@therebelcaptainnetwork Secret Santa gift for @callioope, who requested “I’ll be home for Christmas, established relationship”. Happy holidays and good tidings in the new year!
Cream room temperature butter and sugar; stir in vanilla and water. Toast pecans, add to flour, mix until blended. Cover and chill.
Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit; coat in powdered sugar immediately after and once again when cooled.
Jyn tucks the recipe card back in, before huffing a sigh and tugging it out of the spiralbound notebook. This cookie recipe wasn’t particularly difficult—shortbread was really just flour, butter, and sugar—but with her head where it’s at, starting from the beginning is proving difficult.
She’s had the ingredients and parchment paper and sheet pans out on the counter for hours, but she can’t bring herself to start. Today is the day that Cassian is flying home and her stomach is knotted in nerves. They had spoken on the phone last night via video call which helped soothe her worries, and while they avoided talking about the flight it still lingered in those moments of silence where she could only stare at his face on the tiny display of her phone anxiously.
You’re still going to bake the cookies though, aren’t you? Even if I won’t be there to snack on the pecans.
Of course, she had laughed, and his smile warmed her heart. Don’t worry, I’ll save some for you when you get back.
@whumptober2020 Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games. After being crowned victor at fifteen years old, Cassian is all-too-familiar with what it takes to bring a tribute home, and what becoming a victor really means.
“And remember, Jyn: one fighter with a sharp stick and nothing to lose…”
“Can take the day,” Jyn finishes reciting faithfully.
Saw looks at her with pride, before lowering his voice. “It is my hope you’ll have more than a sharp stick in the Arena. Your mentor will be whom you rely on to improve your odds; impress him and he can get you what you need to survive. I’ve taught you plenty—but how far you get won’t be based on your fighting skills alone.”
Jyn frowns; he can only be talking about Cassian Andor. “He hasn’t brought back any of his tributes. How can I trust him to help me?”
Saw lowers his voice even further. “You can’t. He’s been in the eyes of the Capitol for too long. But he’s your only hope in the Arena. Therefore, your only hope to get out.”
-
Saw’s words rattle around in her head as Jyn lies in her bunk. The way the train car gently sways on its tracks as it speeds its way towards the Capitol could almost be soothing, except for the fact that they’re hurtling their way to near-certain death.
…no, she can’t think like that. She tells herself it’s only a reflexive fear, borne of the circumstances that she’s been forced into of all the sheer, rotten luck in Panem. If only she hadn’t gotten reaped, she and Saw would have been able to complete their mission, then abscond out of District 5 as planned. She could have been seeing her mother again in a week’s time. If only…
Well, no use in dwelling on it now. She turns onto her side facing the bulkhead, determined to get some shut-eye before the morning brings with it the next day.
And with the next day will come the next time she sees Cassian. What transpired a few hours ago comes to mind unbidden—she had thought herself clever for kissing him to quiet his words (was he really so foolish to not think about the train being bugged?), but after he spotted the Peacekeeper approaching he reacted in kind. Taking her into his arms in a false display of intimacy like that. And it worked; the Peacekeeper quickly left them alone.
But then there was that kiss before they bid each other goodnight. He didn’t have to kiss her then, did he?
Jyn forces herself to stop thinking so she can go to sleep.
-
The morning of their first full day in the Capitol has Jyn waking up to three sharp knocks on her door.
“Jyn Erso. Breakfast is in the dining room.” That Capitol accent can only belong to Davits Draven, their escort. “I’d advise you to eat before you have your meeting with your stylist.”
The stylist. Kay. She had met them and the other stylist for Joule last night when they were prepared for the Opening Ceremony. But she already knew who they were in the way that most people in the districts, from the Games’ mandatory viewing, were familiar with the faces of stylists and mentors and victors and commentators amidst the ever-changing pool of tributes. Kay’s surgical augmentations were distinctive compared to the Capitol trends that ranged between somewhat natural and grotesque; his body was covered with a matte chrome synth skin, save for his face and hands which were kept as—presumably—his own pale skin tone. His eyes shone with a luminescence in the viewing stands that she could see from the chariot as the horses pulled to a stop around the City Circle during last night’s Opening Ceremony.
Jyn gets out of bed, selects a normal-looking outfit from the closet, and joins the rest of the party in the dining room. Joule is talking to Cassian, probably for the first time since he went catatonic at the reaping. But at the sound of the glass doors sliding open, their attention is turned to her.
“Good morning Jyn,” Cassian says, his tone perfectly placid. “Care for some breakfast?”
She sits there and eats quietly while the conversation flows around her. Compared to the intensity that radiated off of him last night, his conversation with Joule gives off the feeling of being polite yet distant; she vaguely wonders if he wrote off her district partner as she already has.
At the conclusion of their breakfast and after Draven comes to collect Joule first for the meeting with his stylist, Cassian crosses over to her side of the table and sits down next to her. “He’s pleasant enough,” he says about Joule, “but I’m not convinced he has a chance to make it out of the bloodbath if he freezes up like that again.” He gives her a wry look. “I trust that I don’t have to worry about that with you?”
Jyn knows he’s thinking about the way she slammed the cabin door shut on the train and then tried to fight her way through a squadron of Peacekeepers; she recalls the memory with a grin. “Trust goes both ways, right? I’ll show you what I’ve got in the Training Center.”
-
Draven brings the three of them down to the level that houses the enormous gymnasium they’re to train in for the next three days and leaves them there. Joule seems at a loss for what to do but Cassian offers to point out some of the more useful, rudimentary survival skill stations, so Jyn decides to take her own tour around the periphery.
There’s the weapon stations, of course: swords, spears, knife-throwing and the like. Then there’s the skill stations, like knot tying and snares and camouflage. Then she sees there are trainers available for hand-to-hand combat.
Her hands have been itching to come to blows with someone since that Peacekeeper held a gun to her head and Draven informed her, in his gratingly crisp Capitol accent, that there was no escaping the fate decided for her the moment her name was drawn in the reaping. She decided right then and there she was going to change it in her favor.
So she goes to the combat station and easily spars with a Capitol attendant there. It’s just like sparring with Uncle Saw, so with a few words and a jerk of her head she has the other trainers that were supposed to be available for other tributes join in; first, as two against her, and then she takes on all three. The sparring match finally ends when she’s knocked to the ground and a foot is planted firmly on her chest, but the grin the trainer’s giving her doesn’t seem mean-spirited as they help her back up. It’s only while she takes a moment to fix her bun and catch her breath that she sees what an audience she’s gathered, including attention from the Gamemakers, and that’s when the lunch session is called.
