kind of? – Rebellions are built on hope

jyner-sew:

For Day #1 of Cassian Andor Appreciation Week, I was kind of struck with the idea of how Cassian might react to hearing Saw’s last words and realizing, at the heart of it, they were all chasing the same ‘dream’

“Save the Rebellion! Save the dream …”

Cassian hears the words, distant — yet oh-so-loud, echoing off the chasm growing deep in front of them. They sting, for a heartbeat … because, well… could he?

It’s what he’s fought for, all he’s known since he was six, but still … could he?

He stows away the thought, registering Jyn’s breathing behind him, ragged and rough as she pulls Bodhi upright beside her. The monks are close behind and there’s no time to shout orders, no time to think anything other than run, so he keeps running towards the shadow of a U-Wing and hopes beyond hope that it’s the one that will get them off of this planet in time.

The landing gear’s down, and he’s so happy he just might cry, but he’d rather wait til they’ve hit atmo for that. So instead he plants himself at it’s entrance, ground unsteady, and ushers his new crew up into it’s belly with arms thrashing wildly so as to make it out through the sand cloud enveloping them.

He’s tumbling towards the cockpit when the ramp slams closed and he sees the frantic citizens below, like tiny pin-pricks, hurtling towards anything with wings and a hyperdrive that might just grant them a second sunrise.

Kaytoo’s babbling nonsense about unfinished calculations before Cassian finds himself yelling “Come on!” at the controls, both in anger and frustration that while the mission was successful he’d still failed, they were too late, the planet killer was real …

He pulls the lever calmly, and they scream into hyperspace.

The viewport is dark and behind him is quiet, grief. Mourning, perhaps … but there isn’t time, not for that, not for him. He scrubs a hand down his face and steadies his breath — they’re in Imperial territory, he can’t comm Draven just yet, so he stands from the cockpit and makes his way to the cargo hold … and hears the tail-end of a conversation.

He’s always listening, observing in silence, and yet his heart betrays him now, pounding wildly at the words pulled straight from a dream. Like hope, from her.

“—- there’s a way to defeat it.”