In case you missed it, I posted this art yesterday in the first chapter of my new Cassian Andor fic 👀 👀 👀
It was buried beneath the “read more” tag so I figured I’d share it in its own post...because I love it....and because it’s sexy as hell.
I commissioned @amikoroyaiart to create 5 custom illustrations to go with this fic. I’m only posting the first illustration in full. The rest will be available to my Jedi Knight and Jedi Master tier patrons (they will also be getting the fic in a special format that I’ve never tried before).
Here’s a brief description of the story. I’ve loved writing it, and I hope you all enjoy reading it 💜
CASSIAN’S RECKONING
Cassian Andor, Jyn Erso, and the rest of Rogue One survive the Battle of Scarif, delivering a major blow to the Empire. But Wilhuff Tarkin will not be made a fool. When Cassian falls into the Grand Moff’s clutches, he pays dearly for the Rebellion’s victory.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: We finally learn why Jyn wasn't put on leave. It is not fun.
Thank you again to dear Adela for helping me with the Spanish/Kenari 💜
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THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.
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CHAPTER 19: THE HOLOGRAM
The next morning as Jyn walked to the intelligence ready room her head was full of Cassian, remembering how his body felt strong and solid against hers. Even after Tarkin’s torture, he still radiated strength.
What had he whispered to her in Kenari? Not knowing was driving her a little mad, sending her heart racing every time she thought about the husky words that had growled in the back of his throat.
She realized she was smiling like an idiot and forcefully relaxed her face, suppressing the giddiness that fluttered in her chest. Jyn’s mind needed to be sharp; meetings with Draven always contained a particularly annoying kind of stress. As she approached the Intelligence sector, she rolled her shoulders back before walking in.
Jyn was surprised to find a full room. She had expected only to speak with the general, but several officers, a team of analysts, and even Mon Mothma was present. Except for the holo table’s green glow the room was dark.
“Ah, Erso, there you are,” Draven said, signaling for the group to be silent and form up around the holoprojector. “Thank you for coming.”
Jyn nodded but didn’t say anything; she was still new to an organized military and didn’t have the patience to play along with their little formalities.
“Everything that is said in this meeting is classified,” Draven spoke loudly and clearly. “Whatever is discussed here today stays here. Understood?”
The room gave their consent.
“Lieutenant,” he said, speaking directly to Jyn, “the team standing here,” he waved at the collection of people surrounding the holo table, “has been tasked with analyzing Commander Andor’s interrogation.”
Apprehension gripped her instantly. She didn’t know what she’d expected from a meeting with Draven, but this hadn’t been it.
“They’ve found some troubling information.”
The general paused but Jyn couldn’t think of a single polite response so she kept her mouth shut.
Draven soldiered on. “Did you ever have any interaction with Grand Moff Tarkin?”
“Excuse me?” she blurted out in shocked artlessness.
The entire room stared at her, waiting for an answer.
She almost wanted to laugh. What would a gutter rat like her have to do with Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin? “Of course not,” she finally said, providing a reply she thought should have been obvious.
“Did your father?”
“How would I know?” she snapped.
“You have no memories of him meeting with your father when you were a child?”
“This is absurd!” she scoffed.
“Jyn,” Mon Mothma said gently, “you’re not under suspicion. Please trust that there is a reason for these questions.”
Though she wanted to believe Mothma, Jyn also recognized she had very little recourse; refusing to answer her superiors’ questions could ultimately make her life much harder. “No,” she said, repressing her anger, “from what I personally remember, I never saw Tarkin with my father. When I was a child, I didn’t even know who Tarkin was, so if my father did have dealings with him, I didn’t know it.”
Draven looked to Mon Mothma who nodded once. He turned back to Jyn. “We have something we’d like to show you.”
Dread took hold of Jyn, tension blooming across her chest and abdomen; she fought to suppress the shaking that had started in her hands and shoulders. She knew in her gut she didn’t want to see whatever Draven had in store.
“It’s upsetting, so please prepare yourself.”
How? she thought. How do I prepare myself?
The holoprojector flared to life and a bluish hologram of Cassian appeared in the center of the table.
Jyn couldn’t keep a pitiable gasp from escaping her throat.
He hung from his wrists, bare feet hardly touching the floor. Blood ran down his face and arms while he struggled to breathe. Tarkin was at the rebel’s side, snarling into his ear, “What is the girl’s name?” Cassian could only gasp in pain. Tarkin brutally ripped the young man’s head back by his hair. “Her name. Now.”
Cassian was stretched so far back he could scarcely catch his breath. “I don’t…” His voice shook as he struggled to find the words. “I can’t…”
A death trooper stepped into the image, blocking most of Andor from view. Jyn saw the glint of an unsheathed blade in the trooper’s fist and she clasped a shaking hand over her mouth to keep in a sob. The trooper’s body hid his actions, but whatever he did made Cassian scream in a way that brought bile into Jyn’s throat.
“Tell me who the girl is,” Tarkin demanded again.
“¡No puedo!” Cassian suddenly shouted.
Surprise registered on the Grand Moff’s face. “What language is that?” he asked, turning to the IT-O interrogator droid.
“A derivative of Kenari.”
Tarkin grabbed Cassian’s jaw with his free hand and tightened his grip on the rebel’s hair with his other. “You will answer in Basic.”
A sound escaped Cassian’s throat that reminded Jyn of a whimpering puppy.
“Again,” Tarkin said to the death trooper.
“¡No!” Cassian writhed, twisting away from the blade. “¡Se llama Jyn Erso!” he choked out in a barely coherent slur. “Jyn…Jyn Erso.” His chest made a horrible wheezing sound.
Jyn squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that spilled down her cheeks.
When had she started crying?
She turned away as the hologram continued. She couldn’t watch anymore.
