Thank you for the prompt! Caretaking is my jam and I was inspired by what I was eating for dessert. Hope you like it. đ
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Jyn dragged the metal chair towards his bed with a purposeful screech, aware that he was actually awake. She knew by now the pattern of his breaths and the loose curve of his jaw whenever he was sleeping. He knew she knew. So he didnât even bother pretending and just turned his eyes towards her, like this was just another boring afternoon in the Yavin IV medward.
She was fine. Two weeks of bonesetters and bacta had healed cracked ribs and smoothed over burned skin. He, of course, had almost died.
And he wasnât eating.
So she brought the bundle she had dragged in with her to her lap and spread the cloth apart, showing the bright orange fruits she had found in crates in a corner of the hangar. The citric smell filled her nostrils and made her mouth water as she took one in her hand and started peeling it using her blunt nails. Cassian watched her, silently, nostrils flaring whenever he caught a whiff of their fragrance.
âThese were my favorite,â she started saying, âwhenever Saw brought me here as a kid.â
She had already admitted to him that her being brought over from Wobani hadnât been her first time at the Massassi Great Temple. He had been shocked, had wracked his brain for any memory of her but not found any.
âI like them, too,â he offered, voice still raspy from the tubes that had been shoved down his throat so he could breathe in those hazy days before the Death Star was destroyed.
She used her legs to bring the chair closer, to make sure he smelled the oil that would spray minutely into the air every time she ripped into the fruitâs skin. She tossed the peels aside and pulled apart a small section, shoving it into her mouth.
âForce, itâs been ages since Iâve had them,â Jyn sighed, chewing around the words as she spoke them.
She let juice dribble onto her chin on purpose and made quick work of the first one of the Yavin tangerines. Cassianâs eyes were on her mouth and she felt just a teensy bit smug, nails digging into the peel of the second fruit. She ate it in silence, spitting out whatever seeds there were, rubbing her hands together, making sure the smell lingered in the air.
He huffed a laugh. And then winced because it hurt his ribs.
âI know what youâre doing.â
âI never thought you didnât.â
The corner of his mouth lifted, a fleeting thing.
âCome here,â he said.
Jyn got up, holding on to the tangerines, and sat on the bed. Â She reached out and brushed his hair away from his forehead, feeling for his temperature in a way that made him roll his eyes. He stopped her hand, took it in his and tugged her down to him.
His lips tasted like bacta. Hers, of tangerine juice.
âIâll have one if youâll take the seeds out,â he whispered against her mouth.
âVery well, Captain.â
Tag: Cassian Andor
1. I’m sorry you’re in pain and can’t do the things you want! Sending love from a galaxy (ok, country) far far away. 2. Awkward Teenage Luke Skywalker with a crush on… anyone in Rogue One, honestly.
Thank you for the prompt and for the kind message. Iâm not in any real pain, thankfully, which always sounds weird to the doctors Iâve seen, âcause from the MRI that really shouldnât be the case. And well⊠Siento que no estamos tan distantes asĂ, por lo menos linguisticamente, Âżno? đ
Iâm not really secure in writing from Lukeâs POV, but Iâm always fascinated by him coming into the Rebellion in ANH and just, you know, being him. I went with something that reminded me of when I was a teenager. Hope you like it!Â
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It took a while for Jyn to convince Bodhi that she and Cassian werenât a couple. The bizarre way they both had fallen into step together since Jedha had left, it turns out, a lot of people with that impression. Bodhi seemed torn and he explained it to her, albeit a little confusedly, why it was so: on the one hand he didnât feel as left out in the middle of what seemed so many little units â Jyn and Cassian, Cassian and K-2, Chirrut and Baze. On the other, he felt slightly betrayed by the mere notion that two people so in sync and so obviously smitten with each other werenât actually a couple.
âYou should be together,â he said a bit drunkenly, one night when they were having another revelry in the aftermath of their victory while packing up to evacuate Yavin IV, âjust do something about it.â
Jyn scoffed, but said by way of appeasing him that she was working on it, all the while turning starving eyes on the lithe profile of their subject-matter as he picked up drinks for the three of them.
Cassian still had a slight limp and when he sat down next to her, she felt warm without even having tried the Corellian whisky yet. She wished Bodhi could feel the same about someone.
Awkward Teenage Luke is my JAM! ÂĄMuchĂsimas gracias, @estherlyon, me encantĂł! (Y me alegro saber que no te duele tanto – Âżes posible que tienes un superpoder, y por eso no sientes dolor?)
