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light-yaers · 2 years ago

Text

Maroon.

Masterlist | AO3 | Ko-Fi

Cassian wasn’t like the others. He was like the red clay beneath the white salt on Crait outpost. He was maroon, and he used to be yours.

Or: the time you and Cassian met, up until the Battle of Scarif.

Warnings: major character death [follows Rogue One: A Star Wars Story], grief, trauma, implied sexual content, masses of angst.

A/N: I will just say that I think this is the saddest thing I’ve ever written. Also-- I do attempt to say something in Kenari in this work. I got it by combining Portuguese and Spanish words. It’s not real Kenari. It’s just the best attempt I had.

Word Count: 10k+

maroon.

Red.

That’s the only colour you can see now. Sketched upon every surface, splattered on every flight suit, hidden beneath every fingernail.

You see it so often now that the entire world seems red. The sky had an ominous haze to it, foggy, with a sickly shade of pink that resembles evaporated blood; sucked up by the clouds; preparing to rain down upon all that you find holy.

Cassian sees it too, but in different ways.

His red is made up of Ferrix bricks, and the clay that makes up Rix Road. The maroon tinge of grease on his palms, the luminescence of the whiskey that Maarva used to love, B2EMO’s distinctive paint job.

He described them all so well that you could imagine everything so vividly. Often times, you found yourself spacing out on perimeter searches and ground missions, mapping out the Ferrix roads and Bix’s section of scrapyard inside your head.

He didn’t tell everyone about his life.

You were special, in that sense.

It had been a while, you knew that, since he’d left his home. For a few months, he worked closely with a higher-up— Luthen Rael— until his expertise was needed elsewhere.

The more time passed, the more savvy the Empire got when it came to double agents. Luthen was under a constant watchful eye now, too far gone to try and bite back against the thumb that he so callously lived beneath.

It just wasn’t worth it; for him; or for Cassian.

You were there when they dropped him off on base; an outpost on Crait. There was nothing much there, bar the salty taste of the air and the vast wasteland.

But, there was red. Red everywhere. The clay that lay beneath the thick, ice-like layer of salt that covered the planet, exposed by footsteps and tank wheels and X-wing take-offs.

So. Much. Red.

And then, there was Cassian.

He jumped off the lander hesitantly, strength lined his shoulders and jaw. All he held was a bag of personal belongings, and the eyes of someone who had seen too much, too far, for how old he was.

But, he still hadn’t seen salvation. None of you had.

“Lieutenant,” your commander said, jumping off the ship behind Cassian. You nodded at him on approach, not yet acknowledging the unknown rebel.

“Commander. Glad you made it back safely,” you said respectfully.

“Almost didn’t, but—,” he smacked his hand on Cassian’s shoulder, alerting you to each other. “Andor here got us out of an Imperial mess,”

You regarded him then, taking in the complexity of his gaze. “You’re a pilot?” you chided.

“Anything that can run, I can fly,”

“You’ll fit right in,” you smiled, and Cassian’s shoulders instantly relaxed. You stuck your hand out to him in proper greeting. He smacked his palm against yours, shaking your hand softly in return.

“Lieutenant,” Cassian said.

“Andor,” you replied.

You were one step closer to friends.

Being on a planet such as this left you with free time— the worst disease you could ever want when in the rebellion. Free time meant suffering souls. Free time meant overthinking.

Cassian was in briefings. Having not been on base before, he was subjected to different training. Security, what to do in the event of an attack or ambush, dormitory regulations and the like.

A few hours after greeting him, you were in the landing bay, going over the mechanic rounds for the fifth time. You’d got so bored that you’d taken to memorising the mechanic teams shift rotations. You were in communications, a Lieutenant, but when things were stale it often left you lonely.

“Lieutenant,” your commander called, but you were so zoned out you hardly heard. “C-26!” he boomed, prompting you to drop your data pad abruptly. It crashed to the floor, a few buttons pinging off and rolling in all directions.

You internally cursed.

“Commander,” you turned to him, noticing Cassian behind him as you did.

“I know things are dry. Show the new recruit around, will you? The escape routes, the fire doors, the dormitory building,”

You saluted him, gaining back some of your composure. “Yes, Sir,”

He left as soon as he’d arrived, leaving Cassian and you in the landing bay alone. As soon as he was gone, you instantly relaxed, letting out muttered curses beneath your breath as you dropped to the floor, looking for stray data pad parts.

“He’s a real stick in the mud,” Cassian spoke first, peering down at you as you scrambled on the floor.

“He’s a very good commander. You’ll learn that with more time here,” you snapped, annoyed more at yourself than at Cassian. He huffed behind you, amused.

“Is it always this… quiet?”

“No. This is abnormal,” you admitted, standing up and assessing the data pad parts in your palm. “Luthen’s off the radar, you know?”

Cassian nodded gravely.

“It was getting too hot,”

“What work did you do with him?” you asked, trying to be as unbothered as possible, but Cassian immediately stumbled.

“Why do you want to know?”

You laughed, a belly chuckle. “This isn’t some random planet, Andor. Nor a back alley. This is the rebellion. We share here. We’re on the right side of the war,”

Maybe this was a test. Your own secret one to assess him. To work him out. To see what game he was playing. Everyone did it, even if you were all on the same team.

Cassian regarded you quizzically, trying to work you out.

“You already know,” he replied. You smiled. He’d caught on immediately.

“Aldhani. That’s a feat,”

“So I’m told,”

“You were there. No point in pushing away congratulations from the rebellion. You deserve it—,”

“No, I don’t,” he cut over you, stiff as a board, as hard as steel. His gaze had turned soured, his eyes stone cold.

Silence descended the landing bay. You reattached the buttons on your data pad quickly, the clicks of metal upon metal clanging throughout the empty bay.

“Come on. There’s much to see,” you said finally. The two of you started the tour of the outpost.

He never mentioned home, never mentioned Maarva or Bix or Ferrix, in the first few months. Only after you’d been assigned a few dual missions, scouting patrols, being a pilot and comm unit, did he finally open up.

You did, too.

“My mother is from Sorgan,” you said gently, five hours into an eight-hour perimeter scout.

It was customary to split up tasks on the outpost. It wasn’t like other rebel bases. There weren’t masses of cadets around to borrow.

“She never liked grey. Only greens, and blues, and the oranges of the sunset. My father was from Yavin. Same greens, same trees, but completely different ways of living. She moved there for him, uprooted her small village life because she fell in love as soon as she saw him,”

You loved talking about your parents.

You missed them. They were some of the first to join the Alliance, and some of the first to die. You were raised with rebellion in your blood, brought up by your godparents and moved from base to base with them.

Crait outpost was their attempt at keeping you safe, but all it did was drive you insane. Why someone such as Cassian was here, you didn’t know— it was effectively a ghost town now, with no more than one hundred officials on base, and only acting as a secure link for meetings to take place, or for transport missions.

“They were rebels?” Cassian asked, sat in front of you and piloting the ship. The space was small, compact, and your flight suits were stuffy, but this was the only time you felt free.

Shoved in a tiny ship, scouting the outer atmosphere of a planet that you knew like the back of your hand— but you were in the sky, dotted amongst the stars. You craved this.

“Yes. They died rebels, too,” you said it quickly, getting it out of the way. All rebels had lost someone; maybe everyone; who was close to them. It was customary.

“And now, you will finish what they started,” Cassian said, no hint of falseness in his voice.

You glanced to your left, catching his reflection in the control console. It was the only way you could see each other sat like this. His reflection was wobbled, warped, but you still got to see his eyes.