Disappointingly, Cassian is nowhere to be seen when she quickly scans the people who had been watching her. But she does accept the invitation from the Career pack to sit at their table for lunch.
-
Jyn doesn’t see Cassian again until that evening after Draven comes to collect them back up to their floor in the Tower. He’s sitting in the dining room with Kay, in different clothes than she saw him in that morning. Not that she noticed.
“I heard you impressed quite a few people in training today,” Cassian says as they eat their dinner. “How was she, Joule?”
Joule has gone quiet again. He fleetingly makes eye contact between her and Cassian before he nods his head, once.
Jyn decides to save them from the awkward pause that’ll follow. “If you stuck around, perhaps you would’ve seen it.”
A look of surprise crosses his face before Cassian lets out a short laugh. “I would’ve loved to see you sweep three trainers, but I’ll have to wait and see you in the Games. It’s up to you if you want to team up with the Careers or not but you’ve certainly got their attention, both as a potential ally and an enemy; take care to remember that. I want the both of you to check out all the weapons stations to get an idea of what will be available in the Arena but make sure you spend enough time learning survival skills. And Joule…”
The stricken sixteen-year-old boy looks up.
Cassian softens his tone. “I’m doing my best to secure sponsors for both of you. It’ll pay off in the Arena but I need you to survive for that to happen, so make the best of the next two training days and then we’ll go over final interview strategy with Draven. Alright?”
Surely he must know that Joule doesn’t stand a chance, Jyn thinks. But there’s something in the set of his shoulders, giving her the impression that he’s giving himself a pep talk as much as he is to them.
-
The evening following their private sessions with the Gamemakers is when the tributes’ evaluation scores are released. For the gamblers the scores dictated the odds to bet on in macabre betting pools; for the tributes, each score was a sign of who’s a threat and who can be ignored or—for the Careers—who will be easy pickings. When Jyn’s picture is shown on the screen followed by a 11, the others congratulate her and she smiles her thanks as she thinks about Saw. Is he watching her on national broadcast? He has to be, if he’s still in District 5. Would he feel proud of her so far?
But then she has an upsetting thought: what if he’s already left the district? What if he was able to complete the mission without her and he’s already gone off to the rendezvous? What if he’s already written her off as good as dead?
She can’t afford to think about that. After dinner she goes to the roof, wanting to get some air and privacy without locking herself up in her room. This will be the only time she’ll let herself cry, and then it’s game on. Tomorrow is the last day before the Games begin, and she’ll be spending the entirety of it with Draven and Cassian.
She finds a bench to sit down on, draws her knees up to her chest and hugs her face to her thighs. It takes a moment for the tears to come, as unused to crying as she is, but she lets out the sobs and sniffles as much as she’s able to without letting herself dwelling too much on her doubts.
When someone sits down next to her she somehow already knows it’s Cassian. He lightly touches her shoulder as if to ask permission, and when she finally peeks at him from the shelter of her arms he scoots a little closer and carefully wraps a comforting arm around her back.
They stay like that for a while until Jyn’s sure the tears have dried up. Then she asks, “Why’d you follow me up here?”
“I’m your mentor. You’re my tribute,” he says with amusement, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “But… I wanted make sure you’re alright. You’ve held up strong so far, Jyn. I know you’re committed to winning this thing.”
“I am, it’s just…” Jyn bites her lip. “I can’t help being nervous.”
“Nobody can.”
“I keep thinking about the worst.”
“…Do you want help getting your mind off of it?”
Jyn can’t help how her lips quirk up at that. “Why, are you offering?”
Cassian doesn’t hesitate. “Whatever you need. I said it on the first night; I want to help you in any way possible.”
She knows there’s suggestive intent in his words. But the way that he says it expresses a pure, earnest wish to help.
So, she doesn’t feel bad when she leans in to kiss him.
-
She can’t help but think about that last kiss and the make-out session that followed each time a silver parachute comes to her in the Arena. She’s received ten so far; in the past Games Jyn’s watched, it’s the Careers who receive the most gifts from sponsors eager to help their favored tributes win. While there were some morally repugnant people in the districts who were betting on the same tributes, ultimately only those in the Capitol could impact the odds; nobody in the districts had that much spare money to frittle away gambling on the deaths of children.
As the Games continued on, the price of sending gifts and aid increased. Even in the Capitol there was a hierarchy to sponsorship, with only the wealthiest sponsors holding sway in the endgame. The Games commentators often interviewed those uber philanthropists on the public broadcast of the Games and so Jyn even knew some of their names: Laertes Crake, Cygnus Vondel, Trimalchio Plena. Having made it this far, she wonders if any of the boons she’s received were sponsored by any of them.
It’s nighttime in the Arena. Jyn rests in the shadows of a ruined entryway, taking care to remain concealed. An unnaturally full moon illuminates the ruins of the game field; the Gamemakers made it so that each night alternated between bright moonlight and the darkness of a new moon. With each night, instead of resting, the tributes found themselves playing a deadly game of moving shadows and evasion and hunts in the dark.
Jyn wouldn’t have gotten this far in the Games without Cassian’s help; he had sent her heat vision goggles early on. The gift enabled her to evade the other tributes until more death cannons were fired, and when it came time to go on the offensive she had a frightening advantage.
But that boy from the Career pack must have gotten his hands on a pair too, because how else could he have known she was going to ambush them? He’d cut her with his blade, poisoning her with a paralytic, and she had genuinely believed she was going to die that very night. But true to her mentor’s word, the sight of a silver parachute some hours into the darkness of a new moon cut through her panic; inside was a sweet syrup that faded away the worsening stiffness in her body and left her feeling rejuvenated. She was able to get some good, actual rest for once that night.
This night hopefully she will, too. Tomorrow will be the day she has to attack the alliance stronghold, otherwise the Gamemakers might decide to set muttations on them or create some other disaster to force them into action. As she starts to doze she thinks about him. Cassian.
