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Cassian wasn’t sure how he ended up on his back with a revolver, a double barrel shotgun and what looked like a walking stick pointed at his head. It might have started when Kay demanded to stay outside. Or when he put his badge in his pocket instead of wearing it pinned to his jacket's lapel. Or maybe it was when the coyote smuggled him across the border all those years ago.
No, it probably started with Kay.
“I’m not going in there,” the overly gaunt and tall man stated stubbornly from where he was perched on the back of an equally leggy mare.
James K. Tuesso was a strange man. He had perfectly round, thick glassed spectacles, frightfully pale skin and hair along with a brain that moved faster than anyone else's and, unfortunately, he knew it. He was a brilliant, if antisocial, engineer and data analyst attached to the same Marshal’s outpost that Cassian was, the two often investigating industrial sabotage, smuggling and other major crimes that involved crossing state lines and territory boundaries.
Their current case had them on the trail of a businessman who was allegedly moving weapons for the various mob families in the Northeast with the police and Marshals being none the wiser. Krennic Import & Export had books that were squeaky clean and employees so loyal it bordered on absurd. Until now that is.
Now there was a whistleblower who had gotten out from under Krennics thumb and was willing to not only talk, but testify against his boss. Unfortunately, he didn’t run to the cops or Marshals but to a local anarchist and former military man named Saw Gerrera. According to Cassian’s superior there was only one way to see Gerrera, let alone find the slippery bastard in his network of safe houses, and that was to find his protege - someone called ‘The Lion Cub.’ It wasn't much of a description, let alone any description at all, but the powers that be deemed it to be a solid enough lead to send Cassian and Kay on a long ride down the Old Spanish Trail through the plains of New Mexico, over the mountains of the Southwest to a spec on the map called Jedha, Nevada where Kay was now refusing to move from his saddle despite the fatigue Cassian knew they were both suffering from.
Cassian tried not to groan as he tied off his horse near a water trough outside a hole in the wall known as ‘The Temple Saloon’. What meager intel they had picked up along they backroads and around shared campfires suggested this was where the Lion Cub was seen last. In the heat of the midday sun with grit stuck to his clothes and in his molars, Cassian didn’t think it was a bad place to hide out either. Better than sticking out like the two strangers they were as they baked in the heat on the empty main road.
“Stay out here and fry then,” Cassian groused. If their leads were trustworthy then their target would be in this town, maybe in this very bar, right at that moment. Cassian wasn’t going to pass up that opportunity, not when it meant stopping Krennic and the Brotherhood from ruining innocent lives in the name of profit.
Cassian checked that his two revolvers were firmly in their holsters and his wallet was in his pocket before his eye caught on the badge pinned to his lapel - his Marshal star shining like a new penny in the afternoon sun. If this place was the den of thieves it was believed to be, better start off on the right foot by not declaring himself a lawman from the get go. Kay let out an indignant huff as Cassian shoved the badge into his jacket pocket.
“You should not take that off,” the other man declared. “They won’t respect you without it.”
“They won’t talk to me with it,” Cassian countered as he loped up the wooden steps onto the saloon porch. “Find some shade if you won’t come in. I’ll yell if I need you.”
Ever the pragmatist, Kay fished a brightly polished pocketwatch from inside his jacket. He quickly checked the time before replacing it once more. His thick spectacles reflected the noon sun harshly, making it nearly impossible for Cassian to look him in the eye.
“You have 30 minutes,” Kay declared definitively before turning his horse around towards a small hotel they had passed. “Then we shall do this my way.”
Cassian sighed. Kay's way typically meant crawling around the local archives and reading through hefty tomes older than both of them combined. It got results, Cassian couldn’t argue with that, but it also bored him to tears. If he still believed in a higher power he’d have prayed for this to work, but since he didn’t he’d just have to rely on his luck and wits as usual.
Stepping into the Temple Saloon wasn’t what he was expecting. In the heat of the day in a desert town, Cassian was surprised to see the bar almost completely empty. There were only 3 people inside, two patrons and the bartender. The bartender was a bear of a man with a wild mane of black hair and a severe frown that could rival Cassian’s commanding officer. One of the patrons was seated at the bartop, covered from head to toe and examining the edge of a wicked looking knife. The other patron was a man with close cropped black hair seated at a table to the side with a cup of what looked like tea. Despite looking his direction when he came in, the seated man's eyes didn’t quite line up with where Cassian stood just inside the swinging doors. A glance at his milky colored eyes and the walking stick leaned up against his table confirmed Cassian's suspicions - he was blind. A strange place full of strange company. Not to be deterred, Cassian walked right up to the bar, his boot steps almost obnoxiously loud in the quiet space.
“What’ll it be,” the barman grunted more than asked. A few seats down, the patron with the knife started idly twirling it around on its point, scuffing the bar top.
