Chapter Text
Of all the permutations of existence granted Jyn Erso, this one was by far the cruelest. Her body was embracing Cassian Andor’s on the blood-hot beach, the sand liquefying under their unmoving feet. Their deaths were as their lives were: quick and painful and serving some plan or interest they did not understand.
They took Scarif along with them. Everything and everyone they valued had been long gone, or was mercilessly incinerated that day. No one was left to shed tears at their passing. Their names would be forgotten. Their bodies were burnt up entirely until only soul remained.
Their deaths were as their lives were, save one thing: his hand was held in hers, and neither was alone. The Force took pity. She watched their souls somersault across the sky, and gave them one more chance.
***
Sinaloa, Mexico
Present day
Jyn had always found lying very easy. She wasn’t sure what that said about her. Something bad, probably. She stared at her reflection in the cracked rearview mirror of her car. Brown eyes looked back, framed by the wispy blond fringe of her wig. The desert heat was making them curl slightly. Her hands were trembling violently, so she jammed them under her thighs. She didn’t know why she was so nervous; she hardly recognized herself, so how would Krennic look at her and see Jyn Erso? Who was that, even? The little girl, frightened and alone, nearly suffocating to death in a heating vent? The flint-hard soldier in Saw’s militia? The pale ghost in a prison uniform? Jyn Erso barely existed anymore.
It wasn’t that, then, that was setting her nerves to jangling. Krennic and his people would believe her, especially with Bodhi’s introduction, she was sure of it. It was more the sense that something big, something life-changing—potentially life-ending, she thought with a grimace—was imminent. Was it too late to run? Too late to nip this in the bud, this thing that felt seismic in its possible ramifications? She felt it, rising like a tidal wave, hanging over her head. But if she ever wanted to see her father again, she had to do this. She felt a kind of animal panic at the thought, like she was being backed into a corner she knew she couldn’t escape from.
Where the fuck was Bodhi? This was all his fault. If they survived tonight, she was going to kill him. If she survived seeing Krennic again.
She considered the fact that the last time she’d seen him was also the last time she’d seen her parents. She remembered his oleaginous smile, his grasping hands, his manic sparkplug eyes. Seeing Krennic again, being near him, breathing the same air as him—she felt a little nauseous at the mere thought of it. She withdrew into her mind, trying to force herself to become cold and sterile. He can’t hurt her. Where she was hiding now, he would never hurt her. She tried to repeat this to herself, and breathe, but it felt like someone was piling great weights on her chest.
The gentle rap of Bodhi’s knuckles against her window made her jump.
He looked at her, concerned. It was a bit late for that, she thought wryly.
“Alright?” he said.
Jyn nodded, ignoring the cloying panicky heat that was rising in her chest. Every moment had led to this one. Every moment had led here. She took one deep breath, and got out of the car.
“Bodhi!” said a voice from the front door. “And you must be Liana! Welcome to Hacienda Rosales!”
Krennic’s housekeeper, Ximena.
Jyn turned to the house and plastered a smile on her face. She was wearing a denim miniskirt, a fringed suede jacket, and purple cowboy boots. Liana, unlike Jyn, wasn’t afraid of a little color.
She greeted Ximena warmly, hoping to ingratiate herself with the woman.
“Come in out of the heat! The men are all on the patio, drinking. What can I get you two? Tequila?”
“Just a beer for me, Ximena, please,” Bodhi said politely. Ximena liked him.
“Tequila would be lovely,” Jyn said.
Ximena relayed their orders to a spotty young man loitering by the sideboard and then led them towards the back of the house. It was gorgeous, lavishly decorated, but Jyn was far too agitated to appreciate it, flitting from spot to spot like a bird being hunted.
“Ximena?” came a small voice from the staircase.
Ximena looked up sharply.
“Go back to bed, Ramona. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Jyn didn’t see who the voice had belonged to, but it was almost certainly a child. Bodhi and she exchanged equally baffled looks, but she didn’t have the wherewithal to wonder further, too choked-up anxious with her own problems.
They were ushered to the back of the house, to the great sliding doors that led to the back porch, which overlooked a large inground swimming pool with two gurgling waterfalls. A jacuzzi adjoined, brimming with women in bikinis, tittering like birds. Beyond the fence lay the desert.
Jyn had been right about to step outside, tequila in hand, when she heard it: Krennic’s voice. She froze on the spot. That voice. That same lazy Australian drawl he’d used when he’d ordered her mother to be killed, Jyn watching wide-eyed from behind the slats of an air vent. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this.
Bodhi’s eyes slid to hers subtly, and she knew that it was too late to go back. Taking one last deep breath, she drained her tequila. Then, she stepped outside, feeling as though walls were closing in on her. Bodhi’s gentle hand on her back kept her grounded, even as she was swimming through cross-tides of panic and loathing. The tequila was dulling things just in time.
One of the men around Krennic, preternaturally eagle-eyed, observed Bodhi’s gesture with an expressionless face.
“Liana!” Krennic exclaimed, coming over to greet them, clearly in his cups. “Even more scrumptious than in the photos.”
A strange coldness entered Jyn’s veins then, like someone had slipped an ice cube up her spine, and she felt herself become utterly, utterly calm. It had happened to her that night, too, when her limbs had gone stiff from shaking so long. She wasn’t even there. None of it was real. She’d shut her eyes and made it all go away, for hours and hours.
She smiled, Liana’s bubbly grin. “Mr. Krennic,” she said smoothly. “Even more rich than in the photos.”
He laughed. “Please, call me Orson,” he said, kissing her on both cheeks. Jyn suppressed the involuntary shudder that went up her spine at his nearness. “And Bodhi, my best engineer, good to see you again, mate.”
They shook hands. Jyn smiled vaguely at everyone assembled on the porch. Ten or twelve men, drinking tequila, watching her. Four were sat at a table, playing cards and smoking. One glanced timidly at Jyn. The rest seemed to be positioned around three men at the nucleus, which had included Krennic until he had moved to greet Bodhi and Jyn. One of the three was an older gentleman who looked as though he’d stepped out of a WWI lithograph. His two companions were shorter, with guns at their hips. Their silk shirts were stained with sweat. One stared at her, unseeing, and the other smiled affably when they met eyes. Eagle Eye, unassuming in one corner, flicked his eyes to hers curiously.
“Caballeros,” Krennic announced, his accent atrocious, “This is Liana. She’s going to help us get our paperwork in order so we can resume business as usual north of the border. And, if you don’t know him, this is Bodhi, the KrenTech engineer who so kindly introduced me to Liana.”
“Gentlemen,” Jyn said, nodding.
Bodhi grinned goofily and said hello. The men gathered largely ignored him in favor of Jyn. The next few minutes passed by in a haze of introduction, cheek-kissing, and murmured Spanish.
Eagle Eye, introduced as Guillermo Ximenez, was the only one who shook her hand. He gave a brusque, accented, “Will,” as they shook, his face as placid as a pool of water. She would bet money he’d been a cop, once. He was scruffy, almost terrier-like in appearance, with his 5 o’clock shadow and his hair curling just above his collar, yet something about him screamed law enforcement anyway. Perhaps it was his severe expression: she could sense him judging her, measuring her, with those dark eyes.
“Has anyone ever told you, Will, that you look like a copper?” She smirked. “So serious.”
His lips quirked into a knife-like smile, and Jyn thought she liked him better when he wasn’t making any facial expressions at all.
“I was a cop, once. Mexican Police. They kicked me out,” he said. He paused, and referred to the man behind him. “This is John Melshi, my bodyguard.”
“Alright, Liana?” the man said in an amiable Scottish accent.
Jyn broke out into the genuine grin, the first one all day. Though she’d grown up in Yorkshire, his voice was close enough to home in this unfamiliar place that it made her ache momentarily.
“Alright.”
“What’s a good English lass like you doing here?”
“You’re a bit far from home, yourself.”
He grinned. Eagle Eye—Will—watched with what appeared to be polite disinterest, but Jyn wasn’t fooled. He was working his own agenda, just like everyone else in this pit of vipers.
***
Bodhi had come to her just after she’d gotten out of jail. She was teaching judo at Chirrut and Baze’s dojo and cursing Saw Gerrera and doing her best to stay on the straight and narrow.
“I know your dad,” he’d said, and Jyn had to stop herself from replying that she didn’t have a dad.
It had been so long since she’d even seen his face. Some days she wasn’t even sure if her memory of him was accurate: whether, perhaps, the sound of his voice in her head, with its soft Scandinavian lilt, was an invention; whether she’d lost something of the tilt of his brow over time.
The way Bodhi had said it—I know him, present—had made some soppy emotion like hope rise in Jyn’s chest. Maybe, she’d thought, she could see him again. It had practically brought tears to her eyes, which she’d blinked back sternly. They could do this together, then, and be free together. Maybe they could go back to their little farm in Yorkshire. Jyn would clean her act up, find a real job, and they would be together again. This chapter would close, like finally waking up from a bad fucking nightmare.
But then Bodhi had said, “He’s disappeared,” and it had all come crashing down around her ears, as usual.
They’d gone for coffee, and Bodhi had told her all about Krennic, and the Death Star, and Galen’s cryptic clues that he was resisting in some way. The Death Star, her father’s masterpiece, was a chemical weapon, nerve gas, and its distribution system.
Jyn was horrified. It must have tortured her father to be making such destructive weapons. She remembered him as he was when she was a child, delighting in making baking soda volcanoes and potato batteries with her. How could—how could Krennic have bent such a joyous and powerful mind to his will? To making weapons?
“He particularly wanted you to know about Stardust,” Bodhi said.
“Stardust?” she’d asked, practically choking on her latte.
Bodhi had simply nodded, unaware of what that name meant to her.
Stardust, he explained, Stardust was her father’s secret project, a weapon that would outdo the Death Star. This piece of information hit her like a ton of bricks.
Bodhi pulled out a little note. It was written in the rushed hand of her father: Tell Jyn about Stardust. Trust Fulcrum.
“Wh0 the fuck is Fulcrum?” she’d asked.
“Search me, mate.”
After, when the coffee had gone cold, Bodhi had told her stories about her father. She’d had nothing to add to the conversation. They were like characters in a book to her now. Saw and her mother and her father, the sunny times of her early childhood and the lost years with the Separatists: she had, almost without effort, stuffed it all into a box and put it on the very highest shelf of her mind. It wasn’t her life anymore. She wasn’t that Jyn anymore: the happy child, the helpless child, the betrayed child.
And yet she remembered. She remembered the lush greenery, the unchanging grey skies, the fudgy, stodgy soil of her home, and how she had thought it would always be hers. She remembered her mother’s steady dark gaze, her father’s soft-spoken voice, the love and devotion they’d had for each other, and for her. The colors and textures of that love were imprinted on her memory, and yet—she could not feel it. She could not feel a thing.