Going into the Games she knew she had an advantage not even the Career tributes could fathom, by virtue of being secretly trained in insurgent and resistance tactics by her uncle. But she had also known that what Saw said in their last words to each other was right: she wouldn’t make it far without help from her mentor. She would make it past the bloodbath and survive maybe a few days, but when the real challenges began she’d get killed by something or other, and there’d go any chance of her making it back to District 5 to complete the mission and get away with Saw.
While Jyn knew she must have earned some sponsors with her score from the Gamemakers’ evaluations, Cassian was ultimately the one in charge of handling them and dispensing gifts to her in the Arena. He might even have marshalled for her cause when she was in dire straits, such as when she got poisoned by that blade. Back in the Capitol he must be doing a lot for her and she can’t even begin to grasp what all of that could possibly entail; she owed him more than she could put words to.
And better still yet, after each night and day of fighting to stay alive, it felt nice and reassuring to be cared for. To know that somewhere beyond the Arena there was somebody from back home who was doing everything they could to help you. Because they believed in you. If she died in the ensuing struggle tomorrow she could at least die knowing that.
But if… when she wins, it wouldn’t be a lie to say she’s looking forward to seeing him again. To thank him. To let him know he sustained her both physically and emotionally throughout the Games. That just thinking of their last kiss on the rooftop did something to help to temper her fears, soothe her nerves after the stress of each day, and feel more ready to face the world about to kill her.
She thinks about these things, tucks them into the warm recesses of her heart. She might be facing certain death tomorrow but she won’t let his help be in vain.
And then disaster strikes with the earthquake.
-
Time is moving too erratically for Jyn to keep up.
It had seemed immeasurably long when the earth and the Arena shook beneath her feet, sifting the crumbling ruins to dust and debris on top and around her. It was a miracle that she was still alive, that the collapse of ruins she was by had pinned her leg to the ground beneath two walls that fell to support each other. Her heart beat in absolute terror, loudly and wildly out of her chest, as she waited for the dust to settle and for any possible aftershocks to finally strike her dead.
But time sped up once more once she had freed herself and made it to the general location that the alliance hideout formerly was. One moment she was emerging from her almost-tomb and in the next moment she’s leaning against the remains of a doorway to catch her breath, hardly knowing how many tributes she could take on or how many even survived.
When that dust-covered hand grabbed her ankle she had fallen in slow motion; after the eternity of one long second she was on her back, coughing as the wind was knocked out of her. Then it took several minutes to dig out her last foe—slitting her throat had only taken a second—and longer minutes still for her to bleed out and die.
Then a hovercraft whisks her away from the Arena faster than she could blink. But when it touches down and she disembarks in a stumble, the first person she sees is Cassian.
He looked as beautiful as anyone Jyn had ever known; time slows down in the beat of two seconds but she doesn’t even make it into his arms before she feels a prick and her vision suddenly tunnels out. But she still saw him, and when she sees him still in the strange, continual twilight the sedatives keep her under she’s comforted.
-
He’s there when she wakes up.
It takes a while for the disorientation to wear off, but when it does she realizes that the warmth in her left hand is his hand holding hers, gently. Her vision’s still blurry but she doesn’t need to wait for it to clear to know that it’s Cassian sitting next to her, just like she knew it was him that night on the roof. Aside from his genuine smile he looks so flawlessly styled—manufactured—as all things were in the Capitol. She had liked the scruff on his jawline and the stubble heading down his throat from when they had boarded the train, but after they arrived Kay had personally made sure Cassian’s facial hair was meticulously groomed. Not a hair where it needn’t be.
She wonders how long it will take to grow back once they’re back in District 5. Back home in District 5…
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“How long have I been out for?”
“Five days. The poison that Career used to paralyze you came from a muttation; they had to detoxify your blood and run a lot of tests to make sure that it was all gone. Now, how are you feeling?”
Jyn tries to answer, but the way Cassian is looking at her makes her feel a little floaty, a little warm; like maybe the sedatives haven’t fully worn off yet. But she does manage to say, “I’m feeling okay. Thank you. Really. For taking care of me in there.”
Cassian’s gaze softens to something less intense, but still profound. He looked at her the same way after their make-out session on the rooftop, so she isn’t surprised when he leans in to kiss her.
He has to prop one arm on the other side of the bed to steady himself as their lips meet. It’s soft, chaste; they meet again, and again, and then he leans in close to her ear.
“Do you remember our first kiss on the train?”
Of course she does. “I do; why?”
“Can you pretend like that for me again? Once we’re out of here?”
It’s said like a flirt, but his words snap Jyn back to full awareness of their situation: she has just won the 70th Hunger Games. She had been resting and unconscious for the past few days but once she’s discharged Kay and the prep team are going to prepare her for the Closing Ceremony. To be paraded in front of the Capitol on Panem’s national broadcast as the newest victor, with her stylist, prep team, escort, and mentor. And then she will be crowned by President Snow.
Her mind flits over all of their conversations. Are they in trouble? They had talked about treasonous things, but that was under the sound of a thousand tinkling wind chimes; she’s sure that Cassian wouldn’t have brought her there for a private talk to be eavesdropped on.
Or by ‘pretend’, does he mean how they faked a passionate moment to deflect suspicion?
That must be it; she can read in his face the plea for her to understand. With him this close to her, she notices there’s a tension to his body that belies the playfulness of his words.
Jyn nods before reaching to pull him closer to her and kiss him again. For now she wants to ease his worry; Cassian will tell her in due time, and then they can face it together. After the last two weeks Jyn is confident they can.
chapter 1 ₪ chapter 2 ₪ chapter 3 ₪ chapter 4 ₪ chapter 5 ₪ chapters 5.5+6 ₪ chapter 7: step back to downward-facing dog (1.5k)
Jyn Erso’s best friend is worried that as a 22-year-old college student in a mess of upper division courses, Jyn doesn’t de-stress as often or as well as she should—so Jyn agrees to try out some yoga classes at the local community yoga studio, Root + Grow. The time slot she picks out of convenience turns out to be taught by a fairly attractive man named Cassian. What can possibly happen with him?
IN THIS CHAPTER: Still blissful from spending a night together with Cassian after last week's class, Jyn doesn't realize that there are others who were gunning for the hot yoga instructor she hooked up with.
@whumptober2020 Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games. After being crowned victor at fifteen years old, Cassian is all-too-familiar with what it takes to bring a tribute home, and what becoming a victor really means.