Day 5: Favorite Dynamic/Relationship, Hope
Day 5: Favorite Dynamic/Relationship  â Alternative prompt: Hope
Cassian Andor had seen many people broken. By war, official or otherwise. By poverty. By impossible choices. By the sheer hopelessness of daily oppression from the Empire, and, if he was being truly honest, from the Republic before them. He had gotten used to seeing people break, and he no longer let it get to him.
But sometimes, it still did.
Luke Skywalker had joined the Rebellion as a teenager. Fresh-faced farm-boy from a sandy rock in the middle of nowhere. Reeling from sudden loss, but still full of youthful enthusiasm. Still full of hope. Cassian couldnât stand to see it die in him.
Rebellions are built on hope, heâd told Jyn, and Jyn had repeated his words to the Council. And somehow, those words had become true. It had become a kind of catch-phrase, the unofficial slogan of the Rebellion. Cassian had heard those words come back to him time and again over the next five years. General Organa, bolstering the failing faith of a battle-weary soldier. Veterans inspiring the fearful new recruits. Wise-asses, throwing it around every time they heard someone say I hope we donât have faux-bantha stew again tonight. Erso, muttering to herself when she thought no one was listening. (Or maybe she did know he was listening. It was hard to tell with Jyn.)
It seemed to be commonly accepted that Rebellions were Built On Hope. But what about what came next?
The war was over now. Cassian was not so naĂŻve as to think that the work was over, too. He knew that this war, any war, was merely one battle in the fight that would never truly end. Still, there might be some respite, every once in a while. In this moment of calm, theyâd earned the chance to regroup, to look back on what theyâd accomplished, and to enjoy it.
Shara Bey had lost no time and had begun enjoying right away. The wedding was so rushed, they hadnât even bothered inviting anyone. She and Dameron had just held the ceremony right here on base, and whoever happened by was free to celebrate with them.
Bodhi Rook had gone off to visit Baze Malbus, one of the only other surviving NiJedhans. They were rebuilding Jedha City, or rather, building anew â nothing could replace that ancient site of pilgrimage â and Rook thought he might stay on and help. He thought he might even help out a bit with the scrolls Malbus was writing, dedicated to that other monk Cassian had known so briefly.
Erso was planning to find some out-of-the-way planet, the sandier the better, to settle down, and never think about war or rebellion again. Cassian gave her three standard weeks. It was the most generous bet in the pool.
Lando Calrissian had returned to Cloud City. Class stratification had worsened in his absence, and Lando realized that he needed to make some changes before it became another Canto Bight. If some of Cassianâs favorite jackets happened to go missing the same day he left, it was surely just a coincidence. As was the sun-yellow shimmersilk cape hanging in their place in Cassianâs wardrobe.
But what of the fresh-faced farmboy? The brash young hotshot whoâd destroyed the Death Star? The sandy-haired kid whose care and faith and hope had made even the most cynical smuggler stick around and join the fight? That young boy was dead and gone, replaced by a stony faced Jedi. The very last one, as far as anyone knew. So many millennia of tradition would die, at last, with him.
Cassian couldnât bear it. Heâd been young once, too. Heâd believed in the goodness of people, Â the rightness of the galaxy, and heâd had it crushed out of him by the time he was six. Skywalker hadnât, and this had saved him. He couldnât lose it now, not when they finally had time to put down their weapons and be free.
Skywalker was sitting alone in the mess hall. It wasnât hard to find an empty table â since the war had officially ended, most people had left the Base and gone home. The only ones left were those without a home to go to. Cassian gave a nod to General Draven, also sitting alone, but passed his table to join Skywalker instead. The young man looked up, surprised, when Cassian sat down.
âCaptain Cassian Andor,â Cassian introduced himself.
âI know who you are,â Skywalker said off-handedly. Then he smiled ironically. âI assume you know who I am too, donât you?â
Cassian nodded, taken aback.
âWell you can just call me Luke. No title needed. The war is over, apparently, so weâre all civilians now.â
Cassian huffed a laugh. âI guess so. Thatâll take getting used to. I havenât been a civilian since I was six years old.â
Lukeâs eyes grew wide, and his cynical mask slipped. âSix? You â What? â Thatâs terrible! You were a child!â
âI didnât officially join up until I was eight,â Cassian amended, but Lukeâs eyes just grew wider. âI mean twelve?â This conversation wasnât going the way heâd hoped.
