One unexpected perk of having been given his own ship—one to use regularly and wouldn't be used by others in between—was its storage capacity. A small compartment, a sliding panel just above eye level, too small for significant cargo and too inconvenient for nav aids, became the dwelling of these relics of an unknown life.
A few things, he kept because he suspected they had nothing to do with her real character. (Like the lipstick.) For that reason, they amused him. The shoes were more precious, and never left that compartment. The hairpins… he'd taken one to fasten invisibly on his clothes, several times, for certain missions. The man who claimed not to be superstitious.
He was sitting alone in the cockpit, leaning back, watching the starlines, when he felt a molecule shift. He looked down, and there was the piece of paper that hadn't been there before.
He. The tooka had been a 'he'. That felt important, somehow, even though Cassian had never thought to assign it any of the five genders.
He couldn't quite bring himself to tell the whole truth. There was a higher truth, anyway.
(Written also on the same paper, neatly beneath the kohl contribution: )
I gave him to a little girl. He gave her comfort when she needed it badly. She kept him close the rest of the time I knew her.
This nebulous new friend of Jyn's hadn't lost much - or so it seemed, but Jyn kept everything that she had found. She still wore the jacket from time to time, and carefully mended it to keep it from falling apart. The blaster, she kept with her other weapons. One never knew when one would come in handy ... and the beings that inhabited the places she tended to frequent were not the most trustworthy. It had seen it's fair share of use in the years since it had fallen into her hands.
And the shirt - she wore it sometimes, despite how big it was on her, how she had to roll the sleeves up to her elbows, how it still billowed out even when she tucked it into her trousers. For whatever reason - she certainly didn't allow herself to think about it much - it gave her comfort.
For a time, there was nothing. No little note sent in return. Nothing lost. Just complete radio silence, almost as though she had simply disappeared. And then, just like that, a wristband from a med-center located on Adarlon's capitol city, which looked to be singed off in quite a hurry. Most of the name had been obliterated, but there was still a faint '..AWN' visible.
Still later after that, a note would appear, the paper wrinkled and creased, like it had been stuffed into a bag or pocket, the writing hurried.
Jyn was smart enough to read between the lines. She didn't ask for clarification because none was needed. She felt ... sad ... for the unnamed little girl, but grateful that somehow, some way, she (and her tooka) had been able to help.
I'm glad. Could use a little of that myself from time to time. But then, can't we all?
…It was hard for him not to wrap everything and fly to Adarlon.
He'd almost forgotten what it was like to have an impulse. Much less to actually consider it.
When the note appeared, he'd been in the middle of a semi-clandestine meeting with a source. He simply snapped it up and stuffed it in his pocket without looking at it.
From that moment, though, he found—to his… some emotion—his objective wasn't really success of the mission anymore. It was getting enough closure to be able to go off on his own and read the note.
Can't we all. Yes. And he didn't know her, had no mental image of her, was only assuming it was a her (Cassian had had occasions to wear lipstick and hairpins himself), yet somehow got a mental image of them comforting each other. Sitting on the ledge of something leaning against each other's shoulders.
As usual, couldn't respond with anything of substance. Just wanted to keep the lines open.
He have a name?
Friend of mine had a great-aunt with four tookas. My friend got to name one of them. Their names wound up 'Taffy', 'Fluffy', 'Muffy', and 'AT-AV'.
[OOC: AT-AV = "All-Terrain Attack Vehicle". An EU detail of Princess Leia's childhood written by Barbara Hambly.]
By the time he arrived, Jyn would have found transport off-planet and made her way someplace new, someplace where she could rest and recuperate in relative peace and privacy before moving on all over again. It wasn't the most stable nor safe ways of life, but it was all that she had.
She rested uneasily in her bunk of the freighter, only stirring when she heard paper crumpling from underneath the thin, worn pillow. Carefully, she pulled it out and just as carefully, she smoothed out the wrinkles, huffing out an amused breath as she read the short note. It pulled at the staples holding together a ragged cut across her shoulder blade, and she groaned accordingly.
Jyn didn't know who her pen pal was, but when she thought about him - if he even was a he, she could hardly be sure other than the feeling that she got every time a new item or note appeared, she got the sense that this was a friend. And even if they inhabited opposite ends of the galaxy, she didn't feel quite so alone.
It was comforting, in a weird way.
The next time she was able to reply was weeks later as that same freighter was docked at Ord Mantell and she had just returned from a supply run, mostly healed and having decided to stick with the crew for just a bit longer, just until she found someplace suitable to disappear.
Koodie. Don't tell me, your friend picked Fluffy, right?
She resisted the urge - barely - to ask anything more substantial like where are you or more importantly, who are you. She had to be grateful for this, keeping some sort of lifeline in a vast and lonely universe.
However, in a moment of weakness, her hesitation clear in the start and stop of the next set of writing, she asked -
Longer amounts of time had passed between messages or items before. There was no reason to assume it meant none would ever come again—that something terrible had happened.
So of course that was exactly what he assumed.
(Because that's how life in the universe goes. Right?)
When a note finally appeared, thank goodness he waited to read it until he was completely isolated, because he actually laughed aloud at her dryness. As much relief as amusement.
