Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was the pain that woke him, again. Pain in his legs, running like live wires from the soles of his feet up through his knees, radiating outward from deep inside his bones.

Ruescott Melshi groaned and rolled onto his back, his fists curled and his jaw set, his whole body tense and rigid as he waited for the burning to pass. His room was small, barely more than a closet with a bunk and a small space to stash his gear, but it was dark and quiet for the most part. It was really meant for two people, but for now it was just him. He lay in the dark with his teeth clenched as he waited for the fierce pain to die down.

Outside, in the hall, he could hear the sounds of other people passing, going about their duties. There were more muffled noises from above and below, and in the distance the sound of ships as they came and went in the darkness. The temple base on Yavin IV was never even close to being empty, yet somehow he still felt terribly alone.

It wasn’t so awful, he told himself. A sense of privacy was something he had come to value deeply, but this? Riding out waves of nerve pain in a dark, cramped bunk by himself was not something he particularly enjoyed. It passed after a short while, leaving him sweaty and breathless. No use in trying to sleep again, so he stared blankly at the dim shapes of the ceiling above and tried to rub feeling back into his calves. He’d never say a word about it, of course, but laying awake, alone and restless felt pathetic.

It was the damned steel floor, the doctor had told him. Multiple doctors, multiple times. The electricity coursing through his body again and again had done its work, leaving him with these bouts of agony. There was a treatment, apparently, but not one he had the time or resources for. He had medication for the pain and the shaking, and bacta patches he was supposed to wear when he wasn’t busy, but mostly he just did this. Waited until it passed. The only thing he’d ever had the luxury of doing.

It wasn’t just his legs. His hands still hurt frequently. They were stiff, aching deep in his wrist, beyond the muscles and tendons, the sort of pain that wound its way into your bones. A reminder of what the Empire had done to him and countless other people.

On nights like this, everything about the Rebellion seemed rather hopeless. He hurt, almost constantly. They struggled and ran and hid, endured hardship after hardship and for what? A few small victories and a vision of a better future that was sometimes extraordinarily hard to picture.

He did believe in the Rebellion, and he didn’t. At least, he didn’t really need to believe in it. Fighting the Empire was the only thing he could do, it was the only thing that made sense. Part of him thought that someday, somehow the Rebellion would win. The empire, they couldn’t exist forever. Didn’t mean he would live to see its downfall, though.

It wasn’t necessarily a fatalistic outlook, merely a practical one. He’d been in the Empire’s clutches once, in an Imperial prison. He wasn’t sure he could do it again.

The Rebellion was still something. Despite the slow, desperate slog of it all, he could at least say he was doing something to stand against the empire. The path that had led him here was strange and circuitous, and on nights like this it felt stranger still. He could trace his path all the way back to the beginning. Thinking about the Melshi of way back then was like looking at an entirely different person, one he hardly recognized.

It was Keef, of course, who had played a large part in bringing him back to the Rebellion. Not in person, but rather the memory of who he was and what he had helped accomplish. Keef, in many ways, was responsible for so much of who he’d come to be.

He’d liked Keef from the moment he saw him. Or, not quite ‘liked’. More so recognized somebody he would respect. He’d been frightened when he came down on the floor. Frightened and confused like they all had been. But there was a current of frustration in his movements, and his eyes were keen, taking it all in.

He immediately felt that Keef was somebody he would understand, and somebody he could trust, if he got to know him well enough. So, understandably, leaving him on that beach on Niamos had been difficult.

Then, in some small, strange, unexpected stroke of fate, they’d found each other again. He’d then discovered that Keef wasn’t Keef at all, but rather Captain Cassian Jeron Andor of Rebel Intelligence, because of course he was. After he’d gotten over the initial shock, their crossing of paths felt oddly natural, as if it had been meant to happen. Whether it was luck or destiny or something else entirely, Melshi was still quietly thankful.

Cassian had been happy to see him, his words and movements betraying an honest relief. They’d been drawn to each other quickly, falling into one another’s orbit with little difficulty.

Perhaps it was a matter of shared experience. Plenty of people had been in imperial prisons, but there had been only one Narkina 5 prison break. Five thousand men swimming for their lives, less than that making it to shore and fewer still getting all the way to the canyons. There was only one Cassian who had run with him, climbed with him, huddled on the floor of an ancient quadjumper with him. Only Cassian, out of all the people in the galaxy, would really ever understand what went on in his head.