“Pleasantries aside, how have you been doing, Cassian ? I have several sources keen to tell me about how involved you’ve been in this year’s Games.” Caesar Flickerman’s pale green eyebrows rise with the implicit question; as always, they match the same shade of his hair and lips.
Cassian gives him a half-smile. “I hope your sources aren’t telling you everything, Caesar. Some of those things are best left to the imagination… but yes, it’s true.” He reclines back against the plush sofa while the audience ripples with laughter, then crosses an ankle over a knee as he drapes an arm atop the backrest. “I do my best by my tributes—but I’ll admit it, I’ve been particularly motivated for these Games.”
“This is your fourth year of mentorship—solo mentorship—so far. What makes this year’s Hunger Games different for you?”
Caesar didn’t intend to imply this, but it’s true that each year is more or less the same: twenty-four children are rounded up, trussed with the extravagances of the Capitol, and then set loose to kill each other in a fight to the death for their audience’s entertainment. Cassian knows that. He also knows that what he’s about to speak into existence is exactly the kind of unexpected, audacious untruth the Capitol will gobble right up. He’s going to do what he does best: feed lies into the Capitol’s entertainment machine while trying to keep from being swallowed up by it himself. It’s something he was born into, what he struggles to live under, what he will have to condemn Jyn to in order to save her.
So instead of answering Caesar right away Cassian makes a show of looking around at the audience, bites his bottom lip nervously. Caesar places a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “It’s okay, Cassian. Surely it isn’t anything too surprising?”
“Well... She is what’s different. My—er, the female tribute. Jyn Erso.” Whispers surge all around them in the audience. After Peridot Starlight’s aired exclusive footage of Jyn and Cassian on Day 0, other talk shows scrambled to pick up the beat; by now, it’s been a strong undercurrent in this year’s Games coverage, and now the victor himself has confirmed it. Cassian Andor, the Capitol’s tragic golden boy, has had his head turned—and by his own tribute, what misfortune! He nearly tricks himself with the amount of yearning that slips into his voice, which rings out clear amidst the audience’s palpable excitement. “I want to bring her home.”
“Oh? I think I speak for most of us when I say that, so I’ll say it again: Oh?” Caesar says with a sly wink as the audience cheers. “Tell us the love story.”
“I fell for her a week ago,” Cassian confesses. “After the reaping, before we even got to the Capitol. Our time together ended too soon; I didn’t want that week to end. Remember the amazing outfits Kay created for her? He asked for my input and that was when I told him about the first thing I ever noticed about her. ‘She has stardust in her eyes.’” The audience murmurs excitedly, and Cassian briefly imagines what image of Jyn they’ll edit in for the broadcast. “Before she left, before I let her go…. we made a promise to each other. That I would do everything I can to bring her home.”
There; the audience is now besides itself with the potentials of a taboo romance. Mentor-tribute relations were not unheard of but they never lasted longer than the week leading up to the Hunger Games, for obvious reasons. In the past some tributes even used it as a tactic, to try to ensure at least a single stake in their survival. But the entire practice was kept in the dark. Not Cassian’s stunt: by encircling Jyn with his own notoriety, the two of them and their supposed romance has become the talk of the Capitol. There was no way Snow could possibly kill him over this.
When Cassian gets back to 5’s district floor alone an Avox is waiting for him with a powder blue envelope. He holds his breath as he breaks the seal and opens it—maybe there was some way Snow could twist this back on him, after all—but on the card is the usual three lines, each with a name, a place, and a time.
He sits down at the large table just past the foyer, but within view of it; Draven stayed at Headquarters to field the expected flood of sponsorship calls, but hopefully he’ll return to the Tower soon so they can discuss and re-strategize before his prep team comes to sort him out for this evening’s client.
Will he have to lie to Draven? The thought briefly crosses his mind. Yes, it would best to get on like he has no allies in this. Like in the Arena. He’ll have to live out the lie thoroughly, if he’s to fool the man who’s been in his life longer than his own father. But that’s no matter.
Will he have to lie to Jyn? He doesn’t want to think about that yet. Right now she’s in the Arena; she’ll have no idea of what he’s done until after she’s won. And if helping her win means falling in love with Jyn Erso for those in the Capitol to see a tribute they want to save, he’ll do it.
@whumptober2020 Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games. After being crowned victor at fifteen years old, Cassian is all-too-familiar with what it takes to bring a tribute home, and what becoming a victor really means.
content warnings: implied/referenced torture, mentions of attempted suicide, referenced brainwashing/conditioning, nonconsensual body modification, references to forced prostitution, references to forced drug use, unhappy/ambiguous ending
A/N: if downer endings aren’t quite your thing, I’ve written an alternate ending here, as well as additional author’s notes in a coda here. this is my first completed multichapter and thank you to everyone who has kept up with this story! any additional fics in this verse will be posted to my ao3.
When Draven gets the call to escort Cassian from the Remake Center back to their district floor in the Tributes’ Tower and stand by for a forthcoming itinerary, he doesn’t need to see his charge to know that something fundamentally wrong has happened.
The last time his schedule began with picking up Cassian from the Remake Center was that period of time after his father died, which Draven now knows the truth about. But at the time he had been told that after Jeron Andor and Irga Torres were killed in a power plant explosion that a seditioner was blamed for, Cassian tried to kill himself out of grief. After two weeks in the Capitol of being monitored in extensive in-patient therapy, he was turned over to Draven to be ushered through the media press tour for his father’s death.
How Cassian behaved back then is eerily similar to how he presently is in Draven’s custody. He’s sitting in the backseat and relaxed against the headrest, but Draven has known Cassian long enough that the lines of stress pinning him in place are plain to see. His hands folded, in his lap. Facing forward, staring ahead at nothing. A tic in his jaw, barely perceptible but one that Draven catches all the same.
But what disturbs Draven are his eyes. Unlike that first time Draven picked him up from the Remake Center, they aren’t pained or filled with misery. They’re empty, in an unrecognizable way that Draven has never seen in him before.
After furtively investigating the intendance records kept of his charge for the past four years, Draven knows what really happens when Cassian is brought to the Capitol for ‘extensive in-patient therapy’. But for a brief moment he feels something revoltingly similar to gratitude that Cassian’s conditioning is strict about needless eye contact.