Would you believe 'Taffy'? But Avie really was appropriate.
Some hesitation as well. …Then his first real detail.
I was on Lothal during the Blockade. I got stalked by a probe droid. So it wouldn't shoot me, I had to sit so still, for so long, that wild loth-cats came out of the grass, climbed onto me, and went to sleep.
There wasn't much anyone could learn from that. Maybe the vaguest little about his age, but hopefully nothing his handwriting and vocabulary would make surprising. Not really his present location, if one assumed that he'd been on more than one planet—though that itself was information. It's not like his assignment had been documented in any way that could be searched for on the 'net, so it didn't point to the Rebellion. Nor did being antagonistic with a probe droid necessarily dictate loyalties… it just suggested.
He kept it in anyway.
…because, wise or not, his craving for contact, for recognition, was only getting sharper.
It wasn't Cassian's first time on Jelucan. Not by a long shot.
Recruiting what Command only knew as "The Jelucan Source" had been Cassian's first major accomplishment as Fulcrum, vindicating Draven's appointment of him to the post. That source being a Human Cassian only knew as "Farir", and who only knew Cassian as "Willix"; Farir being a high-profile escort whose agency tended to cater to grounded Imperials who (naturally) couldn't get enough, while on leave, of the things they decried and punished others for. Bringing Farir to the cause meant having a direct line to extremely… well… sensitive intel.
It also meant that when Command reluctantly concluded that Cassian needed raven training, as another weapon in his belt, they knew who to ask for it.
Yes, Cassian had been on Jelucan many times.
…Even before, though—when it had been his first time—it had never felt it. He knew Jelucan's past in the CIS. He knew the Separatist who'd saved him from the Caridan riots and brought him to the CIS had come here regularly. Though he'd never accompanied her (he'd been a child), he felt himself, while there, to be walking in her footsteps. Following her ghost.
Jelucan had changed since the Separatist Crisis, and didn't seem poised to stop changing. It was getting more industrial and polluted all the time—more, indeed, like child Separatist soldier Cassian's home, at the time, of Sullust.
In Jelucan's capital, Valentia, at least, the vitals remained the same. First- and Second-Wavers side-eyed each other and never mixed except on the street and in certain bars, to which they may have gone as much to pick fights with each other as to drink.
Cassian wouldn't have picked one of them to meet in, but it was where the contact had insisted when Farir set up the meeting for them.
So here he was, nursing a drink, using the tricks he'd developed over the years to seem to be partaking more than he actually was. Cassian hated intoxicants. Not just because he tended to know or guessed the exploitation and violence behind almost all of them, but because he'd never, not on any drug, experienced anything but a really bad trip. Relaxants just lowered the shields, the partitions, on his mind, letting everything cascade in ever-mixing torrents, leaving him so cognitively overloaded it rendered him nonverbal and almost paralyzed. (Plus sobering up feeling like the flu.) Stimulants heightened his already amplified situational awareness, over-sensitivity to detail, and raised his wariness to paranoia, so the merest movements of anything anywhere within his full range of senses had him jumping and crawling out of his own skin. Hallucinogens… he didn't even want to imagine. The slightest bit he hadn't managed to get out of once, for a cover identity, had him seeing all the living beings around him as animate rotting corpses, sporting the kinds of injuries he'd inflicted on assassination targets over the years. Some, made into people he knew and cared about.
Those few experiences were more than enough to never seek any further high.
The problem was, when he was undercover, and his cover identity would not shy away. And/or when he was with the kind of company who would never deal with or remotely trust him if he didn't indulge exactly as much as they did. Again, he had tricks, but how much they worked depended more on the other party than on his own techniques.
This group (—which, also, hadn't been supposed to be a group, but no helping that now) were really plying him. In fact, he suspected that even the drugs he was taking on purpose had been additionally drugged. Between who he was supposed to be and needing to particularly ingratiate himself, it was impressive enough he'd held back as much as he already had. Which was already far more influenced than he usually allowed.
He didn't realize quite how high (compromised) he actually was, though… until they suggested the group relocate to a back room. And he got up a little unsteady on his feet…
…which, barely through the curtained doorway, were suddenly kicked out from under him. His wrists were grabbed, his head pulled back by the hair, his body slammed and pinned against a bar, face shoved down onto it, his feet kicked apart… and one of them pulled his blaster from his belt, but then grabbed the belt itself…
…go figure… he had, after all, had every other sort of sexual experience on this forsaken planet…
He knew the more he struggled, the harder they'd… deal with him… He'd been submitted to a lot before… But right now, he wanted to beg for help. Call someone to save him from what was about to happen.
Jyn wasn't as intimately acquainted - but on this, her first ever visit, she was quickly becoming disillusioned with all that was going on around her. Not the drinks or the drugs, as such, she knew that with all the uncertainty simmering throughout the galaxy, some places more palpable than others, people needed an outlet, a way to forget.
She was no stranger to under-the-table dealings, either. But it was different when it involved people's lives. Sure, she appeared innocuous enough, taking up as little space as possible in her little corner, bristling and snarling if anyone tried to show her interest, but she was keenly aware of what was going on around her ... which was more than she could say for some of the others visiting the bar that night.