***
Jyn had reluctantly agreed with Bodhi’s plan, if only because she supposed anything would be better than another night of falling asleep on her couch watching Match of the Day. She wasn’t really sure if Bodhi had ever expected it to go this far. If Baze and Chirrut hadn’t gotten involved, saying they’d help out, she wasn’t sure she would have stayed. They were currently on standby at a couple’s resort in Sonora, lucky bastards.
“Do you think Krennic’ll recognize me?” Jyn had asked one night.
“Doubt it,” Bodhi had answered. “The world, for him, starts and ends with Orson Krennic.”
And now, looking into the virulent blue eyes of the man himself, Jyn had to admit that Bodhi had been right. It had been hours, and there hadn’t been a glimmer of recognition.
“Liana, you’re going to be working closely with Will here, isn’t that right, Will?” Krennic said, slapping the man hard on the shoulder.
Will, looking enormously uncomfortable, nodded.
“Will is here while Chucho recovers from his heart attack. He’s in charge of getting our products across the border to distribution centers. And that’s where you come in, Liana. Because to get across the border, you need papers.”
“You’re a forger?” Will asked her conversationally.
Jyn nodded. “Voted Best on a Budget three years running.”
Krennic laughed uproariously. Will frowned.
“Oh, Will, humor is wasted on you,” Krennic said. “Come on, Liana, let’s play some cards. I have a feeling you’ll be my lucky charm tonight.”
He took Jyn’s hand, but didn’t seem to notice the way her face went carefully blank at his touch. When Jyn glanced up, Will was looking at her, his own face a mask. She gave him an empty sort of smile, the kind she frequently used as Liana to shrug people off.
“I’ll join you,” Will said, taking a sip of his tequila and placing his glass down on the ledge of the balcony. Jyn grimaced internally, having been hoping she could escape his watchful eyes. As he began to make his way to the card table, she noticed that he walked with a limp, favoring his left leg. It must have been a painful injury.
Krennic took one of the card player’s seats.
“Gracias,” he said. He then looked around ostentatiously, as if trying to find a seat for her. “Guess you’ll have to sit right here, Liana,” he said, finally, patting his knee.
Jyn hesitated slightly, pulse thundering in her ears, because there was no fucking way she was sitting on Krennic’s lap. What excuse, though, could she give that wouldn’t anger him? He wouldn’t like it if she embarrassed him in front of all these men by saying no.
Just when she was about to swallow the sick feeling she had and bite the bullet, one of the other card players got up, the young one who’d glanced at her shyly when she’d first walked in, and offered her his chair.
“Por favor, señorita,” he said, giving her a tentative look.
She smiled warmly at him, and thanked him in her awful Spanish. The relief as she sat down was enormous.
“Yes,” Krennic said icily, “Thank you, Estevez.”
“Señor,” the young man acknowledged with a nod, stepping into the background, next to Will.
“Don’t worry, Liana,” Krennic said, all Jekyll-and-Hyde, “we’ll teach you how to play.”
Jyn smiled gratefully. Thank God some kind soul was willing to teach little old Liana how to play poker. Never mind that they’d had a poker night every Thursday with the Separatists and that her skills had earned her money for cigarettes in prison.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Will pat the young man’s shoulder.
“We were just discussing the best way to plug a leak,” one of the other card players said airily. It was the older man, and he spoke with a posh English accent.
“A leak?” Jyn purred.
“Well, someone’s talking,” Krennic said. He looked at Jyn. “That’s the whole reason you got this job, love! Our entire US operation was compromised. Why else would we be in this shithole of a country?”
“The hash and coke that this shithole provides you is the only reason you’ve got a nice big house like this, Krennic,” said the smiling man in the silk shirt. He was not smiling now. The tension in the air was palpable. Jyn’s eyes quickly scanned the assembled men, most of whom she assumed were from Mexico, but the smiling man was the only who seemed brave enough to show any indignation. Will looked on, as impassive as ever, but his eyes were hard and glinting like two gemstones.
“Alright, simmer down, Rafa,” Krennic waved him off. “Only joking.”
They played a few hands, Jyn trying to ease the tension by doing her best impression of a wide-eyed young thing taking whatever advice she could. A few of the men behind her jumped in to help her, varying from condescending to genuinely helpful. Melshi, who had hit it off with Bodhi, came around to give some advice too.
At some point, Ximena called Krennic in. Jyn wondered if it had anything to do with the little voice they’d heard from the top of the stairs.
He left with his apologies, trailing his hand over Jyn’s shoulder. She tensed her back muscles, trying not to let her disgust show on her face.
Will had left the crowd around the table, and Jyn tried to watch him surreptitiously as he smoked, staring over the balcony at the desert. She played a few more rounds, and then went over to join him, wondering if he might be a good source for her in the coming weeks.
He had clearly gotten drunker since their last conversation, and he smelled of tequila and lime and sweat and tobacco. She settled down next to him, leaning over the railing.
Silently, he offered her a cigarette. She accepted, though she hadn’t smoked since getting out of prison. He handed her his lighter, and she was surprised, because most men would have simply tried to light it for her. She wasn’t sure if she should be offended or relieved.
She took a drag and asked, looking out at the desert, “Did you tell Estevez to get up?”
Will looked at her, surprised, before his mouth twitched into a little smirk.
“Not your first time playing poker, is it?” he asked, taking a drag of his own cigarette, the smoke he exhaled partially obscuring his face in the dark.
She shook her head, and then gave him a prompting look to let him know that she hadn’t missed the way he’d avoided answering her question.
“I simply wanted to stop such an embarrassing scene,” he said neutrally. “A middle-aged man, pawing after a young woman. It’s embarrassing. It’s bad for business.”
She took another puff and smiled wryly. “Well, thank you,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t interrupt any seduction scheme, then?”
Jyn snorted, and stubbed her cigarette out. “Please,” she scoffed. “I’m just trying to do my job and get paid. All this gangster bullshit is exhausting. I mean, he is so delusional.”
He gave a little knowing smile. “He has to project that image, or he thinks no one will respect him,” he said. “He’s half right, but his real problem is that he believes his own bullshit. That’s dangerous.”
“You’ve seen it happen before?” Jyn encouraged, wanting to keep him talking.
“This business changes people,” he said, glancing up at the desert sky thoughtfully. “Twists things until you look in the mirror one day and are unsure what you’re looking at.”
Jyn watched him a moment, the rueful curve of his mouth, the deep circles under his eyes. She hadn’t expected that from him.
Krennic returned to the party then, going directly to her and Will.
“My two favorite people,” he drawled, and they both turned around to face him. “How was the card game?
“I think I’ll be going to sleep, now,” Will said by way of reply. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Hallik.”
“I think I may, too. Jet-lag,” she said, shrugging off Krennic’s crestfallen look. Bodhi had already turned in, having exhausted the company of Melshi, who was the only one who would deign to talk to him. The anxiety of the day was starting to creep up her spine in the form of exhaustion. She wanted away from these people, particularly Krennic.
Will went directly up to, Jyn assumed, his room, but she had to stay a bit longer to say her goodnights. She was just about done, having stopped in the kitchen to thank Ximena, when she felt a hand on her arm.
She recoiled immediately, and couldn’t help the way she curled further into herself when she turned and saw it was Krennic.
“Sorry, Liana,” he drawled, touching her shoulder.
She gritted her teeth against the near-visceral urge to pull away. She’d had quite enough of being pawed at by Krennic, of being looked at by Krennic, of being in the same fucking room as Krennic.
“Alright,” she said, surprised at how easy her voice sounded. “Just scared me.”
“Between me and you, right, Liana?” he said, moving closer. She could smell the sweat of him. She felt as if she might be sick. “I want your help finding the leak. Nothing too extreme. Just keep an eye peeled, yeah?”
“Sure,” she said, extricating herself as subtly as she could from his arm. “Sure, of course. If I see anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Good, good,” he said. “Good girl.”
He left her with what she was sure he imagined was a fatherly squeeze to her arm, returning to his party. Jyn slumped in relief.
The sound of the fridge opening made her snap her head up.
It was Will, getting out a pitcher of water. Where the fuck had he come from?
“Sorry,” he said, his voice even scratchier than it had been earlier. “Needed a drink.”
“Hmm,” she said, shooting him what she hoped was a convincing smile, though it was difficult to conjure up. “Have a good night, Mr. Ximenez.”
He was either her best chance at finding her father, she thought, her mood souring even further, or he was someone that she would have to be very wary of.
***
“The mole must be this Fulcrum person,” Bodhi said, squirting toothpaste onto his toothbrush. They were in the Jack-and-Jill bathroom that connected their separate bedrooms. He’d waited up for her, sweeping for bugs.
Jyn, perched on the bathroom counter, nodded thoughtfully.
“Law enforcement, d’you reckon? CIA, or something?” he continued.
She thought of her initial assessment of Will. “Mexican police, maybe?” That would certainly be one explanation for his odd behavior.
Bodhi followed her train of thought, nodding as he brushed. “Bit obvious, though, no?” he said through a mouth of foam.
“S’pose,” she said thoughtfully. “Regardless of who Fulcrum is, are we sure we can really trust them?”
He frowned, confused.
“My father trusted them,” she said by way of explanation, “and look where he wound up.”
Bodhi’s eyes widened as he considered it, toothbrush hanging loosely from his mouth. Jyn grinned at how ridiculous he looked. Having spent the evening feeling as though she were behind enemy lines, it was nice to be able to relax and be herself. Liana was exhaustingly talkative and effervescent.
Bodhi spit and rinsed.
“I know tonight was hard,” he said, placing his hand over hers. “But it went perfectly. Absolutely aces, Jyn.”
“Thanks, Bodhi.” She paused. “I forgot all their names already.”
Bodhi laughed. “All you really need to know is the Pico brothers, who were the ones wearing the silk shirts. They’re Krennic’s main suppliers.”
“Do you know who Chucho is?”
“No idea,” Bodhi said. “Lowly engineer, remember? Ximena is the only one who tells me anything.”
Jyn snorts. “I think Ximena fancies you,” she said, laughing.
“She does not,” Bodhi objected, flushing hilariously.
Jyn almost died laughing at the way he flailed his hands in protest.
“Just a beer for me, please, Ximena,” she imitated him. Bodhi slapped her arm, but couldn’t keep himself from cracking up.
“I do not sound like that,” he pouted. “I hate you.”
“I wonder how she’d feel if she knew she was barking up the wrong tree,” she said. “That Scottish bloke was fit. How about the Pico brother who cracked a smile?”