It wasn’t just that, though. He trusted Cassian in a way he couldn’t quite articulate, and he had from the beginning. So they spent time together, as rebels, as friends. Parting ways and crossing paths again and again, enough times that eventually, seeing Cassian was one of the best parts of coming back, and he quietly realized that the man was one of the things he was living for. He didn’t know what to do with the feeling: Cassian was always in danger, and he was too. He couldn’t act on it, but the feeling was there. He cared about Cassian, very deeply.

It wasn’t terribly shocking. Cassian looked good. Even in that awful prison, when he’d looked at the man it was one of the first thoughts in his head. He had a bright smile. It was rare and closely guarded, but if you got him to smile it was the best feeling in the galaxy. He was clever, too, and brave. You couldn’t help but admire him.

But he could be cold, as well. Intense, guarded: skills that made him a good spy. He didn’t speak of his past frequently, and Melshi got the feeling that he carried it around like a heavy burden. Much of the time, there was a sadness to his gaze. Melshi couldn’t judge him for that, he had his own burdens of course, but it sometimes made things difficult. Cassian was flighty, always in motion, always working. He rarely rested, constantly moving from one mission to the next, and it wasn’t unusual for him to only be on Yavin IV for a few days at a time.

Despite it all, they’d grown close to one another. Maybe it was the desperation of their situation, but when they were together things changed quickly. First they were reunited, then they were talking for hours with barely any space between them, then one night he found himself back in Cassian’s bare room clutching each other like it was the only thing keeping them both upright, lips hot and heavy on each other’s mouths, Cassian’s hands working at the waistband of his pants.

That was how it went. They came back to one another and fell into each other, communicating with words and touches, never asking much about what the other did while they were gone. He didn’t quite know what they were to one another: there was trust, and he was comfortable considering the man a friend. But beyond that…was he just another warm body to Cassian? It never came up in conversation, so he didn’t bring it up and just left it at…whatever had developed between the two of them.

His feelings for Cassian were one of the only certain things in his life, and even that wasn’t much. Cassian was gone for long stretches, and it was rare that Melshi was privy to the details of his work until after his missions were over. He’d never say it out loud, but he worried incessantly. He could accept the uncertainties and danger present in his own life, but when it came to Cassian, it was much more difficult. He worried that Cassian would be hurt or captured or killed, worried that for whatever reason, he wouldn’t return.

Like now. His own most recent mission, successful as it was, had been stressful. It had ended abruptly, he and the Pathfinders had been called back with little warning and instructed to rest for a day or two before being sent out again on an extraction of ‘utmost importance’. Now that he had a few quiet days, he finally had time to let his mind wander again, to let himself worry. He could hardly close his eyes without being haunted by images of the prison or of an injured Cassian or of other, worse things.

His worries were not just in his head, he was sure. Something had been off with Cassian the last time he had seen him, which had been nearly three weeks prior. He’d become increasingly grim and withdrawn, and then the two of them had been separated on different assignments. Melshi had noticed the change and couldn’t help but feel concerned, even if he knew his concern was most likely misplaced.

What did he really know about Cassian, when it came down to it? He couldn't even define what they were to each other. He fully understood the risks they both took, the uncertainty they lived with, and here he was pining or moping or whatever it was.

He watched Cassian. He couldn’t help it. He was good at watching. Noticing things, remembering things. Always had been. He had a good intuition, and would often realize things long before other people did.

When he saw something that didn’t make sense, or was wrong, frustration would build and build until it came out in a flash. He’d snap, say something raw and unfiltered. This facet of his personality had gotten him in trouble more times than he could count. It had gotten him shipped off to Narkina 5 in the first place. On the inside, it had rubbed Kino wrong on multiple occasions. The man would turn on him, rough him up before he could say anything truly stupid, and Melshi couldn’t say he blamed him.

A shudder ran through his body, one that he didn’t try to stop. Thinking about Kino was still hard. He hadn’t liked the man, but he hadn’t disliked him either. He’d gotten them out, after all.

Melshi could still see the haunted, defeated look on his face as he’d backed away from the edge where tungstoid steel met open air. He’d watched him get swallowed up by the crowd until he and Cassian had been cast from the precipice and been swallowed by water.