You sort of loved them, really, over the months you’d got to know them with increasing intensity.

“That’s the plan,” you leaned back in your seat.

The urge to say what about you? was overwhelming, but you bit on your tongue. Getting personal was not obligatory. Being more than acquaintances was less normal than this, but you opened up because this felt different.

Cassian felt different.

You swallowed through the silence, through the cogs whirring in Cassian’s brain.

Until they finally clicked.

“I had a mother. She wasn’t my real mother, but she was as good as. She was all I ever knew,” he started, and you breathed out slowly as relief washed over you.

This went two ways.

Good.

“Maarva was the bravest person in the galaxy. That’s not an exaggeration, it’s the truth. A daughter of Ferrix. Died with honour. She protected me through it all,” he listed off everything he wanted, recalling small details and going on tangents whenever he pleased.

You listened intently, laughing at his funny stories, envisioning the copper streets of Ferrix.

“I was a pain in her ass, I knew it. From age fourteen I was scaling over the wall in the scrapyard to find Bix. We were just kids,”

“Was there something more?” this is the first time you properly interjected. He perked his eyebrow up at you in the console reflection.

You squinted back at him, amused.

“Come on. A man like you has to have some broken hearts behind him,” you let out, smiling uncontrollably. He does the same.

“For a little while, yes,” he admitted.

“Knew it,” you muttered, and Cassian leaned forward slightly. Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe he was shocked, because you read him so easily.

A silence descended across the tiny cockpit, encasing you both in a feeling of knowing. Knowing each other, knowing the stars in the sky, maybe even knowing that all of this was temporary; probably.

“When I left Ferrix for the last time, I put her on a ship with Brasso, Bee, some others,” Cassian continued slowly, leaning back in his chair and letting out a sigh. “I promised I’d find her,”

He hadn’t.

“There’s still time,” you said strongly, meaning every word.

You knew Cassian well enough by now to know that, when he put his mind to something, more often than not he ended up succeeding. It’d been a long time since he’d left Ferrix; many moons had passed and grown and disappeared in that time; but not Cassian’s love for Bix.

Not his allegiance to justice, or the rebellion. Not his skill and brash nature and overly annoying attempts at getting you to laugh during meetings with General Mon Mothma or other higher-ups.

You meant every word, every breath. If he tried to, now, he would find his family again.

“My time is for the rebellion, now,” he replied finally, sending you a soft smile into the console reflection. “Wherever they are, they’re safer without me,”

There was nothing you could say to make it better, nothing you could offer to give him even a shred of hope when you knew it was pointless. He was here, and they were elsewhere; that was the way he wanted it, as much as it pained him.

You remembered that perimeter search well. You dwelled on it often, mostly when Cassian was off world for missions and you weren’t in contact; or when he was pissing you off to oblivion that you wanted to blast him between the eyes.

But, upon every landing; every return to Crait that he graced you with; his hugs got even tighter.

When the Death Star hit Alderaan, he was away. You fretted, you cried in private, worried for his safety and whether the Empire would hit his planet next. But, when he returned, you were the first to sprint out to his ship.

He dropped himself from the cockpit, skipping over the last two ladder rungs, and almost tripping upon landing, as he scrambled to you— sprinting, full pelt, directly towards each other.

He dropped his helmet to the ground, unbothered, before you embraced with an unceremonious smack into each other.

“Thank the stars,” you whispered, only loud enough for him to hear. He laughed, but it wasn’t full of comedy; it was relief filled.

“Did you miss me?” He squeezed you harder.

“Shut up, Cassian.” You squeezed him harder right back, until you were just two rebels, standing in an almost empty landing bay, clutching onto the other like he was the very air that you needed to breathe.

On base, you would work around each other in the way giggling school kids would. He would come to the comms rooms just to ask you one question, before hitting you with a joke on his way out. You’d head to the Admiral’s quarters with a message to deliver, only to be hit by Cassian’s gleaming gaze as you entered the room.

He was higher-up than you, a Captain, hot shit. But he never looked down on you; not ever.

“Captain Andor,” you announced. He stood up straight from his position, leaned down, next to the Admiral.

“Lieutenant, how can I help?” He smiled at you jokingly. When formalities came into play, he loved chalking it up, making it worse. Purely because neither of you were like it behind closed doors.

“I’ve intercepted a relay from a close-by Destroyer. I think it’ll interest you to listen, considering we had a tip from someone on a planet close by about the defector,”

The Defector. An Imperial pilot that randomly decided to join the side of the rebellion. He’d been the talk of the Alliance since Alderaan had been hit.

“Good work, Lieutenant,” Cassian started rounding the circular table that separated you. “Tell me everything you’ve heard,” he stopped to peer down at you, smile on his face, before the two of you left for communications.

It wasn’t long after that when he left again. On another mission, out amongst the stars while you played the housewife, fixing the same coolant compartments over, and over again, and trying not to go crazy. You could count on one hand the months that you and Cassian had known each other, but that didn’t stop either of you from falling into the trap—

The trap of care and concern. In the rebellion, it was the worst trap of them all.

Against protocol, Cassian sent you message relays this time. Maybe it was due to everything feeling less stable, everything going to shit. The Death Star was in full flight; citizens were at war with their own minds, worrying about whether they’d be the next planet to be destroyed by the power of a dying star.

Jedha City, that’s where we’re going. Saw Gerrara is close, as is the defector. I’m with someone who’s very valuable to the cause, someone who can get us close to Gerrara. I’m safe. I miss you.

You read them at night, over, and over again. Every crumb and speck of communication that he could muster or even allow.

Jedha City, that’s where he, K-2SO, and this mystery helper were. His written words allowed you to imagine him, surrounded by sand, by the wind, by the ruins of old temples and all that sandstone that made up the planet, and the city itself— alone, yes— but also being him.

Cassian was brave, Cassian was fearless. He was born to be a rebel, and, despite his troubled upbringing, he was still kind. That was a good sign of his character.

“C-26,” your commander approached you one morning. You were alone in comms, choosing to stay during breakfast to get more done. The quiet was the only place where you weren’t reminded of Cassian. “A word?”

“Of course, Sir,” you swivelled on your chair to peer up at him.

“We just received news,” he started, but the tone of his voice shifted immediately. Your heart dropped. “Jedha City has been hit by the Death Star,”

Words couldn’t describe the jolt that slashed its way through your entire body.

“We haven’t received word from Andor or Kay-Two, but due to their mission parameters, their location was on world—,”

“Stop,” you let out harshly, trying to come to terms with the words he was saying. He stopped when you asked, standing up straight as he waited for you to reply. “You think they didn’t make it out, is that what you’re saying?”

“I just want you to prepare for the worst,” he replied sullenly. “That’s what I’m saying, C-26. I know you and Andor are close,”

“That’s irrelevant—,”

“No, it’s not,” he said strongly, taking you by surprise. “I’ve been at this outpost with you for close to two years, seen you when you’re bored stiff and wondering what the hell your purpose is,” you listened to his every word. “As soon as Cassian showed up, that all changed, don’t deny it,”

“I’m not,” you said defensively, standing up abruptly to face him, but there was part of you that had completely shut down.

This wasn’t the time where you needed someone else to confirm just how close you and Cassian were. This wasn’t the time where you needed someone to drill into you about the extent of your lonely, prior life on this outpost— only gleaming brighter after his very arrival.

You needed to raise your guard and focus on your breathing and not spill your guts all over the floor by your commander’s feet.

“We’ll find out in a few hours,” he added, finally. “Feel free to take some time.”

“With all due respect, Commander, I’d rather be so busy that my fingers go numb than sit in the silence of the landing bay and wait for him to come home.”