“Did you say Erso?” Tarkin’s voice had become intrigued. “Andor, answer me.”
Cassian only moaned.
Jyn ran from the room, bursting into the antechamber and vomiting into the nearest trashcan. She wiped her face and stumbled into the corridor gasping, moving away as fast as she could from the nightmare she’d just been forced to watch. No air reached her lungs despite how hard she heaved. She turned into a more secluded sub-corridor and pressed face-first into a corner, covering her head with her arms as her gasps finally turned into sobs. Her brain could not process what she’d just seen; instead, all the pain and fear she’d been carrying for Cassian suddenly began to suffocate her.
She had no notion of how long she stood there; her awareness was completely internal, overwhelmed by the storm swarming in her chest. Jyn had seen terrible things in her life, unthinkable things. And she’d been no stranger to the Empire’s cruelty—Wobani alone was enough evidence of their ruthlessness to last a lifetime. But seeing these realities collide in Cassian was more than she could stomach. Not because he was pure or irreproachable, but because he was so self-possessed, because he was strong and because he reached for others when they lost their grip. He found her in the crumbling temple on Jedha, guiding her to safety; he forced her to escape from Eadu when he could have easily left her behind; he appeared at the top of the citadel on Scarif even though he was so injured he could barely walk. Cassian always came back for her.
I let him down, she railed against herself. I wasn’t there when he needed me.
The thought of the Empire torturing him simply to learn her name made Jyn want to vomit again.
Her strength drained away, her nails digging into the wall to keep her upright, when she heard a confused voice.
“Jyn?”
Cassian stood a few paces behind her.
She tried to speak but a strange croak came out instead of words; she could do nothing but tremble and gulp for air.
He instantly closed the distance between them, cupping her cheek and stooping down. “What’s happened?” he asked, his eyes full of worry.
She was too ashamed to meet his gaze. Her body shuddered as tears continued to stream down her face. Her brain struggled to reconcile the broken man in the hologram with the strong friend who stood before her.
Cassian’s voice softened. “Jyn?” He lifted her chin; when their eyes met, she began to cry harder. She was clearly too upset to speak so he tucked her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve got you,” he whispered—their secret comfort language.
She pressed her palms flat against his chest, desperate to feel him solidly under her hands as she breathed against his throat. “You’re OK,” she sniffled, trying to root herself in his flesh and blood.
He was not exactly certain what she meant, but his keen instincts gave him a pretty good idea. “I am,” he reassured her.
“Lieutenant?”
Jyn didn’t dare move. One of Draven’s aides stood nearby but she was too embarrassed to face him. “What is it?” she asked, her head still tucked into Cassian’s chest.
His voice was apologetic. “General Draven asks you to please return to the ready room.”
“Tell him I’m coming.” She tried to sound calmer than she felt. “I just need another moment.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The man turned and retreated up the corridor.
Cassian’s brain worked fast, connecting succedent data. “You already had your meeting with Draven?”
Jyn wrapped her fists into his jacket and held tight, fighting to get herself under control. “Technically, I’m still having it.”
He studied her, resting his lips on the top of her head—she smelled like warm amber and a rare flower, and Cassian was instantly reminded of falling asleep in her pillow last night.
“They showed you something,” he said quietly, “didn’t they?”
After a long pause she nodded.
“Something about you?”
When she nodded again, she felt Cassian’s chest contract under her hands.
“I’m sorry,” his voice was barely more than a whisper.
She finally forced herself to look him in the eye. His expression was full of guilt and she couldn’t stand it. “Don’t apologize to me,” she said firmly. “You did nothing wrong.” She hugged him tightly, pressing herself against his chest again, and he responded in kind, his arms encompassing her completely.
“I’m OK,” she whispered. “I’m OK.”
Cassian could tell Jyn was trying to convince herself.
“We’re OK.”
The PA system squawked and made them both jump. “Lieutenant Erso, please return to the ready room.”
“Wow,” Cassian snorted, “they really want you back.”
“Draven is a professional idiot,” Jyn muttered, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She’d finally calmed and was trying to find a way of apologizing to Cassian.
He wanted to ask her questions, to find out exactly what upset her so deeply, but he couldn’t retrigger her, not when she clearly needed to command her emotions and get back to work. Instead, he placed his hand gently on her cheek before brushing some hair out of her eyelashes. “Come find me later.”
His touch soothed her further. She nodded her agreement. “As soon as I can get away.”
“You better go before they get mad.”
“They’re always mad,” Jyn scoffed as she let go of him.
He watched her disappear around the corner, flooded with a mix of emotions he found unsettling.
——————–
By the time Jyn returned to the ready room she had managed to slam her emotions into submission. She stared at Draven with hard eyes.
“I’m sorry to spring that on you,” the general said with uncharacteristically blatant sympathy.
“Why show me at all?”
“We thought it important you see with your own eyes that you’ve been compromised.”
“That’s a bit of an extreme take, don’t you think? Being an Erso has always had its risks. The Empire knowing my name doesn’t change anything. I can still do my job.”
“You’re right, to an extent.” His chin jutted up, evaluating her reactions. “I wasn’t sure you’d take our word for it if we simply told you. You’re not exactly trusting.”
“You’re not exactly truthful.”
The general flashed a wry smile. “Point taken.” He instantly returned to business. “We showed you the hologram for a reason. I have an assignment for you. You’re not going to like it but you’re going to do it anyway.”
Why is he always such a bastard?
“I want you to analyze Andor’s interrogation. We showed you this small segment of footage firstly so it wouldn’t catch you off guard while you work, and secondly to make you aware of Tarkin’s fixation with you.”
Jyn stared at him for a long while, disgusted beyond words. “No,” she finally said. “I won’t do it.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Mon Mothma waved a lithe hand at Draven to silence him. “It’s a horrible thing to ask of you,” she said gently, looking directly into Jyn’s eyes. “I know Cassian is your… friend. But that friendship also gives you insight the rest of us do not have. You can read his body language, understand small or private references; you might spot something the rest of us have missed.”