âI was nineteen when I joined up,â Luke said, staring off into the distance. âI thought I was so young. I was just sheltered, I guess. Six,â he repeated with a touch of despair.
âThatâs just what Iâd like to talk to you about,â Cassian said firmly, pleased to see Luke turn back to him, the dazed look fading. âNineteen is young, should be young. And it can be young again. These children growing up now, and the ones who come after them â they wonât have to fight like we did. Theyâll get to have a childhood, a real childhood, in a free galaxy. And we have to help shape that galaxy for them.â
âShape the galaxyâŠâ Luke turned away. âWhat do you propose? What master plan do you have for the galaxyâs glorious new future?â His voice was bitter.
âNo, no, nothing like that! Please, Iâm from a Separatist planet, I would never suggestâŠâ Cassian shook his head vehemently. âNo, I would never suggest we take away choice, just when itâs finally become possible again. But what are the choices offered to these children? Freedom is a half-gift if thereâs nothing left to hope for.â
âRebellions are built on hope,â Luke quipped ironically. Then he started. âOh shavit, Iâm sorry, I forgot you were the one ââ
Cassian just laughed. âWe donât need to reuse those tired old words anymore,â he replied. âItâs not a rebellion now. Itâs peace. Itâs possibility. And what will you bring to it?â
Luke shrugged. âI donât know. I⊠I know I should be happy â ecstatic even â but honestly, I just feel tired. I reconciled with my father, saw the good in him, got him to see the good in himself, just in time to lose him. We won the war, and Iâm thrilled, but once the parties died down, I just â I feel like I donât know where to go next.â
âItâs normal to feel this way,â Cassian assured him. (He certainly hoped it was.) âTake your time, but donât wallow. Think â what is it you wish you had had, when you were younger?â
âA teacher,â Luke said automatically. âI donât mean I never went to school or anything. But I wish Iâd had more training as a Jedi. I got about three lessons from Master Kenobi before I lost him, and I had longer with Master Yoda, but it still wasnât enough. And I felt so stupid, getting these basic lessons when I was already fully-grown. I wish Iâd had those lessons as a kid, like I was supposed to.â
âThen thatâs what you can offer,â Cassian said earnestly.
Luke perked up. âI guess youâre right. I probably wonât be the best teacher in the galaxy, but Iâm the best weâve got right now. I wonât let that go to waste.â
âNow all you need is children.â
âAre you propositioning my brother?â
âW-what?â Cassian sputtered, whipping around. Princess Leia â General Organa â whatever she was going by these days â was standing half a meter away, smiling that enigmatic smile of hers. âN-no, Your Highness â General â I was justâŠâ
âCall me Leia. As my brother keeps telling me, weâre all civilians now. What were you saying about children, then?â
Cassian regained his composure, ignoring the mirth in Lukeâs eyes. This was the thanks he got for trying to cheer the boy up? âI was just saying, Your â Leia â that Luke should become a teacher. Train the next generation of Jedi. And for that, heâll need children. Not necessarily his own,â he added, blushing under Leiaâs amused smirk. How could such a young woman be so intimidating?
âOh, good, so borrowed will do? Thatâs good because â and I havenât told anyone else, not even Han, and I will kill you both if anyone finds out about this â you just might have your first student soon.â
Lukeâs eyes lit up again. âOh, Leia, thatâs wonderful news! Congratulations!â
âShh!â she shushed him, but she was still smiling. Cassian took the opportunity to start to slink away.
âWait, what about you?â Luke asked, and Cassian sat back down, chagrined.
âWhat about me?â Cassian asked innocently.
âWhat will you offer to this Glorious New Future?â
Cassian shrugged.
âGlorious New Future?â Leia asked, arching an eyebrow.
âCassian was just reminding me that we each have our parts to play in the post-Empire galaxy. That we each have something to offer. I can train new Jedi. You can rebuild the Senate, without all the corruption. Han can, I dunno, tell amusing stories? Ferry you around to important councils?â
Leia laughed. âHeâs good for more than that, you know.â
âSpare me the details, please. Anyway,â he turned back to Cassian, âwhat about you?â
Cassianâs stomach clenched. He was a seasoned spy. He could charm his way out of any situation, convince almost anybody of almost anything. But some lies, he had trouble convincing himself.
