll evaluate your performance and see if maybe you’d fit in intelligence.”

“Cassian,” she says, staring into his eyes. “Where are we going?”

He swallows, takes a breath.

“Coruscant.”

#rebelcaptain #rogue one #cassian x jyn #cassian andor #jyn erso #lyra erso #k-2so #work in progress #stuff is finally happening #myfic

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