Chapter Text
“Cassian Andor.” Leia’s expression is stern and her voice low, the tone she uses to terrify people into obedience. But he’s dealt with far worse and as intimidating as the princess is, he met her when she was too young for him to ever find her threatening now. “Let me say how pleased I am to know you’re alive—”
“You sound it.”
“—That doesn’t mean I’m not going to strangle you the moment I see you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Cassian spies Lucia scooching her way over to his leg. It’s not quite a crawl but she manages to wiggle across the floor while on her stomach and it captures his attention every time. She’s changing so fast, learning new skills every day. He tries not to dwell on all he’s missed; he never expected to be a father at all but there is no adjustment time—she’s already mobile and he’s playing catch-up.
Too soon, she’ll be crawling properly, then walking.
Ignoring Leia, he mutes the transmission and meets Jyn’s gaze across the table. “They don’t know about her yet?”
“No. But I have a feeling they’re about to.”
“Only if you’re alright with it. If you want to keep it a secret a while longer, I understand.”
On the screen, Leia is mouthing something unflattering, frowning and waving her hand toward the ‘silenced’ symbol.
Jyn shakes her head and stands to move around the table to his side. Leaning down to kiss him, she smirks. “Go for it. Leia shouldn’t be threatening the man I love.”
The kiss isn’t enough for him. He tugs her down to sit on his lap before reaching down to pick Lucia up. With Jyn perched on one leg and Lucia on the other (the bad one, but her weight is negligible), he unmutes the comm and mirrors Jyn’s smirk at Leia.
“You wouldn’t strangle a father, would you?”
With perfect timing, Lucia lurches forward toward the camera and coos.
His daughter is brilliant already.
Leia’s jaw drops and all her vaunted exposure fails.
—————
When Bodhi, Baze, and Chirrut show up at the door a week later, Cassian can’t say he’s surprised.
Bodhi immediately sets his sights on Lucia and stalks over to where Jyn stands with her in her arms. Without so much as a glance at Jyn, he leans over and coos in Lucia’s face, “Hello, sweetheart. I’m your uncle Bodhi.”
“Hello to you too, Bodhi,” Jyn says.
“I’m not talking to you,” he tells her. “Your mama is in trouble, little Lucy. You see, she didn’t tell us about you and I’m very disappointed.”
“Congratulations, Cassian,” Chirrut says, patting him on the back. “We are pleased to see you returned to us in good health.”
“Little sister was lost without you,” Baze adds. “Seeing as she forgot to inform us of this development.”
“Is anyone interested in my defense?” Jyn asks the room at large. Despite the circumstances that came before, there’s a lightness in the air, relief and joy temporarily glossing over the hurts and the grief no less real for his return. They’ll be addressed later.
“We know your defense,” Baze says, lumbering over to stand beside her. He slings an arm around her shoulder, a soft smile on his face as he gazes down at her and the little squirming girl in her arms. The war has aged him, leaving long streaks of silver through his braids
“Grief and terror can make even the most rational behave in mysterious ways.” Chirrut smiles at her.
When Bodhi reaches out, Jyn relents and lets him swing Lucia into his arms. The guilt on her face as she gazes at the man who’s like a brother to them both eats at Cassian—it’s his fault. If Bodhi should be angry with anyone, it’s him. If he’d been faster, a little more alert. If he’d gotten out sooner.
Part of him aches at the knowledge that Jyn’s instincts are still to run, to isolate and lick her wounds alone. What if he’d truly died? Would she’ve done this on her own or eventually given in and returned to the people who loved her?
But those are thoughts for another time. This time is for family and—incredibly, amazingly, unbelievably—he actually has one. Not just Jyn and Lucia, but these three men who’ve somehow wormed their way into his life as surely as Jyn.
He steps over to Jyn’s other side, opposite Baze, and puts an arm around her waist, still readjusting to having her within reach again. Together, they watch as Bodhi makes faces at Lucia and Chirrut studies her from his side.
Bodhi’s a natural with kids, holding her securely without distressing her and making faces that draw out a string of giggles (there’s a story there but Cassian doesn’t ask—not now). It’s a testament to Jyn’s parenting that Lucia is unfazed by the change in holder, gazing at Bodhi with curiosity and a keen eye so much like Jyn.
Even in a stranger’s arms, she knows she’s safe with her mother near.
He wants her to know safety. The sight of her being cuddled and cooed at by three people he trusts, who love her already because she’s theirs—he has to blink back the sting in his eyes that threatens to turn to tears. They’ll love Lucia even more once they get to know her, as she grows and develops and becomes her own person. It’s more than he could’ve ever asked for.
The idea of being a parent is still terrifying. War, fighting, violence—it’s all he’s ever known. There are faded memories of warmth and a home, fresh food and dancing and laughter. But it’s diffused through time, the memories of a young child. He can barely recall the image of his parents’ faces.