He nodded at you, taken aback by the power laced between your words.

“As you wish,” he said, softer this time. “Back to work, then, C-26,” he gulped after speaking, like he didn’t want to have the formality of it all right now. Not while you were tensing every muscle in your body to stop yourself from screaming, and he could see that pain written all over your face.

“Yes, Sir,” you breathed out as you sat back down, swivelling yourself back towards your screens. Your fingers got to work, and your commander disappeared once more.

You stayed at your desk for eighteen hours straight. You looked up images of the Death Star hitting Jedha City. You reached out to other bases to see if they had any updates themselves. You scanned the skies with radar until the clockwise motion of the visuals had fucked up your eyes for the night.

When you dozed, dreams finally took you.

You and Cassian are on a forest planet, somewhere that looks like Yavin and Sorgan combined. He looks younger, almost, less stressed by his years as a rebel. His clothes are clean. Gently, he turns to you as you both stroll through the lush greenery, sticking out his hand for you to take.

“Come,” he urges, as you slip your hand into his grasp. When he smiles, it’s like nothing can ever be wrong with the world. “I have to show you something,”

You follow him as he leads you to a clearing; large and built from limestone. It’s moss covered, dazzling in the sun rays as the vibrant green lights up the entire clearing. It’s soft, it’s warm, and you have Cassian’s hand in your own— there is nothing that could have made you happier.

“Here,” he says, tugging you forward with more excitement. You squeal as you stumble into him, but he simply repositions himself and holds you to his chest warmly.

You both look out over the horizon. You’re at the top of a cliff; steep and deadly should you fall; but quiet and beautiful where you’re stood. You see mountains on the horizon, snow-capped and covered by a subtle fog. The sun is setting as you breathe in sync, as Cassian gently drops his cheek onto the top of your head.

“This view,” he says. “This view reminds me of you,” you watch in silence, a warmth cascading through your gut, as the sky changes to a glowing red. “The colour red reminds me of you. Maroon, burgundy, whatever shade, it doesn’t matter. When I see something red, I think of you, wherever I am in the galaxy,”

You peer up at him, eyes glassy with emotion. “Red reminds me of you, too,” you admit. “The red of Ferrix bricks. The clay that makes up Rix Road. The maroon tinge of grease on your palms,” you pick up his hand softly, but it is spotless. “The luminescence of the whiskey that Maarva used to love. Bee’s paint job,” you list everything one by one, certain that you’re thinking on the spot, but there is an odd sense of Deja vu that falls over you.

Gently, smiling, he takes your chin into his hand, resting his thumb just below your bottom lip. His eyes skim every feature on your desperate face, every wrinkle and bump and scar and bruise. The sign of a rebel is etched on your skin, while he is completely perfect. The small scar above his eyebrow is gone. The collection of dirt stains from clay don’t litter his face.

He is perfect, but not his usual perfect. He is perfect in aesthetic ways, not in the ways that make Cassian; Cassian.

You suck in a breath as he starts to lean forward, softly, gently, your gut lurching within your body with the desire to absolutely crumble against the feel of his lips on your own.

“The red of the Death Star ray,” he whispers, just an inch from your face.

“What?” you gasp suddenly, tugging away ever so slightly.

“You remind me of that red, too,” he smiles at you so genuinely that you feel sick. “The red of the Death Star. The red of the Death Star that killed me,”

“Cassian—,” you stutter, pulling away from him. He’s still smiling, and you feel like you might vomit your guts upon the forest floor at any moment. “No,” you find your words. “You’re not my Cassian,”

“Here it is, now,” he says, turning back to the horizon. The sunset that once faced the sky has now been replaced— by an explosion the size of a small moon. Debris already litters the crater, as the impact of the ray heads in every direction on the planet.

You look at him, distraught, but he’s in some kind of trance.

“Look at that,” he breathes out, before turning back to you. “What a beautiful way to die.”

You woke up to beeping. Incessant and shrill, you shot up in your chair as you realised what had happened. You’d fallen asleep at your desk, drifted into dreams that were unable to replicate Cassian in person. Quickly, you shut off your systems. When the beeping stopped, you leaned back in your chair and tried not to think about how your fingers were shaking, how your heart was beating out of your chest.

Inhale. Shake. Exhale. Shake. Inhale. Shake. Exhale. Cry.

You wiped away a stray tear, not wanting your own subconscious to be your downfall. You wouldn’t let it, wouldn’t let it show. He had to be alive, somewhere out there, he had to still be completing this mission.

What a beautiful way to die.

You switched off the light by your desk, knowing it was time to call it a day. You wouldn’t be of help if you were sleep deprived. Hoisting yourself from your chair, you left communications glumly. Your back clicked when you stretched yourself out.

The bays were empty. You had no idea what time it was, but from the quiet of the outpost, you guessed everyone was in their dorms. Gently, you placed your hand on one of the X-wings in the bay. It was customary for pilots to swipe the noses of their ships before take-off, just for good luck, just for the hell of it.

You always oddly loved the way Cassian did it. Before every perimeter search or recon mission, the methodical way he so delicately placed his hand and dragged it against the smooth metal of his ship reminded you of the soft way he draped his arm around others; around you.

Oh, Maker, please let him be alive.

Back in your dorm, you didn’t sleep— but you still dreamt. You dreamt of him, of the real Cassian, not the one that had infiltrated your mind beforehand.

In the morning, a knock woke you from your dozing. As the door wooshed up, you were hit with the face of your commander. You saluted him immediately, standing to attention.

“Sir,”

“At ease,” he said breathlessly. He’d run all the way here. “There’s a call for you,”

“Sir?” you let out, but he was already smiling.

“It’s Cassian.”

The two of you sprinted to the control room, hearts in your throats. Your commander was older, but not by much. Your godparents had placed you under his command for a reason, and you knew this was one of those times. His softness was needed, as too was his formality and allegiance to the rebellion as a whole.

He cared; and that’s what mattered in the long run.

You rounded the corner to the control room and almost stumbled, but he grabbed your waist before you could trip. “Come on. He’s on the General’s frequency,”

The General’s frequency? This was a line solely reserved for Alliance Generals to talk to one another undisturbed. This was unheard of; Cassian was a Captain; you were a Lieutenant.

As you passed the control table, you slowed your breathing. A comm headset sat atop a desk, just waiting for you. Your commander stayed behind you, filling the room with a calmer energy. “Go on, C-26,” he urged, and you almost burst out laughing; from relief.

You peered back at him, sending him the softest smile you had within you. He reciprocated in full.

“I’ll leave you be,” he decided, before stepping back slowly. When the thud of his boots disappeared down the corridor, you finally allowed yourself to pick up the headset.

You slipped it on, feeling the pump of blood in your ears and the incessant beat of your heart as you prayed to the Maker. Then, you clicked the relay button.

“Cassian?” You whispered pathetically, but there was no other way around how you felt.

“Meu korazon,” his voice trickled over you like honey, in some language that you couldn’t identify. He’d called you it many times before—it was a long time joke that he never told you what it meant, but you still felt warm whenever the name cascaded over you. The relief in his tone is what got to you the most.

“What does that mean?” you asked, on the brink of tears. Cassian chuckled; it was a sound you loved.

“Nothing,” he let out, changing his tone. “I’m just happy to hear your voice. Meu korazon,” he repeated. You shut your eyes, trying not to utterly explode into tears. You’d never felt more relieved in your life, never been happier to hear someone’s voice.

“Where are you?”

“Yavin 4. We got off Jedha in time, just before the planet was destroyed,”

“We?”

