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queen-mabs-revenge · 6 years ago

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I apologize if this comes off as a rude question to a Killian fan, but I think you’d be the best person to answer in a real and logical way: Do you think, given what we know of how the series went, Killian’s character arc might have ended better had he either died from the Excalibur wound or if he had been allowed to maintain his heroic sacrifice at the end of the Dark Swan arc? Not necessarily ‘would he be better off dead than married’, just whether those would’ve been more Him.

Woo boy nonny, you’re out for my life today, aren’t you? xD

OK arggggk ok this is complicated for me bc those two ‘death points’ are very different imo, and also have different implications depending on how close to the story you’re zooming in. For the purposes of this, I’m going to focus on the Camelot death from the Excalibur wound.

On the purely ~*~i’m love him~*~ level, of course I’m rather dang pleased that he didn’t die…permanently in either of those scenarios. I’m always pleased to get more of Killian on my screen. Even if the situations leave me feeling frustrated, I think that he’s a character that’s complexly written enough and well acted enough to be someone I can enjoy picking apart in any scenario.

So OK dealing with both of these scenarios I think you can tackle this from a few different viewpoints (and I hate to always go back to this, but it’s literally like the fundamental way my brain works, so I’m gonna kind of be flirting with those ideas the whole time). Looking at the situations as if I were imagining all the characters in the story to be real people? I think it’s clear what the characters wanted: in the case of the Excalibur wound, Killian would rather have died while helping free his friends than Emma turn him into the dark one, and expressed that clearly. In the case of his death at the end of the Dark Arc, he chose death in part as a way to free everyone from the fate he’d doomed them to, but also to eradicate the darkness once and for all. Because of Rumple’s failsafe, that choice was predicated on false circumstances, and so the idea of Emma going to bring him back, and him not wanting to stay dead as long as everyone else was safe, makes more character sense and is more of a plot point to get everyone to The Underworld. Because the first is more character based and the latter more plot based, I’m gonna focus my attention on the first.

If we’re talking about the character arcs? It’s hard. Basically the way that I would approach that would be “how fruitful were these events in catalysing character progression and growth” and as I’ve said in other posts, I don’t think they—especially the Camelot death—were fruitful at all, and in fact were regressive. This is going to focus mainly on CS in 4-6 as that’s pretty much what I see those events and their value enmeshed with (and, as I’ve stated before, IMO nearly all of Killian’s S4-6 interactions are filtered through CS anyway, so I think it’s appropriate to talk mostly about CS here) and bc I’m a lengthy ho it’s going below the cut.

The thing I had loved about CS was that during the S3 build up to their actually entering a relationship, the relationship was set up to challenge both of their character weaknesses. For Killian, his weakness centres around his desire for freedom and agency (for himself or others), when challenged, leading him to close himself off and/or make pretty shitty and harmful decisions. For Emma, you have the fear from the trauma of abandonment leading her to isolate herself, or sometimes not even enter decisions as to not present the opportunity for abandonment.

So the S3 push-and-pull of Killian giving the reins of the relationship to Emma—stepping in as support when her life or familial relationships were at risk, yes, but in their interpersonal relationship, letting her evaluate him and move at her own pace—addressed both of their weaknesses. Killian explored the vulnerability of willingly giving up control of a situation, and Emma, by going at her own pace, was able to evaluate his steadfastness and begin to trust him for it.

And that was the dynamic that each needed in that moment, and why early CS is still in ways compelling for me — if I ignore the follow through. Because the problem with the two “deaths”, as far as I see, is that they follow this pattern of taking that previous dynamic, and digging in the heels and exaggerating it to an unhealthy level, instead of exploring how the two characters heal together and adopt a new dynamic. The important thing in that push-and-pull exchange is the agency both characters have in it — however, you start to see what, in my opinion, is Emma assuming Killian’s willingness to follow her lead is given, which removes his agency from the exchange…and the narrative starts to romanticise it.

I think you start seeing it from the beginning of S4 with Emma getting angry at Hook when he doesn’t do as she says and stay put with Elsa in 4x03. We get insight into both of their mindsets during the confrontation at the end – Emma is terrified that she’ll lose him and that’s the reason she orders him earlier; he, used to being dynamic, struck out on his own in response. But the point we got by the end of the episode wasn’t that she was right, but that she was expressing her valid fears irrationally by trying to tell Killian to do what she said, no questions asked. And he was wrong in that he didn’t counter a demand he didn’t agree with right away and directly, but took back his agency behind her back when he should have communicated that he had a problem with what she was asking. So you have the unhealthy level of the dynamic being played out, handled poorly, and a set up for forward motion into healthiness being presented.

Except it never really followed through—oh it did in dribs and drabs, which makes this so much more frustrating (their conflict over his holding back information about Ursula, and then the resolution they come to together being one positive move I can think of where they’re venturing more into equal partner territory), but overall the idea of Killian’s capitulating to Emma being a given instead of a choice is the theme that continued—to its unhealthiest apex in S5, with the Dark One arc being the dramatic climax of Emma assuming Killian’s eventual compliance and overriding his agency with her own desires, and Killian, when confronted with being controlled, going to harmful extremes.