His life had changed a great deal in a short amount of time, but the memory of the prison was slow to fade. That place had left its mark on his mind and body in a way he couldn't quite escape. The pain he could manage, but the memories, the dreams? That was something else entirely.

Sometimes, at night, he’d sit up in his bunk and stare into the darkness, certain he could hear the faint, persistent buzzing of the floors. He knew it was in his head, but a powerful uncertainty would take hold, and he could never bring himself to touch the ground, at least not when he was alone.

In his dreams, he was back on the floor, doing those same repetitive motions he’d done for nearly three years. Round and around the table, over and over. He often woke up shaking from these dreams, his arm shuddering all the way up to his shoulder. On nights like this, when the pain came and he was haunted by these memories, he was often seized by a raw fear that he’d roll off his bunk and onto the floor, and a blazing current would burn right through him.

It was stupid, he knew. But as far from Narkina 5 as he got, he could never quite outrun those memories, certainly not with Cassian around. The rebellion kept him busy. Gave him a purpose. He’d never really found out how many prisoners had escaped, but there wasn’t good sense in letting that be his purpose. Trying to track down those men would only end in tragedy, so he’d more or less given up on it. Didn’t mean it wasn’t always circulating in the back of his head.

After several long minutes of wallowing in his own anxiety, he pushed himself into a sitting position and wrapped his arms around his knees. No use in trying to sleep any more.

Putting on a rumpled shirt tossed at the end of the bunk, he stretched, yawned and got to his feet, only wincing a little when his feet made contact with the cold floor.

Chapter Text

The instant he left his small room behind, he could feel the weight of expectations piling up again. Sergeant Melshi: it had a nice ring to it, but the title meant the Rebellion expected quite a lot of him. They were already stretched thin, and somebody with his skills and drive and dedication was valuable in more ways than one.

Years ago, when he’d first joined up, he’d fit in quickly with the Special Forces Tracker Unit. They just got him, and they needed his skills. And here he was, a sergeant, a dozen or so Pathfinders under his command. As a team, they were respected. Liked, even.

He’d garnered a reputation as a level-headed leader who could be trusted: a man whose intuition was usually correct. If he had a plan or made a decision, most everybody seemed to believe that it was the right one. Cassian, or Captain Andor, certainly seemed to think so, and because of that he’d become a popular choice to send on difficult missions.

Having that kind of responsibility could be heavy, but he did see things clearly. He didn’t balk at decisions. Because of his position, he could stay busy with a fair amount of ease. After all, there was plenty to do before they were sent out again: briefing, assessing a potential recruit, speaking with the quartermaster, cleaning his weapons. Busy was good: it kept him focused, it kept his mind off of other thoughts, it meant he was doing something for the rebellion.

He didn’t make it far from his room before he was stopped. A tall, narrow form was blocking the door. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the flat white sensors and black metal plating of an imperial security droid: K-2SO. He frowned and bit at the inside of his cheek as the droid stepped aside to let him pass. No matter how many times he saw Kay, he always jumped a little when he ran into him.

“Melshi.”

The droid was a strange character: independent and mouthy but fiercely loyal to Cassian. He seemed to like Melshi well enough, but his appearance was hard to get past. That, and his occasional attitude.

“Kay.” He said back with a nod of acknowledgement.

It was strange to see the droid alone. He was almost always with Cassian, and the two of them worked together frequently. He’d rarely listen to anybody except the captain, much to everybody else's frustration.

He wondered, quietly, if Kay missed Cassian too.

“Sargeant?”

He turned with a start, realizing rather awkwardly that he’d been staring blankly at the droid, lost in thought about Cassian Andor.

It was General Draven. “The Wobani mission? I know you’re being briefed more later, but I want your Pathfinders ready at a moment’s notice.” He seemed…jumpy. “I know I don’t have to say this, but this mission is…of the utmost importance to the rebellion.”

He nodded. “Of course, sir.” Wobani had beek keeping him up at night. He knew it was important, given the way Mon Mothma and General Draven and the others tensed up at the mere mention. At first glance, the mission didn’t seem all that complicated or even tremendously different from his usual jobs: extracting an imperial prisoner relevant to the rebel cause. He had a name, and a description, but knew little else about who she was or what she could do for the rebellion. He did know that it was very important, and his superiors were very concerned that it all went right. He also knew that Cassian was intimately intertwined with the whole mess, and that his current mission was related.