“Me, Kay, and some stragglers we’ve picked up. The defector is with us, and two protectors of the temple from Jedha. And—,” he stopped, sucking in a deep breath. “Jyn Erso,”

“Erso?” You let out instinctually. Everyone knew of Galen Erso, Imperial weapons designer, the man responsible for the fucking Death Star.

“It’s complicated, not something that I can explain over a comm relay,” he admitted, and your heart sank. You knew things were escalating, knew missions were in place. You waited for orders to rally every single day, knowing that it was only a matter of time before a strike occurred on the Death Star.

“Are you coming back?” You whispered. “To Crait,”

He went silent for a moment, and you knew what his answer would be.

“No, I’m not,” he let out. Your heart broke, the blood rushed to your head. “You’re coming to Yavin 4 instead.”

The shuttle came for you as soon as possible. Your commander had set it up without question, knowing that it was time for you to get involved elsewhere. This wasn’t just about Cassian; it was about you. You packed in record speed, bringing the limited items that you owned and fitting them in one bag alone.

Before you left your dorm, you etched your name on the underside of the small desk in the corner. Others had done it too, names like Lynx 2BBY. You added yours, scribbling 0BBY next to it, knowing that you wouldn’t be coming back again. You had more purpose than this, more than working behind the scenes when you knew you were capable.

Cassian knew it too. Knew that you could do more; wanted to do more; to end this war once and for all.

You jumped on the shuttle before your commander, but he stopped by the hull door. You turned back, rucksack on your shoulder, and peered down at him. “You’re not coming, are you?” You knew. He shook his head with a small smile.

From this position, you were closer to his height now, basically the same. It felt odd, being able to look him in the eye fully; it also felt needed.

“There’s still work for me to do here,” he said finally.

It sunk in then that this might be the last time you saw him for a long time. Depending on how things went, depending on the mission at hand with Jyn Erso.

“Thank you,” you said. “For being the best commander to work beneath, and for being my friend,” you meant it.

“It’s been a pleasure,” he smiled, before saluting you once more. You saluted back strongly, before the hull door slowly rose, cutting you off from each other.

He waved as you took off, flying high above the outpost until you left the atmosphere.

You arrived at the hight of the meeting. Mon Mothma and Bail Organa were present, amongst others. The room was packed to the brim as you entered at the back, rising onto tiptoes to see better.

“There’s no choice but to retreat! The Empire will stop at nothing to ensure every base, every planet that we inhabit, is dead and gone—,”

“There’s a flaw!” A young woman spoke up, someone that you knew to be Jyn Erso. You stepped through two others, looking out into the light. The breath hitched in your throat when you saw Cassian next to her. “There’s a flaw planted specifically for this use. We need to gather a team and strike it while the iron is hot,”

“With all due respect, Gerrara and your father are dead, Erso,” Tynnra Pamlo spoke up softly, but with purpose. “How can we believe these claims? When there is so much at stake and our resources are already running so thin,”

“I can vouch for her,” Cassian stepped forward abruptly. You flinched as he did, his eyes skimming the crowd of higher-ups and rebels— until his gaze finally hit yours.

He stopped, going silent for a moment as a few sets of eyes hit yours from following his own. Jyn followed his gaze, too, and when her stare hit yours, her expression softened. Perhaps, Cassian had told her about you. He’d gone to all this trouble just to get you here; had called you over the General’s frequency to ensure that you knew he was alive and well. Had called you meu korazon, whatever that may mean.

My heart. My heart.

You smiled at her, before glancing back to Cassian.

“Go on, Captain,” Mon Mothma urged him, and the moment ended. “Continue.”

“I can vouch for Jyn,” Cassian repeated. “I was there, both on Jedha and on Eadu. I saw the hologram with my own eyes,”

“That’s all well and good, Captain, but there is no evidence. It’s been destroyed. We simply have no choice,” Vasp Vaspar chimed in, but he looked almost apologetic.

“You’re asking us to invade an Imperial installation based on nothing but hope,” Pamlo spoke up again, looking directly at Jyn. Jyn smiled sadly, strongly.

“Rebellions are built on hope.”

It wasn’t enough.

“So, it is decided,” Pamlo spoke again. “We will scatter our fleet, retreat to safer planets, hide away— until we are strong enough to fight back against their weapon,”

“No— please, Senator—,” Jyn persisted, but Pamlo held up her hand.

“All those in favour of retreating?”

The majority put their hands up. The room fell silent.

“It is done.” Pamlo left first, followed by the scattering of cadets and rebels.

You fought against the dissipating sea of people to get to him. Cassian caught your eye, pointing to the door, so you followed the rest of the gaggle back to the landing bays. Your heart was in your throat when you made it out, glancing and scanning over all the pilots, mechs, and techs that left the meeting with upset frowns on their faces.

When Cassian emerged, he pushed himself through the crowd and broke into a run immediately.

“Cassian—,” you breathed out, but the air was ripped from your lungs when he bombarded you into an embrace. He held you for a long moment, so hard that you could feel his heart as it pumped in his body, syncing up with your own. “Thank the stars,” you let out from relief; a saying that you’d said to him so many times before, on missions where he almost hadn’t made it home.

“Did you miss me, meu korazon?” He whispered, only loud enough for you to hear.

“I always miss you,” gently, he brought his hand to the back of your head, stroking your hair softly. You nuzzled your cheek into the nook between his shoulder and neck, breathing him in.

This felt different. They said that distance made the heart grow fonder, but you and Cassian weren’t like normal people. Perhaps it was the threat of death that kept you so close, the worry that one of you might never return when they left. Either way, it had come to this. You thanked the Maker for him.

When he pulled away, he raised his hand to your cheek. You smiled; before punching him in the stomach swiftly.

“Hey!” He yelped.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not die?” You exclaimed.

“I didn’t!”

“You almost did!” You pointed at him threateningly.

“But— I didn’t,” he said, straightening himself out as his surprised tone mellowed. He smirked at you, but you shot him with a look of fire.

“Don’t you dare make that face at me,”

“What face? This is just my face,”

“You know exactly what face I mean, hot shot. That little smirk,” you imitated the smirk. “Like you know everything, like you’ve just thrown an insult at me and are proud of yourself,”

“Have I ever told you that you look beautiful when you’re angry?”

You almost swallowed your tongue, stepping back and immediately feeling your ears go boiling hot at his comment. You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way his gaze was eating you up inside. It skimmed down your body and all the way up again, divulging all your secrets within seconds.

“No, you haven’t,” you almost spat it out, knowing that the heat was growing onto your cheeks as well. “You should more often, you piece of Bantha shit,”

His smirk turned into a full grin, which then prompted chuckles to burst from his lips. You rolled your eyes at him, pissed off and flattered and wanting him all at the same time.

“I hate you, I swear,” you said through clenched teeth. A lie.

“Don’t swear it. You know you don’t hate me, meu korazon,”

“Tell me what that means,” you uncrossed your arms, stepping closer to him again. “Tell me, Cassian.”

He sucked in a deep breath, and suddenly the roles had shifted. His ears got warm; his cheeks went rouge. He kissed his teeth as he accepted this; he had to tell you the truth after so many months.

“It means—,”

“It means cooler than him,” Jyn spoke up suddenly, approaching you both gently. “Because you are definitely cooler than him,” she said, and you couldn’t help but smile. She stuck her hand out to you gently, which you took happily. “Everything he’s told me about you has been good,”

“I should hope so,” you joked, as the two of you looked back at Cassian. He looked awkward, or caught out, or both.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” his voice trailed off, as he placed his hands on his hips and looked uncomfortably around the bay.

