Chapter Text
“Whatever I do, I do it to protect you. Say you understand.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “I understand.”
(she doesn’t--understand, that is. she isn’t sure she ever will )
Jyn knows she’s supposed to run--they’ve practiced this enough times that she could do it in her sleep, after all--but Mama’s not following the plan ( trust the force, jyn, and a kyber crystal pressing sharp and cold into her little palms), and so she hides in the tall grass and watches.
And this is how she sees death , for the first time.
(she tries not to scream, pretends it isn’t mama dead and cold on the dirt, and runs through the canyon until she can’t breathe, until she feels like dying, and then she runs harder)
There’s a cave, and inside the cave there’s a bunker, with a hatch that will lock her in until someone comes--Jyn knows this, and she stumbles into the little cave easily, curls herself up and tries not to breathe.
(mama runs from the house and fires at the man in white, and the toy-soldiers all in shiny black lift their arms, all at once, mechanical and synchronized as the little robots papa builds, and fire hisses and spurts from the muzzles of their glittering-sharp blasters, and mama falls)
Sobs rise in her throat, thick and heavy and choking, and she closes her eyes tightly and bites her hand until it bleeds, and the pain distracts her from the scene playing on a loop in her head. And then there’s a rattle, and the hatch above her head creaks open.
( trust the force, jyn, and she goes still as ice, freezes, doesn’t even breathe)
(ice doesn’t breathe)
“Hey, what’s this?” a voice asks, cracked like dust and just as dry.
She looks up.
The man who is supposed to come for her is named Saw Gererra, and Jyn has seen a holoimage of him, knows what he looks like; the man in the damp, dirty uniform that she sees now is not Saw.
(she sees an insignia, worn and faded, on his shoulder. it’s not the same one as the man in white wears, so he’s not empire--but if he’s not saw and he’s not empire, who is he?)
“What are you doing in here?” he asks, and reaches a hand down.
She takes it, after a moment’s thought. “I’m hiding,” she tells him then. “From the man in white, like we practiced.”
( trust the force, jyn, and mama falls broken and empty on the dark dirt)
“The man in white?” he asks, eyebrows climbing high in surprise; she pulls herself out of the hatch, scrambles to her feet, and nods. “Orson Krennic?”
A shrug. She doesn’t know the man in white’s name--Papa never said, just that he’s dangerous and if he comes, then they must follow the plan.
(mama presses the kyber crystal into her palm and then she’s running, flinging herself between papa and the man in white, and that is not the plan but--)
“Okay…” There’s a pause. “Kriff, Mothma’ll have my head for this,” he mumbles finally. “Doesn’t approve of kids in war, but what choice do I have? I can’t just leave you here.”
“Someone’s coming,” Jyn finally thinks to say. “Or, well, supposed to be coming. It’s the plan, Papa said.”
“Someone came,” and for some reason, he grins. “Name’s Jorgen, and you are?”
She only hesitates a beat before replying, a tiny smile of her own starting to form. “Jyn.”
Jorgen laughs. “Nice to meet you, little Jyn. Welcome to the Rebellion.”
[=|=]
She doesn’t think of Mama and Papa during the flight through hyperspace, to the small Outer Rim planet Jorgen calls Dantooine. Jorgen says a lot of things during the flight, things Jyn isn’t sure she’s supposed to know; things like the fact that Dantooine is home to a base for the Rebellion, that ever since the Emperor took over power four years ago the Rebellion has been recruiting, and that he thinks she’ll like it there.
“Do you hate the Empire?” he asks, after that last one. “I mean, I’d think so, since Krennic just did… something to you…”
She hasn’t told him about Mama and Papa yet, isn’t sure she’s going to. But she nods, because she does hate the Empire, with all her heart. The Empire killed Mama, stole Papa; yes , she hates it.
A satisfied (or at least, she thinks it’s satisfied) smile spreads across Jorgen’s face. “Good. How old are you, little Jyn?”
“Eight,” she says sharply. “I’m not little .”
“Smaller than me, though,” and there’s that rakish grin again.
She can’t really argue that.
“Smaller than jus’ about everybody, I’d wager,” he continues, looking her up and down. “So, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re still little, at least for now.”
She glares at him, and turns to stare out at the stars streaming by, and doesn’t say another word until they land.
“Come on, Jyn,” he says, breaking the silence. “I’ve got to take you to Mothma.”
“Who’s Mothma?” she asks, instantly on her guard-- this isn’t the plan and who knows what could happen now.
“Senator Mon Mothma, one of the leaders of the Rebellion,” Jorgen answers. “Come on, this way.”
She follows him without question, then, trusting him to take her where he says he is. The landing pad is in the middle of a open, grassy field, and not far beyond it she can see several large buildings clustered together; it looks far too small to be a base.
Then they step inside, and she sees the turbolift waiting for them, and she understands. The majority of the base is underground.
The turbolift descends several hundred meters, opens up to a small corridor; Jyn follows Jorgen through several intersections to a door. “In here,” he says, and knocks.
“Enter,” a woman says.