Suddenly, his fingernails became very interesting. âI gave a lot in the war. Before the war. Like I said, Iâve been in this fight since I was six years old. Maybe I donât have anything left to give. But thatâs alright, I did my part.â
Leia laughed again, and Cassian looked up, bewildered. âDonât be stupid,â she admonished. âYou just brought my brother out of the funk Iâve been failing to get him out of for weeks. You do know what you just gave him, donât you?â
Cassian shook his head.
âHope.â
Cassian started to smile, and the twins added in perfect unison, âRebellions are built on hope.â
Leia gently placed her hand on her still-mostly-flat stomach. âAnd the Glorious New Future is built on hope, too.â
(Soon to be added on AO3.)
It Is A Manifold Thing – Artemis1000 – Rogue One
A late contribution for Day 1 of Cassian Appreciation Week, to the themes of âRebellionâ and âDreamsâ @thefulcrumcaptain
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Additional Tags: Recruitment, Rebel Alliance, Character StudySummary: The Rebellion is many things to many people and Cassian has learned to tell them what they need to hear.
Cassian Andor Appreciation Week: day four – Favorite relationshipÂ
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 Cassian and JynÂ
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(Diego Luna on the dynamic between Jyn and Cassian)Â Itâs interesting because there are so many differences between these two characters. If you ask Cassian who he wouldnât like to go on a mission with, he probably wouldâve described Jyn and probably the other way around.
Cassian sees a lot of himself in Jyn. And that hurts. The mirror hurts.Â
But when you get used to that, itâs the opposite.  The connection can be very strong.Â
Day 4: Silence
Written for Cassian Andor Appreciation Week.
(Because deadlines are just suggestions, right?)
Day 4: Silence
Cassian was not a man of many words. But Bodhi was, so they split the difference.
When Bodhi was scared, his nervous chatter seemed to expand to fill every moment of silence. Cassian and the others had learned to tune it out, to turn it into soothing background noise, until Bodhi managed to calm himself down.
When Bodhi was happy, his words grew wings, and Cassian delighted in following them as they soared to further and further heights. Bodhiâs laugh was infectious, and even Cold Captain Andor had to smile at the sound if it. Bodhiâs eyes would light up, and Cassianâs would mirror them, growing wider and wider as Bodhi chattered on until he ran out of breath, or until Cassian ran out of willpower and kissed his smiling mouth.
When Bodhi was angry, his words turned bitter and sharp. Cassian would listen quietly, interrupting only if (when) Bodhi turned that anger back on himself. And when Bodhi was sad, Cassian had to coax him to speak, but he would, and Cassian would listen, and eventually, Bodhi would feel better.
Then, one day, Bodhi lost his voice. Cassian had almost forgotten the sound of silence.
He brought Bodhi herbal brews, their bitterness tempered by ossberry syrup, and wrapped him in the softest scarves he owned. But in the meantime, the silence chafed.
He tried to channel the easy banter of Willix, an alias he used when posing as âjust your average guyâ at seedy cantinas across the galaxy, *coincidentally* sitting beside off-duty stormtroopers with lips loosened by cheap brandy. But it was hard to keep up banter without someone to play off of. He tried to channel the smooth charm of Aach, another alias he may or may not have based off a handsome gambler heâd met at Canto Bight. But his flirtations made Bodhi laugh, and laughing made Bodhi cough, so they were back to square one.
Out of sheer desperation, Cassian started talking about the details of his day â something Bodhi somehow managed to make interesting, but Cassian did not. Bodhi pressed a finger to Cassianâs lips, and shook his head with a slight smile. Cassian tried to mirror the smile, but he felt uneasy. Silence around Bodhi was unnatural.
Then Bodhi leaned against him, his head heavy against Cassianâs chest, and Cassian listened to the even in and out of Bodhiâs breathing. He listened to the hum of the Rebels, organic and otherwise, passing by outside their quarters, the hum of the glowpanels and temp-regulator within. He listened to the sound of Bodhi shifting on the bed, fitting himself more comfortably into Cassianâs casual embrace. And he listened to the memory of Bodhiâs laugh, sure to be heard again many times, as he looked down at Bodhiâs now-silent smile.
Surrounded by this beautiful symphony, Cassian felt at peace.
Day 1: Dreams
Written for Cassian Andor Appreciation Week.
(Because deadlines are just suggestions, right?)
Day 1: Dreams
It wasnât unusual for Bodhi to wake sobbing from a nightmare. Cassian could often tell which one it was without being told.