Cassian reached for his wallet, fishing out a $5 half eagle. He placed it on the bartop, pushing it towards the barman.
“Whiskey, double in a short,” Cassian requested before giving the half eagle a tap. “And some information.”
The barman raised one eyebrow slightly before sweeping the coin off the bartop. He turned back towards his wall of liquor bottles and grabbed a glass.
“You’ll get your drink,” the large man grunted. “But whether or not you get your information depends on what it is.”
His drink in hand, Cassian swished the whiskey around in his mouth, mulling over the taste as he worked the grit from his teeth.
“I’m looking for someone,” Cassian explained after swallowing.
“Aren’t we all?” The blind man snorted somewhat from his table. The bartender frowned in the blind man's direction and as if sensing it, the man laughed before sipping his tea and humming idly.
“It’s a big desert, stranger,” the barman said as he turned back to Cassian.
“Maybe not as big as you might think,” Cassian countered as he swirled the contents of his glass. “I have intel that this saloon is a favorite his.”
“And just who might this ‘he’ be?”
“Gerrera’s Lion Cub.”
The knife twirling patron went suddenly still and the blind man's humming ceased. Clearly, he had his a nerve. At least that meant his intel was good. The bartender straightened to his full height, looking down at Cassian with a hard gaze.
Things were a blur after that. First the knife clanged against the bartop, followed by the rustle of fabric with quick footsteps before Cassian’s barstool was knocked out from under him. His head hit the wood floor, sending stars across his vision and knocking his hat from his head. When his vision cleared again, he wasn’t sure where to look first, the revolver, the shotgun or the walking stick.
“Keep those hands where we can see them lawman,” the bartender barked from where he stood with the shotgun behind the bar, Cassian lined up perfectly down the double barrel. “You think we would miss that hole in your jacket where a badge would be?”
“I’d take out that badge of yours, stranger,” the blind man told him in a steady voice, his walking stick hovering just above Cassian’s Adams apple with unnerving accuracy. “Baze has a hair trigger even without a gun.”
Cassian swallowed. “I’m going to reach into my pocket.”
The bartender, Baze, narrowed his eyes. “Slowly, lawman.”
Cassian did as he was told, inching his hand into the pocket where his badge was while the other hand remained palm up by his head. He carefully placed the badge on top of his chest where the two seeing people could examine it. The former knife wielding patron scoffed while Baze’s frown seemed to dig deeper into his face.
“What would a Marshal want with Gerrera’s Lion Cub?”
“I’m not here to take him in,”Cassian explained in an even tone. Panicking just because he had multiple weapons trained on him wouldn’t help him in the wars he fought and it certainly wouldn’t help him then. “Like I said, I just need some information on where he is so I can find Gerrera himself.”
The knife patron holding the revolver let out an even louder snort, muffled somewhat by the scarf covering the lower half of their face.
“Now we know you’re crazy, lawman,” the patron sneered. Their voice was oddly high with a slight accent though Cassian couldn’t quite place it with the scarf over their mouth and a hat pulled low over their eyes.
“He speaks the truth,” the blind man declared, moving his walking stick from Cassian's throat back to the floor. “I sense no malice in him.”
Cassian wasn’t sure what the blind man was going on about but his relaxed demeanor seemed to sway the others to the point where both the revolver and the shotgun were no longer trained on him, or at least on any lethal spots. Baze turned towards the cloaked patron, clearly waiting for them to take the lead in whatever was about to happen.
“What do you want Gerrera for? Everyone knows he’s not all there anymore,” the scarfed man hissed and gestured to their head.
“He’s got something we need.”
“Such as?”
“A whistleblower from Krennic Import and Export,” Cassian explained. “We don’t know why he went to Gerrera, but we need to take him into custody for his protection.”
Cassian didn’t miss the way the scarfed man flinched at the mention of Krennic, a reaction that he filed away for later. There might be more to uncover here than just Gerrera’s location.
“He won’t see you,” the scarfed man said flatly. “He’d sooner shoot you than tell you anything.”
“That’s why I need the Lion Cub,” he told them. “Gerrera might not give me the time of day, but he might talk to his own protege.”
Another sneer laced with bitter acidity. “You sure are a hopeful lunatic.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Cassian countered. “This country was built on hope.”
The scarfed stranger cocked their head to the side, considering him for a moment before looking at Baze and the blind man. The blind man just smiled serenely while Baze grunted.
“It’s your call, little sister,” the barman growled. Cassian’s eyebrows shot up. Little sister?
The scarfed stranger must have been watching him as closely as he was watching them because they let out an aborted laugh at his reaction.
“You Marshals need to get your info straight,” the stranger quipped as they reached up to tilt their hat back and pull down the gray scarf that was over their mouth. They had a pale heart shaped face spattered with freckles, a slender nose and full but chapped lips. They might not have been painted up like a lot of women Cassian ran into, but the truth was now painfully obvious.