How can a man like him be a father? Raise a child and give them a stable home. Hell, give them an education when he never went to school himself. There are several schools in town but the idea of staying in one place, setting down roots, building a life he couldn’t bear to lose—
He can tell himself the war is over but that doesn’t mean he feels it; he still wakes in the night, ready for action, hearing the phantom voices of troopers approaching, of boots marching and the ship’s proximity alarms blaring. Jyn is no better, clinging to him in a way she never did before, tears on her cheeks. She cries more often and it unsettles him; as much as he hates it, she hates it more, railing against the changes in her body and hormones, feeling unprepared for potential threats that may arrive. Her eyes still scan the skies and sweep the streets when they venture out and both of them refuse to let Lucia out of their sight.
It will be a long time before he trusts in peace. If ever. He refuses to become complacent and leave Lucia to the same fate he and Jyn suffered for so many years, war and loss and loneliness.
It’s all either one of them has ever known. They’re still struggling to find balance between living in peacetime and their inherent caution, the paranoia that’s built from experience. The slow pace of life still feels like the endless waiting on missions, the time between action. It always ended.
He never imagined he’d survive the war. There’d been no need to think of what came after.
The after is here. He’s never been more unprepared.
Jyn clears her throat and steps away from the group, heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll make some tea,” she says over her shoulder.
“My turn,” Chirrut says, distracting from Jyn’s clear escape tactic. He holds out his arms to see if Lucia will go; on cue, she lunged for him, tumbling into his hold and reaching immediately for the older man’s chin. Her tiny hands swats his face—Cassian thinks she’s trying to pat him, but lacks the control to keep it gentle.
If the monk is bothered, he shows not sign. Instead he smiles wider, unseeing eyes gazing off into the distance as he runs one hand over the top of Lucia’s short curls. “She’s bright in the Force.”
“Like Jyn.” Cassian’s heard Chirrut mention it before, though he never understood what it meant. It drew Chirrut to them on Jedha.
Chirrut tilts his head, turning to him. “You shine in your own way, Cassian. It flows strongly around you both.”
That’s news to him. He just prays Lucia isn’t Force-sensitive; that’s not a life or burden he wants for her.
“It feels too good to be true,” Bodhi says, smiling at them all.“You’re here. Alive. And you have a baby. And the war is over.”
Chirrut closes his eyes. “We must count our blessings.”
“It’s not over,” Baze says, eyes dark as he gazes at Lucia in Chirrut’s lap. “Too many of those bastards survived. If Organa and the others don’t root them out—”
“That’s a discussion for another day,” Chirrut cuts him off. With a practice movement, he turns Lucia in his arms and thrusts her toward Baze. The other man takes her in a move just as smooth and practiced—another story Cassian reminds himself to ask at another time.
“You hold the future in your arms, Baze,” Chirrut continues. “A future we never thought to see. We must not let despair steal this moment.”
Baze sighed and his body loosened, losing its tension. His shoulders curled protectively toward Lucia. “Skywalker’s admiration has gone to your head,” he grumbles, but it’s half-hearted, focusing instead on the baby in his arms. Next to his broad frame, she’s tiny, scarcely larger than the hands that cradle her.
Sometimes he forgets that they didn’t live the way he and Jyn had. The Guardians were old enough to remember the Republic; they’d live through two wars but also times of peace. And Bodhi spent his youth on his homeworld, surrounded by extended family. He picked up his first blaster as an adult. They’re already more comfortable holding Lucia than he is, ever terrified of holding on too tightly or not properly supporting her head. Though she can hold herself up now, sometimes her head wobbles and tilts and he’s never certain what’s ok, what’s normal, and what will harm her. He’s devoured half a dozen books but it’s a different sort of knowledge to read what to do on a page and trust himself to do it when she’s real and solid in his hands.
“Jyn probably needs help with the tea,” he says, stepping away from them. Even as he walks toward their cramped kitchen, he keeps one eye on his daughter. He trusts these men with her life—an unimaginable concept, a few years ago—but he can’t shake the fear that if he lets her out of his sight for a moment, she’ll fade away like a dream.
But Jyn needs him too. So he takes a deep breath and turns the corner where he can no longer see them. Thankfully, Lucia’s playful coos still reach his ears. A balm to his soul he doesn’t deserve.
Jyn stands at the counter, five teacups on a tray in front of her. There’s no steam rising from the water in them and he raises his brow.
“I forgot to heat the water. Put the tea in cold.” She lifts her head to stare at him and he’s back to the middle of the night, waking to one of her nightmares, the way her eyes plead. She doesn’t always tell him what they’re about but he can guess; her worst dreams are where she’s alone.
Without a word, he steps closer and wraps his arms around her. She burrows into his neck, breath warm but shaky.
“Bodhi isn’t really mad at you—he’s hurt. But he’ll forgive you the moment you step back out there.”
“I know. It’s not that.”
He waits, knowing she’ll speak when she’s ready.