Draven seemed ready to move on, but Melshi lingered, debating whether or not to ask a question that was all but driving him mad. Draven noticed and sighed. “Sargeant? You have something to say?”

The words tumbled out before he could rethink them. “I only wanted to ask about the success of Captain Andor’s mission.”

The man gave him a long look, colored by an expression of mild annoyance. Melshi set his jaw, holding back a thousand sarcastic comments he wanted to unleash.

“He hasn't returned yet.”

“I noticed.” He said back. “He’s not hiding somewhere, is he?” The man frowned at the sarcastic comment, but Melshi continued. “I was asking if you’d heard from him.”

“No.” He said, brows set into an annoyed glare. “He’s undercover, Sergeant.”

“I’m aware. He was also due back last night, if you didn’t know.”

“It’s been ten hours, Melshi.” The man responded, irritation plain on his face. “What’s with the urgency? Something I need to know?”

Melshi grimaced internally. “His intelligence is relevant to my men and my missions. I know he’s involved in this mission with the Imperial Pilot, and I’m the one going to Wobani. I need to know when he returns.”

“Give him five days post extraction time,” the man said with a strange sense of calm. “We’ll reconsider our next move then.”

Melshi bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, but he only nodded. “Yes, sir.” As he left the room, he could see Kay staring at him the whole way.

---

The hours crept by too slowly. He had work to do with the Pathfinders, planning and preparation, so his mind was frequently far from thoughts about Cassian. When he was alone, or when he stopped to do anything except work, his mind turned to the same concerns: where was Cassian? Why was he late? And why couldn’t he stop thinking about him?

For the most part, everything was normal. He tried to sleep, and was woken by terrible dreams most nights. He tried to eat. The planet has some food, not much, so the rebellion mostly subsisted on preserved fare, like the synthetic protein cubes he was currently trying to stomach. They were not objectively terrible but they had some of the artificial aftertaste that reminded him viscerally of the nutrient sludge the prison had supplied on Narkina 5.

There. Again. The way his mind made connections was infuriating. The synthetic taste meant Narkina 5, Narkina 5 meant Cassian. It all led back to him.

Cassian had been late before. Rarely this late, though. Whatever happened, he told himself he would accept it and would deal with it when it came up. It was just one more concern among thousands.

He wondered…did Cassian worry about him when he was gone? Did Cassian miss him? Did Cassian wait?

It was hard, wanting to care about a person and be cared for when he and Cassian did what they did. So much of their lives were dangerous and unpredictable, so much as outside of their control. If it was just himself, no attachments, he was sure it would have been easier to just assume he would die some day. But the Rebellion relied on attachments, on connections. He wasn’t surprised that he and Cassian had fallen with one another, and despite the difficulties it caused him, he wasn’t about to tear himself away. So, here he was, silently fretting about something he couldn’t control.

Why, though? Why now? This was far from the first time he’d been separated from Cassian, and wouldn't even be close to the last. Usually, he missed the man more when they were together, becoming constantly preoccupied with the idea that they would be separated again before long.

The concern felt unexpected and filled him with a sense of foreboding, as if his subconscious knew something he wasn’t aware of yet. There was…almost a pattern to the feeling, like if he thought about it from the right angle, it would coalesce into some larger message, and it would all make sense.

Melshi wasn’t entirely sure what the force meant to him. Had he been more of a believer, maybe he would have felt the force was trying to tell him something. Something was going to happen, something was-

With a small huff, he shook off the feelings, shoved the thoughts aside and pushed himself to his feet. Time to do something real, something useful. Something he could understand. With the Pathfinders, nothing was simple, but everything made sense. He was responsible for dozens of fighters and the success of important missions: there was no way around that, nothing ambiguous. So he went back to work, and let the single-minded intensity clear his mind.

---

The clarity of focus didn’t last long. Several hours, perhaps. It was late at night when everything got stirred up again. The announcement came just when he’d stopped expecting it: Captain Andor was returning, making his final approach on the base in a few minutes. He all but pushed past the Pathfinder who’d given him the news, caught off guard by how mundane it all was. A small, anxious part of him had been all but tying itself in knots, and for what? A sentence, maybe two. “Captain Andor’s re-entering the atmosphere, he’ll land in several minutes.”