And, what that should have done, and what I thought it was doing at the time, was to drag that increasingly issue-laden agency problem out into the harshest light, to the most extreme situation of life or death, and create maximum drama over it so that it could reach a resolution both through character interaction and plot resolution. So that going forward, you would have the two entering into a more communicative partnership and presenting a united front (and negotiating how to navigate what that means) against whatever conflict showed up next (insert forever bitter I NEVER GOT MY FUCKING BATTLE COUPLE face here), or deciding to step back and change their dynamic by moving away from presenting a romantic unit.

But what happened was more of the same, except this time it was treated by the narrative as being just part of their relationship’s standard operating procedure, part of the new ‘normal’ after the major conflict of S5, and not as a problem to be solved. It was romanticised. So you end up with S6 which makes me just want to fling myself into the sun with rage. Lies about the saviour premonitions are Emma taking agency away from not only Killian but everyone around her — it’s the same story all over again, ***walls*** so it’s OK, but no one has the agency to react and to help her because she doesn’t allow it. And as it relates to CS, you don’t get Killian’s reaction to this at all except in sad looks (and That Fucking Cut Scene That Shouldn’t Have Been Cut).

You get a redux of 4x03 with Killian hiding the shears as a way to try to reclaim some agency behind Emma’s back, because she’s shut him out of any solution they could have reached together as partners. But the narrative focuses on what he does as the only grave error of the situation. You have the agency problem embedded in the first proposal – from going through his private things that trusted as a safe hiding place, to her instigating the proposal over his coming to her for help — but this time, unlike in the Camelot situation, her actions aren’t called into question by the narrative, but his immediately very much are both by her at the character level, and at the narrative by isolating him on the realm-hopping extravaganza. Her taking away his agency is very literally romanticised in a proposal.

You have it again right before the wedding with yet another lie to cut Killian off from being able to actively step back to or to step in and help her as her supposed partner — and again, this time the narrative frames this not only as the act of a hero, culminating in her solo take-down of the Black Fairy (with her family literally frozen out of supporting her), but it actually intersperses her actions of lying to him to force him act as she alone thinks is right in with the build up to their actual wedding. Not only does the narrative not call her actions into question, they’re literally put into the most romantic of contexts. The question at that point is never whether or not Killian will follow Emma’s lead, because the relationship never moved past the S5 conflict of Emma assuming he would and acting on his behalf, except unlike in S5, this isn’t portrayed as a relationship weakness, but as Emma’s strength of character, and their romantic apex.

So that comes back to the death question. And my returning question: narratively what was the payoff?

It’s not that from a story standpoint I think that Killian’s character arc was finished when he was dying from the Excalibur wound — for me it’s that, if that moment is a pivotal moment crafted to show the height of agency imbalance in the only real relationship he has on the show in S4-6, then it should have been addressed and resolved with a pivot in dynamic after the dramatic fallout — with the characters either moving together or apart.

As it stands, the dynamic stagnated and regressed so badly into that stagnation that the whole issue that the “death” brought up, with the extreme violation of agency and resulting trauma of S5, was angst for angst sake without resulting growth. Without a complete overhaul of the plot from that point out where CS either grow together or apart due to the consequences of that moment, I tend to view that moment when he’s begging to die in the Middlemist field as just a deeply sad one, now made the sadder for its pointlessness. It’s harbinger of the future unchanging and then utterly romanticised removal of his agency within the relationship continuing through the end of the series. The shower of resulting S5 angst affects his character/relationship arc through S6 about as much as a fridging would have anyway, and it’s really bleeding hard for me to side against the character’s wishes knowing all that in retrospect.

(that said, to reiterate, as a killian fan, i am glad he stuck around? but i’m also glad i get to live in a world where there’s a him that didn’t go through that depressing stagnation? ugh HI YEAH!)

#Anonymous #ouat critical #cs critical #emma swan critical #killian jones #mabsplaining #killian jones meta #I DON'T KNOW LADS #moar tags? pls let me know #lol basically the way i look at it now i'm like -- honestly shit or get off the pot.....or die i guess?#and there was a whole lot of narrative constipation going on there

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theseviolentdelightss · 6 years ago

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Counting Paths XV

Series Summary: After a lifetime on the run from the Empire, Reader makes a move that could have drastic impacts for both friend and foe. A Reader insert/fanfic. Gifs belong to their respective owners.

Word Count: 6719

Author’s Note: So I’m not going to tip to around it, in the past few months I’ve gone through a very personal, horrifically traumatizing experience that I am still coming to terms with. Depression and anxiety have always been issues I’ve struggled with but I never thought I would one day experience the effects of PTSD. Seeing death, truly seeing it firsthand, changes you as a person and it has taken months for me just to come back around to some sense of normality. Writing this latest bit has helped and I know some of that inner struggle poured over into my writing. Hopefully it’s not too particularly jarring,and as always I am so thankful for those of you that have stuck around for this long. You have no idea how very much it means to me.