“I can’t,” Jyn replied, shaking her head and even taking a step back. “It feels like a betrayal of trust.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Draven offered. “You cannot discuss your analysis with Andor until we’ve reviewed it, but you don’t have to keep the nature of your assignment a secret from him.”
“Oh, really?” Jyn mocked. “And how is that conversation supposed to go?”
“You can check your sarcasm at the door, Erso,” Draven said, finally having enough of her attitude. “You’re an officer in the Rebel Alliance and these are your orders.”
“I don’t want to watch this,” she blurted out, unable to hide the desperation in her voice.
“No one wants to watch this,” he said sharply, silencing her. “Every person in this room has a connection with Andor. He’s a friend, a colleague, a team member. He’s a good man, and every last one of us hates this recording.”
Jyn didn’t doubt Draven’s sincerity.
“Your insights could help protect the Rebellion,” Mothma said. “There’s always a chance that a person under duress may inadvertently divulge information. We would like you to keep an eye out for anything potentially compromising, even if it’s small. No detail left unturned.”
“Plus,” Draven continued, “we would like your opinion on Tarkin’s fascination with you.”
“Isn’t it because my name is Erso?”
“Tarkin didn’t know your name until Andor revealed it. You’ll see in the recordings that he’s repeatedly hounded about your identity.”
Jyn’s brow pulled together. She really didn’t care about Tarkin; her real worry was what Cassian would think if he knew she was watching the most vulnerable moments of his life. “I don’t want this assignment,” she tried again to refuse. “You have far more qualified analysts right here.”
Draven reached the end of his compassion. “Either you do your job or we’re done. We won’t bother wasting resources by throwing you in the brig. I’ll kick you off this ship and you’ll never come back. Do we understand each other?”
Jyn knew that he really meant he’d separated her from Cassian and the rest of Rogue One. For a moment she considered calling the general’s bluff, but, in all honesty, she figured Draven would actually make good on his threat. She quickly decided disobeying orders wasn’t worth the risk of losing her found family.
“There’s a considerable amount of footage for you work through.” He turned to an aide. “Get her set up as soon as we’re done here.”
“You’re making me start straight away?” Jyn asked in disbelief. This day had not remotely gone how she’d hoped.
“The sooner you start, the sooner you finish. It’s going to take you days, so get going.”
She stared daggers at him but held her tongue. Jyn didn’t hate Draven; she knew he was doing his best in a nearly impossible job. But sometimes she really wanted to punch him in the face.
“That’ll be all,” he said with finality.
Draven’s aide came forward and led Jyn out of the room.
——————–
END NOTES
NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE DIVIDE” - How will things be with Rogue One now that Jyn has started her horrible assignment?
CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 15 The Interrogation
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Cassian is forced to face his superior officers.
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THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.
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CHAPTER 15: THE INTERROGATION
Once again, Cassian’s status afforded him the right to a private room aboard the Redemption, which, similar to his quarters on Yavin, were hardly larger than a closet. After thanking the 2-1B medical droid for its care, he made his way through the winding ship passageways to the new place he would call home. There was a bunk partially built into the bulkhead with storage underneath, a narrow upright locker, and a small desk. Cassian never needed much to be comfortable; the room had a door that locked, which was all he wanted.
He snapped on the desk lamp, preferring its warm glow over the blinding, sterile overhead light. He didn’t have any possessions—they’d all been abandoned on Yavin—except for the blood-stained imperial uniform he’d been rescued in, but he pulled open the locker anyway. A half-smile crept over his lips. Two fresh shirts and pants hung inside, and a new pair of boots sat on the shelf. Amused, he thumbed through the garments. They were all the right sizes. “How does she know this stuff?” he wondered aloud.
Then something else caught his eye; behind the clothes hung a familiar item. Cassian pulled his well-worn Corellian jacket off the hanger, surprised by the relief it aroused. He slipped it on and pulled it tight against his chest, appreciating how a commonplace item could become a touchstone. The jacket made him feel a little more like himself and he knew he had Jyn to thank for it. Despite her aloof exterior, she was one of the most thoughtful people he knew. Cassian figured she wasn’t consciously aware of her kindness; it was a reflexive behavior that he’d observed in her many times.
A rap on the door interrupted his thoughts and he opened it to find one of Draven’s aides. “Sir, the general has asked that you please report to the Intelligence ready room asap.”
Wasting no time, Andor mused internally. “Let me change and I’ll be right there.”
The man saluted and left.
Cassian pulled out the clothes Jyn had bought for him and dressed. He shrugged into his jacket, feeling more confident than he had in a long time, and hurried to the unavoidable meeting he’d been dreading.
Draven, Mon Mothma, and several other high-ranking officials stood around a glowing, greenish-blue holo table in the dark ready room. “Andor,” Draven acknowledged him as he approached. “Good to see you up and about.”
“Thank you, sir.” Cassian took position at the table’s edge and crossed his hands behind his back. In truth, he didn’t feel remotely prepared for the interrogation that was about to take place, but he knew a debrief was a necessary evil. He’d been in the same position, forced to question comrades before they were ready to talk, evaluating how a tortured fellow spy may have compromised the Rebellion, choosing the cause over his own humanity.
“You know why you’re here?”
Cassian nodded.
“Then let’s get on with it.” Draven was pragmatic and had no desire to drag unpleasant business out longer than necessary. “Lieutenant Erso retrieved footage of your time in captivity. This was from an IT-O interrogator droid?”
“Yes.” Andor felt his pulse begin to rise; he tried to subtly steady himself with a deep breath.
“There is missing footage, correct?”