He was out the door practically before the woman was done speaking, letting his feet carry him without really thinking about it. He found himself at the main hangar before long, breathless and suddenly apprehensive.

And there he was. Alive, unscathed. What had he been worrying about? Cassian was speaking to one of the men from the deck crew, making little gestures. After a moment, he paused, glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes met Melshi’s.

He froze for a moment, uncomfortable at being caught watching, but then Cassian nodded in his direction and began over towards him, ducking under the nose of an x-wing grounded for repairs. By the time Cassian was standing in front of him, he still felt as if he had been caught flat-footed.

“Took you long enough.” He said at last. It was all he could muster, delivered with a straight face.

Cassian’s gaze was set, but something shifted at the corner of his mouth when his eyes flickered up to meet Melshi’s.

“Why?” Cassian said. “Got nothing better to do than wait around for me?”

“Oh, I'm just passing through. Wandering the corridors at night clears my head.” He said sarcastically.

Cassian smiled in earnest then. “You cut your hair.”

“Yeah, easier to take care of.” Melshi moved in. Cassian was removing his gloves, stuffing them in his bag. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and a bruise on his jaw, but his expression was bright, his gaze roaming all over Melshi.

“I like it.” Cassian said.

“Yeah? Thanks. You shaved your beard.”

They were within arm’s reach of one another. “You like it?” Cassian said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I do. You look good.”

“Right answer.” Cassian said gruffly, and Melshi didn’t have a moment to get out a response before Cassian was wrapping him in a tight embrace.

He was right up against Melshi’s ear. “Good to see you again.” He breathed, his voice dropping to a low whisper.

It was surprising, every time, how everything made a little more sense when they were together. Oh. So that’s why I missed you. It was easy to be with Cassian like this, to let everything fade away. When they were together, nothing was any less complicated, but it was easier to forget about.

“Missed you too.” He said back. It was simple but honest: he didn’t have the words to explain it in any other way.

Cassian’s arms tightened around him for a moment, then he fluidly pulled away and parted from Melshi with a slap on the shoulder.

“Where are you running off to now? You only just got here!” Melshi said as he watched Cassian turn and begin to walk away.

He was already halfway across the hangar bay. “Debriefing!” He called over his shoulder. “I’ll come find you, yeah?”

“I’ll hold you to that!” He called back, and watched him go.

He’s not surprised, not really. Cassian was just like that: always in motion, always busy. Even when they were together, there was always the unspoken understanding that they both have more important things to do. Cassian didn’t allow himself a lot of happiness. Neither did Melshi, for that matter. Sometimes, though, there were quiet moments when they both get to forget that for a little bit.

He immediately felt a wave of selfish guilt, and let it roll over him before going back to the Pathfinders.

---

He stayed with the Pathfinders later than intended, planning and overplanning for a mission he knew he could execute successfully. He was tired by the time he finally made his way back to his quarters.

Cassian was there when he returned, leaning against the wall outside his door. He stepped away from the wall when Melshi approached, but stayed hovering behind him as he unlocked his room.

“Took your time,” he said quietly, glancing over briefly.

“My turn to keep you waiting.” Melshi shot back, though there was no real bite to his words.

Despite the small size of the room and his lack of belongings, it was still somehow a mess. Cassian’s gaze roamed across the room, taking it all in in silence. Melshi, to his surprise, felt quietly embarrassed, as if he should have cleaned the room like company was coming over.

“Sleeping ok?” Cassian said, jumping straight to the pointed questions.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“You’ve been having the dreams again.” Cassian said, his piercing gaze unyielding. It wasn’t a question.

Melshi nodded. “They come and go.” He said vaguely.

“You should do something about it.”

“Like what? Put a blaster in my hands and send me at some stormtroopers, and they’re easy enough to forget.”

Cassian frowned. “Come on, Melshi. You know what I mean. You don’t look great.”

“Aw, I’m flattered. I missed you too, Cass.”

Cassian snorted, turned away to take off his jacket. “Fine, suit yourself. Remind me not to try to help you again.”

“I’m fine, Cass.” He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s just been an… interesting few days. The Pathfinders were called back quickly. Something about an important extraction from a prison.”