“Oh, fuck off,” he laughed, making a face. He moved into the other room to continue getting ready for bed.
Jyn turned to the mirror, tired and a little drunk, coming down off the adrenaline high of pretending to be Liana, but still a little elated at how well it had gone. She observed herself a moment, the effect almost uncanny. Still watching herself in the mirror, she removed Liana’s earrings and jewelry. Then she unpinned her wig and removed the wig cap she kept her real hair tucked away in. Moaning in satisfaction, she massaged her scalp. Much better, she thought, looking at the rat’s nest that resulted with affection. Next, she took out the brown-color contacts, huffing an involuntary sigh of relief as she put them away. Then, putting some makeup remover on a cotton pad, she very carefully wiped away the heavy eye makeup that Liana favored, the candy-scented, sticky lip gloss, the foundation. She checked her reflection in the mirror. There I am, she thought, almost relieved. There I am.
***
Jyn had dreams of fiery beaches and boiling oceans that night. When she woke up, she was surprised to find that her cheeks were wet with tears. The stress was getting to her, she reckoned.
Bodhi was eating chunks of blush-pink papaya on her balcony when she shuffled outside the first thing the next morning, wearing sunglasses and squinting up at the sun. It was a beautiful day out, she supposed grumpily. Bodhi smiled silently at her and poured her some violently colorful fruit juice.
“Ta, Bode,” she murmured, still half-asleep. She had the hood of her sweatshirt up to hide her brunette hair. The desert, still and staid, spread out for miles in front of them.
She wished it would rain. She missed home.
“Hate the fucking desert,” she grumbled.
“What, missing old Blighty?” Bodhi grinned. “Get some of this papaya in you, that’ll change your tune.”
She peered over at him and warily plucked a piece from his plate, popping it into her mouth. Her eyes closed at the flavor, oddly delicate and floral.
“Fuck, that’s good,” she said, picking up a fork and using it to stab another piece. She chewed silently, staring out into the grounds of the hacienda. Ahead of them: wasteland. To their left: gardens, aggressively tended. To their right: the shimmering chrome-white oasis of KrenTech Labs.
It was a low-slung building, surrounded by waxy desert foliage, spread out over an acre of land. The Death Star was somewhere inside. Her father had walked its hallways. Jyn wondered if she might find his papers there, something to give her a hint as to where he was.
“Bug spray?” Jyn said.
“No need.”
She exhaled. Bodhi had searched for cameras and microphones, and found none. They weren’t being monitored.
“I want into that lab.”
Bodhi, as a low-level KrenTech engineer, only had access to certain areas, like his work space and the dormitory he usually stayed in. Jyn wanted to see the inner workings, where her father would have done his most dangerous work. The work that was most likely to have gotten him abducted, or worse.
“I’m working on it,” Bodhi said.
“D’you reckon Dad would’ve left anything there?”
“Maybe, but Krennic likely moved it since.”
She grunted in agreement. “We’ll need to break into Krennic’s office in the hacienda, then. I want to do it while he’s still fixed on finding the mole. I’ll set it up with Chirrut and Baze.”
“You want to shift the blame onto Fulcrum?”
Jyn shrugged, filching another piece of papaya. “It’s a golden opportunity. Why not take advantage?”
Bodhi frowned, but didn’t disagree. She got up to fix her hair and eyes.
***
“Tell me,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table across from Will, “do I look hungover to you?”
Of all the people at the party yesterday, he seemed to be the most likely ‘in,’ despite, or perhaps because of, his odd behavior. There was something decent in him, and if she could figure out how to unlock it, he could be a wonderful asset.
A cloud of cigarette smoke around him, he was sipping a demitasse of espresso elegantly. There was a newspaper laid down next to him, folded over. Jyn caught the scent of his aftershave.
Glancing at her, as if confused why she was speaking to him, he simply said, “No.” He returned to his paper wordlessly. Clearly her usual techniques weren’t going to work with him. It was as though their little conversation yesterday had never happened.
“You don’t look hungover,” she said. Ximena proffered an identical cup of espresso to Jyn, and she thanked her.
“I’m not,” Will said, not even bothering to look up.
“Don’t mind him, mija,” Ximena said, returning to the stovetop, “he’s very moody in the morning.”
Will’s eyes slid to Ximena momentarily before he went back to his paper. He put it down, then sat back in his chair and crossed his good leg over the other. His face, in full light, freshly-shaven, looking right at her, was somehow shocking. The features that had looked so stern now seemed incongruously boyish to Jyn. She wondered momentarily if she might have seen him somewhere before, but couldn’t put her finger on it. She certainly wasn’t going to ask him. If they had met, she would do well not to prompt him to remember it.
“Was there something you wanted?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said, hiking a knee up onto her chair. “I need to know what kind of documents you need so I can get started. I’m an artist, you know, these things take time.”
“Don’t forgers just print things out?” he asked mildly.
Jyn’s eyes widened in mock offense, and she gasped theatrically. “Some do,” she said, “but they get caught. I do everything by hand, down to dying the fibers.” She sipped her coffee smugly, mainly because she’d seen a spark of interest in Will’s otherwise impenetrable eyes. “And that’s why I’m the best.”
“Old school,” he said.
“Exactly.”
“Well,” he replied, “I’ll be crossing the border to meet with possible distributors this week. I have my own ID, obviously, but I’ll need documents for my visa.” He paused. “Later, we’ll need all sorts of different documents: IDs, passports, permits, proofs of sale. I’ll give you an itemized list.”
“Thank you,” she said, examining the plate of pastries Ximena had placed on the table. “So, who do you think the leak is? My money’s on one of the Pico brothers.”
He made a face that she supposed, for him, indicated shock: an ever-so-slight raise of his eyebrows. “Liana,” he said, “I would not make accusations so lightly. Especially against the Pico brothers.”
She rolled her eyes and chose a croissant. Here was a man who was careful, economical, in everything: his speech, his expressions, his trust. She’d probably have to find another avenue of inquiry. Maybe Estevez, she thought, though he didn’t seem to speak any English.
Will folded his paper crisply. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s all in Krennic’s head.”
“Really?” she asked, eyes wide, mouth full of croissant.
“He’s paranoid,” he said, draining his coffee and getting to his feet. “Trying to deflect blame in front of the investors.”
Jyn nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll get you those papers as soon as possible.”
She took another bite of her croissant as he left, chewing as she pondered what he’d just told her. Deflecting blame in front of the investors. So, perhaps Fulcrum wasn’t their mole, because no mole existed? And the investors he spoke of had to have put their money into the Death Star. Nothing else made sense. Had her father not finished it before he disappeared, and Krennic wasn’t able to deliver what he promised? She’d need to find some way to get these answers, and Will was not looking encouraging.
***
The next day, Jyn was working a cramp out of her hand when she heard the commotion. She’d been hand-coloring holographic designs in her room all day, and she’d finally finished the last one.
It was coming from outside, a group of men, angry. The door to the hacienda slammed shut a few seconds later and the yelling grew louder. Someone was struggling.
“Suéltame!” they were pleading. “Suéltame, por favor! No hice nada!”
Jyn didn’t understand much Spanish—she’d learned some basic phrases before coming to Hacienda Rosales—but the note of animal panic in the man’s voice didn’t need much translating. She quickly ran to the top of the stairs, where Bodhi was already standing. His eyes were wide as he stood, stock-still, watching two of Krennic’s bodyguards wrestle the struggling man towards the kitchens. Jyn recognized him, despite the blood pouring from a cut over his eye, as the shy card-player who’d given her his seat the other night.
He looked at Jyn and said, “¡Ayuda! ¡Ayúdeme, señorita!”
“Let him go!” she shouted, starting to run down the stairs. “What the fuck are you doing? Let him go.”
Krennic and two more of his thugs entered through the front door. The men wrangling the card-player stopped at the landing, waiting for orders.
“Liana, stay out of this,” he said lazily. He turned to one of his men. “Diego, get her.”
The smaller of two, who still had about a half-foot on Jyn, blocked her path to the struggling man. Jyn looked at Krennic, trying to disguise her disgust as confusion. He ignored her.
“Krennic!” came a shout from outside. “Krennic, what the fuck are you doing!”
Will came barreling through the front door, favoring his left leg heavily, trailed closely by Melshi.
“Will!” cried the card-player, renewing his fruitless struggle against his captors. “¡Will, ayúdeme, Will! ¡No hice nada, te lo juro, te lo juro!”
“Lo se, Estevez, lo se,” Will said, raising a comforting hand. He was breathing heavily and sweating through his dark blue button-down. “Tranquilo, hermaño, tranquilo.” He turned to Krennic. “Release him, now.”
Jyn watched, eyes wide.
The older man smiled sharply. “You’re forgetting yourself, Will.”
“He hasn’t done anything!”
“Then why the fuck were the Pico brothers arrested!” Krennic raged suddenly, eyes sparking terribly. “Your mate here was conveniently in the wrong place when he was supposed to be the lookout!”
Will swallowed, eyes dark.
“That doesn’t mean—!” he began, but he was interrupted by Krennic.
“That’s enough, Will,” he said dangerously. “I don’t want to have to lose two of my men today.” Will’s eyes were burning, jaw clenched. Krennic turned to his thugs. “Take the boy to the cellar. I’ll be having a little chat with him.”
“No!” Will cried, springing forward again. He followed Krennic, limping painfully, as he walked towards the back porch. “Carajo, please, he’s just a kid.”
Estevez, the card-player, was dragged away.
At some point, Bodhi had followed Jyn down the stairs. Only he, Jyn, and Melshi remained in the landing. Jyn didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t risk alienating Krennic by going against him.
She turned to the bodyguard desperately. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“We were meeting some possible new distributors, and Estevez was the lookout on the western approach. For some reason, he was entirely out of position and the police were able to take us by surprise,” he explained. “The Pico brothers were arrested, which likely means that Krennic will have to find new suppliers.”
“He thinks that Estevez is the mole, then?”
Melshi nodded, looking concerned.
“But you and Will don’t?”
“No, no, no way,” he said, shaking his head. “Estevez is a wee kid. He’s one of ours—Chucho’s, I mean. He would never betray us.”
“What will happen to him?” Bodhi asked quietly.
Melshi, eyes huge, simply stared. After a moment, he simply shook his head and followed after Will and Krennic.
“What do we do?” Bodhi asked.
Jyn sighed. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”
She heard voices on the porch and crept closer, hoping to hear the conversation. She found a side window she could watch Krennic and Will through.
“What do you suggest I do, then, Will?” Krennic asked lazily. “Let him continue? Let him go, so the men feel safe taking a peso or two here and there? This needs to be punished, and needs to be seen to be punished.”
“All I’m saying is,” Will said placidly, “torture is ineffective, and requires a lot of clean-up.”