One group in particular caught her eye, if only for how shadily some of the members were behaving, whispering amongst themselves, looking around as though they were scanning for anyone interested in their doings, and the one of them that was clearly weaving back and forth in his seat. Whatever motives the majority of the men at that table had, it wasn't good.
It wasn't any of her business, but when they stood up to move on, and she saw how markedly different the one was moving, she knew she couldn't sit back and do nothing. It wasn't her business, but she wasn't going to allow someone, even a stranger to get hurt in the ways that she knew he would without someone stepping in to assist.
She could be called a criminal, but she had never been heartless. So, as surreptitiously she could manage, she stood up, too, and followed. Luckily, the other patrons were busy with their own deals or dates or ... whatever else they were doing, so nobody paid her much attention.
It only took a moment of her peeking through the curtain and watching the assault for her to feel deep in her bones that she was doing the right thing. She said nothing as she stepped through the curtains, too, silent and full of rage as she tried to take them out as quickly as possible with punishing blows from her truncheons. She had a blade and a blaster, too, if need be, but as one after another fell before her, she didn't think they would be necessary.
All she heard as she dispatched one after the other until they all fell or ran was her heart pounding in her ears.
It made no sense. He was at their mercy. Any pretense at negotiation was unsalvageable. Why on Hoth would they…?
As the hands on his wrists and arms, waist and hair and neck, all withdrew, Cassian's legs buckled and he grabbed onto the bar for dear life; keeping himself from crumpling to the ground. He closed his eyes, pressed them to the cooler surface than the room, and willed the planet to stop trying to spin him off it.
Then he had the wherewithal, keeping one arm tightly over the bar, to turn and look over one shoulder.
Between being drugged and his brand spanking new head injury from being slammed onto the bar (and possibly a broken rib, ditto, but that was less influential on his visual perception), lights were sparking like a migraine and movement ribboned out in time-lapse continuity.
But he thought he saw a small figure—shockingly small—dashing and whirling in the midst of the group who shedded off, fell, one by one around it.
He may not be able to do much, but there must be something he could do.
His hand went to the belt (they'd managed to undo but not remove it) and its now-empty holster. He squinted again at the… combat? must be… and decided. He let go of the bar and let himself fall, sinking unceremoniously onto the floor. But the floor was more to hang onto than the bar had been. So, on hands and knees, he crawled forward, until his hands hit the prone body of one of the now-unconscious gang. Going by feel more than sight, he located the Human's blaster, to replace the one they'd taken.
And, staring intensely until he'd absolutely confirmed who was who, and where he was aiming, he fired.
The last gang member standing let out a howl and clutched his leg where the shot had hit—so doing, dropping the knife he'd been about to throw at Cassian's unknown, small savior.
They had not relinquished their almost-conquest voluntarily. But Jyn hadn't intended upon taking no for an answer. She was small and fast, and although she was outnumbered, the skills she had gained as a fighter (this was no time for a fair fight, and she felt no remorse in fighting dirty) she soon had the upper hand.
Still, for as righteously angry she felt, Jyn did not aim to kill. She didn't go easy on them, that was for certain, but once they were incapacitated, once they were unconscious or crawling away from the action, she set upon the next.
Not that she didn't take her fair share of shots - it was inevitable, being one person taking on an entire group, but she would deal with her own injuries later. The adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her up and moving, only ever catching occasional glimpses at the man she was trying to help; clutching at the bar as though his life depended on it, almost crumpled on the ground, crawling toward one of others lying prone on the ground ...
And not again until the shot went off and the last man standing yelled in pain ... until she bashed him in the head with her truncheon until he fell onto the ground silently, too. She hadn't killed anyone - she didn't think, but anyone who was of a mind to hurt another person like these men had been might have deserved it.
Quickly, she was at his side, extending a hand for him to take, her eyes steely, but not unkind. "Come on. We've got to get out of here before the authorities arrive."
…Had it all been a set-up? Never about making a deal, but about putting him in a position to be rescued. To trust or consider himself in debt. Was he known or important enough for anyone to have bothered? What was there to be gained? Why would that work better than its premise would? Did he really think this batch ready to be so subtle or complicated?
Real or not real, he was in better shape (—no matter being in such bad shape) to salvage something from this by going with her now; rather than, as she pointed out, waiting for the authorities to get involved.
He reached back to her offered hand. He clapped his hand into hers. And accepted her help pulling himself to his feet.
You can trust me.
Right.
Still, wouldn't hurt to seem to. Go for it. Take the bait.
…And if by some chance it wasn't… accept the miracle.
His forward momentum didn't stop where he wanted it to; he got off the ground, all right, but then overbalanced forward and had to be caught. Then supported by her getting out.
Jyn might've been the only one on this Force-forsaken planet who didn't have any ulterior motives whatsoever. She was simply waiting for the rest of her crew to sew their wild oats so they could return to the job they were supposed to be doing.
She couldn't begin to say whether or not she had been meant to be here at this particular time in this particular place, and she knew that she couldn't save everybody, but once she parsed what was going to happen, she knew she couldn't just ignore it.