-
Next morning’s briefing packet sent to his datapad has a subfolder tagged with “SENSITIVE INFORMATION: DO NOT DISCLOSE,” to be unlocked with a retinal scan. It’s a copy of Jyn Erso’s medical record and an image of a bedside chart; last night she was transported from District 5 to an elite hospital in the Capitol for treatment of a stubborn respiratory illness.
Draven knew better than to ask questions—those who did had their tongues cut out and turned into Avoxes—but he quietly looks into the matter himself while performing his job’s duties for Cassian, whose schedule is booking up like it did during the Games. Taking every precaution available to avoid detection prolongs the search, but eventually he is able to determine that Jyn’s condition is a lie. That there is no proof that Jyn is even in the Capitol.
And then, he realizes, they must not know where she is at all.
-
Cassian’s body language used to telegraph his condition after an appointment but he doesn’t seem capable of it anymore. Nowadays, no matter how badly he’s been abused by a client, the posture he affects in the car is always the same: his hands folded, in his lap. Facing forward, staring ahead at nothing. A tic in his jaw, barely perceptible.
Whatever they had Cassian relearn in therapy included perfecting his talents as an obedient whore, so he’s not often returned in a state of intoxication as he once had to be. But it’s during those increasingly rare times—and only those times—that his tongue is loosened enough to let slip some of the perpetual torment he has to live with as punishment, because of Jyn Erso’s disappearance.
It’s one such night that Draven picks up Cassian at 03:01. After the car pulls away from the curb Cassian is still for a moment, before he heaves out a shuddery breath and his arms slump to his sides.
“Did you know they made it so I can’t say her name anymore?”
The words and their meaning take a moment to register with Draven. Then he says, “What?”
“No… I don’t think they would have told you. But I mean, her. My tribute. The one I saved.”
He can only be talking about Jyn Erso. Draven doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t have to; tonight, Cassian is giving voice to another painful truth.
“They asked me questions about her, had me read sentences aloud… made me give responses with her name in it. And they would hurt me, every single time I said it, so I can’t say it. Not without pain. Not anymore.”
His raspy confession is made to the silence. “Her name was like a prayer to me. Snow must have noticed, so he took it away.” A broken chuckle. “I didn’t think something like that was possible. But, they made me learn.”
Draven doesn’t know if he should be hearing this. But when he turns to give his full attention to his charge it’s like a switch is flipped. When their eyes meet Cassian’s eyes widen before he bolts himself back into place—hands back in his lap and looking straight forward.
The only thing betraying his vulnerability are the tears in his eyes.
-
It should not surprise Draven that Cassian tries to kill himself not long after that lapse in conduct, but it still does. At least, it’s a surprise in the sense that finding out a peer of two decades attempted suicide will always come as a surprise.
The Peacekeepers come when Draven is in the sitting room, waiting for Cassian to finish showering before Kay and his prep team arrive. One moment there’s the ding of the elevator arriving on their floor and in the next, six Peacekeepers are storming in.
Draven knows better than to demand answers in the heat of the moment so he stays out of their way, listens to the sound of the bathroom door breaking and boots stomping over shattered glass, listens to the sound of Cassian’s—frankly animalistic—screams as he’s subdued, and stays out of the way once again when they drag him out naked and wet and dripping blood from his arms and neck. They stand him there until a Peacekeeper returns from the bathroom with a dark fluffy green bathrobe for his modesty, and then he’s taken away.
When they make fleeting eye contact Draven is struck by the scathing accusation in his charge’s eyes. He wasn’t the one who called for the Peacekeepers but Cassian doesn’t know that, and Draven knows what it looks like. But there’s nothing he can say to Cassian in any case, nothing that can change the outcome of whatever has been decided to change next about him.
-
Draven is scheduled to pick up Cassian from the Remake Center two weeks later. He has to walk into the lobby because the lead cognitive remake specialist has requested to talk to him, to show and demonstrate Cassian’s new implant.
It’s a very thin line of a scar on the back of Cassian’s neck, invisible to the naked eye but Draven can feel it when he brushes his fingers over the skin; beneath is a subdermal neuro-electrical node, grafted onto the nerves there. The specialist explains that when activated, it prevents Cassian from making sudden or any ‘suspiciously motivated’ movements. The remote that they give to Draven is for disabling it. Later on, Draven is assigned the responsibility of disabling its function for Cassian’s appointments as well as reenabling it after each one in turn.
Neither says a word as they get into the waiting car. They don’t speak for the whole car ride back, either. But more than once Draven sees Cassian’s hand creep to the back of his neck; his fingers slowly brush the scar tissue, before his hand is carefully guided back to his lap.
-
It proves very challenging to track where Cassian had been taken after his suicide attempt; Draven is always diligent about maintaining stealth when conducting these probes, but the seriousness of the situation called for significant preventive precautions to be taken. But once he succeeded…
…Then what?
He was able to determine that Cassian was taken to the same complex—in truth, one of several privately held black site facilities—for another two weeks of ‘in-patient therapy’ before he was transferred to the Remake Center. His process uncovered an entire network of similar private corporations and entities that operated under the purview of the government, all funded by the Hunger Games division for one apparent purpose: the victors’ covert diversion program.
But this devastative information only came about as a consequence from his attempts to satisfy an aberrant concern for Cassian’s whereabouts; Draven wasn’t planning on actively doing anything with it. Even the thought alone is treasonous: believing that victors deserved anything less than the hell that came pursuant on winning the Games was just a step below believing that the districts of Panem deserved anything more than the destitution and squalor left to them after the Dark Days. The victors’ diversion program was devised and implemented to prevent victors from believing that winning the Games meant anything other than being punished for it. Repeatedly. Because even if a new victor is crowned every year, the real winner of the Hunger Games will always remain the Capitol.
This is what Draven has always known. But then… there was Cassian.
He had come to know the boy at six years old, the first year Draven received the assignment to escort not only Irga and Jeron to the town plaza for District 5′s reaping, but the latter’s wife and son as well. Only one of the two living District 5 victors had a family, and now that Cassian was old enough to understand how to behave the Games producers wanted reaction shots of Jeron’s wife and child.
Their acquaintance proceeded as such—twice a year Draven saw the Andor boy, first at the reaping and again when escorting Jeron and Irga home after the closing ceremonies. Though he chose not to indulge in the sentiment, seeing Cassian grow up through the years in such a manner often left Draven with a feeling similar to how he felt after visiting with once-a-year relatives during Wintermas.