Cassian’s expression sharpened, and he looked up suddenly. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Initial briefing was two days ago. We’ve been resupplying and I’ve been laying out a plan. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Cassian’s gaze flickered to the side. “Hm.” He said, and Melshi got the distinct feeling that the man knew far more than he was letting on, and was debating on sharing the classified information with Melshi.

He called Cassian out on it. “What do you know?”

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Wobani. Am I right?”

“Yeah. And?”

“I might send Kay with you.”

“That important, huh?”

Cassian shrugged vaguely. “I can’t say more yet.”

At least he was honest. Melshi grimaced. “Right. I’ll try not to kark it up, then.”

Cassian didn’t respond right away. He seemed preoccupied all of a sudden, staring into the middle distance as he put his jacket down on the small table in the corner of the room.

“Cassian?”

“Hmm?” He sounded distracted.

“Don’t worry about it. We can figure it out later.”

Still, Cassian seemed lost in thought and didn’t immediately respond to his words.

Melshi sighed. He pushed himself away from the doorway and made his way into the room. “Come here.” Melshi gestured for him to come over.

“What are you planning?” He frowned and ran a hand through his hair but approached Melshi anyway, who opened his arms to welcome him.

“Why, something wrong?”

“Just tired.” Cassian fell into Melshi’s arms and his voice grew muffled, face pressed into his shoulder.

“Aw, come on.” Melshi said. “We can sleep when we’re dead.”

His hands moved to Melshi’s waist, his touch firm, but for a cold moment Cassian felt terribly distant.

“Don’t say that.” Cassian said roughly, his thumbs pressing ever so slightly into his sides. The contact was grounding, and he leaned closer to Cassian so that their foreheads almost touched.

“Sorry.” Melshi said. “Too morbid?”

“Don’t joke about it.” Cassian said softly. “Especially when we don’t have a long time together.”

It doesn’t come as a shock, and not only because Melshi was too weary to express surprise. “Yeah?”

“Mm hmm.” Cassian sighed softly as Melshi wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer. His voice was muffled, but he kept talking. It was nice, just to hear his voice, even if the words were less pleasant. “I’ve got to leave, too. Tomorrow morning.”

You just got here. He didn’t say it out loud. “Where?” It was all he could ask, and even then Cassian couldn't always answer.

He does, though. “Ring of Kafrene,” he said, but didn't elaborate, “and you’re off to Wobani to get Liana Hallik. ”

It was no surprise that Cassian knew that. He usually knew the details of the mission almost better than Melshi does.

“She’s the prisoner.” Melshi confirmed, breaking off to yawn. “Something to do with the pilot on Jedah that everybody’s fussing about. Apparently she might get us a meeting with Gurerra.”

“It’s Galen’s daughter. Galen Erso. I didn’t tell you that though.” Cassian mumbled from his position with his face pressed into Melshi’s shoulder.

Huh. That detail came as a surprise, and he began going over his plan, changing and tweaking aspects of it to fit with this new intel. He drew back with a sigh.

Cassian seemed mildly disappointed at the loss of contact between them, a slight frown creasing his face. His hair was ruffled in the wrong direction, and it was cute in an odd way, so Melshi found himself smiling.

“What?”

“Let’s not talk about work.” He offered.

Cassian smirked. “Work? That’s what this is?”

“Sure. The Rebellion. Our missions. Whatever. It doesn’t matter right now, Cass. I just want to be with you.”

He nodded, suddenly more serious. “Ok, that’s ok. You just want to rest?” They were close still, but Cassian was watching him carefully. Melshi knew this gaze, observant and shrewd, and he knew what Cassian was offering.

His own hand found Cassian’s waist by way of response, and he met his gaze evenly. “Haven’t seen you in awhile, Cass. I want to be with you.”

There was a grin on his lips. They were good like that, reading each other's intentions without always saying it out loud. He knew where the skill came from, and didn't always want to think about it. “Gonna be a long night.” Cassian said, cocking his head to the side, but one of his hands was pressed to Melshi’s chest, thumb tugging softly at the collar of his shirt.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be? Well, I wasn’t planning on getting much sleep anyway.”

Cassian laughed, his voice a little rough, a little weary, but the sound was refreshing and honest: he really was happy. “Good!” He said, his eyes a little brighter than before. A warm feeling gathered in Melshi’s stomach. Offer accepted.