Eventually, others gathered. You were introduced to Bodhi, the defector, a scrawny pilot with a big heart; Chirrut and Baze, the temple protectors; a few others who wanted Jyn’s plan to be set in motion. It was clear that they’d all been through a lot— Jedha, Eadu—and now their want to do something good had been denied.

Throughout the solemn chat, you stuck by Cassian’s side. At one point, he placed his hand on the small of your back, peering down at you like you were pure gold. This was the Cassian that you adored— tired, but still fighting. There was dirt on his forehead and some dark circles under his eyes, but he still looked perfect.

“I knew they wouldn’t believe you,” he said to Jyn, peering down at the floor with his hand on his hip, the other on you. Gently, you wrapped your arm around his back, too, just so he knew you were there.

Jyn stepped forward, a look like fire on her face. “Thanks for the support,” she said stubbornly. Cassian met her eye.

“But I do,” he said strongly. “We do,”

Men and women gathered, over thirty of them, all ready to stand up and fight for the cause that they believed in. When Cassian spoke, you held onto his every word. He was impossible not to listen to, impossible not to go utterly silent whenever a speech erupted itself from his mouth.

Jyn approached you and Cassian after it was decided; they would all fight.

“I’m not used to people sticking around,” Jyn smiled, a smile that you knew to be genuine. She turned to you gently.

“Welcome home,” you let out.

What ensued was a heist of epic proportions. You helped Bodhi locate a stray passenger lander, watched as he powered it up, checked the fuel gage and coolant compartment. You sat in the co-pilot seat, going through checks.

“I thought you were in communications?” Bodhi asked somewhat frantically. He had a rapid way of talking, but he was sweet.

“I am,”

“Then how do you know so much about ships? Do you pilot as well?” you scoffed at his question.

“In the Alliance, we’re all all-rounders, truthfully. But—after my parents died—I wasn’t allowed to fly anymore,” you admitted.

“Why?” you shrugged, sad whenever you remembered your godparents taking that away from you.

“My guardians when I was growing up, they just want to protect me. I just wish—I wish that they’d realise I’m good for more than this,”

“This is legendary,” Bodhi said suddenly. “Hijacking an Alliance lander, going to Scarif for the Death Star plans. This is what someone like you was made for,” you knew you’d only just met him, but your heart reached out to him.

You placed your hand on his forearm, nodding at him in appreciation.

“Thanks, Bodhi.” You smiled at him, eyes glassy.

“This is what I’ve been saying for almost a year,” Cassian’s arrival made you flinch. You swivelled around to meet his gaze, looking at him knowingly as he peered down at you proudly. “You’ve always been capable of so much more, but you’ve been held back your entire life,”

“Who are your guardians? Are they here?” Bodhi asked. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“They’re both Admirals,” you confessed. “They’re not posted in this system, they’re elsewhere, but,” you glanced back at Cassian, shooting his own smirk back at him. “What they don’t know, won’t hurt them,”

Cassian pointed at you, leaning down affectionately, and bringing his fingers to hold you by the chin. His thumb rested just below your bottom lip; just like the dream; but this was real.

“This is why I love you,” he said lowly. Bodhi turned away with an awkward smile on his face.

“Tell me what meu korazon means, you coward,”

“Not until you ask nicely,” Cassian joked, shifting his thumb ever so slightly upwards, so it was swiping against your lip. You fought the urge to smash your face onto his; he was so close, it would be easy, and he’d definitely expect it. “You’re looking at my lips, meu korazon,” he whispered, and you all too late realised that you had been staring at his mouth.

It was hard not to.

“Because I’m waiting for you to tell me what it means,” you lied.

“I’ll go find Jyn—the ship is ready to fly,” Bodhi said quickly, removing himself from the cockpit as soon as possible. Cassian laughed to himself, a knowing laugh that radiated through every pore in your body.

“I forgot he was still there, truthfully,” Cassian let out. You held your breath with embarrassment, falling into him ever so slightly.

“We’re awful people,”

“We’re only human, you can’t blame us,”

“I can, and I will blame us,” you chuckled out, bobbing your shoulders softly with built up laugher. You had to bring a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from giggling to oblivion.

“Hey,” Cassian said, annoyed suddenly. “Don’t do that,” he grabbed your hand gently and pulled it away from your mouth, holding it in his own. “I was about to kiss you, that’s just not fair,”

He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. Your heart jolted beneath your ribcage, lurching forward so quickly that you’re surprised you didn’t kiss him as soon as his words had stopped being spoken. He was looking at you like you were gold, like you were the red of the sunset that both of you loved, the maroon clay that laid beneath the salt on Crait, where you’d both met all those months before.

“Tell me what meu korazon means, and you can kiss me all you like,” you whispered, giving him an ultimatum. He let out a soft huff, peering down at the floor as an excuse to lay his forehead on yours.

His hand wound its way onto your cheek, his thumb swiping there instead.

“You’re impossible,” he let out. You shut your eyes, feeling the strength in his arms as you laid your hands on his biceps, just to hold him as he squatted on the floor by the co-pilot chair.

“That’s why you love me,”

“I do,” you opened your eyes. “I really do,” he admitted. “My heart. It means—you’re my heart, meu korazon.”

My heart, my heart. How many times had he called you it? He’d started after a trip where his cover had been blown. He’d come home, beaten and bruised to within an inch of his life. You cared for him for days, fussing over him in the med-bay, reading him books as he lay in bed.

That’s when he’d called you it for the first time, all those months ago. Since then, you’d asked around about it. What language it could be, if anyone knew what it meant, since Cassian had been so against telling you every time you’d asked.

Now you knew why. He’d been waiting for to realise it, waiting for you to understand that you were his heart, his body, his love.

You kissed him before you lost your nerve. It felt like coming home. It was everything you’d ever wanted and more. He was soft, but you felt the fire within him. One that started in both of your guts and grew outwards, overtaking every sense and controlling your every move.

When you pulled away, you took the time to indulge in the way he looked. A deer in headlights, flushed, breathing heavily.

“If you’d told me that sooner, I would have kissed you sooner,” you let out, a few chuckles escaping alongside the words.

“We’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he smiled, holding you close.

You both stayed like that for a while, laughing subtly at the fact you’d finally done it—you and Cassian had finally told each other the truth, spilled your guts upon the floor for each other, felt the other in a way that you’d both so desperately wanted behind closed doors.

When the shuttle engine started, all of you held your breath.

“Cargo shuttle, read back, please. What’s going on out there?” the control tower spoke through the pilot comms. Jyn approached Bodhi, squatting by his side to hear better. “That ship’s off limits, no one’s supposed to be on board until further instructions,”

Bodhi clicked the relay. “Uh—yes, yes, we are. Affirmative,”

“That’s an impounded Imperial ship. What’s your call-sign, pilot?”

Bodhi looked to Jyn, stuttering over his words. You watched her mouth we have to go, while Bodhi continued to struggle with what to answer.

“Say something,” Jyn whispered, fierce. “Come on,”

Bodhi exhaled shakily. “Rogue,” he glanced around for approval. “Rogue One,”

“Rogue One? There is no Rogue one,”

K-2SO switched on the radar scanner, evidently running out of patience. “Well, there is now,”

The shuttle took off abruptly, rising into the sky as fast as Bodhi and K2 could get it off the rebel base. As soon as you left the atmosphere, you were punched into hyperspace. You stood with Cassian by the cockpit, watching the blue lights of lightspeed cover the ship windshield.

You were going into the belly of the beast, right into the enemy’s hands, but you’d never felt more part of something.