So. Here she was, panting, adrenaline high, extending her hand to a complete stranger, trusting that he had no ulterior motives for her. But in the state he was in, Jyn felt no danger whatsoever, not even pity, not really. Just worry.
What had they dosed him with? And how long would it take to work it's way out of his system? And could she really help without looking for medical intervention?
Too much to concentrate on when the most important thing was getting out of there, not to the freighter, but to the dirty little room she had paid for for the night, where she'd just ... watch over him, make sure he didn't die on her watch. And when the morning came, she'd be gone. She couldn't offer anything else.
He took her hand, and she grimaced at how clammy his were. And she had to curl an arm tightly around him when he stood and promptly almost fell forward. "Come on", she urged, her voice tight, urgency coloring every word. "Work with me here."
"Sorry," he said, and was… (upset? enraged? embarrassed?) …aggravated at how slurred he sounded in two syllables. Ugh… he'd known but not managed to avoid…
He threw more power from shields to navigation; focusing intently on staying on his own two feet and leaning a little less on her, and following whatever direction she set.
"You know who they were?" he said softly. Knowing it was a stupid question, he was unlikely to get a real answer… but staying talking might help with focus, and her answer, truthful or not, might be informative anyway.
Jyn made a dismissive little noise in the back of her throat as her arm tightened around his middle - just to help keep him steady and nothing more. She would release her grip if he wriggled out of it. It wasn't his fault that he'd been drugged, and it wasn't him that she had any ire for. "You don't need to apologize."
Once he was a little bit steadier on his feet, she led him toward where she hoped a back door was. It'd be easier to make an escape with any eyes on them as they did so. Jyn felt a small sense of relief when that door came into sight, and she urged him toward it.
She scoffed and shook her head, glancing at him momentarily. It was a positive sign that he was able to speak coherently. "Not a clue."
There was a darkness in her voice, but it wasn't directed toward him more than it was the group of men she'd left lying battered on the floor. "I was watching. They were going to hurt you. What kind of person would I be if I let that happen?"
"Self-preserving?" he said softly. Without malice, bitterness, or judgment for the kind of person who would be. "Not anyone's fault that… not everyone should have to…" The thoughts circled in on themselves and left him dizzy. He shook his head, closed his eyes, and focused on staying on his feet.
"Where are we going?" he said at last, instead. Stick with the immediate and concrete.
"Complacent", she replied, not a chastisement, but a reminder to herself that today was not going to be the day where she just sat back and did nothing. For as battered as her heart was, she still had the capacity to care, even about strangers that she had never seen before and would never see again.
She didn't blame anyone who couldn't step in, but she held herself to a higher standard. She wasn't yet so disillusioned with everything that she could ignore something so heinous happening right in front of her. Hopefully she never would be.
"Got a room nearby - ", she replied, grimly aware that it might've sounded like he'd been rescued from a bad situation and being led into another. "You can shower and rest, let whatever they gave you make its way out of your system.
"I know." And he did, somehow. …Or at least, the part of his brain that had to rationalize went ahead with, he'd behave as if he did.
But…
"Why are you helping me?" he asked, still softly, still damnably slurred; with an acuity, a tension, nevertheless.
Even though, in the same way he knew the other, he knew this too; he didn't need to ask. That single word—complacent—had given him everything he needed. They were alike, at least in this: not everyone should have to give themselves up, for the sake of others. Which was why they did.
That, too, was promising. It suggested that she wouldn't have to worry about having another fight on her hands if he suddenly freaked and thought that she was going to try to take advantage, too.
That was the furthest thought in her mind. Jyn just wanted to get someplace safe - she had injuries to attend to, as well, what felt like a strained shoulder and maybe a bruised rib.
Worth it, though.
She didn't know what he'd go back to once the drugs left his system, whether he'd be safe or not, but tonight, he had no worries that anyone else might have malice in mind for him.
His exhalation might read as a laugh. But it wasn't one. "Okay."
The right thing to do. Versus the easy thing. Versus the complacent or self-preserving thing. Versus even the right move. Versus…
"Okay," again, more softly, then he had to stop talking and focus on staying conscious. He couldn't stop it. He could only delay it. Until they got to somewhere where he could properly collapse.
Jyn wasn't offended. She was too busy leading him outside into the cool air and through a light crowd who barely even gave the pair a second glance. One step at a time, she was bound and determined to get to the room she'd rented for the night.
There, he could give in and collapse. She'd be there to watch over him until the morning came and she'd have to leave again.
Not really how she imagined spending a night, but again - worth it in the end.
"Nothing wrong with a little encouragement", she retorted, her lips lifting into a wry little smile. "You're up and moving. I'd say you're doing pretty well, all things considered."
She pointed toward the building they were heading for, carefully maneuvering the both of them to the right side of the walk.
"I'm Liana", she smoothly lied, her expressing belying nothing that would suggest anything less than total truthfulness. "What's your name?"
"Rilio," he answered, just as smooth and blank. It was the name on the arrivals roster. His hand momentarily gripped her shoulder as he stumbled and made sure not to fall. He released her just as quickly, as if appalled he may have bruised her. "Is that it?" Not hiding a hint of pleading in his voice. Not much further.