His eyes seemed blank as slate to Jyn. She backed away from the window slowly, feeling as if she might be sick. Her hands were shaking, and she pressed them together to make them stop. She’d seen violence before—she’d been part of a paramilitary group since she was seven, she’d been in prison—but never violence with such sangfroid. Never violence like this.
The two men came back inside.
“Take care of it, Will,” Krennic said.
Will nodded tightly, and headed for the cellar.
Jyn followed numbly, feeling as though she were under a spell. She needed to see—she needed to know what would happen to Estevez.
Down in the cellar, he was strung up by his wrists in a little room off to one side. The wine bottles and barrels of tequila lay undisturbed in the main area. Jyn watched, silent in one corner, through the doorframe. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t look away.
Will had his hand on the back of Estevez’s neck, like a father to a son, and he was speaking quietly in Spanish to him. Tears were trailing down the younger man’s face, but he was nodding anyway.
Will stepped back, and reached for the gun he’d tucked into his belt.
“Gracias, Will, gracias,” Estevez was saying, eyes closed, beatific in the low light of the dingy little room.
The door slammed shut as Will raised the gun.
Jyn heard the shot, and ran.
***
She retreated to her room, and spent the rest of the day listening to Bodhi trying to convince her that they should stay. She’d packed and unpacked her suitcase at least three times.
“They killed him. Killed him,” Jyn said shakily, sitting on the bed.
“Jyn, please,” Bodhi said, getting to his knees in front of her and grasping her hands. “Your dad needs us. He’s depending on us.”
“Is he, Bodhi? Is he really?” Jyn asked. “Have you ever considered that he may not want to be found?”
“What?” Bodhi replied. “He wouldn’t do that! He wouldn’t just abandon—” He stopped that thought short, and looked at Jyn with wide eyes.
She smiled ruefully. “It’s okay, Bodhi,” she said, looking down at her hands.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s okay,” she reassured him, though there was still something brittle in her voice. She twisted her hands in her lap. “I haven’t seen him in twenty years, Bodhi. I know he was your best mate, but I’m not dying for someone I hardly know.”
“How can you say that?” he asked, stunned. “He’s your father.”
Jyn forced her voice to be gentle when she said, “All I’m saying is, Bodhi, we’re in over our heads, here. And our only ally—who, by the way, may not have even been an ally—was probably just killed.”
Bodhi sighed. “Look, I can’t make you stay,” he said, “but I’ll keep on trying to find him, with or without you.”
“Can’t you see that’s dangerous?” she cried. He shrugged, uncaring. She threw up her hands, and said, “Well, fuck, Bodhi, I can’t just abandon you.”
He smiled sheepishly.
Jyn groaned. “Fine,” she said. “But we’re moving up the break-in. I want out of this fucking place as soon as.”
Suddenly, she heard footsteps on the stairs and placed a finger to her lips. There was a knock on the door.
“Miss Hallik, Mr. Krennic would like to see you on the patio.” It was Ximena.
“Right. Be right there, thank you,” Jyn said, looking at Bodhi with wide eyes.
Bodhi waited a minute before saying, quietly, “What do you think he wants?”
“Assure me that I won’t meet a similar fate?” she said glibly. Sometimes she was so good at bullshitting she frightened herself.
“That is not funny,” Bodhi replied darkly.
“Hey, you’re the one who wants to keep going with this.”
“It’s not a matter of want—”
Jyn silenced him with a hand, not wanting to get into it again.
I almost miss prison, she thought with a sigh, walking down to the patio. The days there had gone by smoothly, so smoothly she had barely noticed them slip past. Jyn had early on discovered that the path of least resistance was her best choice, and it had continued to serve her well in prison. There was just the schedule, time moving as easy and slow as molasses. She had been able to insulate herself from the outside world, at first from necessity, and then from preference.
Her life post-incarceration hadn’t been all that different, besides the bills she now had to pay. She got up, worked, ate, worked, and went back to sleep. She didn’t have to think about her father, and she didn’t have to be constantly looking over her shoulder, and she didn’t have to make choices about what would come next. All she’d had to do was keep her head down and keep her feet moving.
She arrived at the patio to find it empty, save for Will. He was smoking and leaning over the railing, his back to her. She considered going back inside, not overly keen on being alone with him, but ultimately decided it would look odd to the servants if she did.
He must have heard her, because he turned around. His eyes met hers, and she had no idea what he was thinking. He nodded at her tightly. There was a small smear of blood on his shirt-collar.
“Tough day?” she asked without inflection, trying not to show how little she wanted to be near him. You killed him, she wanted to say. You looked him in the eyes and killed him.
His face made some complicated expression, then, and he turned back around. Jyn went to stand beside him. He seemed vulnerable at the moment, something she didn’t think would happen again soon, and she wanted to take advantage of it.
“Can I bum one?” she asked.
Silently, he fished a box of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket and placed them on the railing. He didn’t look at her.
“Ta,” she said, extracting one and lighting it, doing her utmost to keep her hands from shaking. The first drag helped. Will continued to look out over the balcony, gazing out at the desert blankly.
“Was he the leak, d’you reckon?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
“But when you first came in—”
“I was wrong.” He refused to look at her.
Jyn watched him silently.
“You’re waiting for Krennic?” he asked.
She exhaled a cloud of smoke and nodded.
“He’ll try to convince you that nothing like that would ever happen to you,” Will said, still staring blanky into the desert. “Don’t believe him.”
Jyn, startled at the even honesty of his statement, could only stare at the man. He took a long drag, blew the smoke out with a rueful expression, and crushed the butt under his heel. When he was done, his face had returned to its usual cold reserve.
Krennic arrived a moment later. He brought them in as if for a huddle. “Glad we have that nasty business behind us.” He paused. “Unfortunately, I am now down a supplier as well as a distributor.”
“The deal fell through?” Will asked.
Krennic nodded. “But no matter. The leak is gone, and we can get to what’s important now. I’ll focus on finding a supplier. I want you two to work together to find a new distributor north of the border. Any questions?”
Jyn blinked. Will’s face remained completely blank.
“Good,” Krennic said, clapping them both on the shoulder. “See you at dinner.”
Will left without a word, leaving Jyn to finish her cigarette and wonder at the man’s behavior. Who was he, exactly, this strange, quiet man? This killer. For a brief time, she’d toyed with the idea that he might be Fulcrum, the man her father told her she could trust. But now, though she wasn’t discounting the idea that Fulcrum could still be alive, she couldn’t square the two things. Estevez is a wee kid, Melshi had said, and Will had killed him. He’d done it, Jyn reckoned, in part to prevent Estevez from being tortured, but the point remained: he’d looked his colleague, his friend, in the eye, and he’d shot him. Jyn remembered the wild look in Estevez’s eyes, like he was a cow being led to the slaughter, as he struggled against his captors.
And yet, when he’d died, his expression had been soft, and resigned. He had been thanking Will, even as he’d raised the gun. There was something at play here that she didn’t fully understand yet. She felt like she was walking through a fun house. Everywhere she turned, images wavered and mutated in trick mirrors, illusions flickered in the heat and sun of the desert. She couldn’t recognize who was friend and who was foe.
***
Jyn let Chirrut and Baze into the hacienda later that night. Bodhi had performed some sort of trickery with the cameras and security system, and he swore up and down to Jyn that there would be no way that Krennic would catch her. She tried not to think too much.
“Little sister!” Chirrut stage-whispered, grinning from ear to ear. Baze stood beside him silently with a long-suffering expression on his face.
Jyn put her finger to her lips, smiling all the time, and motioned for them to follow her. They did, silent as shadows, all the way to Krennic’s office. Once the adrenaline of it all kicked in, she wasn’t even nervous anymore. Her hands were steady as entered the code she’d seen a maid punch in earlier.
“You two are all loved-up, I can see by your faces,” she whispered once they were inside. “You sure you’re up to it?”
Chirrut chuckled dismissively. They were mainly here for insurance, just in case anyone caught them in the act. Once they’d searched the office thoroughly and Jyn was safely back in bed, they’d kick off and pretend they were burglars.
Baze and Jyn began to search the office, while Chirrut, ironically, kept watch by the door. He’d hear, or sense, or whatever the fuck he did, much earlier than his two partners.
“We’re looking for any mention of my father, or the Death Star, or Stardust,” Jyn said. The word felt odd in her mouth.
She began with Krennic’s desk, busting open locks with practiced ease. Baze, on the other hand, began with the file cabinets. They searched for several minutes, but there was nothing useful.
Disappointed with the lack of any valuable information, she sighed and looked around. Noticing a safe behind the desk, she cocked her head and approached it.
Chirrut said, quietly, “Someone’s coming.”
She and Baze locked eyes.
“Quick, punch me, punch me,” Jyn said in a rush, making gimme motions.
“Little sister—” he protested.
“Either you punch me, or Krennic kills me,” she hissed. She looked at Baze expectantly, and he, clearly reluctant, gave in with an exasperated expression.
“Ready?” he said quietly.
Jyn nodded. “Who are you?” she yelled loudly, grinning a bit. Chirrut was, too. “What are you—oof!”
She sprawled to the ground, holding her jaw. He’d punched her only lightly, but it was easy to go with the momentum and fall.
“Oh my—” Baze said, eyes wide, hands extended.
“I’m fine, get out,” Jyn hissed. She surreptitiously re-adjusted her wig right as the beam of a torch blazed into the office.
“¿Qué—?” Whoever spoke was immediately cut off by Chirrut and Baze, who bum-rushed them before they could finish their thought. Jyn held up a hand to her face, trying to see around the bright light. She had no idea who it was.
The two men clambered noisily away, and whoever came in spoke again, but this time it was a cry for help: “¡Ayuda! ¡Intrusos!”
They came closer to where Jyn was starting to sit up on the floor.
“Are you okay?” It was Will, she realized, in a t-shirt and jeans, torch in one hand.
Shadows played strangely over his face for a moment and he stepped closer. Jyn, unable to see much of anything, struggled to a kneeling position. Will shone the flashlight right in her eyes and she cried out. Suddenly, he was hauling her up and against him, arm wrapped around her throat. He was surprisingly strong for such a slight man.
She tried to shout, but couldn’t find the breath. Though the punch had been relatively gentle, her jaw was still throbbing sharply. Will jerked her back against him again, and she could feel the heat of his breath like an oil spill across her neck.
“Who the fuck are you?” he said, voice like gravel.
She clawed at his arm, and shuffled around, hoping to find one of his feet to stamp on, maybe even to get his bad leg, but his grip was relentless and he kept hauling her around.
When she opened her mouth to speak, he shoved her onto the boringly masculine black leather couch and pulled a gun from his belt.