Flying through Scarif’s shield was up there as the scariest moment of your life, but still you all persisted. Cadets in the back got on their gear and checked their blasters, dusting off their helmets and preparing themselves both mentally and physically for what was about to come.

Upon landing, Cassian took you aside gently.

“I need you to stay here,” he explained. “We need someone on the ground with Bodhi while Jyn and I find the data inside. It’s too risky having more of us inside the building,”

“Okay,” you said, just so he knew you understood. Gently, he placed a communicator into your hand, wrapping your fingers around it slowly.

“For you and me. You need me, you call me,” he whispered. Once again, this was not allowed, but he was doing it for you.

All of a sudden, everything hit you all at once. He was leaving, the same way he did every time he took off from Crait outpost and went off world. He was leaving, and he may not come back this time. Really not come back this time.

You peered up at him with all your strength, widening your eyes to get across every fibre of your love for him, everything.

“Come back to me, Cassian.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he laid his hand on your cheek. “I promise,”

“Because, I swear, I’ll kill you otherwise. I really will,” you let out, stuttering over your word and trying not to crumble completely.

Cassian leant forward and kissed you simply—as if it was the most normal thing he could ever do. When he pulled away, that fucking smirk was on his face again. The one you loved to hate, but dreamt about when he wasn’t around.

“What a beautiful way to die, meu korazon.” he said.

And then, he was gone.

And all hell broke loose.

First, it was the troopers. There were so many of them, all with their blasters firing. You stayed with Bodhi in the ship while cadets fought them outside, knowing that you needed to be here for the transmission of the plans. It was essential.

Then, it was the walkers. They bombarded over the landing bays and destroyed ships and people alike. Smashing their bulking feet down upon the ground without so much as a second glance.

Chirrut and Baze were dead. You struggled to breathe.

Come on, Cassian.

Bodhi had sent distress signals to all branches of the galaxy, praying for rebels to arrive. It was a call to action, a cry for help. You needed all the help you could get, as the war raged outside and you focused on not losing your cool.

“Bodhi!” you screamed, just so he could hear you. You were sat at the secondary comms, heart in your throat at what you were hearing. The tears came faster than you could have imagined. “They’re here! They heard us!”

Above Scarif’s shield entrance, two dozen rebel ships had arrived. They were there to help, there to answer your call. Bodhi grabbed his comm immediately, knowing what to do.

“Rogue One to the Rebellion!” he yelled.��

“This is Admiral Raddus to Rogue One!”

“Raddus, they have the plans. They found the Death Star plans. They have to transmit them from the communications tower! You have to take down the shield gate, it’s the only way we’re gonna get them through!” he spoke quickly, efficiently, and for a moment you allowed yourself to feel relieved.

“Pull up a hammerhead corvette—I have an idea. Stand by Rogue One, we’re on it!” Raddus replied. Bodhi bowed his head in thanks.

After the battle for the past hour, the fear of death from every trooper and walker and higher up on this godforsaken planet, you were hopeful—you were hopeful.

“This is for you, Galen,” Bodhi whispered to himself. It was go time.

“Bodhi, we need to tell Cassian—,”

“Grenade!” he yelled over you, as the tinker of metal upon the hull of the ship alerted you both to the danger.

You had seconds to live.

You did the first thing you could think of; you clipped a blaster to you hip and jumped out of the shuttle; right before it exploded and blasted into a thousand pieces. You fell onto the sand of the landing pad, covering your head and ignoring the agonising sting of burns on your back.

All around you, troopers and cadets lay dead on the floor. Debris littered the sand. The once beautiful seclusion of the bay, surrounded by swinging palm trees, had been obliterated.

And Bodhi. Bodhi lay, burning, on the hull of the destroyed and on fire wreckage of Rogue One.

It was hard to hope for the best when all you wanted to do was join him. You felt the guilt first, then the grief, then the excruciating pain of all the losses you’d endured. You knew what you’d signed up to, knew this was always inevitable, but that didn’t stop you from feeling broken.

When you moved, your skin burned. But still, you moved. You moved into the tree line, into the last of the greenery that surrounded you. You think your mother would have done the same, and your father; hidden in the foliage; made friends with the leaves as you focused on not dying.

You gulped down the pain, knowing that you needed medical attention; badly. It would have to wait.

You grabbed the communicator Cassian gave you and turned it on. You clicked the relay.

“Cassian,” you croaked. “Cassian—everyone’s dead,” you said, not even knowing if he was listening on the other end.

Static was all you were met with, until he finally replied.

“I know,” was all he said. “So is Kay-Two. But, you are alive,”

“And you,” you said bluntly, struggling to be emotive when your energy was all but gone. “I’m trapped, at the landing pads. There are walkers, and—there were troopers—Bodhi. He’s—,” you stuttered through the words, trying to hold it together.

“Use that big brain of yours,” he urged you forward. “I know you can get out, meu korazon. Through the shield gate, back to the Rebellion,”

“Not without you,” the tears came thick and fast as you realised what was happening. “Where are you, my love?” you struggled to get it out.

“We’re at the communication tower. Krennic—he got me with his blaster,” you stifled a sob. “We’re waiting now, for the shield to go down. We’re so close,”

You allowed yourself to picture the perfect outcome: Raddus manages to open the shield gate, allowing the Rebellion into the atmosphere. They blast away the last of the enemy, kill Krennic where he stands, destroy their ships and leave them marooned on the planet to rot.

You find a ship and pick up Jyn and Cassian from atop the tower. They crawl into your ship and fall to the ground, hugging, safe, while you fly them far away from this god-awful place—back home; back to Yavin 4.

You kiss Cassian a thousand times; you kiss him until your lips go numb and your belly hurts from all the laughter that he causes to burst from within you. He touches you softly and warmly, keeping you safe while also letting you roam free; the way you’ve always wanted to live.

You destroy the Death Star. You destroy the Empire, together. Alive.

“Okay,” you said, shutting your eyes and dispelling the last of your cold tears. You sucked in a shaking breath, forcing yourself to stand. “I’m finding a ship and getting off this fucking planet. And then—I’m coming back for you, Cassian. I will always come back,”

“Meu korazon, I know,”

His comms cut off. You forced yourself to move.

You blasted your way through the last trooper stragglers, going from landing pad to landing pad, looking for a ship. When you found one, you thanked the Maker within your heart. Somewhere deep down, you let yourself rejoice.

Just this once. Only for a second.

You’re working on autopilot when you entered the beat-up lander, praying that the engine is still usable. It stopped and stuttered to life, while you worked on powering up the comms systems. The static pinged abruptly, and you fiddled with the frequency knob until you could hear Admiral Raddus.

“Admiral, this is—,” you stopped. You didn’t know what to say. “I’m on landing pad four. How is the shield gate plan going?”

“Tell me your call-sign, Lieutenant,” he pushed you, replying over the static. You sat in the pilot seat, looking out the dirtied windshield.

“Rogue Two,” you made it up on the spot. It was fitting.

“Rogue Two, copy. Look at the sky,” he said knowingly.

You leaned forward, looking at the sky above. The blue haze of the shield gate had all but disappeared, after a Star Destroyer had crashed directly through it. It was still falling—in that slow motion sort of way that is both menacing and beautiful.

“They did it,” you whispered, but your comms were still on.

“The plans are being transmitted and uploaded as we speak, Rogue Two,” he announced. You thanked him, before clicking off your relay and got to piloting.

Before you could think, you took off in you ship. Quickly, you headed to the tower. If they were still up there, there was a chance that you’d be able to pick them up. You prayed, you hoped, you dreamed.

Cassian.