“The Lion’s Cub is no man,” the young woman said bluntly as she holstered her revolver. Dressed in boots, dusty jeans with a square shouldered jacket and vest, Cassian never would have pinned her as a woman though given the crowd she used to run with, he could see the benefit of a disguise.
Cassian finally sat up on the ground, placing his hat back on his head and his badge in his pocket. “We need your help to find Gerrera.”
“I haven’t seen Saw since I was 16,” the woman snapped, moving to lean back against the bartop with her knife back in hand.
“But wouldn’t he talk to you?”
“No idea. Might just as soon shoot me as he would you.”
“But is there a chance he might not?”
“You talk a lot about hope and chance for a lawman who’s supposed to be finding facts instead of chasing fairytales,” the woman growled, the grip on her knife growing tighter.
“It got me here, didn’t it?” Cassian retorted. “People didn’t think you were even alive anymore, but here you are.”
“No thanks to Saw Gerrera,” she muttered.
Cassian barely stopped himself from groaning at the sheer annoyance this strange woman was becoming.
“Listen, I don’t know what happened between you and Saw,” Cassian started, working very hard to keep his rising temper under check. “But this isn’t really about that.”
“What is it about then, lawman?”
“Putting that robberbaron Krennic away for good,” Cassian told her plainly. “Him and everyone connected to his schemes.”
That seemed to take some of the wind out of her sails, the two staring one another down. Without the scarf and hat to hide her face, not only could Cassian tell how painfully young she was but make out the strange color of her eyes - the brightest green he had ever seen. It was a color that didn’t belong out in the dust and dirt of the desert, where the heat and wind killed anything vibrant. Despite the reticence she showed at helping him, Cassian could make out the fiery life in her gaze that she tried to keep guarded with a frown and a blade in hand.
“And if your plan doesn’t work?” She spoke in a shockingly small voice now. “If Krennic somehow slithers away like the snake he is?”
Her tone when she spoke of Saw had been full of vitriol and anger but now she just echoed with pain and heartache that was still bleeding from an unhealed wound. Whatever Krennic did to her was raw and tender which made Cassians resolve harden even more.
“Then we keep trying again and again until our chances are spent,” he told her, pouring as much of his resolve into his words as he could. They would get Krennic somehow, someway. He would make sure of that.
The Lion Cub peered down at him with those impossibly green eyes, almost as if she was examining his very soul. He felt his shoulders go stiff. He didn’t want her to judge his soul too harshly, dark, battered and bloody as it was. He was once again tempted to pray that his conviction would be enough to sway her. A few heart stopping moments later, the woman took her knife and sheathed it in one of her boots before holding out her hand to him. He slowly grabbed it, both surprised by how small the hand was and with the strength she had to pull him to his feet.
“You got yourself a Lion Cub, lawman,” the woman said with a smirk as sharp as her knife.
“Cassian,” he told her. “Marshal Cassian Andor.”
She considered him for a moment. “Jyn.”
“Just Jyn?”
“Unless you want to keep calling me Lion Cub, yeah, it’s just Jyn,” she said in a tone that brokered no argument. She gestured to the scowling barman and the blind patron.
“This is Baze Malbus and Chirrut Imwe,” Jyn introduced.
“I’ll go get the goods,” Baze said flatly before heading to the store room.
“You two are coming?” Cassian asked, the shock plain on his face.
“Where she goes, we go, Marshal,” Chirrut said with that same cryptic smile. “Besides, I have a feeling you will need all the help you can get.”
Unnerved, Cassian glanced at Jyn who merely leveled him with a determined green-eyed stare. Clearly, she wasn’t going to budge from Jedha without either man.
“Many hands make light work after all!” Chirrut said in an almost irritatingly chipper tone. This was going to be a long trip and that wasn’t even including explaining their three new strays to Kay.
The front doors to the saloon suddenly swung open.
Speak of the devil, Cassian thought as he eyed the bean pole silhouette of his companion standing just inside the door, pocket watch in hand.
“30 minutes have elapsed,” Kay said in his usual matter-of-fact tone. He tucked the watch back into his pocket before turning his keen gaze on the three people in the bar. “I take it we have everything we need to depart?”
Just then, Baze came thumping out of the back store room with a long gun slung over each soldier and a bag that made far too much noise to just be full of clothes.
“Yeah, Kay,” Cassian said with a sigh. Chirrut grinned while Jyn just sent another sharp smile his way, making his heart stall in his chest. Something told him she was going to be trouble from start to finish, and that wasn’t even counting her two companions. Too bad she was the only lead they had at the moment. Cassian tugged at his gloves before pinning his Marshal badge safely back on his lapel where it should have been the entire time.
“Let’s go.”