“Who are you?” he demanded, taking care, Jyn noticed, to keep his voice low.
“What do you—Liana, I’m Liana,” she stuttered out. It was easy to act scared when you fucking were scared. He was looking at her with the strangest expression, like he’d seen a ghost.
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Will said, gritting his teeth, “I know you’re wearing color contacts.”
“I—I don’t—is it a crime to want to change my eye color?”
“No me chingues, Liana, it’s the middle of the fucking night,” he said, staring her down with eyes that looked like two fathomless black holes.
She simply stared back, wide-eyed and alone. In that moment, her expression was all Jyn: feral animal backed into a corner.
The sudden sound of a stampede of hurried footsteps drew Jyn’s eyes past where Will stood, towards the door. They were coming, and they would find Will pointing a gun at her. Her head jerked involuntarily.
Will’s eyes tracked her movements. He swallowed, and lowered the gun.
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter who you are. You have two days to get the fuck out of Mexico, or I will kill you,” he said lowly.
“Okay. Okay, thank you,” Jyn said shakily, playing at being Liana once more.
“Don’t,” Will replied sharply, shoving his gun back into his trousers and crouching down in front of her. He touched at her jaw lightly, right where she could feel the bruise forming, and she flinched violently. His hand lowered, chastened, and his eyes wouldn’t meet hers. “Krennic doesn’t need to know about this,” he murmured.
“No,” she agreed, standing up abruptly, eager to get away from him. Her heart was pounding in her ears. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Go back to your room. You were there all night,” Will said placidly.
She nodded numbly, and left, mind racing.
Bodhi was awake, pacing frantically, when she returned. By then, the house was a swarm of activity: men with guns were running and shouting all throughout. They didn’t know that Chirrut and Baze were long gone by now.
Jyn’s heart was still pounding as she sat on the edge of Bodhi’s bed, curled in on herself. She was trying to breathe deeply.
“What happened?” Bodhi was saying. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head frantically. “He knows, Bodhi,” she gritted out. “Will knows.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“He saw that I was wearing contacts—must have been the flashlight—” she said rapidly.
Bodhi sat down next to her and put his arm around her. “Fucking Christ,” he said. “What did he do?”
“I have two days to get out of Mexico,” she said. She turned her head to look at Bodhi, suddenly realizing something. “I don’t know if he knows you’re involved. What if—”
Bodhi blinked.
She stood up suddenly, shrugging him arm off. “We have to get out of here,” she said. She dragged his suitcase out of the closet and tossed it on the bed. “We have to get out of here now.”
“Jyn, listen to me, there’s something I have to tell you.” When Jyn simply ignored him and continued to methodically pack, he grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Listen—Fulcrum’s alive.”
That stopped her in her tracks.
“What?” she asked. “How do you—”
“I was scanning the frequencies for chatter, to make sure no one had spotted Chirrut and Baze, and I heard—I heard ‘Copy that, Fulcrum. Go check it out,’” Bodhi said, smiling. “That means they’re alive!”
Jyn blinked, unsure where this left them. Did this really change anything? They still had no idea who Fulcrum was, let alone whether or not they could trust them. Bodhi seemed to take anything her father said as holy writ, and therefore believed unquestioningly that Fulcrum was trustworthy, but Jyn wasn’t so sure. She’d been in this business for too long to trust anything so blindly.
“Bodhi,” she said finally. “This has gone too far. Fulcrum can’t help us, now, even if they wanted to. I don’t want my body to be found in a ditch somewhere.”
“Jyn, your dad—”
“Is probably dead,” she finished flatly. She felt briefly guilty at the way Bodhi’s face dropped miserably, but pressed on. “If Fulcrum is so fucking great, why weren’t they able to help him?”
“We have to—we have to at least try.”
“No,” Jyn said. “No, we don’t. This isn’t worth dying for, Bodhi.”
“Two days, Jyn,” Bodhi replied. “Two days is all I’m asking. Let’s try to find Fulcrum, and if we don’t succeed by Will’s deadline, I’ll leave with you. No questions asked, I swear.”
She put down the shirt that she’d been folding and sighed. Bodhi was not going to give this up.
“Fine,” she said, begrudgingly. “Two days.”
Bodhi smiled, and Jyn glared.
“So, how do you propose we find Fulcrum?” she asked, exasperated.
“No fucking idea.”
Jyn sighed, trying to think. “Well—how did my father know who Fulcrum was?”
“By chance? That’s the only reason I heard their name mentioned over the radio.”
“Yeah, but you were scanning frequencies. My father probably wouldn’t have been doing that.”
“Someone acting suspicious?” Bodhi tried.
“Maybe that’s how it started. But how did he know the code name? He’d need some kind of—source,” she said, eyes widening as she realized exactly who might have told her father who Fulcrum was. “Saw.”
“Saw, as in, your foster dad? Saw, the eco-terrorist?”
Saw terrified Bodhi, and Jyn had to say, she found it a little hilarious.
She nodded. “He hacked the CIA database a few years ago when he thought there was a UC in our ranks. Fuck. Fuck.”
“So, Fulcrum is CIA?” Bodhi asked.
Jyn shrugged. “It’s definitely possible.”
“Let’s ask Saw,” Bodhi said, brightening at the thought.
“No!” Jyn snapped. She’d rather walk over hot coals than ask Saw for help. “That fucker left me to rot in prison.”
“Oh, come on, Jyn,” Bodhi groaned.
Jyn sighed heavily, and looked down at her feet. She hadn’t had much occasion to think of Saw during her time in prison, or, at least, she hadn’t thought much about him besides how he had betrayed her. She had no desire to see him, to even think about him, ever again. But she couldn’t see any other way forward that didn’t involve her getting a bullet between the eyes, courtesy of Will.
“Fine,” she said quietly. “Fine. I’ll get into contact tomorrow.”
Bodhi watched her go, eyes wide, not understanding. Jyn felt the memories coming at her like a tidal wave. She hadn’t thought of Saw in years. She hadn’t thought of his mocking laughter from those early days, of the icy silence he’d freeze her out with when she failed, of all the meals she missed as punishment. She hadn’t even thought of the good times, when she’d been useful, when she’d done well, and Saw would be all smiles and ice cream. All she seemed able to recall, like it was yesterday, was the heartbreak and panic she’d felt when she realized he and the crew had left her. It hadn’t even been a mind game that time. That much became clear when the police arrived on the scene and slapped her in handcuffs. Something in her had frozen solid in that moment, a long process finally coming to its inevitable conclusion. It hurt to think about Saw, so she had stopped. It hurt to feel something for him, so she had stopped. And that’s all there was to it.
***
It had been more than two days.
“Why hasn’t he killed me yet?” Jyn mused aloud to Bodhi one morning.
“You sound disappointed.”
She frowned. “I don’t get it,” she said. “I don’t like that.”
“I wish Saw would hurry up.”
They had successfully contacted Saw nearly an entire day after the break-in, through Baze’s vast network of arms-related contacts. Jyn was no longer in the circle of people who knew how to get in touch with Saw Gerrera.
“Jyn!” he’d smiled over the encrypted video chat.
“Saw,” she’d said coldly. She was tired of this operation making her drudge up every painful memory from her past.
“My darling, how are you? I haven’t heard from you in years.” His eyes were oddly soft as he said it, but Jyn wasn’t interested.
“Well, I was in jail, as you know.”
“Oh, Jyn, don’t say—”
“I’ll say what I please to you,” she’d said, with the brittle, rusty edge of pain long hidden.
“Okay, okay,” he’d said placatingly, eyes dimming a little. “What can I do for you, then?”
“My father asked you about someone called Fulcrum? Who are they?”
“Fulcrum?” Saw had said, casting his mind back. “CIA, I believe. I can dig up the file and send it to you.”
“Do that.”
“Jyn, just let me—let me explain—”
“No need to explain,” she’d said coolly. “I understand perfectly.”
That had been a day ago.
In the intervening time since the break-in, Jyn had been forced to work with Will on finding new distributors. It had been—difficult. For the most part, he simply ignored her existence, occasionally breaking the silence to assign her a task or ask her a question. When she’d first walked into the room that he used as an office, he’d simply stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, as if to say, I’d never imagined you were this stupid.
At the end of the first day, he’d pulled her aside and said, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but stop. Go home.”
The second day he’d spent alternately ignoring and glaring at her, usually through a thick fog of cigarette smoke.
The third day, she looked over at him and said, “What’s your deal?”
He glanced up from his desk. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s been two days.”
He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Are you asking me why I haven’t killed you yet?”
“Yeah,” she said, “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Krennic needs to think it was an accident,” he replied mildly, turning back to his work, “so I’m waiting for the right moment.”
Jyn looked at him in mock horror, but she wasn’t totally certain he was joking. Was Will even the type of person who knew how to make a joke? In any case, something in her stomach sank like a rock at his words.
Later that night, Saw finally sent them Fulcrum’s file.
Bodhi peered at the document on his screen, and Jyn read over his shoulder.
“CIA. Someone called…Cassian Andor,” he said. He clicked to the next item in the file, which was a photo. As it came up on screen, his jaw dropped. “Oh my god.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Jyn said. “Un-fucking-believable.”
It was Will. Much younger, clean-shaven, without a cloud of cigarette smoke around him, but still: Will was Fulcrum. Will was CIA.
“Will?” Bodhi said, in disbelief. “But he killed someone!”
Jyn blinked, utterly lost. “What the fuck…”
She’d placed him as law enforcement of some description from the off, so she wasn’t sure why she was so surprised. He had a kind of sour self-righteousness about him, a marbling of strait-laced, if hypocritical, Puritan. It was unbelievable, and it was the only thing that made any sense.
The next day, at a meeting with Krennic, Will—no, Jyn corrected, Cassian—was sitting opposite her, smoking in his usual enigmatic fashion and drinking coffee. She was staring at him, and trying not to, unable to square the man in front of her with the young, fresh agent she’d seen in his photo. He was a killer, and he was the closest thing to legitimate in the whole fucking place. Her father, she mused, watching Will carefully, had wanted her to trust this man. She nearly scoffed out loud. He was the least trustworthy of all.
“Gracias,” he said, to a maid who refilled his cup. He turned to Jyn and Krennic. “I’ve secured a meeting with a possible distributor. In Sonora,” Will said. “They run El Paradiso nightclub in Calexico.”
“Don’t they run all of Calexico? Estrada’s boys?” Krennic said, intrigued.
“Yes,” Will said. “I’d like Liana to come with me.”
His eyes landed on her expectantly, two near-physical weights.
“Me?” Jyn said, slowly, her heart going at a breakneck gallop. “But why would I go? I’ll get the documents in order, here.”