(trust the force, jyn)
She opens the door.
A tall woman in white sits on one side of a desk, a hard-eyed man on the other; both stare at her like she’s wearing stormtrooper armor, or worse.
“What is this? ” the man says.
“Um,” Jyn answers, freezing under his scrutiny; his eyes are so very hard and cold and sharp.
“Senator, General,” Jorgen starts, saluting both, “this is Jyn. I found her hiding from Director Krennic in a bunker on Lah’mu.”
“You have to help Papa,” she says in a rush, suddenly, desperate and pleading. “The man in white came, he shot Mama, and he took Papa away, you have to help him, please! ”
“Easy, child,” the woman says. “We can’t help your Papa unless we know his name.”
Jyn thinks for a moment. “Galen Erso,” she says finally. “And I’m Jyn Erso, that’s my name.”
Silence.
She looks between the hard man and the woman in white, waiting anxiously. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”
The woman in white answers after one last long look at the hard man. “Yes, of course, Jyn. It might take us a couple of weeks to get in touch with your Papa, but we’ll do all we can to help you. Why don’t you go with Jorgen, and he’ll help you get settled in, find you some extra clothes and whatnot?”
Jyn beams, brilliant and blinding. “Thank you!” she exclaims, then turns to Jorgen and follows him back out of the room.
“What the kriffing hell are we going to do with Galen Erso’s daughter?” General Draven mutters to Senator Mon Mothma under his breath as the two leave.
Mothma frowns thoughtfully. “I may have an idea. General, do you think you could figure out where Galen Erso has been taken?”
[=|=]
Galen Erso is more than just a genius; he also prides himself on his observation skills. Even so, he at first doesn’t realize the stormtrooper casually marching towards him isn’t, actually, a stormtrooper until it brushes against him, mumbles an apology, and continues on.
Even then, he still doesn’t notice the deception, until he sees the holocube that’s somehow been palmed into his hand.
He takes his time returning to his quarters, not wanting to arouse Krennic’s suspicions; however, as soon as possible, he locks himself in his room and turns on the holo to find a man and woman sitting behind a desk. “Galen Erso,” the woman greets him with a polite smile. “I am Senator Mon Mothma, and this is General Davits Draven, Head of Rebel Intelligence.”
He freezes.
“Before you alert the Empire to this hologram message, you might want to know that we have your daughter, Jyn,” Draven continues; Mothma smiles pleasantly and holds up a crystal necklace that Galen knows very, very well. “Work with us, Erso, or we punish your daughter.”
It takes him a moment to find his voice, and when he does, it’s nothing more than a rasping croak. “You’d use my daughter as a hostage?” he asks, disbelieving; then, recovering himself somewhat: “I’ve already begun making plans to sabotage the Empire from the inside.”
There’s a silence while Mothma and Draven exchange looks; clearly, neither of them had planned on his willingness to aid their cause. He takes advantage of their momentary silence. “If you allow me to speak with Jyn a couple times a month, I’ll do my best to use my connection with Orson Krennic to get sensitive information for you. Just let me see my daughter. Let me speak with my Stardust. Please. ”
There’s another second of silence, then Mothma nods. “Very well, Galen. I look forward to our continued partnership.”
“As do I,” Galen says, and smiles truly for the first time since Lah’mu.
[=|=]
The boy is tiny , no older than six standard years, when Saw Gerrera finds him; now at nine, young Cassian Andor is one of Saw’s best soldiers. He’s intelligent and observant, excellent qualities for a spy; his small size makes him perfect for all kinds of sabotage and espionage. After all, no one suspects a child.
Saw hates this, raising an orphan of war to be yet another child soldier in this self-perpetuating conflict; the boy has lost enough, with his entire family slain by stormtroopers in a raid on Fest, and training to become a soldier immediately after does nothing more than increase the psychological trauma tenfold. Saw knows this very well; if he was just a little stronger, he’d leave the boy behind somewhere. And until a couple standard weeks ago, the leader of the Rebel sect known as the Partisans was planning to do just that.
But ever since finding the cave on Lah’mu empty of little Jyn after Galen sent the signal saying the Empire had found the Ersos, Saw can’t find it in his heart to let Cassian go. Jyn isn’t necessarily dead , of course, but the chances of her still living are so monumentally small that Saw can’t allow himself to hope.
In any case, whether dead or alive, the Erso girl is lost to him now, and in her own way she’s just as much an orphan as Cassian is; Saw supposes it’s selfish, to keep the boy around for that sole reason, but he’s nothing if not a selfish man if he dares step away from the cause, even for a moment.
The boy will do well, however. In the three years Cassian’s been with the Partisans, he’s become quite adept with a blaster, and he’s already begun to master the lessons about emotions. It is certainly not the upbringing he should have received; but, then again, none of them are living the lives they should be. Not with the Empire in power. No one lives like they should while the Imperial flag flies.
Cassian will be alright, Saw thinks, and rolls over, closing his eyes. And maybe, just maybe, if the Force is feeling particularly benevolent, Jyn will be, too.