Cassian forced his nerves to go cold. He had a job to do and he would damn-well do it right. “Yes. The IT-O droid wasn’t present at first.”
“How long were you in captivity before documentation began?”
“I don’t know. I had no sense of time.”
“Can you confirm whether or not you divulged Alliance secrets during this undocumented period? According to the footage we do have, you looked as though you had already undergone…” Draven suddenly seemed as though he couldn’t find the words, “…harsh interrogation,” he finished.
Cassian continued controlling his breathing. “I can confirm that I did not divulge anything during the undocumented period of my captivity.”
Draven eyed the young man, waiting for further explanation.
“They didn’t ask me any questions,” Andor finally offered.
“Did you resist their efforts?”
The rebel commander smiled mirthlessly. “I didn’t really have the chance.” Hoping to satisfy Draven and prompt him to move on he said, “Tarkin wanted to loosen me up. They wanted revenge for Scarif. So, there was a lot more punching than talking to begin with.”
The general nodded once, understanding. “Did you divulge crucial information at any point?”
“Have you watched the footage?”
No one responded.
Cassian knew their silence was a tactic. They were testing him, seeing if he would lie. “Yes,” he said, silencing his internal shame. “I identified Lieutenant Erso by name.”
Mon Mothma lifted her chin and looked as though she had won a wager. She’d been certain Cassian would be fully honest with them.
“Anything else?”
“I don’t know,” Andor admitted. “I honestly can’t remember even telling Tarkin Lieutenant Erso’s name, but he proved beyond a doubt that I had. As for any other admissions, I really can’t be sure. By the time I was beginning to break I was barely conscious. I’d been injected with an array of toxins. When I try to remember what happened, I have large empty spots in my memory. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific; the details are murky.”
“What do you remember?” Mon Mothma asked gently.
Cassian glanced at her, not sure he wanted to be entirely honest now. Screaming. Pain. Cold. He suppressed the unpleasant memories and, instead, reached for one that would satisfy the senator. “I remember Rogue One coming through the door.”
After a long silence Draven spoke. “That will do for now. We’ll spare you reliving details we can glean from the recordings. If we have questions about any specifics, we’ll call you back in. We only need to know one more thing. What happened to the rest of your crew?”
Blood instantly drained from Andor’s head and his chest became tight.
“Where did things go wrong?”
Cassian’s eyes drifted down as he struggled to breathe. He could not bring himself to speak.
“Commander?”
“They were waiting for us,” he finally said, his voice struggling to stay even. “Tarkin knew we were coming. Our contact on the Death Star was a double agent.”
Mothma and Draven exchanged concerned looks.
“They lined us up on our knees.” Cassian still couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. “Death troopers shot everyone in the head.”
Draven was visibly disturbed. “Why did they let you live?”
A dark expression passed over Andor as he looked at the general. “Because I was a Scarif rebel.”
Though the endeavor had been worth the risk, Draven knew the Alliance would be paying Scarif’s price for a long time, knew the Empire had kept Cassian alive so they could punish him. Humiliating a man like Tarkin would always have consequences. “Does anyone else have questions for Commander Andor?” he asked the others. No one spoke so he turned back to Cassian. “Do you have anything else you’d like to add?”
“I’d like to ask for some paid leave.”
“I think you’ve more than earned it, given this and what you endured on Scarif.” Draven turned to his personal aide. “Four weeks, paid, full rations, no access to ships.” The aide started inputting the details into a datapad. Draven spoke to Cassian again. “Since the armada is in a state of flux, we cannot let you leave the ship. Firstly, we can’t spare the fuel and secondly, if we did let you leave, we can’t be certain you’d be able to rendezvous with us upon return.”
“Understood. I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to sleep.”
Draven smiled. “You’ll have plenty opportunity.” He closed the file he’d been referencing during the debrief. “Stay available. We may call you in from time to time to answer questions or provide intel, but you have my word, no missions for at least four weeks.”
“Thank you.”
“Dismissed.”
END NOTES
NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE ROGUES" - Time to balance things out with a fluffy interlude.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Rogue One may have rescued Cassian but he's not out of the woods.
The piece of art above is a preview. I commissioned 5 illustrations for this fic from @amikoroyaiart and you can see the first 3 on my Patreon.
READ THE FIC ON AO3
THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.
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CHAPTER 12: THE GHOSTS
As the Lambda shuttle dropped out of hyperspace, Rogue One was greeted by a familiar ship floating in a vast nothingness. Their rendezvous with the Ghost took place in a remote part of the cosmos near neither planet nor space station. They transferred to the starship through an umbilical, leaving the imperial vessel—along with its tracking beacon—powered down and floating aimlessly.
Jyn and Melshi struggled to support Cassian as they entered the Ghost’s cargo bay. Hera greeted them, taking in Andor’s dire state. She retracted the umbilical and shouted into her commlink, “Chop, get us out of here.” She pointed at Baze, Chirrut, and Bodhi. “You three head up to our crew quarters. You can grab blankets and water for Cassian.” She turned to Jyn next. “I would offer to put him in one of our bunks but I don’t think he can make it up the ladder.”
Erso nodded her agreement.
“I need to speak with you,” Hera said, lowering her voice.
Jyn and Melshi eased Cassian to the ship’s deck before she stepped to the corner with the general. “We can’t go back to Yavin,” Hera began.
“Why? What’s happened?”
“I just got word from base of an immanent threat. The Death Star has arrived in orbit over the moon. Our fighters will be engaging shortly, but even if they succeed in defeating the weapon, the base location has been compromised.”
“What about Cassian?” Jyn fought to tamp down the panic rising in her throat. “You can see he clearly needs help now.”
“They’re scrambling the fleet. I’ve secured us a rendezvous with the Nebulon-B frigate Redemption. We have to hurry because they’ll only wait for a short window of time. The fleet is going to have to constantly keep moving until we find a new base location.” Hera looked over her shoulder at Cassian who sat slumped against Melshi. “He looks bad.”