The insistent âI defected. I defected!â meant he was in Sawâs caves. If he started whimpering, it meant Saw had brought out Bor Gullet. Crying Stordan Toncâs name usually meant Scarif, as did shouting the names of too many soldiers to get in, kriff it! before he had to take off, to avoid going down with the planet. Crying for his mother was self-explanatory â he hadnât gotten leave to go to her funeral, had never gotten a chance to say goodbye. Depending on the tone, a repeated âIâm sorry!â could mean different nightmares. Rapid-fire, almost shrill repetitions, matched with quick, shallow breaths, usually meant something to do with life in the Imperial Army, while a slow, mournful tone meant remembering NiJedha, and how it fell.
No matter the nightmare, Cassian would hold Bodhi in his arms and whisper âIâm here,â until the sobbing ceased.
Sometimes, Bodhi would talk afterward, about the nightmare, or about whatever thoughts jumped through his jumbled mind, and Cassian would listen. Or sometimes heâd get up, and Cassian would wait while he paced the corridors until he tired himself out enough to lay down again. Sometimes heâd ask Cassian to talk to him, or even to sing. Cassian knew he had no voice for singing, but Bodhi found it soothing, and Cassian took satisfaction in that. Very rarely, Bodhi would be calm enough, or exhausted enough, to fall back asleep on his own.
After Bodhi fell back asleep, Cassian would close his eyes. Heâd listen to the rhythmic in and out of Bodhiâs breath, feel the warmth of the body beside him, the weight of him in his arms. Heâd concentrate on this moment, this warm, dark, safe moment, until his heart, too, was calm enough to let him rest. No matter how often Bodhi woke him with a nightmare, Cassian always slept better when Bodhi was in his arms.
Cassian got nightmares too, of course, but he didnât like to wake Bodhi. Bodhi had made a near-complete recovery from Bor Gullet, but his mind still drifted sometimes, and he got confused easily when he was tired. So Cassian tried to shield him from unnecessary disturbances, and refused to become one himself.
Despite his best efforts, though, sometimes he would wake Bodhi with his sobbing. And Bodhi would hold him and whisper âIâm here,â until the sobbing would cease.
Cassian never talked about his nightmares. Not with Bodhi, nor with anyone else. Bodhi didnât like it, but he respected Cassianâs boundaries. When it came up, heâd smile sadly and tell Cassian that he knew heâd talk when he was ready. And Cassian would avoid his eyes, knowing that day would never come. Because what he couldnât tell Bodhi was this:
Bodhi never woke from Cassianâs nightmares.
Cassian had learned early on not to cry about the horrors he lived through, so why bother crying over horrors he only imagined? No, Cassian only cried when he dreamed about his family. His fatherâs smile or his papaâs laugh. His sisterâs conspiratorial whisper when she told him things he was too young to know about, but she, at eight, understood completely. His grandparents, his aunts and his uncles, and oh so many cousins, celebrating a birthday, a promotion, or a wedding. In his dreams, he remembered his family, and he saw them, alive and intact and so happy, all together back on Fest.
And when he awoke, he remembered. And he sobbed.
Cassian Andor Appreciation Week ⥠Day 3: Alliance Intelligence ⥠The Final Mission
The Death Star is your answer. Finish this mission, and all is forgiven.
A ficlet for @siachti and @englishable, who probably werenât expecting something quite this grim. Iâd apologize, but well⊠this is where the prompts for Day Three (Alliance Intelligence/Fulcrum, âcollateral damageâ) and Four (âsilenceâ) of Cassian Appreciation Week led me.
Your mistakes arenât the worst of it, other Fulcrum agents had warned him. You might expect that, but no.
They sting, they woundâhow could it not, knowing that your error, your wrong choice, led to people dying?âbut they also reflect imperfect knowledge. Time pressure. Not seeing the terrain clearly through the fog of war. Things that, as clichĂ©d as it is to say, could happen to anyone.
Other times, itâs been the harsh demands of self-preservation. Tivik was bad, but at least heâd done his own killing that time. Looked the man in the eye. Had a reason more pressing, less abstract than the calculus of what was to be gained in future.
No, the deaths you let happen with clean hands and clear sight are the worst.
Every time he leaves a city knowing exactly when it will be bombed. Every time ships jump straight into an ambush because warning them would be too obvious. Every time he and Draven agree they canât act on intercepted intelligence yet, because it could give away their source and choke off the flow of valuable information. Standing aside, watching the numbers on a screen tick up and up.
Cassianâs silence has killed more than his hands ever will.
Rebellions are built on hope 