-Side note: I took complete unabashed inspiration from one of my favorite television shows of all time in this chapter. Shiny on you if you recognize it.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XIPart XII Part XIII Part XIV

-8 MONTHS LATER-

You awoke to the loud sound of someone banging away in the cargo hold. Most likely Roland, busy securing yet another hidy-hole for whatever you had been sent to fetch this time. That man was like a magician when it came to securing supplies in the most unlikely of spaces. You once saw him retrieve a pallet of medicine hidden beneath your core containment unit. One miss step and he would've gotten a doze of radiation strong enough to kill him a thousand times over. None of that seemed to bother him, even as you watched on petrified, the older man simply shimmied beneath the small crawl space and flung the first container of vials over his shoulder. Leaving you no other option than to leap forward and catch it. This went on another two dozen times until Roland eventually crawled out from under the containment unit like a drunk toddler. Rolling carelessly as he dragged his larger bottom half upwards. The symphony of obscenities that awaited him as soon as he rose to his feet reminded Roland that though he may have surpassed you in rank Songbird was your ship and you were her captain. Considering your recent reinstatement into the Rebel Alliance Roland had no choice but to respect your terms.

That lasted for about a fortnight.

Rolling over you clung tightly to the sheets. Not yet willing to forego the warmth of your thick blankets to return to the waking world. No matter how elusive it felt at times you had grown to love sleep more in the recent months. 75 percent of the time it left you gasping for air, fumbling off the side of your bed and onto the cold floor below but that remaining 25 percent was the only true escape from reality afforded to you. Everything else was a just poor mans attempt.

Today had been no exception.

Thankfully in your clumsiness you had taken some of your pillows overboard with you and had softened the blow. Nevertheless, you had undoubtedly collected your share of bruises that would likely show their ugly purple faces over the next few days. So there was that to look forward to, how lovely...

Chirping somberly V1-S4 switched from his hibernation and rolled across the small space that was your cabin. Bits of decorations hung over the walls, the flag of your homeworld, a bouquet of Alderaanian flame lilies glowing on the bedside table atop a stack of books you had read easily a dozen times. It wasn't much but it was the closest thing to having a home as you could get; though, even as the thought crossed your mind you knew that wasn't entirely true. Like it or not a small part of you missed your cramped room on Yavin 4. At least there had always been something to do, a project to work on, someone to talk to... Sure you had Roland and the rest of your crew to keep you company but that was different.

You had told yourself you simply missed Theodren. He was your best friend after all and the two of you had missed time to make up for given how long the two of you had been apart in the past. To be separated again so shortly after reuniting felt cruel but war doesn’t wait for things such as sentiment.

War doesn’t wait at all.

You missed your lunches with Penelope. The sweet mechanic you had befriended after she taught you how to fix your port control a few weeks before your first mission. The girl was so cheerful that any time the two of you met up for lunch or worked on your ship together you couldn’t help but smile. Her kindness was infectious and a welcome change to the coldness you had experienced from other Rebels in the past. After you became one of them again all that changed. Suddenly you had amassed a fair amount of acquaintances during your time on base, most of whom you missed. Still, that did nothing to change the truth of the matter...

The person you found yourself missing the most was Cassian.

Any time something especially odd happened on a job or Roland got too drunk and began declaring his secret love for show tunes it was Cassian you found yourself wishing you could run to. The two of you had come to share so much of your time together that it felt foreign to have so much apart. As if some part of yourself was missing. This was made all the worse given how you had left things between the two of you. The memory of which you seemed incapable of getting out of your head.

As S4 inched closer to where you lay you're reminded of just how grateful you were to have the loyal droid by your side again. When you had finally been allowed access to him again after months apart it felt as if you were being reunited with a family member that had gone missing. Hands shaking slightly you reached out to place your palm atop the droid’s shiny dome shaped head before gently leaning your forehead against the smooth surface.

“I'm alright buddy.” You reassured S4 as if you were a mother soothing a child. “Just another bad dream.”

S4 hummed happily as you smiled, giving him a gentle pat on the side. Pushing yourself off your knees you gathered your blankets and tossed them back atop your bed before stumbling towards the shower. Hopefully you'll have better luck tonight...

The day passed by as per usual. Rolland had taken over the ships controls while you had busied yourself helping the crew encode your inventory manifest to hide your ship's true cargo in case you ran into Imperial scanners. Nine hours later and your dozenth supply run had went off without a hitch. If everything went according to plan you would be returning to Base 1 with a ship full of enough stolen Imperial power cells to supply an entire Rebellion division for a month.

Only problem was that flying with Imperial stamped cargo was a death sentence to anyone stupid enough to get caught. Even so, most pilots would rather take the risk of staring down the barrel of a trooper's blaster than traveling through raider territory. Low life pirates that sat out in the darkness of the outer rim waiting to attack and pillage any unsuspecting vessel that wandered their way. Still you had no other choice but to choose the later, set your scanners to their full capacity, and hope you could pass through long enough to make it to the nearest hyperspace lane. It had been months since you last returned to base, and even that had only been for a single night. Just enough time to make a drop before heading back out again.