Cassian initiated: he usually did. He shouldered his way into Melshi’s space, all confidence, backing him towards the door. One hand went to the back of Melshi’s neck and he surged up, Melshi bent down to meet him. Their lips met, and for a moment Melshi’s mind went beautifully blank. It was messy and frantic but there was something good about the kiss, something raw and honest.

Cassian’s hand was on his hip, leaning up into him, his hungry mouth against Melshi’s lips. Melshi couldn’t say how long they were like that, Cassian moving insistently, his hands already tugging at his shirt and the waistband of his pants. Melshi chuckled against his mouth. “Slow down, we have time.” They didn’t have time, not really, but it was nice to try to believe.

A growl rumbled in Cassian’s chest and he redoubled his attempts to relieve Melshi of his clothing. He got the collar of his shirt fully open, exposing the sensitive skin on his chest before Melshi gripped him by both arms and began to bodily move the both towards the bunk without separating their lips.

To his surprise, Cassian resisted. Not much, but he grew tense and planted one foot between Melshi’s legs. He was smaller than Melshi, but strong, and as soon as he resisted Melshi grew still and stepped away.

“You good?”

Cassian gave one quick nod, already chasing the kiss that had been broken off. Melshi ducked past him, nipped at his ear.

“Come on.” Melshi tucked his face in by Cassian’s neck, nosing at his jawline. “The bunk’s behind you.”

“No.” Cassian hissed against his mouth. He didn’t sound uncomfortable, but instead like he had an entirely different plan in mind. Melshi made a sound of confusion, and after a moment Cassian stood back. His lips were flushed, slick with saliva and there was a wild look in his eyes.

“Floor.” He nodded in the direction of the ground. “Come on.”

“The floor?” Melshi exclaimed incredulously. He had nothing else to say.

“Yeah.” Cassian had moved back into his space, nudging him gently backwards. “Come on.”

“Why?”

“Want to try it.” Cassian’s lips were hot against his neck, and for a moment all other thoughts except that soft contact and the slight scrape of teeth were washed from his mind. “Trust me?”

It was Melshi’s turn to pull away. He hesitated, jaw set, and Cassian gazed back at him, his eyes wide and his chest heaving gently.

There was nothing in his expression to suggest that he’d push it too far, just an intense yet honest desire and a tenderness that made Melshi’s heart leap into his throat. “Ok.” He said at last.

Something shifted on Cassian’s face, like some of his worries had been lifted and replaced with a bright, eagerness. Tension relaxed around his eyes and mouth and he flashed a quick but brilliant smile at Melshi.

“Come on.” He took Melshi by the elbows and knelt, drawing them both into a sitting position on the floor. “I’ve got you.”

“Yeah?” Melshi asked. Their eyes were glued together the whole way down, like nothing could break their shared gaze apart.

“Yeah.” Cassian confirmed. He snuck a quick kiss to his lips, his cheek, then sat back and planted his palm flat against the center of Melshi’s chest. “Shirt off?” It was spoken like a question. An offering to continue, or stop where they were.

Melshi nodded again, nudging his hand away, he opened the fly of his pants and untucked his shirt, slowly bunching it towards his armpits, then drawing it over his head.

Cassian watched, his eyes tracking Melshi’s stomach and chest as more bare skin was exposed. He cast the shirt aside and leaned in to kiss Cassian again, long and slow this time.

Cassian took him in his arms and lowered them both down until Melshi was flat on his back and Cassian was resting on top of his chest. He then planted his hands on either side of Melshi’s head and looked down at him, so close he could feel Cassian’s breath on his face.

He was smiling again, a small quirk of his lips, but it was there. Cassian was excited and it was hard not to let the feeling rub off on him. A shiver ran through him, half out of expectation.

“Ok?” Cassian said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Floor’s cold. Why are we down here, Cass?” He said, fixing him with a serious stare.

Cassian gave him a charming, lopsided grin and he couldn’t help but feel his attitude soften a little.

“You’re having the dreams again.” He said, gentle but insistent. “It's fine down here, it’s fine. You’re safe.”

“I know.” He shifted a little beneath Cassian, suddenly uncomfortable in the face of such attention. Cassian cared about him, he knew that, but to see it so plainly, so intensely…he didn’t know what to do with the feeling. They wern’t usually quite so tender with one another.