After Cassian was reaped and won his Games, Draven’s duties as District 5’s escort were officially recategorized with Cassian as his primary charge, relegating Jeron and Irga to second priority; if they needed to be chaperoned somewhere while he was with Cassian, there was express authorization to send a number of Peacekeepers to complete the task. But for the purpose that President Snow intended to use Cassian for, only a Games escort with discretionary expertise could do.
Draven’s choice of career tended to attract a lot of airheads and grifters, those who relished in schmoozing up sponsors or otherwise gunning for a glimpse of the glory and glamor awarded to a winning victor’s support team. But Draven derived his dedication to the job solely from esteem in his own competence; perhaps that was why the president believed his silence on Cassian being groomed and Jeron remaining unaware of it was guaranteed.
Did the president, in all of his scheming, ever consider the possibility of Draven going rogue? But even if he did tell Jeron of what President Snow was doing to his son it wouldn’t have changed the outcome; Cassian’s placement into a mentoring position could only be accomplished by leaving District 5’s mentorship short of a victor. Plus, he would have had his tongue cut out and turned into an Avox if Snow found out; if Peacekeepers were dispatched to interrupt Cassian’s suicide attempt quickly enough to thwart it, his treachery would have inevitably been discovered.
And where would that leave Cassian?
Another escort would be assigned, one who didn’t mind enabling Cassian after an assignment when he comes back horny and drunk or high, or in the mood for taking out his self-loathing on the only person available. Those moments of weakness never failed to stun Draven with their impact—they were cruel reminders of the fact that he is the only person in the Capitol who sees what became of a tormented boy, now constrained to his life as a tormented prisoner.
But Cassian’s new conditioning doesn’t seem to allow for any moments of weakness. Or rather, the implant doesn’t. His movements are mechanized and deliberate, calculated to avoid triggering the parameters for a shock, yet fluid enough that evidently he was put through his paces by his captors. Until he was well-trained, and conditioned, and became devoid of any expression at all.
Suffice to say, they don’t talk anymore. What is there left to say? Nothing, not until Draven receives an update on Jyn Erso’s health status. Then a personal summons to President Snow’s office.
-
The president and a trio of his advisors are waiting for Draven. The situation with District 5’s new victor has turned critical; even with the Capitol’s elite medical advancements, Jyn is not responding well to treatment.
Draven knows it’s all lies but he agrees along with their assessment. Jyn’s untimely death before the Victory Tour may be unavoidable, and the Capitol needs to control the story behind the cause to control the public’s reaction to her death. Her condition has been kept secret in anticipation of this very situation; several contingency plans to stage been drawn up, each optimized to account for potential blowback between the Capitol and the districts.
While each plan is pitched to weather Snow’s criticism, Draven doesn’t let any confusion or concern cross his face. Not when the president’s snakelike eyes are on his every time Draven chances a glance. He knows Snow is observing his reaction to this authoritarian show of might—whatever choice is made here will have a ripple effect throughout all of Panem, going much further than the conflict between President Snow and the victors of District 5. Expectably, Draven isn’t asked for any input, but he knows that’s not what he’s been called here for.
After the advisors are dismissed Draven stands alone, a respectable distance away in front of Snow sitting at his desk; the president watches him awhile before he speaks. “So, Davits. You understand how imperative it is that we control the narrative, not just here within the Capitol but in the rest of Panem.”
“Of course, Mister President.”
“I’m sure, then, you understand the necessity of what was done to Cassian.” Snow gets up from behind his desk, circling around to lean against the dark mahogany facade with his arms crossed. His stance is still threatening despite its casual assertion; Draven almost takes a step back but he remains standing where he is.
“Jeron Andor mistakenly believed that he had enough power to take matters into his own hands; it can be only him who passed along the concept to young Cassian. One would think that his father’s fate taught him that attempting to do so can only end in tragedy. And yes,” he says in answer to the sudden clench of fear in Draven’s chest, “I’ve been made aware of your interloping efforts regarding Jeron and Miss Torres’ deaths. I concede that it was not a deception that accounted for close scrutiny. Rest assured that when your inquests were discovered, the advisor and those responsible for implementing the proposal were swiftly executed.”
The president continues, “I will not question your motives for investigating the matter. I am not commending your capabilities in doing so, either. But understand this: there is nothing for you to do here except your assigned function as District 5’s escort. Nothing less, and nothing more. An unfathomably simple request, yet if only Cassian had performed his role in the same capacity his implant would not have been deemed necessary. Undoubtedly you agree that rebellious actions such as his merit consequences tailored to their severity.”
Draven’s throat is dry but his voice remains steady. “Indeed, sir.”
Snow straightens himself upright. They’re both tall people but he does have an inch on Draven in height, and his next words are spoken in a voice both paternalistic and contemptuous. “No further harm has to befall the boy, but it will be your future discretion which will determine that. Now, have I made your situation clear?”
-
Snow doesn’t know the entirety of what Draven knows about the victor diversion program then. Yet. It may only be a matter of time before Peacekeepers are at his door. They wouldn’t kidnap him for ‘extensive in-patient therapy’, not when a bullet to the head would be quicker, cleaner, and most effectively ensure his silence.
There’s only one road for him to take now; he can no longer abide by what the Capitol is allowed to demand from Cassian, not when they claw for everything within reach to cement his enslavement.
Where will his charge be a year from now, or three? What else can they take from him?
How did Jeron live through nineteen years of this feeling?
It should feel daunting; the thought only registers later that night after Cassian is dropped off at the Tower and Draven is heading home. That finding a way to save Cassian will take everything he’s got, in order to go against everything he’s ever known. But Draven did not get this far in his life by second-guessing his choices, and he has never been so sure of one thing.
The next certainty is this: he’s got to find Jyn Erso.
@whumptober2020 Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games.
content warnings: none
previous: day 1 / 2 / 3
The Opening Ceremony comes and goes without a hitch. Cassian watches Jyn and Joule be paraded in their own chariot towards the City Center and the President’s mansion on an enormous television screen, which takes up an entire wall of the penthouse suite he’s situated in for Atticus Fenestre’s Opening Ceremony viewing soiree. President Snow didn’t waste any time in getting him booked, but at least this is his only engagement before meeting back up with the District 5 team at the Training Center.