After your return from Nar Shaddah you had been busy to say the least. Everything had happened so quickly, one moment you're swearing in as soldier in the Rebel Alliance, again, the next you're in the midst of a shouting match with Cassian. One that left you feeling shaken and uncertain as to where you stood with the captain. Not a word was said to mend what had been broken. Instead settling for uncomfortable silences and unresolved issues.

You had thought he would be happy. That perhaps it would make up for crashing his last mission so spectacularly. The next day you received your first orders; an immediate mission to help secure a shipment from a core planet that had been secretly aiding the Rebellion for months. Though you still had some reservations about committing to the Alliance's entirely, you were delighted to be doing something other than sitting around twiddling your thumbs. When the time came to leave you searched all over base for Cassian to say goodbye, but the dark eyed rebel was no where to be found.

Thus began a new strange chapter in your life. A smuggler for the Rebellion, who would've thought?

More often than not you and Roland simply served as a single link in a very long chain that connected various Rebel outposts. Picking up supplies from one location just to deliver them to another. It was all part of the Alliances attempt to keep the Empire from pinpointing any potential drop off points. Large quantities would be brought in by ships such as your own on outlying moons and planets with lax security to be smuggled into larger settlements in smaller quantities later. Essentially you were spice runners, only instead of smuggling drugs you were transporting medical supplies, power cells, food. This however was your last in a very long trek across the galaxy. Normally you preferred the sky to staying grounded but you couldn't deny that you were eager to return to Yavin 4.

Two weeks, Mon Monthma had promised you two weeks off the job if you managed to secure the shipments in half the usual time table. A task you had pulled off flawlessly. All that time working with Han and Chewie had made you adept in this line of work. Something you were sure Cassian wouldn't care for. Not that you would know. It had been weeks since the two of you had last spoken.

252 days to be exact.

Everything had been going smoothly. Roland and S4 had navigated a clear course as you triple checked your hyperdrive when suddenly the alarms began to ring over head. The bright white lights in the hallway illuminated off and on in a dizzying fashion as you ran towards the cockpit. S4 chirped erratically as you ducked your head through the doorway and hurried inside.

“What the hell is going on I thought you two got us around them-”

“It's not Imperial.” Roland said as he spun in his chair, keying into Songbirds own enhanced scanners to bring up a read out of the strange ship that had just entered a spacelane dangerously close to your own.

“Commercial vessel?”

“Looks like it.”

Chirping beside you S4 illuminated a hologram of the vessel in question.

“I'm reading it as an old 908 Trans-Q model.” Rolland's brow furrowed as he read the droid’s intel.

“That doesn't make any sense, I didn't think Trans-Q operated anymore. Weren't they bought out by the Empire?”

Leaning over Roland you tried to get a better look at the ships read out. Anything that might possibly explain why you had suddenly run into a passing ship, whose make was no longer in operation, while traveling an unmapped route, with a cargo full of stolen goods, set for the head quarters of the Rebellion. All of which seemed a bit too coincidental for your liking.

“Yea they were.”

“Do we have a visual?” You asked, S4's low hum quickly answered your question. He did however manage to pull up the ships internal system's processing data, instantly something about it struck you as odd. “Wait, look at their radiation level.”

Leaning closer Roland's eyes trailed down the screen to where you were pointing. The number was more than just suspiciously high, it was unheard of. Utterly unfit for sustaining human life.

“They're operating without their flux stabilizer that's ch'sei...that's suicide.”

Stepping back your eyes were drawn to a small spot in the distance. Growing larger with each passing second. It wasn't often that you truly felt fear. Not because you were especially brave but because the majority of the time you didn't much care if things suddenly ended bloody. Its what you had signed up for after all. You were back in the game. All it takes is one wrong step and you're dead. You knew just how dangerous what you did was; none the less, for the most part you had grown calloused to the fear of death. It was more an inevitability than a concern. That didn't stop your heart from dropping into your stomach as the first beads of cold sweat began to prickle your skin.

“Ravangers.”

Every childhood horror story, every supposed sighting from other pilots, every alleged encounter you had ever heard of Ravangers played in your mind like some twisted nightmare come to life.

“Oh fuck.” Roland swore breathlessly. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck...”

“We have to tell the others.” The blood in your veins felt suddenly frigid as you reached for the ships intercom. With trembling fingers you pressed the button at the base of your ship's controls. Eyes never once straying from the ship in the distance. Its rusty color and dilapidated state gradually coming into view.

“This your captain speaking.” You began, breathing in and out slowly in an attempt to keep your voice calm. In truth, for the first time in months you were completely, and utterly terrified. “We've intercepted another ship, appears to be Ravangers, most likely a raiding party. We haven't been hailed yet and we are holding course so everyone please remain calm. We should be passing them in a few minutes. We'll take it from there.”

Letting go of the intercom button you stepped back, eyes aching from staring so harshly into the dark distance. Digging in your vest pocket you retrieved your com link.

“Zara I need you up here, now.”

Stepping back you stood on unsteady feet for what felt like hours when the sound of Zara coming to a stop beside you shook you from your trance.

“What's going on why are we-” She began, eyes darting to the ship in the distance before falling eerily quite. “Who are they?”

“Ravangers.” You replied coolly.