“They were ruthless,” Jyn replied grimly.
Hera placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. The Redemption has a full medical set up. They’ll be able to help him.”
“If he survives the flight back.”
“We have to keep hope.”
Rebellions are built on hope. It felt like years since Cassian first said that to her. She’d almost scoffed in his face at the time. But now, it was the mantra that kept her going.
“I’ll be in the cockpit,” Hera said. “If you need anything, there’s a comm on the wall or you can just come up.”
“Thank you. For everything. None of this could have happened without you.”
Hera couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’m sure you still would have found a way.” She turned and climbed up the ladder out of the cargo bay.
Jyn went and knelt next to Melshi.
“I don’t feel so good,” Cassian murmured.
“We’ll be home soon.” Jyn could have sworn his bruises looked darker. “They’ll get you fixed up. You can have a nice, long rest. You’ll be safe there.”
Cassian nodded weakly, his chest lifting heavily as he tried to stay lucid.
“Do you want to lay down?”
“Maybe.”
“You need to try to stay awake, though,” Melshi cautioned.
Cassian’s head fell back against the bulkhead, no longer able to hold it up. “I’m awake.” His body visibly shuddered as he struggled for another rasping breath. “It’s so cold in here.”
Jyn and Melshi shared a concerned look. “I’ll go find a med kit,” the sergeant said, pushing up and hurrying out of the cargo bay.
Cassian’s teeth began to chatter. “I’m freezing.”
Fear gripped Jyn; she’d seen enough men die to know this was the beginning of the end. “Cassian,” she said firmly. Her tone startled him and his eyes slowly pulled open. “Don’t let go,” she commanded.
His gaze became dull and he began to slide down the wall. She caught him by the shoulder and eased him to the floor before ripping off her vest and stuffing it under his head. “Help is coming.” She tried to stay calm but all of this was too familiar. They’d been here once before, Cassian dying on a ship’s floor while Jyn frantically tried to save him. “We’re not doing this again.” Her voice broke. She cradled his face in her hands and leaned over him. “Cassian!” He was declining quickly, his breath weak and his eyes rolling, but he reached up and took hold of her wrist. She put her cheek against his. “Stay with me,” she whispered as tears stung her eyes and slipped from her lashes onto his skin.
His other hand weakly grasped the back of her shirt at the base of her neck as he nuzzled against her. “I’m with you, Jyn,” he breathed before going completely limp.
——————–
The phantom trail of Jyn’s tears still tickled across his cheek; the feeling of her fingers against his skin was still alive; but he found himself alone. Cassian opened his eyes and once again saw swaying, beautiful, verdant branches of an ancient, silent forest. Slowly, he sat up, still stiff from Tarkin’s abuse. He noticed his hands were cut and bleeding, his wrists raw, but the pain was gone.
Carefully, he got to his feet and looked around, taking in every detail. He could tell the tree line ended somewhere far off in the distance, and beyond lingered a tease of sunlight and warmth. Where he stood, the grass was lush and the tree canopy high, vaulting like a natural temple. The breeze gently tousled the hair around his eyes and smelled of something green and fresh.
“I was worried you’d be back.”
Cassian spun around, and what he saw cause his breath to hitch. His mother and father stood between two arched trees, their expressions more relaxed and gentler than he’d ever seen. His mouth fell open, unable to find words to express his heartache and joy as he stared dumbly at the two people he grieved most.
“You’ve had a hard time of it,” Maarva finally spoke, gesturing at his still bleeding face. “Harder than I think we’ll ever fully know.”
“Perhaps that’s why he’s here,” Clem said, leading Maarva forward a few steps.
Cassian wanted to go to them, to hug them, but he was afraid any movement could break the spell. He stood frozen in place as emotions pushed to the surface. “Dad?”
“My boy.” Clem’s voice was soft and kind, fully aware that he and his son last looked on each other during a moment so horrific neither dared speak of it.
Tears slipped down Cassian’s face. His gaze shifted to his mother. “Are you both safe here?”
She looked pained by her son’s worry. “There’s nothing to harm any of us.”
“But you can’t stay,” Clem said very gently.
Cassian knew in his heart it was the truth but he didn’t want to accept it; he could sense that he didn’t belong in this place—a feeling he lived with for as long as he could remember. “I want to stay with you.”
Maarva’s chest heaved as though she were holding back a sob. “You’ve been through a lot of strife but you have a good heart, Cass. We want to let you rest, but this isn’t your time.”
“And,” Clem said with a loving smile, “unless I’m mistaken, you still have some unfinished business.”
Cassian thought of almond-shaped eyes and dirty combat boots and a woman with so much fire in her heart she could burn everyone around her.
“Look at him!” Maarva startled Cassian from his reverie. “He’s healing!”
He looked down and saw his fingers were no longer crooked and bruised. He touched his face and realized the cuts had turned into thin scars.
“Not long now,” Clem nodded.
Cassian stared at his parents, trying to imprint their faces on his memory. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said, tears still burning his eyes. “I miss you. I think about you all the time.”
They came as close as they could without touching. “You’re a good boy,” Maarva said, fighting her emotions.
“He’s a good man now, love,” Clem teased his wife. Cassian had forgotten how comforting his father was, how his eyes twinkled and his smile calmed those around him. “We’re not going anywhere, Cass.”
Clem wrapped an arm around Maarva, who gave one stiff nod before saying, “We’ll be here when the time is right. Do your best.”
“Remember,” his father said, “eyes open. Possibilities everywhere.”