“Men like Estrada loosen up around women. They’ll be too busy showing off to check the details of the agreement.”
Krennic watched the exchange with interest, and grinned slowly. “Will, you absolute dog,” he drawled. “I was beginning to wonder if you had it in you, mate!”
Jyn kept her face carefully blank, unsure how she wanted to play this.
“Sorry?” Will blinked.
Krennic laughed heartily. “Oh, mate,” he said. “Liana, go with Will. Don’t worry, Melshi will be there to protect your honor.”
He got up and left, still laughing.
Jyn stared at Will. “What the fuck are you doing?” she said.
“We leave in three hours,” he said mildly. “Pack an overnight bag.”
He lit a cigarette and got up to leave.
Jyn packed quickly, and spent the remaining two hours and forty-five minutes trying to think of some way out of it.
“He can’t kill you,” Bodhi said sympathetically, though there was an edge of anxiety in his eyes. He was trying to be brave for her. “First of all, Krennic loves you. Second of all, if he wanted to, he’d have done it already.”
Jyn rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Bodhi. Comforting.”
“He’s CIA. He can’t kill people with impunity,” he replied anxiously. “Right?”
She shrugged, and shoved a pistol into her clutch.
Two cars were waiting at the end of the driveway. Will and Melshi stood beside either one. Jyn nearly cried with relief, and walked towards Melshi’s.
He grabbed her bag with an apologetic smile.
“No—” she said, before Will grabbed her arm and hauled her into the passenger seat of his car.
“You come with me,” he said. The door slammed shut and the locks clicked ominously. Jyn was immediately claustrophobic, pulse pounding loudly in her ears as she waited for Will to walk around the car and get in.
He began to drive.
“Listen, I—”
“Shut up,” he interrupted her, already exasperated.
Jyn shut up, eyes wide, and watched him. He drove aggressively, and soon enough, they were on the desert highway that led to Hacienda Rosales. She peered into the rearview and saw Melshi following behind them.
Nearly fifteen minutes passed in suffocating silence. Jyn had just about bit her nails bloody when they stopped abruptly on a deserted highway. The only thing for miles was a sad-looking cactus, and cracked red earth. Jyn fucking hated this place.
“Oh Jesus Christ,” she said anxiously as Will exited the car angrily and came over to her side. He motioned jerkily for her to get out.
When she had done so, he fixed her with an enraged stare and put his hands on his hips.
“What the fuck?” he cried. “Was I not clear?”
Jyn felt nearly dizzy with relief. He wasn’t going to shoot her and leave her body for the vultures. “You dragged me all the way out here for this? I thought you were going to kill me!” Jyn exclaimed.
“I should!” he huffed. “What do you want with Krennic? Who are you?”
“I could ask you the same fucking thing, Fulcrum,” she said, crossing her arms.
His eyes riveted to hers. “Where the fuck did you hear that?” he asked lowly, stock-still. She nearly smiled at his expression. It was that of man who had only just realized how utterly fucked he was.
“I think it’s my turn to ask questions, don’t you?”
He looked a bit green. He licked his lips nervously. “Go ahead.”
“Your name is Cassian Andor. You work for the CIA. Yeah?”
Any remaining color drained from his face. He was almost shaking, eyes all whites, as he managed to say, “Where did you—How did you—?”
“That’s not an answer.”
He blinked once, and then nodded jerkily. He asked, voice like lead, “What do you want?”
“Stop fucking threatening me, for a start,” she said. “And let me do what I came here to do.”
He looked at her sharply. “Which is?”
“Find my father.”
She was surprised when this, of all things, made comprehension dawn on Will’s—Cassian’s—face.
“I knew I’d seen you before,” he said, looking at her queerly. “You’re Galen’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“Jyn,” she corrected nonsensically, her mind racing. How the fuck had he known that? Why the fuck had she told him her real name?
“Well, listen, Jyn, you don’t seem to understand,” he said, stepping closer to her. The man had noconcept of personal space. “I can’t let you derail months of work and millions of dollars in operational funds so you can see your precious father again.”
“I don’t recall asking your permission,” Jyn said, brow mock-confused.
“I’ll tell Krennic who you are,” he threatened.
“Oh, come on,” Jyn replied airily. “Do I even need to say it? I’ll tell Krennic who you are.”
“This is not a fun little game for you to play at,” he said, teeth clenched. “People have died. You could die.”
“Your concern is touching.”
He raised a gun. “I’ll kill you, then,” he said, though she could sense he was mostly bluffing, trying to scare her off. He had no idea who he was dealing with.
She whipped her own pistol out. “Go ahead.”
They stared at each other a moment. His grip faltered, and she pressed her advantage, letting a deliciously slow smile spread across her face
“So you’re the mole,” she said leisurely, delighted. “Was it you who set Estevez up? Shot him to clean up your mess?”
“None of your business,” he bit out. His grip on the gun tightened. He hesitated. “They—they were supposed to arrest him, too.” He dropped his arm. “He would have exposed me.”
Jyn lowered her gun too, watching him carefully. She had him just where she wanted him. Him and his big CIA budget—that could certainly be useful. She could definitely use an ally within the organization.
“Why don’t we work together?” she asked. “I could use your help.”
Cassian put his gun into his belt, eyeing her warily. “I barely know you. Why should I trust you?” he said.
If Jyn were to be asked, she would not be able to explain why she did what she did next. Was it the cagey, wounded way he looked at her under the hot desert sun? How his hand shook minutely as it held the gun up? Or was it how desperate she was to find her way through this maze of dealers and traffickers and double-agents? So desperate that she clung to the nearest person, friend or foe, like a life raft? She didn’t know.
She dropped her gun entirely. He watched with an unreadable expression as she removed her contacts and her wig, shaking her hair out.
“Jyn Erso,” she said, sticking out a hand.
He blinked. It took him a moment, but he eventually, hesitantly, put his own hand in hers. It was warm, sweaty from the gun, but not entirely unpleasant.
“Cassian Andor.”
***
Cassian had informed her, in a strangely toneless voice, that they would be spending the night in a hotel on their way to San Luis, where the meeting would take place.
“You’ll have your own room,” he’d said, his eyes straight ahead on the road. “Me and Melshi will share the other.”
Jyn had snorted. “If you think I’m worried about all that shite Krennic was talking about, let me put your mind at ease. I somehow doubt you’re trying to get your leg over.”
His eyes had darted to hers, confused.
“I don’t think you’re trying to fuck me,” she’d clarified.
“Ah,” he’d said noncommittally. He’d paused, and Jyn could practically see him taking the time to pick his way around that. “I have people checking on your story,” he’d said. “If you’ve lied to me, I’ll leave you in Calexico. And if I see you again after that, I really will kill you.” His lips had quirked into sharp little smile. “Is that clear?”
“As crystal,” she’d replied charmingly, putting her feet up on the dash.
They’d arrived at the hotel two hours later. Cassian had been talking lowly on the phone for most of the drive, clipped little sentences in both Spanish and English. Jyn hadn’t really been able to make heads nor tails of what she could hear.
In the parking lot, he’d turned to her and said, “Come meet my team,” which Jyn had taken to mean she’d passed the test.
Now, she was sitting on the edge of the bed in a shitty little motel room, talking to Melshi while Cassian and his cunt of a partner, Esso, were arguing on the balcony.
When she’d met him, he’d looked her up and down and said, “You cannot be serious.” He tall and dark-skinned and built like a beanpole.
“This is highly irregular,” he currently was saying to Cassian.
The shorter man blew out a cloud of smoke. “Mothma thinks it’s too good an opportunity to pass up,” he said mildly. “Krennic loves her.”
“Krennic loves her?” Esso said, all camp outrage. “And that suggests to her that you ought to trust this mongrel?”
“Chingada madre, Kay, she’s right inside,” Cassian replied, turning to check if she’d heard.
“I see your time at Hacienda Rosales has not improved your vocabulary,” Esso sniffed.
Cassian leaned in. “Orders are orders,” he said. He sighed. “She has managed to place herself closer to Krennic and the weapon in one week than I’ve been able to in months.”
He stubbed his cigarette out on the banister and returned inside.
“Jyn, let’s talk,” he said.
It was odd seeing him as Cassian, instead of Will. Something about him seemed different: rougher around the edges, but softer, too, somehow. He still chain-smoked incessantly, but as Cassian it was with a desperate dependence instead of Will’s detached sangfroid. And of course there was the perpetual air of world-weariness that was the sole provenance of those engaged in public service. He seemed more an overworked desk jockey than a suave CIA agent in the dim light of the hotel room.
Melshi and Esso left without comment, and Cassian sat down the edge of the desk in the corner. Her knees were practically touching his own.
“Are you aware,” he asked, “of what your father had been working on when he was arrested?”
She was, but she wasn’t yet sure how much she wanted to reveal to Cassian. She shrugged uncaringly, and could see his jaw clench in reply.
“Chemical weapons,” he said, finally, eyes dark and blank as slate.
Jyn affected surprise, mind working overtime.
“His masterpiece is something called the Death Star. It’s a nerve gas in a distribution system that can douse ten square miles in a matter of minutes. At the time your father disappeared the Death Star was a few weeks off fully functional. Thankfully, without him, production has halted.”
This raised the possibility that her father had disappeared of his own accord. Jyn lowered her eyes, thinking. When she didn’t respond, Cassian’s face shifted.
“Those delays make you wonder if such powerful weapons could ever have been developed at all if your father had simply refused,” he said with a sort of smug, self-righteous cruelty.
Jyn’s eyes flicked to his. “He had no choice,” she said lowly. Krennic had threatened his family, and, indeed, had made good on that threat in the case of her mother. What was he supposed to have done? Allow his family to die?
“Of course your precious father is the only one who ever had to make an impossible decision,” he replied coolly.
She scowled. “What do you want, exactly?” she snapped. She was running low on patience.
“Help us find the formula for the nerve gas, and we’ll help you find your father,” he said, eyes alight as he looked at her with a watchful expression.
She snorted. “And why should I help you? You’ve done nothing but harass and intimidate me.”
“Krennic’s made promises to his investors and buyers. If we can spoil this deal, he’ll be ruined, sent to jail, disgraced.”
“Hmm. Okay. How about this?” she said tartly. “You help me find my father, then I’ll help you find the formula.”
Cassian’s look hardened, and he slammed a fist down on the desk. “I’m giving you the chance to take down the man who tore apart your family, who probably killed your mother—” and, fuck, he knew, “—who has destroyed countless lives, and that’s all you can say?” he asked, jaw set tightly.
“That’s all I can say,” Jyn confirmed, with a smug impudence she didn’t feel.
“Can you be so apathetic?” he asked, a sort of sour wonder in his voice.