“Ravangers aren't real.” The young girl scoffed gently. “My grandma used to tell us stories about them to get us to stay in bed at night or do our chores. They're just a myth.”

“Well if grandma says it then it must be true.” Roland muttered sarcastically, busy preparing the ships engines in case you were given no choice but to run.

“They're not myths.” You said, grabbing the young teen by the wrist and forcing her to look you in the eye.

“You're not lying?” Zara asked, all confidence drained from her voice. The majority of the time all the young girl did was glare at you, still fostering a mountain worth of reinstatement towards you over her sister's death. Now; however, the only emotion she wore was one of complete fear. “What happens if they hail us?”

“If they board us...” You sighed, trying to decide rather you should be utterly truthful in the face of impending danger or try and appeal to the young girls age. “They'll flay us alive, feast on our flesh, and sew our entrails into their armor...”

Zara's face turned white, even her darker complexion couldn't hide the noticeable rush of blood. Her hands began to shake as she looked up to you, still just a child, so much youth shone through her eyes that were now wide with fear.

“And if they're feeling generous they'll do it in that order.”

You finished, your grip on Zara's wrist loosening as you took her hand in your own. Pealing back her fingers you placed a small dark capsule in her palm. Though she shook her head at first you folded her fingers over the deadly pill and held them there.

“Just in case.” You spoke gently.

“What about you?” She asked, her voice steady though she appeared anything but.

“Songbird is my ship, I'm her captain. I won't abandon her.”

“They're hailing us!” Roland shouted, immediately sending a rush of adrenaline through your body. Letting go of the young girl you threw yourself behind the controls and began deploying counter measures.

“They've got magnetic grappling!” Zara exclaimed, pointing to the electric arm that had began to stretch out from the ships left side.

“Yes thank you I can see that!” Though your voice was laced with sarcasm you knew that if you wanted to survive this you had only one option. Slamming your fist against the intercom button you shouted a warning. “Quick, everyone find something to hold on to!”

“They're on us!” Zara's voice was becoming frantic. A sound you hadn't heard since the night the two of you met.

“S4 cut the hydraulics!” You yelled for the droid who made quick work of your order. Efficient as ever.

“What the hell are you doing?” Roland watched as you flipped various switches, unsure of what it was you were hoping to accomplish.

“You'll see.” You couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of what you were attempting. “Roland as soon as I say so, you make the jump. Now hold on!”

Pulling the yolk tightly to the side you engaged your reverse thrusters on one side while going full burn on the other. Immediately the ship whipped into a jarringly fast turn that found you suddenly behind the Ravanger ship that had only seconds before been in front of you. Yanking the yolk back to the opposite side you managed to steady the ship long enough to align your coordinates, albeit backwards.

“Please let this work.” You prayed, switching the ships directional system into neutral. “Now!”

The moment you shouted the words you felt the force of the leap pressing you into your seat as your ship made its jump into hyperspace. Albeit in reverse. A moment of silence hung in the air before being quickly replaced with shouts and whoops of excitement. Most people go their entire lives without ever crossing paths with a Ravanger, let alone an entire raiding party. They were a rarity, even in the outer rim. They're community was such a small offset of a larger cultural species that it came has no surprise that most people thought of them as myths but you knew better. You had seen their handiwork before. Not a sight you would soon forget and yet you had left them burning in your wake.

“That was amazing!” Zara squealed as she leap up and down before wrapping her arms around you where you sat, still partially in shock, and pulled you out of your seat.

“As much as I hate to inflate your ego that was pretty damn impressive kid.” Roland smiled, a sight you usually only witnessed at 3 in the morning after two pints too many, or anytime someone fell. The man had an oddly specific sense of humor to say the least. As he ruffled your hair with his calloused hand you thought for a moment that perhaps you had actually died upon making the jump and this was all some sort of weird afterlife experience. It wasn't until you started to fall asleep that night, half drunk and giggling, did you realize for sure you weren't dead or dreaming. Puking your guts out will bring you back to reality all too quick.

As you broke into the atmosphere of Yavin 4 the following day you were still mildly hung over yet happy all the same. You hadn't seen Theodren in months and had been too far out to safely contact your best friend for nearly six weeks. You had expected him to be there waiting in the hanger when you returned. What you hadn't expected was for him to be surrounded by so many of your fellow comrades. One look at Roland was all it took, you really need to start taking his communication privileges away from him when he drinks. Apparently everyone on base had heard of your quick maneuvering with the Ravangers the night before. Though you should have known better you forgot how much of a superstitious lot a fair amount of the Rebellion was. It reminded you of your old grandmother, sitting in her knitting chair, reading the smudges left behind in her tea cup. This recent run in would undoubtedly have their interests peaked.

As Theodren spread his arms wide you returned his hug almost as tightly as you had the last time the two of you had reunited. This time though, when he pulled back to look at your face Theodren glimpsed more than just excitement. He saw exhaustion, anxiety, even a lingering hint of fear that seemed to dull the flecks of gold in your eyes. He wanted to ask right there what was wrong but knew better.

“You look ghastly.” He quipped, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin as the two of you pulled apart.