Jyn might have inhaled sharply, but she didn't pull away nor push Rilio away. He needed to steady herself - it wasn't his fault that he'd chosen to use her injured shoulder as leverage. But she was grateful when he released his grip and they could continue on, slowly but surely.
"That's it", she confirmed, nodding slightly. "You think you can manage the stairs?"
Was there an alternative? "Yeah," he said. Not actually sure but stubborn enough to make sure. He'd had to tackle worse, while in worse shape, unaided.
He'd noticed the inhalation and almost wanted to let go of her entirely. He was hurting her somehow. …Of course, for all she'd utterly demolished the gang, they'd probably gotten a few hits in. But she'd chosen to help him, it wasn't his call to what extent she opted in, and he suspected that she was probably stubborn, too, and his resisting that would just be a waste of both of their time.
Still, he tried extra hard to carry more of his own weight the rest of the way and up the staircase.
She was stronger than she looked - but Jyn didn't particularly feel like dragging him up the stairs behind her. That'd probably garner the sort of curious looks that she was hoping to avoid.
Jyn absolutely was stubborn and strong-willed once she put her mind on something. He was in far worse shape than she was, and she could deal with the sharp twinge of pain. She had had much worse, after all.
The most important thing was getting upstairs and into her room where they'd have a little privacy. One labored step at a time, until the stairs were conquered and Jyn was closing and locking the door behind them, so grateful that the rickety little bed was only just a few more steps away.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I do it solely 'cause I get a kick out of it; never judging anyone else for it :-)
Date: 2019-08-30 04:58 am (UTC)A few things, he kept because he suspected they had nothing to do with her real character. (Like the lipstick.) For that reason, they amused him. The shoes were more precious, and never left that compartment. The hairpins… he'd taken one to fasten invisibly on his clothes, several times, for certain missions. The man who claimed not to be superstitious.
He was sitting alone in the cockpit, leaning back, watching the starlines, when he felt a molecule shift. He looked down, and there was the piece of paper that hadn't been there before.
He. The tooka had been a 'he'. That felt important, somehow, even though Cassian had never thought to assign it any of the five genders.
He couldn't quite bring himself to tell the whole truth. There was a higher truth, anyway.
(Written also on the same paper, neatly beneath the kohl contribution: )
Thank you, 'cause I'm trying really hard not to suck at this
Date: 2019-09-02 06:45 pm (UTC)And the shirt - she wore it sometimes, despite how big it was on her, how she had to roll the sleeves up to her elbows, how it still billowed out even when she tucked it into her trousers. For whatever reason - she certainly didn't allow herself to think about it much - it gave her comfort.
For a time, there was nothing. No little note sent in return. Nothing lost. Just complete radio silence, almost as though she had simply disappeared. And then, just like that, a wristband from a med-center located on Adarlon's capitol city, which looked to be singed off in quite a hurry. Most of the name had been obliterated, but there was still a faint '..AWN' visible.
Still later after that, a note would appear, the paper wrinkled and creased, like it had been stuffed into a bag or pocket, the writing hurried.
Jyn was smart enough to read between the lines. She didn't ask for clarification because none was needed. She felt ... sad ... for the unnamed little girl, but grateful that somehow, some way, she (and her tooka) had been able to help.
I'm glad. Could use a little of that myself from time to time. But then, can't we all?
You succeed!! <3
Date: 2019-09-03 02:27 am (UTC)He'd almost forgotten what it was like to have an impulse. Much less to actually consider it.
When the note appeared, he'd been in the middle of a semi-clandestine meeting with a source. He simply snapped it up and stuffed it in his pocket without looking at it.
From that moment, though, he found—to his… some emotion—his objective wasn't really success of the mission anymore. It was getting enough closure to be able to go off on his own and read the note.
Can't we all. Yes. And he didn't know her, had no mental image of her, was only assuming it was a her (Cassian had had occasions to wear lipstick and hairpins himself), yet somehow got a mental image of them comforting each other. Sitting on the ledge of something leaning against each other's shoulders.
As usual, couldn't respond with anything of substance. Just wanted to keep the lines open.
[OOC: AT-AV = "All-Terrain Attack Vehicle". An EU detail of Princess Leia's childhood written by Barbara Hambly.]
Ahhh thank you. Means a lot coming from you. :)
Date: 2019-09-05 01:44 am (UTC)She rested uneasily in her bunk of the freighter, only stirring when she heard paper crumpling from underneath the thin, worn pillow. Carefully, she pulled it out and just as carefully, she smoothed out the wrinkles, huffing out an amused breath as she read the short note. It pulled at the staples holding together a ragged cut across her shoulder blade, and she groaned accordingly.
Jyn didn't know who her pen pal was, but when she thought about him - if he even was a he, she could hardly be sure other than the feeling that she got every time a new item or note appeared, she got the sense that this was a friend. And even if they inhabited opposite ends of the galaxy, she didn't feel quite so alone.
It was comforting, in a weird way.
The next time she was able to reply was weeks later as that same freighter was docked at Ord Mantell and she had just returned from a supply run, mostly healed and having decided to stick with the crew for just a bit longer, just until she found someplace suitable to disappear.
Koodie. Don't tell me, your friend picked Fluffy, right?