How else do you think I’ve survived? she thought. She merely glared up at him.
“Fine,” Cassian said, clearly agitated. “Fine. I’ll just tell Krennic who you really are. Let him deal with you.”
Jyn rolled her eyes. “We’ve been through this before,” she said, “You say, I’ll tell Krennic who you are, then I say, no, I’ll tell Krennic who you are, then you glare—”
“Enough!” Cassian all but snarled. He ducked, to get in Jyn’s face, and Jyn could tell she had pushed things too far this time. “I show him your mugshot, and who do you think he’ll believe? I’ve been undercover for months now, and you’ve been here, what, a week?”
Jyn shot up out of her seat, so close to Cassian she could smell his aftershave.
“I don’t have to listen to this!”
“Yes,” he replied, impassive as a stone, “you do.”
They stared at each other a moment, faces only inches away, both breathing heavily in their anger. Jyn felt her rage like a live thing, like hot coals burning in her chest.
Agent Esso walked in at that moment, stopped, took in the scene before him, and drawled, “Oh good. No one’s dead. When the shouting stopped, I was afraid one of you had killed the other.”
Jyn sat back down, and Cassian slouched back onto the desk surreptitiously, rubbing a palm over his stubble.
“Three guesses which one of you I hoped was dead.”
“What is it, Kay?” Cassian snapped.
“We’ve already got a lead on Galen Erso,” the taller man said.
“What?” Jyn said, snapping to attention.
He passed an iPad to her, somehow loading the gesture with contempt.
“Last seen being forced into a van at gunpoint on the outskirts of Sinaloa.”
Jyn watched, eyes wide. The video was of her father, looking grey and exhausted, climbing warily into a van, a rifle at his back. He was surrounded by figures in bandanas. Jyn touched the image of his face on the screen lightly, then pulled her hand away like she’d been burned. She looked up guiltily, to find Cassian watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.
Seeing her father—it was like something inside of her broke down.
Looking back down at the screen, she quietly said, “I’ll do it.”
“The CIA helps its friends,” Cassian said. “Just help us first.”
“I said I’d do it,” she snarled.
Esso took the iPad back and retreated back into the connecting room. Jyn hated him in that moment, hated Esso and hated Cassian and hated the whole fucking lot of them.
“You’re all such fucking hypocrites,” she said, defeated.
If his face was any indication, Cassian’s conscience was untroubled.
“Am I supposed to apologize?” he asked mildly.
Jyn gave him a long look. “I don’t care, so long as you keep your promises,” she said, voice hard.
“You don’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question.
“No,” she replied, “but right now, I have something better than trust.”
Cassian frowned, not understanding.
“Right now, I have something that you want,” Jyn explained, insouciant and lounging, a smile arching her lips. She leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “As I say, better than trust.”
“How expedient,” he said, his eyes searching her face.
“I like to think so,” she said.
Who knew what he was watching for, and if, when he looked away, he did so because he’d found it, or because he hadn’t.
He exhaled, and retrieved a sheet of paper from a file folder on the desk. “Okay. Let’s begin,” he said. “This is Krennic’s operation.” He handed Jyn a sheaf of paper filled with a complicated network of names, places, and organizations. The fact that he was trusting her immediately with all sorts of sensitive and dangerous information was surprising to her.
He sat down next to her on the bed, pointing out various key points and smelling of coffee and sweat and tobacco. Jyn followed his finger as it traced along the lines connecting Krennic’s legitimate business, a security firm and weapons development company known as KrenTech, and the dodgier offshots: gunrunning, primarily, but certainly not exclusively. Krennic had fingers in all sorts of pies, from drugs to girls to hacking.
“Why are you telling me all this?” she asked. “I know you don’t trust me.”
He looked at her a moment, before reaching into his trouser pocket and pulling out a battered-looking roll of Tums. He frowned as he emptied two into his hand and popped them into his mouth pensively, as if the mere thought of trusting her was giving him heartburn.
“Whether we like it or not, we’re in this together now,” he said.
Jyn noticed he hadn’t contradicted her.
***
Melshi answered her knock the next morning.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly. “Mummy and Daddy are fighting again.”
“Would you like to know the odds of this operation failing?” she heard Esso say to Cassian out on the balcony.
Cassian, when he replied, sounded tired. “I always do, don’t I?”
“87%.”
Cassian snorted. “Not so good, then?”
Esso huffed impatiently, and reentered the room without another word. He gave Jyn an absolutely filthy look, and walked out the front door. Cassian entered from the balcony shortly after, and greeted Jyn with a nod.
“Sleep okay?” he said shortly.
Jyn nodded, unsure what that had to do with anything. She had the vague idea that it was his perfunctory way of checking in on people.
“Good,” he replied, seeming relieved to have the pleasantries out of the way. “I wasn’t lying when I said that women tend to throw these men off. So, here’s the plan: you will pose as Melshi’s girlfriend.”
Jyn frowned, but continued listening.
Cassian clocked her expression and said, by way of explanation, “Men like these don’t trust traffickers who put women in power. These are not middle-class eco-terrorist groups you’re familiar with. These men are poor, uneducated, and obsessed with looking macho.”
“You looked me up.”
“Of course I did. Now, your job is to be distracting. You must be above suspicion, which means no weapons.” He held his hand out. Jyn, grumbling, handed over the little pistol she kept tucked in her pants. “Melshi and I will take care of the rest, okay?”
Jyn nodded, but she wasn’t that comfortable with the plan. She was well able to play the part of the silly bright young thing, and had done so many times, but she’d always had someone she trusted by her side: Saw and his men, many of whom saw her as a kind of daughter, or, lately, Bodhi, Chirrut, and Baze. Playing this kind of character left you completely vulnerable, in more ways than one: skimpy outfits meant few weapons, and believable wide-eyed naivety meant little control over where the situation went. If things spiralled out of control—and they frequently did, when violent men were involved—they would be there for her. She wasn’t sure she could trust Cassian and Melshi the same way, but what the fuck could she do about that?
She returned to her own room, and put Liana’s clothes on thoughtfully. Sky-blue halter-top bodycon dress, laughably inappropriate shoes for the desert, and lots and lots of candy-scented lipgloss. The smile in her reflection looked empty.
One last touch.
She laced her garter holster around her thigh and slid a knife in. Rolling her dress down over it, she checked it in the mirror. No one would be able to see it.
They arrived at the meeting place, an abandoned boxing gym in a sad-looking strip mall. Jyn was already in character as she walked in, draped across Melshi, all eyelashes.
“Mmm, you smell good,” she said, giggling.
Melshi blushed, and she met Cassian’s eye like a challenge.
“Slow down, Liana,” he said shortly.
“What, are you afraid Melshi here’s gonna get his powder wet?” she drawled, patting her fake boyfriend on the shoulder.
Cassian rolled his eyes.
There was a sharpness in the air, and Jyn felt electric, all jagged edges.
Every step closer to the boxing gym wound her up more tightly. Melshi’s soft touch on her hip suddenly felt unbearable. She wanted to run. She didn’t trust these people.
Four men were inside the gym. One was enormous, bigger than Baze, with a matching gun. Another was slightly smaller, but still terrifying, with a rifle. The two beside them were smaller, with bored expressions, fingering the pistols at their hips. One was wearing a red linen button-down, the other a sky blue one. Jyn’s heart began to pound in her ears. She didn’t stand a chance against all of them. She was trapped in here, and she tried to check for exits surreptitiously.
One of the smaller men greeted them in Spanish, and Jyn smiled, sickly-sweet, even though she felt a cold dread clamping tight in her chest. Both Cassian and Melshi replied in Spanish. Her heart dropped. She had assumed that Melshi only spoke English—she’d certainly never heard him speak Spanish before—and had thought that the meeting would at least be translated for them. But no, she realized now, they would be talking entirely in a language she didn’t understand.
She would have no idea what they were talking about. She blinked, and ran a hand down Melshi’s arm lazily. He said something and it sounded like she was being introduced. She looked up and smiled winningly. Both of the smaller men took her hand and pressed lingering kisses on it, leering up at her. Their hands on her arm felt arrogant, somehow, like they wanted her to know that she was there for their pleasure, at their pleasure.
She flicked her gaze to Cassian, and he was watching with his mouth set in a thin line. He said something curt in Spanish, and the man released her. She flitted back to Melshi, hoping he would get the message that she had not signed up to be touched. The knife, she reflected, had been a good idea.
Cassian began to talk seriously with the blue-shirted man, while the other man let his eyes roam over Jyn’s body: a gaze that felt possessive and violating and stripping. She was far too vulnerable here.
It sickened her, but she had to play along, so she met the man’s gaze, careful to keep her face flirtatious, open, accessible. If she went too far, he might think she was offering something up, but if she didn’t respond in some sort of positive fashion, he might do something worse. Usually she could walk this line very well, but, without any sort of safety net, without any line on who, exactly, these men were, she felt far too exposed. She hated that Cassian had put her in this position. She hated that she had let him put her in this position.
The conversation stalled, and the red-shirted man continued to look at her. He licked his lips suggestively, and she acted like she hadn’t seen, choosing to occupy herself by toying with the collar of Melshi’s shirt with a pouty expression. Playing bored was always a safe option.
She heard the word español, which made her ears perk up. She thought they might have been asking if she spoke Spanish.
“¿Habla español, hermosa?” the red-shirted one said to her slowly, smoothly, and she suspected he was repeating himself.
She blinked innocently at him, then looked up at Melshi as if for help.
The two smaller men laughed. She heard a sentence that contained two words she knew: gringa and puta. The blue-shirted one said something, then, and they laughed again.
Jyn felt her anxiety ratchet up another notch. Who knew what they were saying, what Cassian had been saying that whole time? Maybe she had been foolish to trust him, CIA or no. Perhaps he wasn’t CIA after all. Perhaps Saw had wanted to fuck with her one last time. She ought to have learned her lesson with him by now. Saw could not be trusted. How many times would she have to be betrayed before it stuck?
She would normally look to one of her own people for help at this point, to try to communicate to them that it had gone too far, but she didn’t want to look stupid in front of Cassian and Melshi. She felt embarrassed, and she didn’t know why. Why weren’t they stepping in on their own?
Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled over by unyielding hands. She yelped, surprised. The red-shirted man had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. Melshi went to grab her back, clearly unamused, but Cassian stopped him with a hand. His face was unreadable.
Jyn tried to shift out of his hands, heart in her throat, but he simply pulled her closer. What was happening? What did he want?
Cassian was saying something in Spanish which sounded, to Jyn’s ears, impatient, but the red-shirted man didn’t listen. Even the blue-shirted man seemed unhappy with the situation.