“Still look better than you.”

“Hm, I don't know if I'd go quite that far.” Theodren continued. “I do believe there are some sects of society that would perhaps find this-” Taking his hand he gestured up and down your frame. You were covered in soot and grease from working on your ship all night. Trying to repair the damage done by your daring Ravanger escape. “Attractive. I'm sure you'd be a shoe in for a beauty pageant on Jakku.”

With that you gave your old friend a playful shove as you swung your bag over your shoulder.

“I get it! I need a shower.” You shouted jokingly as you made your way towards the open hanger.

“Why not two?” Theodren replied, cupping his hands around his mouth to project the sound of his voice as you stepped further away. “Make up for lost time.”

Chuckling softly you shook your head. Eyes scanning the nearby ships for a particular U-Wing. When you failed to spot it you felt a small surge of comfort, at least he hadn't simply known of your return and chosen not to greet you along with the others. Surely, he wasn't still that mad... Moving through the crowded hanger and hallways you were welcomed back by a number of familiar faces, some new. Perhaps word of your Ravanger escape had made the rounds more than you had originally thought. It made sense truthfully, other than war and work there wasn't a whole lot for people to talk about on base. Conversations could get dull fairly quickly so whenever something particularly unusual or spectacular happened it was typically the main topic of conversations until something else came along or people simply got bored.

Keying in your door code you were welcomed by the cool darkness of your room instantly. The only light came from the narrow windows and through it was still quite warm outside the inside was blessedly cool. Like a puppet whose strings have been cut you lost what little hold you had left the moment the door shut behind you. Your knees began to wobble uncontrollably, forcing you to grasp the corner of your bed as your bag tumbled to the floor. Stumbling forward your legs eventually gave out as you slid down the side of your bed. Now that you were alone, in a place you felt safe from prying eyes, the reality of yesterday's events hit you like a smack in the face. Leaving you shaking as you fumbled behind you to pull a pillow close to your chest. You had been so distant, so detached for weeks that this sudden burst of intense emotion was almost too much to bare. Burying your face inside the pillow you let lose the scream that you had been holding in for hours. The thick cotton did a fair job of muffling the sound of your screams but did nothing to hide the creak of the floor behind you.

In an instant you sprung to your feet. Turning on a dime and throwing the pillow in your hands directly at the intruders face.

“The hell?” Cassian's accent was instantly recognizable. Leaving you feeling like a fool as your hands flew to cover your mouth. It wasn't till you noticed Cassian's state that you felt your cheeks begin to burn as you turned your eyes towards the ceiling.

“I didn't think you were here.” You stuttered.

“I just got out of the shower you idiot!” He hissed, dropping the pillow in his hands to retrieve his towel from off the floor. Quickly securing it around his waste and holding it tight with one hand just to be safe.

“Yup, kinda put that one together.”

“You're not supposed to be back yet. They said you wouldn't get here till this evening.” Cassian shook his head as he turned away from you. Moving over to his dresser where he began to dig out his daily uniform. Trying his best not to pay you much attention as you sat yourself on the corner of your bed. Gaze still firmly in the opposite direction. Hopefully he had done a good enough job of straightening the comforter and pillows that you wouldn't notice the impression his body had left. Nearly every day he worked on base he would find himself taking his lunch hour to sneak away to his room, crawl atop your bed, and escape the world for a moment. It was the only time he felt any sense of peace and even after all these weeks a small hint of your perfume lingered in the linen.

“Made the jump quicker than expected.” You replied, pealing off your jacket before falling backwards atop your bed. Relishing the comfort of it as you spread out your arms to stretch.

“What happened? You run into another old flame you'd like to impress?” Cassian scoffed before instantly wishing he could take it back. In the reflection of his mirror he could see you spread out on your back. Pale curls cascading down your side as you clung to pillow he had always used.

“Ravangers.” You mumbled, kicking off your boots as you pulled the pillow in your arms tighter.

“What?” Cassian asked, spinning on his heal and stepping towards your bed. Surely he hadn't heard you correctly.

“We ran into Ravangers.” You repeated, sitting up to find Cassian standing noticeably closer than before and thankfully at least partially dressed. His shirt still gripped in his left hand. A look of confusion and something else washed over his face. For a moment you thought perhaps it was concern but that didn't much fit into the current state of affairs when it came to yourself and Cassian. As much as you hated to admit it, it seemed he was indeed still pissed.

Leave it to a man to hold a grudge after 8 months of zero communication.

“We had to run so of course they had to chase us.” You explained, keeping your hands busy playing with a fray in the threading of your comforter. Strange you hadn't noticed it before, normally little things like that would drive the perfectionist inside of you crazy. “Fried my hydraulics but I was able to make the jump. Shaved a few hours off my time.”

“Aren't you impressive?”

Though you had tried to hide it, you were hurt by Cassian's words. A truth that undoubtedly showed on your face. After everything you had been through the past few months, after everything you had done for his cause, and still he treated you as an inconvenience.

“Why do you have to be like that?” You muttered, turning up to face him. His own expression unreadable to you. “I just wanted to come home.”