She resisted the urge - barely - to ask anything more substantial like where are you or more importantly, who are you. She had to be grateful for this, keeping some sort of lifeline in a vast and lonely universe.
However, in a moment of weakness, her hesitation clear in the start and stop of the next set of writing, she asked -
Do you ever feel lonely?
<3 <3 <3!!
Date: 2019-09-05 01:58 am (UTC)So of course that was exactly what he assumed.
(Because that's how life in the universe goes. Right?)
When a note finally appeared, thank goodness he waited to read it until he was completely isolated, because he actually laughed aloud at her dryness. As much relief as amusement.
Some hesitation as well. …Then his first real detail.
There wasn't much anyone could learn from that. Maybe the vaguest little about his age, but hopefully nothing his handwriting and vocabulary would make surprising. Not really his present location, if one assumed that he'd been on more than one planet—though that itself was information. It's not like his assignment had been documented in any way that could be searched for on the 'net, so it didn't point to the Rebellion. Nor did being antagonistic with a probe droid necessarily dictate loyalties… it just suggested.
He kept it in anyway.
…because, wise or not, his craving for contact, for recognition, was only getting sharper.
Because the answer to her last question was—
no subject
Date: 2019-09-05 04:22 am (UTC)It wasn't Cassian's first time on Jelucan. Not by a long shot.
Recruiting what Command only knew as "The Jelucan Source" had been Cassian's first major accomplishment as Fulcrum, vindicating Draven's appointment of him to the post. That source being a Human Cassian only knew as "Farir", and who only knew Cassian as "Willix"; Farir being a high-profile escort whose agency tended to cater to grounded Imperials who (naturally) couldn't get enough, while on leave, of the things they decried and punished others for. Bringing Farir to the cause meant having a direct line to extremely… well… sensitive intel.
It also meant that when Command reluctantly concluded that Cassian needed raven training, as another weapon in his belt, they knew who to ask for it.
Yes, Cassian had been on Jelucan many times.
…Even before, though—when it had been his first time—it had never felt it. He knew Jelucan's past in the CIS. He knew the Separatist who'd saved him from the Caridan riots and brought him to the CIS had come here regularly. Though he'd never accompanied her (he'd been a child), he felt himself, while there, to be walking in her footsteps. Following her ghost.
Jelucan had changed since the Separatist Crisis, and didn't seem poised to stop changing. It was getting more industrial and polluted all the time—more, indeed, like child Separatist soldier Cassian's home, at the time, of Sullust.
In Jelucan's capital, Valentia, at least, the vitals remained the same. First- and Second-Wavers side-eyed each other and never mixed except on the street and in certain bars, to which they may have gone as much to pick fights with each other as to drink.
Cassian wouldn't have picked one of them to meet in, but it was where the contact had insisted when Farir set up the meeting for them.
So here he was, nursing a drink, using the tricks he'd developed over the years to seem to be partaking more than he actually was. Cassian hated intoxicants. Not just because he tended to know or guessed the exploitation and violence behind almost all of them, but because he'd never, not on any drug, experienced anything but a really bad trip. Relaxants just lowered the shields, the partitions, on his mind, letting everything cascade in ever-mixing torrents, leaving him so cognitively overloaded it rendered him nonverbal and almost paralyzed. (Plus sobering up feeling like the flu.) Stimulants heightened his already amplified situational awareness, over-sensitivity to detail, and raised his wariness to paranoia, so the merest movements of anything anywhere within his full range of senses had him jumping and crawling out of his own skin. Hallucinogens… he didn't even want to imagine. The slightest bit he hadn't managed to get out of once, for a cover identity, had him seeing all the living beings around him as animate rotting corpses, sporting the kinds of injuries he'd inflicted on assassination targets over the years. Some, made into people he knew and cared about.
Those few experiences were more than enough to never seek any further high.
The problem was, when he was undercover, and his cover identity would not shy away. And/or when he was with the kind of company who would never deal with or remotely trust him if he didn't indulge exactly as much as they did. Again, he had tricks, but how much they worked depended more on the other party than on his own techniques.
This group (—which, also, hadn't been supposed to be a group, but no helping that now) were really plying him. In fact, he suspected that even the drugs he was taking on purpose had been additionally drugged. Between who he was supposed to be and needing to particularly ingratiate himself, it was impressive enough he'd held back as much as he already had. Which was already far more influenced than he usually allowed.
He didn't realize quite how high (compromised) he actually was, though… until they suggested the group relocate to a back room. And he got up a little unsteady on his feet…
…which, barely through the curtained doorway, were suddenly kicked out from under him. His wrists were grabbed, his head pulled back by the hair, his body slammed and pinned against a bar, face shoved down onto it, his feet kicked apart… and one of them pulled his blaster from his belt, but then grabbed the belt itself…
…go figure… he had, after all, had every other sort of sexual experience on this forsaken planet…
He knew the more he struggled, the harder they'd… deal with him… He'd been submitted to a lot before… But right now, he wanted to beg for help. Call someone to save him from what was about to happen.
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Date: 2019-09-05 04:56 am (UTC)She was no stranger to under-the-table dealings, either. But it was different when it involved people's lives. Sure, she appeared innocuous enough, taking up as little space as possible in her little corner, bristling and snarling if anyone tried to show her interest, but she was keenly aware of what was going on around her ... which was more than she could say for some of the others visiting the bar that night.