“Kay did a wonderful job with their outfits as always, Cassian,” Atticus says in a lilting voice that had to have been surgically altered to sound like that. “Hasn’t he, darling?”
“Certainly!” his wife Seraphina exclaims. “He always seems so arrogant and dour during his interviews, but the man certainly has vision.” The rest of their gathering titters their agreement.
“Though I must say, the stylists and Remake Center can only really do so much for the lackluster tributes,” a man with a purple coif says. “That male tribute of yours does not look like he will amount to much in the Arena. Any thoughts as to which of your tributes will fare better...?”
Cassian is saved from answering by the operator of the Capitol’s rumor mill herself, Peridot Starlight—the host of Capitol Spotlight with Starlight. She lets out a light laugh to draw attention to herself before lowering her voice. “Well, Eustis. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the clips?” She gives them all a coy smirk. “Ah, of course you haven’t. I bought exclusive coverage rights for the Day Zero arrivals, which will be aired tomorrow on my show. But tonight, dear friends, you’ll get the Peri exclusive.”
She gestures for an Avox, and soon enough the television screen’s Opening Ceremony coverage is replaced by high-definition footage of District 5’s tribute train slowing as it arrived in the Capitol. The footage is then replayed at a slower frame rate and zoomed in, and through the train’s window Cassian can see himself holding out a hand to Jyn. The clip doesn’t have audio of course, but the audience can draw their own conclusions watching their lips move and their facial expressions before Jyn takes his hand and stands up. The Cassian in the clip looks to have his hand resting on her lower back as they wave to the crowd gathered on one side of the tracks, but Cassian knows the truth—Jyn’s smaller stature is partially obscured by the window sill, and aside from an initial light touch to direct her attention to the crowd outside only his fingertips touched the small of her back. Jyn didn’t mind, but Cassian knew what the hint of intimacy would look like to the public.
“And, and, and,” Peridot calls over the rising clamor of excitement, “I’ve got the scoop from sources on the train that things were getting a little steamy last night as well. How solicitous. Playing favorites already?”
It’s been so long since he’s played into the Capitol’s hands like this that Cassian doesn’t have to fake the nervousness in his smile; he hopes it comes across as bashful. Whether or not this works is going to depend entirely on him. "She’s intriguing. You’ll have to wait and see.”
-
After dinner Cassian takes Jyn up to the Training Center’s roof, where there’s a beautiful garden with flower beds and potted trees and the tinkling of a thousand windchimes drowns out the slight buzz of the invisible electric field around the Center. It was a place he might have called a sanctuary, though Snow kept his schedule busy enough that he hardly spent time up here. Tonight might be the only night he can talk to Jyn like this.
Although their conversation is muted they are still under surveillance, so Cassian takes Jyn’s hand and guides her to a pathway bordered with blooms. She doesn’t let go of his hand, thankfully.
Jyn makes sure to speak quietly enough that her voice doesn’t carry over the windchimes. “My father was taken away when I was eight. He was the chief engineer for district plant operations, and he wanted to research energy efficiency in Panem. To see if there was a way to eliminate power outages in the other districts. And the Capitol didn’t like that.”
She lets out a heavy exhale. “I haven’t seen him since then. My mother was angry for a long time—both of us were. But the two of us couldn’t do anything. She looked for some kind of support group, but you know the Capitol won’t let something like that exist.”
Cassian nods. The Treaty of Treason had something called the Riot Clause, which banned gatherings of people for unofficial purposes. Official purposes such as the yearly reaping and public punishments.
“But it didn’t stop her from seeking individual people out. We weren’t the only ones who had someone we loved disappear because of the Capitol. She was good at helping others that way. To let them know they weren’t alone... Eventually the Peacekeepers caught on to her. That she had been talking to a lot of people who were angry and hurting. But she had a contact who helped her disappear before the Peacekeepers could get to her. He knew people who could make it look like her death was an accident in one of the power plants.”
They stop under the boughs of a large tree. When she turns to face Cassian her eyes are glittering—there’s moisture there, from unshed tears or passion, Cassian can’t tell. But he finds himself drawn to her words all the same. “That was almost three years ago. After my mother went into hiding that contact took me in. He taught me a lot of things… everything he could so I could be helpful to the group of people that helped my mother get away. I’ve done a lot to help their cause in District 5. They were going to help me disappear, reunite me with my mother as soon as I finished one last assignment…” Jyn’s voice turns brittle. “And then I was reaped.”
Both of them startle at the loud sound of fireworks being set off down below; after shooting upwards they explode high above but close enough to brighten the rooftop garden, and the multi-colored display refracts off the silver of the windchimes in dazzling drops of light. Loud cheers can be heard from the streets below. When Jyn turns to look at him, Cassian can see the resolve in her eyes.
“That’s my angle. I’ve trusted you with my story. And I’m going to trust you with my life in the Arena,” she says. “I can’t let it end here. I have to get back home, I need to get back in contact with Saw and his people… I want to see my mother again.”
“I believe you, Jyn.” Cassian says. He squeezes her hand. “You’ll have to trust that I’m going to get you out. And I will.”
He doesn’t talk about the cost, what he knows it will be. For this moment, he can pretend that all they are is just what the hidden cameras are seeing: a couple taking an evening stroll, sharing secrets in the dark, making promises to one another. Even if half that statement isn’t true.
@fulcrumstardust : @miaouerie yes please write the summer fling
okay !!! (from this wonderful picset of diego luna which inspired these tags: #diego luna#his HAIR#ah yknow just gonna toss around ideas for beach bum AU#jyn going camping with her parents by a beach renowned for good surf#cassian is a local surfer#who used to teach surfing to tourists but doesn't bc reasons#anyway jyn's there for a week and they have a nice time together#cassian takes her to a secluded beach that's locals only#may or may not also be a nude beach. uh anyway#a nice summer fling :)c#tag ramble
“So how long are you in town for?”
Cassian asks the question as they recline on the beach, the late afternoon sun drying the saltwater in Jyn’s hair. The seagulls call to each other over the sound of waves crashing onto the shore as Jyn rolls off her stomach and onto her side. She blinks away the drowsiness that had crept up as she reposed; they had staggered back to the shoreline after spending what felt like hours laughing and jumping and diving past the waves. An afternoon spent with Cassian, a local surfer boy whose smile Jyn had followed even as they made it out into the calmer, deeper water where her toes couldn’t reach the sandy floor. He had taught her how to float on her back then—out there, there was nothing but the sun high and hot above her, the ocean's cool touch beneath her, and Cassian’s palms between her shoulder blades and on her lower back... and then, his hand tucked into hers as he tugged her closer to shore.