And there it was. The slow knife that was gradually killing the both of you. Cassian knew what you had meant. What home truly was but that was not a responsibility he wanted. Not because he didn't share the same sentiment but because he couldn't bare to be the one responsible for taking that home away.

“Yea, well welcome home.” Was all he could think to say before tossing on his shirt and boots before hurrying out the door. Your very presence was suffocating to him. Leaving him no option but to hurry off in no particular direction.

Sighing you kept still for a few moments. Allowing it all to sink in as you stared blankly ahead. A part of you wanted to cry while the other half wanted to scream and break everything in sight. Instead you settled for reaching inside your duffel and pulling out a bottle of Tevraki Whiskey. A parting gift from your crew for getting them out of a particularly sticky situation. Pulling out the cork with your teeth you spit it across the room where it rolled beneath Cassian's bed. The inside of the refresher was still warm as you stepped in and turned on the shower. Discarding bits of clothing as you gulped down the smooth whiskey. Allowing it to burn your throat as you cherished each swig.

An hour later you had dried your hair and slipped into your usual casual attire with the full intent of meeting Theodren and the others at the cantina on base. All it took was sitting down to pull on your boots and you were out like a light. Head crashing into your pillow as the exhaustion you had fought suddenly overtook you.

When your eyes finally began to flutter open a handful of hours later it took a moment for you to gather your surroundings before remembering where you were. Home. Except something felt off. Unnatural. As your gaze drifted around the room your heart dropped into your stomach before returning with a vengeance. It was him, again. After all this time.

Instinctively you willed yourself to sit up, to leap out of bed but you were frozen. You couldn't move, couldn't even scream for help. It was an old sensation, and one you hadn't missed. Of course you had been told what it truly was: just a simple sleeping sickness that wasn't entirely uncommon, particularly in those suffering from past trauma. Still, waking up to find yourself paralyzed, staring at the bloody specter of someone you loved, is not an easy experience to rationalize.

As the door swung open, casting a warm glow into the room you felt as if you were drowning at sea and had spotted a ship in the distance. In walked Cassian, nonchalantly as ever, hardly so much a glance in your direction. Already you could feel the tears begin to swell in the corner of your eyes. As he turned towards the refresher you prayed he would catch a glimpse of your face, perhaps see the anguish burning beneath your frozen exterior. You thought for sure all hope was lost and that you were doomed to ride this one out alone; however long it may last, when Cassian's feet came to an abrupt stop. Slowly turning his head to peer through the darkness in your direction.

Cassian had been grateful when he came in to find you sleeping. Thankful that he would have more time to think of a proper apology, not some drunken slurred excuse which was currently all he had to offer. He even thought you were talking in your sleep again. Right up to the point that he was about to walk away entirely when he heard it. Such a pitiful whimper, like a fawn separated from its mother. It wasn't the normal chaotic mumbling of your sleep talking. This sounded deliberate. Desperate. Stumbling forward Cassian switched on your bedside lamp and found the look of terror on your face far more sobering than any cold shower he could've taken.

“What is it?” He asked, kneeling at your side. As much as you wanted to turn your head to face him all you could do was peer out of the corner of your eyes. Trying to focus on him entirely, ignoring the other pale face that stared out from the darkness. Cold dead eyes looking at you and seeing nothing. “What's wrong?”

Cassian did his best to speak calmly as he settled on the edge of the bed. As his hands fell to your shoulders he found them tense as stone; yet, he could see the rapid rate of your heart as the vein in your neck throbbed with each passing beat. His fingers found their way to your wrist in the dark. Easily taking your pulse as it thumped against the tips of his fingers with far too much force and speed. You were more than just terrified, you were petrified. Nearly on the verge of shock. He knew you had issues with sleep, he had even witnessed some himself, but nothing like this. It broke him to see you this afraid, this helpless.

“You're okay.” He whispered, rubbing a hand up and down your left arm while the other maintained its grip on your right shoulder. “You're okay, just breathe in and out.”

The more Cassian spoke the calmer you felt, as if each word had been a tiny doze of peace, of comfort. As he inched closer, the warm light washing over his face so that you could finally see him clearly, you felt your strength returning. Taking your hand in his own Cassian could feel as each digit began to crawl across his palm. You could sense your body shaking as you drew on every ounce of strength inside you to propel yourself upwards. Arms draping around Cassian as you fell into his grasp. In the haze you couldn't think of anything else that had happened between the two of you. None of the bickering or resentment even registered. In that moment he was all you had.

A life preserver in a sea of nothing.

Your only tangible connection to reality. The one thing you could feel other than fear. So you clung tightly to him. Fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt as your body continued to shake.

“It's alright, it's alright.” He repeated softly into your ear, arms inching around your waist as you pulled yourself closer until you were practically sitting in his lap. He could feel your chest rise and fall against his own. Your panicked breath against his neck. The warm tears that escaped your eyes to cascade down his cheek from where your faces were pressed against each other.