“You’re here. Bodhi, Baze, Chirrut—we’re all here and alive. This is everything I’ve wanted for months. I should be happy.” He tightens his arms around her as she pauses, gathers her thoughts. “I never wanted a child. I never even imagined what if. When I found out—it was awful. I didn’t want it, I didn’t want any of it. Now that she’s hear and I know her, I can’t imagine not having her but—it’s . . . ”
“Terrifying,” he finishes, knowing the feeling. He thinks it might be worse now than during the war; he has so much more to lose.
She nods against him.
“You’re not alone anymore, Jyn,” he tells her. A huff of a laugh escapes him, more disbelief than anything. “Neither of us are. We have each other and we have those men out there and Leia and even Skywalker. Shara, Kes, Hera. Lucia won’t be alone either.”
“I noticed you left out Han.”
“That was intentional. I did forget Chewie, though.”
That draws a laugh from her, exactly as intended. Solo has earned his begrudging respect over the years but it’s conditional, limited, and doesn’t mean he trusts him. Especially not with his daughter. The emotionally stunted smuggler might mean well—though he’d deny it—but more often than not, his ‘meaning well’ lead to chaos.
“Let’s get the water heated, make some tea, and go back out there with our family.
“I hate it when you’re all calm and collected and I’m a mess.”
“We take turns. Besides, you grew an entire human being less than a year ago. You get to be a mess whenever you want.”
“Never would be nice.”
He sighs and pulls back just enough to see her face. One hand runs up and down her back. “You’re human, Jyn.”
“I know, damnit.” The frown on her face, as if she wished it were otherwise, makes him shake his head.
“Where’s the kettle?” Even as he asks, he spies it neck to the sink. With a kiss to her forehead, he steps back and fills it with water then sets it to heat. Jyn moves to empty the cups and refill the tea infuser with practiced movements.
“Would you still love me if I were a droid?” she asks.
It startles a laugh from him. “Of course.” When the water is heated, he takes the infuser from her and puts it in the kettle to steep. “I’d love you if you were a Wookie, or an Ewok, or a Toydarian.”
“A Hutt?”
He scrunches his face at the thought. “That’s pushing it.”
“I’d love you if you were a rancor,” she offers.
He laughs again, a deep, belly laugh that makes his cheeks sore from smiling. “You would. I have no doubt.”
It’s absurd, and silly, and a stark change from the atmosphere in the kitchen he’d walked into a few moments ago.
“I’d love you if you were a Hutt, or even a tauntaun. As long as you’re you.” He presses his lips to her temple and lingers, breathing in the soothing, familiar smell of her. “I prefer you like this, though. Just the way you are.”
“Even when I wake you in the middle of the night most nights?”
“Even then. Like I said, we take turns.”
Bodhi’s voice cuts in as he shouts from the other room. “We’re happy to babysit if you two need adult alone time, but not in the kitchen while we’re here, please!”
“Where else are we supposed to go?” Jyn shouts back.
“Are you serious? That’s not sanitary!”
“Shhhh!” Chirrut faux-whispers. “You’ll wake the baby.”
Jyn raises her brows and meets Cassian’s gaze. In unison, they step away, her heading out to the living room and him to grab the tea and pour into the cups.
“Is she actually asleep?” Jyn asks.
When he follows her out, tray in hand, he finds Baze seated on the couch with Lucia cradled in his arms. Her eyes are closed, lashes dark against her cheeks, and tiny mouth slightly parted. Deep asleep.
Every time he sees her like that, Cassian wonders what she dreams of. If they’re happy.
“How did you do that?” Jyn demands. “It usually takes forever to get her to sleep! Much less that deeply.”
“She must be worn out from all the excitement.” Chirrut sits next to his husband, one hand on the other man’s leg. They’ve gotten more openly affectionate as they’ve aged, or perhaps as they’ve grown more comfortable with them. “And Baze has always been good with children.”
The man in question looks up from the girl in his arms, a soft smile on his face. “You’ve done well, little sister.”
Jyn flushes. “I didn’t really do anything.”
Bodhi stands from his seat and walks over to her, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Just take the compliment.”
“This all pretty much happened on its own,” she mutters even as Bodhi leads her over to a chair and ignores her comment. Cassian follows, setting the tray of tea down on the caf table.
It’s oddly domestic. Having a sitting room at all, much less caf table, and a separate kitchen, and a crib in the corner. Sitting around a table with his family, each of them cradling a cup of tea and basking in the warmth so essential on Fest, tugs on his memory. Like something from a dream or another life.
Cassian sits on the arm of Jyn’s chair, leaning his arm against her shoulder, and watches as she and Bodhi banter. As he predicted, any resentment over Jyn keeping her pregnancy secret has faded, if it was ever more than feigned to cover their hurt. They of all people understand; they’ve been through enough together to know and forgive.
There are plenty of challenges to work through, questions unanswered, and worries to come. For now, his family is here, alive and well and smiling. Together they’d survived Scarif and against all odds, made it through the rest of the war. Whether it’s the will of the Force or not, he can’t claim to know. But if it is, perhaps for once, his and the Force’s priorities are in perfect alignment.