Jyn tucks one arm under her head, the other searching for her phone. Two missed calls from Lyra. Shit, she was expected to meet up with her parents for dinner; still, she tucks the phone back under her towel anyway. “Until Sunday. Why, are you going to teach me how to surf?”
Cassian rolls onto his side to face her briefly before pulling himself into a sitting position, adjusting his sunglasses on his face. “Five days? Plenty of time to do that, if you want.” He raises his eyebrows at her. “I used to give surfing lessons to tourists like you.”
“Why’d you stop?” Jyn can easily recall Cassian’s patient voice and encouraging smile from when they were out in the water.
“Spending time with these good-looking visitors… I kept falling in love with people who always leave in the end.” Cassian’s looking out at the waves, but when he feels Jyn’s gaze on him he tosses her a teasing smile over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall in love with you. I think.”
@whumptober2020 Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games. After being crowned victor at fifteen years old, Cassian is all-too-familiar with what it takes to bring a tribute home, and what becoming a victor really means.
content warnings: graphic depictions of minor character death and injuries
It’s Jyn versus the four surviving tributes—the boys from Districts 6 and 7, plus the girls from Districts 8 and 10—who have teamed up to fortify the ruins of what might have once been a multi-storied storefront. The alliance was made quickly, and hastily, and even took down the remaining two Careers. Audience engagement is at a fever pitch; things always rose to a crescendo this late into the Games, but with an upset like this the clamor to see how it all ends is growing massively.
It looks like Jyn will have to siege their little stronghold and Cassian is at a loss for how she can accomplish that. No sponsor gift can even out her odds against a team of four tributes.
He’s pondering the likelihoods of the alliance turning on each other but it’s the Gamemakers that turn the tide. The ground starts shaking a quarter to midnight and in the span of five minutes all of the crumbled ruins of the city have been flattened in the earthquake. For several long minutes only the dust rising from the destruction in the light of the moon is visible.
Jyn had been close to the remaining tributes’ hideout, resting in the shadows of a doorway. She was hidden but close enough that her mic picked up their faint screams when the earthquake struck and all the buildings collapsed.
When the dust finally settles enough for the cameras to get a good look at the decimated Arena there’s Jyn: she’s been partially buried by chunks of rubble and only the back of her torso is visible to the cameras but over the mic there’s the sound of her coughing furiously, alive.
That’s when Cassian looks up from the live feeds on his console to the public broadcast playing on the main screen of the mentors’ observation deck. A commentator is saying that the death cannon sounded off three times during the earthquake; the official tally ticks up to 22 dead tributes, 2 in play. There’s no way Cassian can know if Jyn heard the shots, if she knows that the earthquake transformed the Arena into an even playing field in more ways than one.
Then the big screen’s broadcast flashes Final Match: District 5 vs. District 8. So it’s the female from District 8 who Jyn needs to find and kill, then. Sixteen-year-old Pinafore Bernette. The tension on the observation deck is tight; Cassian can hear the mentors of 6, 7, and 10 talking over to each other, the sounds of victors who had mentored eliminated districts reappearing for the final fight.
On screen, Jyn is extracting herself from the rubble, but not easily; she lets out a frustrated yell when a large piece of wall that her left leg is caught under won’t give way. The Arena has been demolished so thoroughly she only has the general direction of the hideout to point her way; all the streets are buried under broken debris. Depending on where Pinafore is buried, Jyn could be digging through the rest of the night—or worse, have to wait until dawn.
Everything is still in the moonlight except for Jyn and her shadow as she moves slowly through the rubble. After limping heavily to the likely spot Jyn pauses to lean against the remains of a doorway. But Cassian hears her suck in a sharp breath of surprise a split second before she wobbles and falls on the live feed. What once was a building’s walls have become a large pile of pulverized brick and mortar, near the bottom of which there’s a dust-covered hand reaching out and gripping onto Jyn’s ankle; it has to be Pinafore.
Now Jyn has to dig her out. Her mic picks up Pinafore’s muffled and broken, wordless pleas. When Jyn finally pulls away the last of the debris covering her face and neck she’s barely recognizable: while trapped under the rubble her broken nose has leaked blood, pooling in rivulets on the veil of grey dust covering her facial features. The camera catches the fluttering of her eyelashes and her lips moving before Jyn pulls out a knife from her utility pack. She smooths back the once-auburn hair of Pinafore from her face, brushes away the dirt and dust from her throat. Unlike him eight years ago she doesn’t hesitate; the grey blooms dark red as Cassian and the rest of Panem watch Jyn while she watches the sixteen-year-old girl die.
It takes a few minutes. Then Claudius Templesmith’s voice suddenly booms, “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the victor of the 70th Hunger Games… Jyn Erso! The female tribute of District 5!”
Cassian can hardly dare to breathe; he slumps back against his chair, watching the last scenes of the 70th Hunger Games play out on his console. The cameras pan around Jyn; Cassian can’t get a good read of her face before the hovercraft materializes overhead and they drop the ladder to pick her up.
He should get up and celebrate, maybe. He’s brought his first tribute back alive in his first success as a mentor; he knows some of the victors from the Career districts, like Cashmere and Brutus, will come over to give congratulations. But to him, winning the Hunger Games never felt like a victory and neither does mentoring a winning tribute. Was this how his father felt, watching his son be declared victor after plummeting with Alabaster to her death?
Instead of getting up, Cassian closes his eyes. When he feels a hand on his shoulder it’s Draven. He says, “The hovercraft will be here with Jyn in twenty minutes. Meanwhile you can review the post-Games interview questions for the finalists’ panel with Flickerman, but that isn’t until the morning. Your schedule’s clear before that so I suggest you rest after you see her.” As always the man is inscrutable, but there’s the briefest shadow of a smile and an unexpected warmth in his voice.
Cassian nods, then lets out a sigh of relief. It’s real, as real as Draven’s hand, squeezing his shoulder gently. She’s coming back. He’s bringing her home.