Cassian tried to remember the last time he felt this close to someone. It was only a moment later, as he buried his face into your hair, the sweet smell of your shampoo filling his senses, that Cassian realized the last time he had been this close to anyone was you. The memory of that night came flooding back to him, filling his head with all manner of thoughts. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before your body finally began to still, the grip of your hands loosening as you slowly lent back to face him. Instinctively Cassian found himself pushing the stray strands of hair out of your face. Reaching up you took a hold of his hand gently. Your gaze now locked with his.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely a breath, so quite that had Cassian not been so close you aren't sure he would have heard it.

“Are you alright?” He whispered, rolling his hand over in your own to hold it gently between the two of you.

“Yea I'm...” Damn you wished you could lie to him, tell him that everything was fine and that he could go to bed. Not to worry about you considering you weren't his problem. He had been so cold to you earlier after all. But looking into those brown eyes of his all you wanted to do was stay fixed, planted exactly where you were until the tenderness that hid beneath his gaze had rid you of every terrible thought, every horrible memory. “I was so afraid...”

“It was just a bad dream.”

“No I-I mean the Ravangers.” You stuttered. Cassian furrowed his brow, looking down for a moment as you struggled to catch your breath. Your body still trembling gently beneath his hands. “I saw that ship and I was terrified.”

“Anyone would be.” Cassian assured you, his voice soft as he spoke.

“It wasn't just that I was scared of dying Cass, it was...” Chewing your bottom lip you found yourself at a loss, unsure if this was the sort of thing you should be sharing with someone, let alone Cassian of all people.

“What?” He asked tenderly, once again reaching up to tuck another rebellious curl out of your face.

“It was everything I was leaving behind.” You sighed, looking away from Cassian's piercing gaze. “So much left unfinished, so many words left unsaid...”

The moment the words left your lips you felt the heavy thump of Cassian's heart against your chest. Neither of you had moved more than an inch apart since you had awoken entirely, a realization that seemed to only strike you now as you became hyper aware of how the close the two of you were. It had been months since the two of you had last been this close yet it wasn't until now that you realized just how much you had subconsciously yearned for it.

How very much at home you finally felt.

“Can you stay?” You asked hesitantly, nearly certain that you had over stepped your bounds. “Please?”

As Cassian sat there, allowing your words a moment to sink in he thought for a moment that he surely must be dreaming. How many times had he fallen asleep after a long day to find himself in a moment similar to this. How many times had he wished he could have gone back in time and been honest with you about everything. About his job, about his fears, and how he hadn't felt like himself since that night the two of you had kissed. How he had lied to himself by convincing you it meant nothing. All he could think to do was touch you. Gently he rested his palm against your cheek, thumbing away a single delayed tear that had fallen. Looking you deep in the eye he nodded softly.

Cassian maneuvered the two of you smoothly, maintaining his hold on you as he laid the both of you back onto your bed. Moving your arm out from under him you waited until he had kicked off his boots and pealed off his outer shirt to leave only a cotton tank underneath before pulling the blankets over the two of you. As Cassian laid back down you weren't sure if he intended to keep his current distance. As if he had read your mind the Captain turned his head to face you, trying to read your expression in the dark before turning his attention to the ceiling. His heart suddenly in his throat. He felt like a teenager again, too scared to speak up. Instead he inched his hand closer to yours, bit by bit until he felt the soft flesh of your fingers aside his own. Like two dancers in sync each of you laced your fingers together. A feeling like warm liquor filled your stomach as you rolled onto your side, mustering up the courage to pull the captain's arm around your waist as you nuzzled yourself into his chest.

The sigh of relief that left your lungs was only mirrored by Cassian's as his arms again wrapped tightly around you. Bringing your body flush against his own. With your ear pressed against him you could hear every beat of Cassian's heart. The comforting repetition easing you into a sense of calm. His strong arms around you made you feel safe for the first time in months, allowing sleep to quickly creep up on you. Your eyes had almost closed when you looked up only to find Cassian watching you. Too tired himself to make an attempt at hiding it.

“I missed you.” Smiling softly, your eyes flutter once, twice before closing entirely. Calm, steady breaths escape your lips as Cassian tries to get a grip on himself. Just that morning he had sworn to himself that he would not allow himself to fall back into whatever it was the two of you had going on. He had even forced himself to say those rude, hell mildly cruel things to you, in the hopes to stave you off. Eight months he had spent convincing himself that there was nothing between the two of you and not even twelve hours after landing you were back in his arms. The one place he swore he wouldn't find you. The one place he so desperately wanted to keep you. It was torture feeling this way. A sweet pain that he found himself wanting again and again. There was a word for it, he knew that for certain, he just wasn't ready to say it. Not even to himself. Instead he settled for pulling you closer if possible, relishing the way you instinctively shifted in his arms, hands gripping the fabric of his clothing as if even in sleep you wanted him closer.

Just as he had that night on his ship so many months ago he found himself leaning down and pressing his lips against your forehead. That same surge of adrenaline pulsing through his veins leaving him with no hope of denial. Giving in, if only for tonight, Cassian rested his head atop yours and slept soundly for the first time in years.

#cassian x reader #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor imagine #rogue one reader insert #rogue one fanfic #cassian imagine #SW Fanfic #swfanfic #sw reader insert #Counting Paths

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