One group in particular caught her eye, if only for how shadily some of the members were behaving, whispering amongst themselves, looking around as though they were scanning for anyone interested in their doings, and the one of them that was clearly weaving back and forth in his seat. Whatever motives the majority of the men at that table had, it wasn't good.
It wasn't any of her business, but when they stood up to move on, and she saw how markedly different the one was moving, she knew she couldn't sit back and do nothing. It wasn't her business, but she wasn't going to allow someone, even a stranger to get hurt in the ways that she knew he would without someone stepping in to assist.
She could be called a criminal, but she had never been heartless. So, as surreptitiously she could manage, she stood up, too, and followed. Luckily, the other patrons were busy with their own deals or dates or ... whatever else they were doing, so nobody paid her much attention.
It only took a moment of her peeking through the curtain and watching the assault for her to feel deep in her bones that she was doing the right thing. She said nothing as she stepped through the curtains, too, silent and full of rage as she tried to take them out as quickly as possible with punishing blows from her truncheons. She had a blade and a blaster, too, if need be, but as one after another fell before her, she didn't think they would be necessary.
All she heard as she dispatched one after the other until they all fell or ran was her heart pounding in her ears.
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Date: 2019-09-05 05:24 am (UTC)It made no sense. He was at their mercy. Any pretense at negotiation was unsalvageable. Why on Hoth would they…?
As the hands on his wrists and arms, waist and hair and neck, all withdrew, Cassian's legs buckled and he grabbed onto the bar for dear life; keeping himself from crumpling to the ground. He closed his eyes, pressed them to the cooler surface than the room, and willed the planet to stop trying to spin him off it.
Then he had the wherewithal, keeping one arm tightly over the bar, to turn and look over one shoulder.
Between being drugged and his brand spanking new head injury from being slammed onto the bar (and possibly a broken rib, ditto, but that was less influential on his visual perception), lights were sparking like a migraine and movement ribboned out in time-lapse continuity.
But he thought he saw a small figure—shockingly small—dashing and whirling in the midst of the group who shedded off, fell, one by one around it.
He may not be able to do much, but there must be something he could do.
His hand went to the belt (they'd managed to undo but not remove it) and its now-empty holster. He squinted again at the… combat? must be… and decided. He let go of the bar and let himself fall, sinking unceremoniously onto the floor. But the floor was more to hang onto than the bar had been. So, on hands and knees, he crawled forward, until his hands hit the prone body of one of the now-unconscious gang. Going by feel more than sight, he located the Human's blaster, to replace the one they'd taken.
And, staring intensely until he'd absolutely confirmed who was who, and where he was aiming, he fired.
The last gang member standing let out a howl and clutched his leg where the shot had hit—so doing, dropping the knife he'd been about to throw at Cassian's unknown, small savior.
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Date: 2019-09-05 06:05 am (UTC)Still, for as righteously angry she felt, Jyn did not aim to kill. She didn't go easy on them, that was for certain, but once they were incapacitated, once they were unconscious or crawling away from the action, she set upon the next.
Not that she didn't take her fair share of shots - it was inevitable, being one person taking on an entire group, but she would deal with her own injuries later. The adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her up and moving, only ever catching occasional glimpses at the man she was trying to help; clutching at the bar as though his life depended on it, almost crumpled on the ground, crawling toward one of others lying prone on the ground ...
And not again until the shot went off and the last man standing yelled in pain ... until she bashed him in the head with her truncheon until he fell onto the ground silently, too. She hadn't killed anyone - she didn't think, but anyone who was of a mind to hurt another person like these men had been might have deserved it.
Quickly, she was at his side, extending a hand for him to take, her eyes steely, but not unkind. "Come on. We've got to get out of here before the authorities arrive."
Or reinforcements.
"You can trust me."
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Date: 2019-09-05 09:31 am (UTC)…Had it all been a set-up? Never about making a deal, but about putting him in a position to be rescued. To trust or consider himself in debt. Was he known or important enough for anyone to have bothered? What was there to be gained? Why would that work better than its premise would? Did he really think this batch ready to be so subtle or complicated?
Real or not real, he was in better shape (—no matter being in such bad shape) to salvage something from this by going with her now; rather than, as she pointed out, waiting for the authorities to get involved.
He reached back to her offered hand. He clapped his hand into hers. And accepted her help pulling himself to his feet.
You can trust me.
Right.
Still, wouldn't hurt to seem to. Go for it. Take the bait.
…And if by some chance it wasn't… accept the miracle.
His forward momentum didn't stop where he wanted it to; he got off the ground, all right, but then overbalanced forward and had to be caught. Then supported by her getting out.
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Date: 2019-09-06 01:20 am (UTC)She couldn't begin to say whether or not she had been meant to be here at this particular time in this particular place, and she knew that she couldn't save everybody, but once she parsed what was going to happen, she knew she couldn't just ignore it.
So. Here she was, panting, adrenaline high, extending her hand to a complete stranger, trusting that he had no ulterior motives for her. But in the state he was in, Jyn felt no danger whatsoever, not even pity, not really. Just worry.