“Cassian,” you said over yours and his comm. “I’m in an Imperial lander, circling the tower. Where are you?”

Only static came from the communicator.

“Cassian, come in,” you urged, as tears fell from your distressed eyes.

Nothing.

“Cassian!” you shouted, you screamed, you raged.

“Rogue Two—get out of there!” Admiral Raddus exclaimed over your ship comm. “They’re here. The Death Star is here,”

You ceased to breathe. On the horizon, you saw it. Hulking, large, a sickly shade of grey and the size of a fucking planet as it loomed over everything. It covered the sun, casting a shadow over the entire planet.

“Rogue Two, that’s an order!” another voice came over your comms, but it wasn’t Raddus. “Don’t you dare disobey your commander,”

“Commander?” you replied, eyes still glued to the horizon as you circled the tower for a third time.

“The shield gate is down. Leave the atmosphere, Rogue Two. Now,” he pleaded, and you wanted to rip the control console before you. You wanted to destroy every scrap of metal, every bolt, every button, and scanner that resided in this grim ship.

You only wanted him. You needed him.

“I can’t, Sir,” you croaked.

“Yes, you can,” he urged. You could picture his face, concerned and worried and on the brink of a meltdown in his X-wing, up in the stars. “Yes, you can!” he exclaimed again, shouting at you full pelt.

With every wasted second, the Death Star was gaining power and would soon blow. It would destroy the planet in minutes, seconds. Immediately.

“Please,” he let out. “You have so much more to do in this life.”

You grimaced when you left the tower, heading for the upper atmosphere. You could see the collection of rebel ships, above the destroyed shield gate. Admiral Raddus, Bail Organa, your commander. They were all here—they’d all responded and helped.

You didn’t say a word as you entered space, letting the darkness encase you. You ignored the stars; the stars weren’t the same without him here. They would never be.

You blocked out the frantic comm relays from your ears. Something about Vader himself, something about the plans still uploading—nothing about Cassian. You turned off your comms altogether; you would follow the rebels back to base when you saw them jump into hyperspace; but this time was for you and Cassian.

Picking up your communicator, you looked down at the planet beneath you. Somewhere, Cassian was still down there. Jyn was still down there.

“Cassian,” you tried again, hating the sound of the static after each word. “Cassian,” your voice wobbled, your tears started to fall again. “My love, I need you. You said, if I needed you, to call you. I’m calling you, Cassian. I need you,”

The air shifted when the Death Star fired on Scarif.

You watched in horror as the initial blast slowly erupted, crumbling the crust of the planet as if it were nothing but a piece of paper that had been stabbed by a sharp lead pencil.

“Do you see it, meu korazon?” Cassian’s voice croaked over the comm. You almost vomited up your heart. “The colour of the sky. It’s red, but still soft. It reminds me of you,”

You bit away the want to scream.

“Describe it to me,”

“The skies used to look like this when I was a boy—on Kenari. They were so soft, so red, casting a glow over our forests and reflecting off the waxy leaves that we used to build our homes,” his voice was beautiful. You memorised every syllable and note and croak that he could muster. “My sister would clap at the sunset, every night. It happened so fast. One minute, the sky was still blue, the next a pale pink, and then—you,”

“Me?” you sniffed through your tears. You couldn’t see properly.

“You. That shade of maroon, the deep kind. The kind that warms you. The kind that I see whenever I close my eyes. You,”

The explosion was spreading fast, forcing the water from the vast ocean of the planet in all directions.

“Where are you, my love?” you asked. You wished you hadn’t.

“On the beach, meu korazon. It’s beautiful. I’m with Jyn,”

“Good,” your voice shook.

The first of the rebel ships flew into hyperspace around you. Time was up.

“Cassian,” you wobbled. “I love you,”

“I know,” he said, huffing slightly. “I’ve loved you since you dropped that data pad and scrambled on the floor to pick up the buttons,”

“Meu korazon,” you stuttered out.

“Meu koraz—,” the communicator went dead.

All you could hear was static, the ugly kind, the kind that made you want to vomit up your heart and use it to drive the ship home.

“Cassian?” you shut your eyes, feeling every muscle in your body give up. The air was ripped from your lungs. “Cassian!” you let out a scream so shrill it could’ve curdled cream.

Below you, the last of the planet was being destroyed. The crust crumbled like breadcrumbs, scattering out into the stars, while the core lay slowly dying. The light of a dying planet—it was maroon.

Just like him.

Admiral Raddus’ ship blasted into hyperspace quickly, so you had no choice but to follow. There were only a few ships left now, including the looming Star Destroyer on the horizon that you knew wasn’t the ally.

You blinked away your tears, punching your ship into hyperspace as you collapsed onto the console. You wept, you cried so badly that your throat went red raw. The communicator was flush in your palm, cutting off the blood circulation and turning your knuckles white all the while.

You could no longer dream.

When you returned to base, you didn’t speak for four days. You went back to work, helping Mon Mothma with a statement and planning the first stages of the attack on the Death Star. Despite doing it without words, Mon Mothma still chose to rank you up.

Captain. You were a Captain now, just like he was.

“Congratulations, Captain,” your commander approached you in the comms room. You were alone, but you preferred it that way. He was staying on Yavin 4 until rebels were needed at Crait once again.

He saluted you, and you silently laughed, allowing yourself a small smile.

“How does it feel, hm?” he sat next to you, smiling at you sullenly.

You said nothing, still not comfortable with the sound of your voice after you listened to it for so long—screaming, wailing—a few days prior. It made you feel sick.

When you didn’t reply, your commander shuffled to find something in his pocket. “I thought I’d bring these for you. He was always leaving his stuff around, you know? His dorm was next to mine, and it was gross,”

Gently, he dangled Cassian’s dog tags before you. He never wore them, there was no point when he was always on recon missions. It would be a dead giveaway. You sucked in a deep breath as he slowly lowered them into your palms. They were cold, freezing cold, like they’d been left in the snow for days. You instinctually warmed them with your fingers. Turning them over, you read his name.

Captain Cassian Andor.

You were speechless, and not just because you’d decided not to talk for days on end. There were no words that would be thanks enough for what your commander had just given you. You had nothing of Cassian’s, nothing to remember him by, until now.

Gently, you skimmed your fingers over the metal over and over again, furrowing your brows when the tears started to well behind your eyes.

You looked up at your commander. “Thank you,” it burst from your lips, a coarse whisper, but words, nonetheless. He smiled.

“There she is. I was starting to miss her,” he said fondly.

He left you to have some time, smiling as he exited the communication bay. You exhaled shakily as you finally put them around your neck. They were cold when you shoved them beneath your shirt, resting them over your heart.

This was the Alliance. The Rebellion. And Cassian had fought valiantly for what he believed in. An excellent pilot, a stellar fighter, the man you loved and who loved you back. It seemed only fitting that he would return to the sky, where he came from.

Scattered amongst the stars forevermore.

Meu korazon.

283 notes · View notes

anarchiii · 5 months ago

Text

Baby, I’m yours —ACOTAR AU

Oneshot | warnings: angst, brief mentions of Amarantha, pregnancy | Azriel x Y/N

Summary; UTM was hard for everyone, but especially for Azriel and Y/N. Mainly Y/N.

Note: this is an AU it’s not in the books.

Masterlist

Disclaimer: let’s just say the curse for UDM got broken wayyyy sooner, okay? Gotta make the timeline work somehow!

Y/N’s POV

The Summer winds blew through her unbound hair, her nearly see-through white dress blowing with it, the jingles of the windcharms mimicking the sounds her seashell jewellery made, it was the perfect Summer day. Nearly perfect.