The man’s hands traveled down her waist and to her thighs. She struggled against him, but he held on more tightly. She didn’t want to blow this, but he was fucking testing her.
And then his hand brushed over the strap of her holster, and he froze. Jyn stayed stock-still, hardly daring to breathe.
“¿Qué…?” he said. He shoved her a bit, pulled that side of her dress up roughly, and yanked the garter around her thigh so the knife was on the outside of her leg. She nearly fell with how violent he was being.
“Oi!” she heard Melshi shout, followed by Cassian’s sharp, “¡Qué chingado, cabrón!”
The man holding her shouted something in Spanish, and began to shake her. Jyn had had enough. She kneed him in the balls, grabbed her knife, turned him so his back was to her front, and held the knife at his throat.
She was breathing heavily as she seethed, “You fucking touch me again, and I’ll gut you.”
The man put his hands up. Jyn was practically shaking. Someone fired a shot, and she jolted. It had been the bodyguard. The red-shirted man took his moment, and spun around to face her. He knocked the knife out of her hand and went to punch her. She ducked, spun, and kicked him in the jaw before he reset from the momentum of the punch. Blue-shirt approached now, but another two shots rang through the air, hitting him in the leg. Jyn’s head spun to see Cassian calmly holding up his gun while Melshi dealt with Red-shirt.
“Liana!” Cassian said, but it was too late. One guard was approaching her, while the other was attacking him. Another two gunshots rang through the air. Distracted, she wasn’t able to completely dodge the heavyweight punch the bodyguard threw in her direction, and it hit her square in the shoulder.
A sickening popping noise rang through the gym as the man’s massive fist connected. Pain like a motherfucker shot through her as she careened towards the floor, landing with a great wheeze of pain.
Another shot rang out.
She grasped her shoulder with the opposite hand, gasping huge lungfuls of breath as Melshi looked down at her with a shock that was comical. She writhed on the ground, her face contorting in pain.
“Fuck!” Melshi exclaimed, guilt scrolling across his face as he knelt down next to her. “What’s happened?”
“S’alright,” Jyn grunted, nearly unable to speak. A sick-hot blossoming of agony in her shoulder clouded things for a moment. She gritted her teeth. “My— fault.”
She became vaguely aware of a third party entering her periphery.
“¡Chingada madre!” Cassian. He was standing over her with a grimace on his face. “What happened? What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“My—shoulder. Fuck. Fuck, I think it’s dislocated,” she gasped.
“Ay, Dios,” she heard Cassian mutter to himself. “We’ll have to relocate it, or else call a doctor.”
Panic rose in Jyn. It felt like her shoulder was on fire. Waiting for a doctor to come seemed impossible, untenable.
“No—just—can you fix it?” she grit out, pain exploding through her as she tried to move it experimentally.
“Yes, yes, I—I’ve done it before,” he said, hastily pulling his suit jacket off and rolling up his sleeves. In any other situation, Jyn might have laughed at the slight edge of panic in his voice. The frosty Agent Andor, human after all.
He sat down next to her, a mere foot or so away, and it wasn’t close enough to help her and still it seemed too close to be professional. His hand hovered, unsure. There was something endearing about him in the moment, despite the pain making her thoughts buzz and shake. Or, perhaps—because of it.
“Sit up,” he ordered gently. “Take it slow.”
Slowly, breathing deeply, she shifted into a sitting position with Melshi’s help. Meanwhile, Cassian was maneuvering himself so he was behind her, rolling his shirt-sleeves up.
His palm felt shockingly warm as it came to rest on the dislocated shoulder, and the pain seem to recede the tiniest amount. An expression of exquisite concentration came over his face and the hand not on her shoulder grasped her own gently. She was breathing heavily through the pain.
“This is going to hurt,” he said, voice oddly hushed. She nodded. Their faces were no more than few inches apart. “I’m going to raise your arm slowly, okay?”
Without waiting for her to reply, his hand lifted hers, inch by agonizing inch. The pain was unbelievable. Her eyes began to scald with tears.
“I know,” he said. “Lean back on me.”
He moved forward, minutely, and used the hand on her shoulder to pull her back so her head was resting on his chest. She tensed up. He smelled good, like citrus and coffee, but she did not trust him and suddenly she wished she hadn’t taken him up on his offer. He continued lifting her arm, and the pain of it made her vision go spotty, nauseating waves of black ants. She felt trapped and too-hot and panicky and the pain was claustrophobic in its enormity.
Anxiety mounting, she tensed up further as he continued inexorably upward. She let out a gasp, eyes squeezed shut, and started to shift uncomfortably as the pain in her shoulder swallowed her up. All she wanted was to get away from him.
“I can’t,” she wheezed.
“Stop fighting me,” he murmured softly, voice like gravel. “You’re fighting me.”
“I’m not—it hurts—”
“Okay. Okay. Relax your shoulder for me,” he said, voice sliding into something low and soothing. “We’re nearly there. Stay with me, Jyn.” Breathing deeply, she tried to let her shoulder and arm relax. “Good. Good, like that,” he crooned. “On three. One.” Her arm was nearly level, and she thought she might pass out from the pain. Her breath became more and more shallow and panicked. “Keep breathing,” Cassian said gently. “Two. And—”
Her shoulder slotted back into place with an audible popping noise, and she felt both her and Cassian’s bodies slump in relief. The worst of the pain was immediately gone, leaving only a dull ache behind. Jyn felt like she could breathe again, and she hastily wiped the tears from her eyes. Cassian’s body was warm and solid behind hers, and the relief was so profound that she didn’t even feel uncomfortable with their closeness.
“Fuck’s sake,” Jyn muttered, suddenly exhausted. Her shoulder was throbbing dully, and she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. She needed painkillers, and to sleep for about twenty years. Suddenly, she realized how close she and Cassian were to each other, how she’d put herself in his hands so freely. Coming back to herself, she skittered away from him, licking her wounds.
***
After taking a truckload of painkillers and sleeping for ten hours, she sought out Cassian, and found him in his office. Bodhi had told her that the CIA agent wanted to speak to her when she woke up. She knocked gently, and he called for her to come in. He was sitting behind his desk.
“You wanted to see me?” she said.
Cassian inhaled deeply, and asked, “How’s your shoulder?”
“Alright,” she replied. “Pain meds are helping.”
“Good,” he said quietly.
The air seemed heavy and awkward. Jyn had a sudden flash of his face, so close to hers as he lifted her arm upwards and upwards, the warmth of his hands, the way the pain had made her feel flayed open and all too vulnerable in front of him. It had been too much. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing, if that was the strange thing weighing on the moment. She would give anything to see inside his mind.
“Cass—”
“I can’t help but wonder,” he interrupted, jaw set, “was it on purpose?”
There was something smoldering in his voice, a banked flame, and Jyn found suddenly that she wanted to see how far she could push things, how high she could make the flames jump.
“What a stupid question,” she said.
“Is it, though?” he asked. “You are so selfish, I wouldn’t be surprised if you risked the health of this operation in order to spite me.”
Jyn felt her own ire rise with alarming speed. “He touched me,” she said, lips curled in disgust.
“He wasn’t touching you when you brought that knife even when I expressly forbid you—”
“Well, you obviously weren’t going to do anything about it! He was halfway up my dress before you even said anything!” she cried.
Cassian leaned in, eyes burning. “If you would have listened to me—”
“Do you have any idea what a vulnerable position you put me in, making me Melshi’s fucking girlfriend?”
His palm curled into a fist where it lay on the desk. He was absolutely seething. “If you had issues with the op, you should have told me. If you have a problem, talk to me. That’s how this works,” he said. “I don’t know how it worked elsewhere, but you do not just go rogue. For this to work, we need to trust each other.”
“Trust?” Jyn scoffed. “Trust?”
All that she had come to depend upon in her life had been taken from her, or sullied in some way: her mother, her father, the farm, Saw. How the fuck could she trust what lay ahead, when what lay behind was nothing but ruins? Who exactly was supposed to rely upon? Melshi, who seemed so lovely but who she barely knew? Esso, who hated her guts? Cassian, the least trustworthy of them all?
Obscurely, she sensed something had been taken from her before she even realized she’d had it. The ability to trust others, to trust the world around her. Love and loyalty became things that had to be continuously earned with obedience and hard work and self-denial, carrots to be dangled overhead. One bad day of training meant being left in the cold. The tumultuous years that had followed her leaving home were a painful lesson, and one that she had not forgotten.
“You’re saying I should trust you, when you blackmailed me into this whole thing?”
“Ay, no mames, Jyn, I didn’t blackmail anyone, we had an understanding.”
“An understanding…” she said, drawing the word out. “No. No, we had you exploiting my love for my father. Using it against me.”
She wondered how many more betrayals it would take for her to learn the lesson Saw had clearly been trying to teach her: love was a weapon, and one that could only be used against you. She could see now how hers for Saw had been exploited and manipulated. It had been a tool is Saw’s arsenal, carefully honed and sharpened, just as her family’s love had been one in Krennic’s.
Cassian chuckled. “You don’t even care, do you?”
He suddenly opened a folder on his desk and began shuffling madly through it, yanking out glossy photos and shoving them at her. It was the most animated she’d ever seen him. Jyn leaned forward robotically. They were pictures of bodies, laid out in grassy plains and salt flats and snow, bullet wounds like gaping holes; severed limbs and unseeing eyes; young boys holding guns and grinning. Jyn’s eyes widened at the photos, a black sickness rising in her throat, and she looked away as quickly as she could.
“This is what he does,” Cassian said lowly, his voice like a dull blade. “This is what you are letting happen because you’re upset about your father.”
“I was angry—” she objected, rapidly losing her grip on the conversation.
“I don’t care if you’re angry,” he raged back, as still as a stone, but practically vibrating with fury. “There are people dying because of Krennic, people suffering—that’s what I care about!”
“I can’t afford that,” she said, her customary defensiveness rising to protect her from her guilt. She felt as if she were drowning. “I cannot afford that.”
“Some of us don’t have a choice!” Cassian yelled. “Some of us can’t afford it, but we do it anyway!”
His breathing was erratic, his fist clenched on the table, his eyes alight and ablaze, and Jyn was afraid she had severely underestimated how high the flames could go, and had burned herself terribly on them. She suddenly had the sense that Cassian was forever beating back something passionate and untamed inside of him, that if anything ever broke the dam of his ironclad composure, the resulting flood would leave no survivors.
Jyn swallowed thickly, unable to look away from him.
He leaned forward.
“I have no leverage besides your father,” he said, quiet again, “and you are this operation’s last hope.”
Desperation burned in his eyes. Perhaps, Jyn thought, he was as trapped as she was. She understood his quiet admission to be the closest thing to an apology she’d ever get from him.