What had they dosed him with? And how long would it take to work it's way out of his system? And could she really help without looking for medical intervention?
Too much to concentrate on when the most important thing was getting out of there, not to the freighter, but to the dirty little room she had paid for for the night, where she'd just ... watch over him, make sure he didn't die on her watch. And when the morning came, she'd be gone. She couldn't offer anything else.
He took her hand, and she grimaced at how clammy his were. And she had to curl an arm tightly around him when he stood and promptly almost fell forward. "Come on", she urged, her voice tight, urgency coloring every word. "Work with me here."
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Date: 2019-09-08 04:23 am (UTC)He threw more power from shields to navigation; focusing intently on staying on his own two feet and leaning a little less on her, and following whatever direction she set.
"You know who they were?" he said softly. Knowing it was a stupid question, he was unlikely to get a real answer… but staying talking might help with focus, and her answer, truthful or not, might be informative anyway.
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Date: 2019-09-08 05:05 am (UTC)Once he was a little bit steadier on his feet, she led him toward where she hoped a back door was. It'd be easier to make an escape with any eyes on them as they did so. Jyn felt a small sense of relief when that door came into sight, and she urged him toward it.
She scoffed and shook her head, glancing at him momentarily. It was a positive sign that he was able to speak coherently. "Not a clue."
There was a darkness in her voice, but it wasn't directed toward him more than it was the group of men she'd left lying battered on the floor. "I was watching. They were going to hurt you. What kind of person would I be if I let that happen?"
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Date: 2019-09-08 05:21 am (UTC)"Where are we going?" he said at last, instead. Stick with the immediate and concrete.
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Date: 2019-09-08 05:30 am (UTC)She didn't blame anyone who couldn't step in, but she held herself to a higher standard. She wasn't yet so disillusioned with everything that she could ignore something so heinous happening right in front of her. Hopefully she never would be.
"Got a room nearby - ", she replied, grimly aware that it might've sounded like he'd been rescued from a bad situation and being led into another. "You can shower and rest, let whatever they gave you make its way out of your system.
... I'm not gonna hurt you."
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Date: 2019-09-08 05:36 am (UTC)But…
"Why are you helping me?" he asked, still softly, still damnably slurred; with an acuity, a tension, nevertheless.
Even though, in the same way he knew the other, he knew this too; he didn't need to ask. That single word—complacent—had given him everything he needed. They were alike, at least in this: not everyone should have to give themselves up, for the sake of others. Which was why they did.
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Date: 2019-09-08 05:43 am (UTC)That was the furthest thought in her mind. Jyn just wanted to get someplace safe - she had injuries to attend to, as well, what felt like a strained shoulder and maybe a bruised rib.
Worth it, though.
She didn't know what he'd go back to once the drugs left his system, whether he'd be safe or not, but tonight, he had no worries that anyone else might have malice in mind for him.
Worth it.
"It's the right thing to do."
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Date: 2019-09-08 05:52 am (UTC)The right thing to do. Versus the easy thing. Versus the complacent or self-preserving thing. Versus even the right move. Versus…
"Okay," again, more softly, then he had to stop talking and focus on staying conscious. He couldn't stop it. He could only delay it. Until they got to somewhere where he could properly collapse.
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Date: 2019-09-08 05:56 am (UTC)There, he could give in and collapse. She'd be there to watch over him until the morning came and she'd have to leave again.
Not really how she imagined spending a night, but again - worth it in the end.
"A little further. Come on, you're doing great."
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Date: 2019-09-08 06:14 am (UTC)…Which was, in turn… more true than he'd even meant to be.
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Date: 2019-09-08 06:21 am (UTC)She pointed toward the building they were heading for, carefully maneuvering the both of them to the right side of the walk.
"I'm Liana", she smoothly lied, her expressing belying nothing that would suggest anything less than total truthfulness. "What's your name?"
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Date: 2019-09-08 06:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-09-08 06:39 am (UTC)"That's it", she confirmed, nodding slightly. "You think you can manage the stairs?"
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Date: 2019-09-08 06:56 am (UTC)He'd noticed the inhalation and almost wanted to let go of her entirely. He was hurting her somehow. …Of course, for all she'd utterly demolished the gang, they'd probably gotten a few hits in. But she'd chosen to help him, it wasn't his call to what extent she opted in, and he suspected that she was probably stubborn, too, and his resisting that would just be a waste of both of their time.
Still, he tried extra hard to carry more of his own weight the rest of the way and up the staircase.
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Date: 2019-09-08 07:14 am (UTC)Jyn absolutely was stubborn and strong-willed once she put her mind on something. He was in far worse shape than she was, and she could deal with the sharp twinge of pain. She had had much worse, after all.
The most important thing was getting upstairs and into her room where they'd have a little privacy. One labored step at a time, until the stairs were conquered and Jyn was closing and locking the door behind them, so grateful that the rickety little bed was only just a few more steps away.
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From:oh nooooo my icons
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From:A ZILLION YEARS LATER…
From:right here waiting.mp3
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From:How did I lose this?? Ack! Sorry!! But I did just massively enjoy rereading all of it ^_^ ^_^ <3
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