His heart ached but Cassian smiled. Losing his parents was a pain he could not put down. Though Clem and Maarva were not his biological family, they had loved him as no one else in the galaxy had loved him. And he loved them, loved their quirks, their flaws, their passions. He knew he hadn’t always been a good son, but they loved him anyway; they loved him because, unlike so many of his other relationships, his connection with his mother and father was unconditional. He never doubted them.
“I love you.”
“I know, my boy,” Maarva finally smiled.
Clem gave him one final nod then said, “It’s time to wake up.”
——————–
Jyn had watched as tears slowly formed on Cassian’s eyelashes and slipped down his temples while he slept. She chewed her lip with anxiety, unable to help him while he silently suffered.
Hours passed before his eyes unexpectedly opened; she moved to his side, taking his hand in hers.
“Where am I?” he asked, his vision unfocused and disoriented, not seeing her or the room beyond.
“You’re on the Redemption. It’s an Alliance frigate.”
He blinked hard, unable to see past his tears, so Jyn gently wiped his lashes with her thumbs. Cassian finally looked at her. “Jyn,” he breathed with relief.
She sat next to him on the bed and placed a hand on his chest, trying to calm him. “Everything’s OK. You’re safe. You’re healing.”
He was shuddering with emotion as he closed his eyes against more tears.
“What is it, Cassian?” Jyn’s voice betrayed her worry. “Are you in pain? Do you want me to get the doctor?”
He reached up and set his hand over hers in the middle of his chest and just breathed for a long time.
“I saw my parents,” he finally said.
Worry flashed through Jyn. Many rotations ago, Cassian and she had once spent a long night drinking strong still alcohol, telling each other about their parents, eventually both crying so hard they ended up laughing—a testament to grief’s strangeness. She knew losing his mother and father had caused a deep fracture in Cassian’s heart.
“That’s good,” she said, gently squeezing his shoulder with her other hand, concealing her fear. “That’s really good.”
He stared blankly at the ceiling as more tears welled in his eyes. “They’re together now.”
Jyn swallowed her own emotions, biting down hard on her lip. She wasn’t sure what any of this meant; part of it scared her; the surgeons had said Cassian was not yet out of the woods. She feared a visitation from deceased parents did not bode well for her friend, but she dared not voice her concern. Instead, she asked, “What did they tell you?”
His eyes began to roll back in his head as his eyelids drooped. He was desperately exhausted and still heavily drugged. “They said,” he mumbled, “that I have unfinished business.” He barely got the last word out before he lost consciousness again.
Jyn looked down at him, taking in every detail; his beard was growing back, his arched brow was now split by a gash, his sharp cheekbone was marred by a dark bruise. She thought he was beautiful, and all she wanted was the chance to make him laugh again, to see him smile at her from across the room, to talk late into the night about everything and nothing.
She slid back to her chair and pulled her knees up to her chin, suddenly overwhelmed with the turmoil she’d been fighting since Cassian first disappeared. Jyn clamped a hand over her mouth to silence her sorrow while tears poured down her own cheeks. She took out the kyber crystal that hung around her neck and squeezed it. If the Force would give her this one little thing, if it would save Cassian, Jyn Erso promised the mystical power that she would truly believe in hope.
——————–
END NOTES
NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE REDEMPTION" - Tarkin may be gone but he still has a hold on Cassian.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Tarkin pushes Cassian too far…and all the rebel can do is think about Jyn.
Here's a nice long chapter for you. I hope you enjoy reading it :)
READ THE FIC ON AO3
THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.
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CHAPTER 6: THE DETRITUS
Cassian was freezing, his teeth audibly chattering in his head.
Why is it so damn cold in here? he thought, his brain feeling slow and frozen like the rest of his body. Aren’t they cold too? he wondered of his captors. Tarkin paced back and forth, seemingly impervious to the iciness. The death troopers shifted their weight. He could hear their gear creaking.
The temperature had dropped so low that blood was beginning to freeze in Cassian’s hair and along the edge of his right eye. His skin was burned under the electrobinders. His lungs ached. He could barely see. Whatever the IT-O droid injected had practically blinded him, retracting his vision until he could only make out blurry images directly in front.
But the pain.
The pain was beyond anything he could have imagined.
And it was constant, a never-ending barrage that flooded every nerve, every cogent thought. He lost consciousness several times, but the droid instantly revived him, showing no mercy. At first, he had been cataloguing each scratch, trying to rationalize his way through the agony. It’s only a chemical reaction. They hadn’t needed severe tactics; the injections multiplied the smallest cut into fire that bloomed across his nervous system. He tried to reason away the pain, trick his brain into believing it was an illusion.
But that didn’t work.
Eventually he had vomited on one of the death troopers. Cassian wanted to laugh every time he remembered it. The trooper had practically yelped before punching him; it was a small price to pay for something so deeply satisfying. Cassian allowed himself to laugh out loud when Tarkin ordered the soldier from the room. “Sorry to spoil everyone’s fun,” he snorted.
The Grand Moff hadn’t found the incident nearly as amusing as Cassian. His response was to increase the interrogation’s intensity. The droid used a razor-thin blade to pepper the rebel’s body with small half-inch cuts. Nothing significant in an of themselves, but together, and combined with the droid’s relentless injections, they became excruciating. His neck, his chest, his face, his hands, his fingers, his feet; there was nowhere to retreat from the pain.
Tarkin kept asking him to identify everyone who had been with him on Scarif, showing him one hologram after another. When Jyn’s face appeared, Cassian had made a strange sound, somewhere between a gasp and a croak, that he managed to cover up with a coughing fit. Jyn’s smokey eyes, her mocking smirk, almost undid him right then and there. He knew he should stuff that part of himself somewhere deep and dark, cover her up and convince himself that she was nothing.
If he didn’t, he would break.
If he broke and gave the Empire what they wanted, Jyn would be next on Tarkin’s list.