It would’ve been complete if her love came up behind her, his beautiful scarred hands wrapping around her waist, caressing the ever-growing bump over her stomach, waiting for a small kick that would greet him. His whisky eyes lighting up in delight and in adoration.

But it was only her fair, un-marred hands that brushed over their babe, it was only herself that felt those little kicks, it was only her. She banished those thoughts. But they would only disappear for so long, they would be back, occasionally causing her to throw up in the middle of the night or burst into tears, knowing her mate, her Azriel would not be there to comfort her, might never be there. She had Nuala there at least. Though her company was appreciated, it was not the same.

Y/N knew Nuala was just as sad as her, the wraith distraught that she was not with her sister, who was trapped Under The Mountain with Rhysand, her Highlord, her friend. Brother even.

She knew the bare bones of what had gone on UDM, but whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t good, not with Amarantha involved, Y/N had been young when the War had begun. Barely forty seven.

She had worked as a Healer for Day Court, so it was a surprise when one of their soldiers brought in a wounded Cassian, claiming it was too risky to try and bring him to his own Healers. Y/N had been inclined to agree when she saw the male’s guts hanging out. His and other’s blood covering him, so she had healed him, and watched as he went back into battle a mere five hours later. His wounds still an angry red. She had healed him multiple times over the War, eventually tending to Rhysand, the Heir to Night Court.

It was only when the War ended and Rhysand was high lord that she saw him again, when he visited her in Day to thank her for her saving them, offering her a job as a Healer, working alongside Madja. Their personal Healer.

Over the years she had healed all of their wounds, eventually getting to know them better, becoming friends with them. It was a few years later that she had been assigned as Rhysand’s Shadowsinger’s personal Healer, as the male was wounded far more often than his brothers, Y/N had come to love them all deeply. But found her love for Azriel was deeper, four years of courtship later—and she was married to him.

Two more years later and the mating bond snapped.

Though, with the years passing by, Y/N found that Diplomacy was more her thing, her new found family supporting her passion completely, so she hung up her Healer’s coat once more and did not pick it up again. Instead taking on the role of The Night Court’s emissary.

It worked well for her as she and Azriel left home and came back at relatively the same time.

It was only when she had been seen to Summer Court by Rhysand that things turned sour, it had all been going well, she had been discussing with the High Lord about a trade when they had received news of Amarantha’s return, and that her High Lord had been captured, she had gotten the quick explanation from him, but she had not been able to winnow home fast enough before everyone in Velaris was trapped in their city and that no outsiders could come in or out. Including her.

Y/N sighed as she let the cool breeze calm her skin, strands of her hair coming undone and dancing in the wind.

Tensions had been high between the Courts, mostly because most of them didn’t have their High Lord’s to oversee everything, most were trapped UTM by Amarantha, the Spring Court especially.

So here she was, surrounded by people but more lonely than she had ever been before, praying to the Mother that she and Azriel would reunite, it didn’t matter if it happened in the middle of War, she just wanted to see him, to feel him, if only for an hour.

Months later

“I want Azriel,” Y/N sobbed, gripping Nuala’s hand tight, her palms clammy, “I know, I know,” the Summer Court healer—Rosalie— cooed, she tried breathing in and out. Tried doing anything to calm down.

Ten months into her pregnancy and she was more than ready to have her baby, but she wished Azriel was by her side, his shadows cooling her sweaty skin, his touch soothing every possible nerve. But he was not here. It was only Nuala.

It had killed her to learn that with the protection spell Rhysand had put upon his court, it had caused her bond with Azriel to be shut off, forced to suffer without the communication bridging them, she knew it wasn’t Rhys’ fault for it, it still hurt though.

Propped up on pillows, Y/N breathed in sharply as another contraction happened, she had to be getting close now, they were lasting up to 50-65 seconds every few minutes, though it had been many years. She still knew much of her time as a Healer. She had delivered several children over the years, how hard could delivering one herself be?

A few years Later

“Ma! Look!” Calian shrieked—her son, Azriel’s son,—proudly showing off a drawing of two stick figures, a little boy and a woman. “It’s me and you!” He chirped. His voice utterly jubilant, it was just them in the picture, no sign of his father, though, Y/N would’ve been surprised if he was in the painting seeing as Calian only knew of his father through tales she had told him at bedtime. Stories of barely made victories. Of challenges and hardships that were overcame, of cities levelled and cities made, all about Azriel.

“It’s beautiful, Cali,” Y/N whispered, tears threatening to fall, oh how she wished her son knew his father.

Years later

Tensions were high UTM, Tamlin had not been able to break the curse with his human girl, Rhysand was still forced to warm Amarantha’s bed, everyone was still stuck in Velaris, not a word of Azriel’s wellbeing.

Amarantha had started executing more innocents as of late, mainly those in Summer for their High Lord’s defiance, it was horrible, she could not walk down the street without fearing she would be the next to be slain, or her son, Calian was six now, he still did not know much about the mighty warrior that was his father. The warriors that were his uncles. The Firedrake that was his aunt, the sun incarnate that was his other auntie, it was cruel, a different type of torture to the one Clare Beddor had apparently took place in. Taking the role of main character in that movie.

The next month, word spread that Tamlin’s love had survived and not only that but had faced Amarantha herself, slaying her, only on those moments after hearing the news had she let that familiar feeling of hope take root in her heart. She had not lost hope ever. But it had become rarer to recognise it.

But still, that lovely bond tying her to Azriel did not open, did not make a sound, dead silent as it had been for so long, too long.

Y/N felt it, felt the moment those protective wards trapping her in Summer dropped, felt the very moment the mating bond became a different sort of silence, a silence she loved, a silence she had mated, Azriel. Y/N didn’t waste any time. She grabbed Calian from his bed, protesting but allowing her to wake him, she didn’t bother packing her bags as she summoned Nuala and immediately grabbed the Wraith’s hand, she knew Nuala had felt it too.

She winnowed them into Velaris, into the house of wind—the wards open for whatever reason—on the huge balcony, Nuala immediately let go of her and disappeared, presumably looking for her sister, her twin.

Calian asleep in her arms, she warily walked into the house, faelights greeted her with a small bobbing motion before she saw Rhysand and Morrigan, the latter choked on a sob as she spotted Y/N, opening her arms to her before she spotted her son, Y/N met eyes with Rhys over Mor’s shoulder. His? He seemed to ask. She nodded once, a small smile creeping on his exhausted face as he looked at his nephew, his throat bobbing once. Pain so clearly evident on his face.

She heard the mighty beats of wings from behind her and she turned around to find Azriel already running for her, his wings not even finished moving, he reached her in a few moments, his hands immediately on her face, searching for any wounds, any marks that weren’t there before.

His whiskey eyes landed on his son, immediately softening, he looked at her as if in conformation, she nodded, just like she had done with Rhys, her mate’s smile was of something Y/N had never seen before. It was as bright as Starfall and just as beautiful.

Calian opened his eyes then, the same shade as Azriel’s, she was about to cry from the sight and it seemed her mate was going to aswell.

Things weren’t perfect right now and they probably wouldn’t be for a long time or perhaps never, but, right now, there was no place she would rather be.

All those years of praying and wishing to the Mother, The Cauldron, anything, had finally payed off, her son could finally meet his father, and hear all of his heroic stories from him.

And best of all, she would now wake up to a bed that was not empty, that was not cold, she had missed him dearly.

Y/N silently vowed as she watched her mate brush the raven black hair from her son’s face that she would never let him go again, never again.

The End.

Note: written with the help of my lovely friend, @cynthiesjmxazrielslover 🫶

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