The thought of her enduring the Grand Moff’s sadistic interrogation techniques made him sick to his stomach. He would endure this pain so she and the other members of Rogue One wouldn’t have to.
By now, Cassian was in a stupor. His head fell back as he struggled for air. Every breath burned.
For the first time, the IT-O droid spoke. “A suspension of interrogation is recommended.” Its voice was monotone and deep.
“Whatever for?” Tarkin replied, annoyed.
“Subject’s core temperature is dangerously low and continued hyperventilation of cold, dry air has put the prisoner at risk. If we carry on, his lungs will fill with blood and he will be useless to you.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Allow the room’s temperature to rise above freezing.”
The Grand Moff did not hide his irritation. “Do it,” he said, moving toward the door. “We can’t have him dying on us. We have far too much to discuss.”
——————–
He didn’t know how long they left him alone. He could feel warm air blowing into the room and he forced himself to focus on how it felt against his skin. Eventually, he stopped shaking as his blood and lungs returned to normal temperatures.
He wanted to sleep or cry. He wasn’t sure which urge was stronger. But he was afraid to do either.
For now, he focused on tangibles. He knew the warmth wouldn’t last, so he drowned himself in it, letting it permeate every sense.
It reminded him of something.
A warm breeze on a curved shoreline.
And orangish-pink sky.
Sand under his knees.
Scarif.
That hellish mission haunted him like no other.
All of this, everything Tarkin was doing to him now, was because of Scarif. Cassian’s heart tightened in his chest. He hoped the sacrifice was worth it. He hoped the Death Star plans were with the right people, people who were smart enough and brave enough to blow these imperial bastards to hell. He had already lost so much; anyone he ever cared about had disappeared like smoke.
Except Jyn.
The thought hovered in his mind, frozen on the threshold as he tried to decide whether to welcome or banish it.
Cassian clenched his teeth and swallowed thickly.
He let her in.
He didn’t care about the risk, didn’t care if it made him defenseless. He needed her strength.
So, he permitted himself to think about her.
She was unexpected. Wary, damaged, and bitter when they first met.
Just like him.
But, over time, as they proceeded through Operation Fracture’s labyrinthine twists, something came alive in her, something truthful, vulnerable, and determined. As Cassian watched her transform, something inside him began to change as well. She turned the mirror back on him, forced him to see how far afield he’d strayed. He had become so committed to the Rebellion that he’d forgotten how to listen to his conscience. He believed in the greater good, the cause as they called it, but he had allowed the ends to justify the means for too long. Jyn had not so gently nudged him back on course.
And he had begun to love her for that.
He hated that word.
Love painted a target, put everyone involved in jeopardy.
Plus, how could he love someone he hardly knew?
But ever since they met, Jyn was right alongside him, matching him step for step. Or perhaps he was trying to keep pace with her. He liked that about their friendship. She blazed her own trails; she didn’t need him, but she wanted him, sought his camaraderie, his advice, his laughter, and he did the same with her.
He couldn’t put a finger on how it happened. All he knew was that they trusted each other, had complete faith in each other, and treated each other with equal respect. He knew he could put his life in her hands and vice versa. Is that love? He wondered if there was a better word to describe his feelings for Jyn.
When had the shift from strangers to companions first started?
Perhaps on Jedha. He could have left her to die in Saw Gerrera’s hideout; he found Bodhi, who could have brought him to Galen Erso, negating the need for Jyn. But Cassian couldn’t leave her behind. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop worrying about her the entire time he was trapped in that small, dark cell. After seeing Bodhi’s condition, Cassian worried Jyn might suffer a similar fate at Saw’s unpredictable hands.
Why had he cared?
Just days prior to meeting her he had shot his own contact in the back on the Ring of Kafrene. Why did he suddenly want to protect a resource with which he had no established history?
Cassian finally admitted it wasn’t all that sudden. He’d had his doubts about his own morality for a long time. The Rebellion had made a habit of asking him to kill, like it was an automatic given despite the toll it took on Cassian’s soul. The more lives he took, the more he thought of Clem and Maarva. Not that they would have opposed his joining the Rebellion; they both suffered cruelly at the Empire’s hand. But Cassian found himself thinking about what he wished life had been; something quiet and safe where Maarva and Clem laughed and were happy and grew old together. And every time he pulled the trigger on his blaster or sniper riffle, that dream slipped a little further away. By the time he’d met Jyn, he no longer had the refuge of daydreams. All he had was a waking nightmare that he desperately wanted to escape.
In Jedha’s holy quarter he watched a broken, angry young woman put her life at risk for a child she didn’t know. She took out an entire squad of stormtroopers with nothing but a truncheon—Cassian smiled at the memory. She fought desperately to save her father on Eadu. Then she faced death on Scarif, willing to give her life for something bigger than herself.
If that wasn’t worth loving, he finally decided, he didn’t know what was.
After Eadu. That’s where it changed.
They had been standing in the stolen ship as K-2 and Bodhi navigated them to safety. Jyn was frozen with shock, her clothes dripping with the acrid Eadu rain, staring at him from across the compartment. Cassian could feel her eyes on him even though his back was to her. Jyn’s rage was palpable; he understood it, but he was dealing with his own demons. She lit into him right there in front of the others, called him a murderer and a stormtrooper. He flared with anger, almost shouting in her face. They both had their righteous fury, their personal pain, their justifications. Even though he had been livid, he respected Jyn for giving him hell, and, more so, for not backing down when he gave it right back to her.
After that argument, he didn’t think she would ever forgive him, especially since his mission had been to kill her father. But somehow, she’d seen past her grief and judged him by his actions rather than his orders. Now that he knew her better, it didn’t surprise him that she’d forgiven him. Jyn was raised in battle and had an uncanny ability to sift through emotional detritus and get to the root of things. Ultimately, it made them closer, gave them an instant loyalty that could only be made through scorched egos.
When they arrived back on Yavin 4 Jyn still despised him. But when he’d backed her plan for Scarif and recruited a team of thirty soldiers willing to die by her side for the greater good, the anger fell away allowing them to finally understand each other. Up to that point Jyn and Cassian had been surviving their lives, moving from one moment to the next, never really landing anywhere stable. When Cassian leaned in and whispered, “Welcome home,” he wasn’t welcoming her to the Alliance, he was telling her that he was sticking with her all the way to the end. Jyn’s gentle smile proved she understood.
They set off for Scarif, ready to die together. The entire ordeal had been like a horrible dream, bluffing their way into the citadel tower, deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast until they crossed a point of no return. When K-2SO died, Cassian knew their fate had been sealed. His droid, his friend, was the latest in a long line of losses. It was the catalyst that forced him to let go of any hope for survival and allowed him to fully commit to their mission, no longer worrying about protecting himself. He would protect Jyn for as long as he could, giving her a running head start to transmit the plans.
Then he fell.
Hard.
Well, first Krennic shot him and then he fell, hitting two durasteel beams before smashing into a grated platform. He broke four ribs and fractured parts of his hip and left leg. He lay inside the databank for what felt like ages; the pain was delayed but when it came it overwhelmed him. As he fought to breathe, he was startled by a banging sound and realized her could hear Jyn climbing the tower. He also knew Krennic wouldn’t give up until he killed her. So, Cassian forced himself to move, dragged himself off the metal grate and into an access vault where he found the lift to the spire’s top. Adrenaline dulled his physical suffering just enough for him to reach the data dish platform in time to see Krennic, his blaster fixed on Jyn, standing between her and the transmitter. Cassian didn’t hesitate; he shot the bastard that had ruined his friend’s family, who had taken her childhood, her safety, her parents. He wasn’t about to give Krennic the chance to take Jyn too.
Cassian would never forget the look on Jyn’s face after she initiated the transmission, sending the Death Star plans into the chaotic battle above before stepping to his side and grasping his arm, relieved that he was still alive.
He remembered the anger that entered her eyes and roughly pulling her away as she lunged for Krennic, their foreheads touching as he said, “Leave it. Let’s go.” She had leaned into Cassian and allowed him to guide her away.
They got into the lift and headed down to the beach. The long ride was a momentary respite, an unexpected quiet fraught with emotion as Jyn and Cassian held on to each other. She had looked up at him with large, open eyes, an expression on her face he had never seen, as though no one had ever come back for her, as though she didn’t know what it was like to matter to another person. He tightened his grip as Jyn held him up; in that moment, nothing existed but her. All the pieces of his life fell into place; every heartbreak, every mistake, every victory culminated here in Jyn Erso’s arms. The understanding gave him calm. He wanted her to know that she mattered, that he cared, that he was with her.
When they made it to the beach, they saw the radioactive plume rising out of the ocean, recognizing the work of a planet killer. Their steps slowed as realization set in. Poetic, he had thought, to be killed by the very weapon we’re trying to destroy. They fell to their knees on the shoreline, watching certain death rushing head on. As Jyn had said, their chances were spent. They were both afraid. What would this death feel like? Would they even feel it at all? They wrapped their bodies around each other, together all the way to the end. Jyn tried not to sob. Cassian shook with fear, whispering, “I’ve got you,” in her ear over and over. Then, out of nowhere a ship dropped in over the water, the side hatch open with Baze and Chirrut visible inside. Jyn hauled Cassian up and they sprinted, dumping into the shuttle before the hatch slammed shut. The sudden relief made Jyn burst into tears while Cassian’s wounds finally got the better of him. The last thing he remembered was Jyn cupping his face in her hands, begging him to stay with her. He woke a week later in a hospital cot, in a long room lined up and down with injured men and women. Jyn was there, right by his side. And she stayed every day until he was able to walk again.
After Scarif’s intensity, Jyn and Cassian were closer than ever. But they had not yet been able to cross the barrier where that closeness dissolved a life’s-worth of fear.
As Cassian sat now, covered in his own blood in an imperial cell, he wondered, if he had the chance to do it all again, would he tell her? Would he have the courage to tell Jyn that she mattered to him, that he cared about her, that he was hers, if she wanted him, all the way to the end?
He looked down at himself, wrists raw from pulling at his binds, skin burned by shock cuffs, blood running down and dripping from his fingertips onto the floor. His reality, as Tarkin put it, was setting in. This cell and pain and blood was all he would know until he took his last breath. Jyn was out of reach forever. He had to accept that. Cassian closed his eyes against the tears that rose to the surface, forbidding them from spilling over and running down his face.
He knew what he should do, but after Jedha and Eadu and Scarif, Cassian Andor could never let go of Jyn Erso.
——————–
END NOTES
NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE SALT" - Jyn is ready to launch her rescue mission but all she can do is think about Cassian. Tarkin has no more mercy for Cassian and uses a brutal tactic for personal gratification.
I feel so much joy commissioning art to go with my fan fics. I have no artistic skills, so it's a special thing when I get to see what's in my head come to life visually.
Here is a teaser for the art that goes with chapter 5 of my fic Cassian's Reckoning. The art is by the amazingly talented @amikoroyaiart 👏👏👏 To see the full piece (and the piece that goes with chapter 1), visit my patreon. My Jedi Knight and Jedi Master tiers get access to my fan fic extras 💜
I really enjoyed working on this story. Yes, it's a whumpy, guilty pleasure, but I wrote it as a challenge for myself. How could I take 2 people with layers of emotional armor, people with trust and abandonment issues, people who spent every waking moment in survival mode, and maneuver them into a place where they could realistically soften?
For those who aren't familiar, this fic takes place after Rogue One. Cassian is captured by Tarkin, who makes him pay dearly for what happened at Scarif.