Casian flashed him a smile, planted his hands on either side of his shoulder and bent down to kiss him across his forehead and cheeks, then leaned over the side of his head to bite at the rim of his ear. “Gonna give you some better memories, yeah?”

“Of the floor?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“You’re ridiculous.” He grimaced, and Cassian laughed softly against his ear. It was ridiculous, but it felt good. Being able to worry about something absurd like getting fucked on the cold floor of the rebel base on Yavin IV instead of worrying about a thousand more important things…it was nice.

He ran his fingers through Cassian’s hair and kissed him hard, biting at his lower lip until both their mouths were slick with sweat. “Fine.” He breathed against his jaw, nosing at his neck. “Floor it is. But if my back hurts tomorrow morning it’s your fault.”

“Is that a challenge?” His voice dropped lower, and Melshi shivered.

“No.” He frowned, “Tomorrow we both have to-”

“I know, I know.” Cassian cut him off with a quick nip at his ear. “Got it. Still want to make you feel good, though.”

“Yeah? Get to it.” He then took the opportunity to angle his hips upward against Cassian’s pelvis, making him hiss.

Straddling his hips, backlit by the bluish-tinted lights that illuminated the small space, Cassian looked a little unreal, a little too good to be true. It was easy to forget how tired and sore and worn out they both were when he looked down at Melshi like that, at least for a few moments.

In the past several months, Melshi had come to know Cassian’s body well: the way he looked, the way he reacted to things. He’d changed over the time Melshi had known him, of course: new scars, new worries. But every time he came back alive and Melshi got to see him again like this was comforting.

Cassian had a scar on his ribs, on the left side, circular and a painful red. Melshi knew it was from a zap rod. He hadn’t seen it happen, but he knew: he had three such scars: one on his shoulder, one on his upper arm, one on his back. He knew how they tightened in the cold, how they ached and tingled deep beneath the skin.

He ran his hand over it and Cassian shivered against the touch. He did that when he was excited or anticipating something, Melshi noticed. He noticed a lot of little things about Cassian, but never said anything, and quietly wondered if Cassian did the same with him.

The cool plane of the floor against his back wasn’t unpleasant. It wasn’t metal, rather some plastoid composite. There was no buzz, no hum, no red lights. Given the heat of the rest of the room, the chill was sort of nice, and as his muscles relaxed the persistent support of the flat surface felt good. Juxtaposed against the warmth and suppleness of Cassian’s body above him, it made everything feel even more real and present, and unexpectedly grounding.

He could feel the press of Cassian’s already hard cock against the inside of his thigh. He experimentally shifted his leg, rubbing against it, and Cassian leaned into the contact before sliding back off of Melshi’s hips to settle between his thighs. He ducked down and ran a trail of kisses from his chest to his lower abdomen, his hand gliding from his inner thigh to the bulge at his groin.

He’d already been half-hard for several minutes, so when Cassian made contact with his cock, he let out a hiss and tilted his head back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, Cassian was looking directly at him. “Gonna suck your cock.” He said, and Melshi nodded in response.

“Yeah.” he said breathlessly as Cassian undid the fly on his pants and helped him out of them. “Yeah, I want that.”

Then Cassian’s lips close around the head of his cock and the rest of the world blissfully melts away.

He didn’t last very long, and within minutes he was splayed out bonelessly on the floor, with a smug Cassian kneeling over him, swiping the back of his hand over his wet lips.

“Kriff.” Melshi cursed, then pushed himself up on his elbows. “You’re good at that, you know?” It was a joke, partially. Cassian already knew he was good at that.

Still breathless, he began to sit, reaching for Cassian’s belt. He undid the clasp on his pants with shaky hands, fumbling for a few seconds before Cassian batted his hand aside with a soft grunt.

“No.” Cassian put a hand against his stomach, preventing him from getting up. “Fine like that?” Melshi was still catching his breath so he only nodded, then Cassian removed his hand. “Stay there.” He was breathless, his chest rising and falling sharply.

He freed his cock from his pants with one deft tug, then thrusted a few times into his hand, sharp and quick, then came all over Melshi’s stomach with a small, strained snarl.

It was fast and not particularly pretty, but despite it all he felt good. Part of him wished he could have made it better for Cassian, but he seemed satisfied and they don’t have much time anway.

They got to their feet together, sweaty and tired. They took turns in the refresher, coming together briefly now and again to touch, to kiss. When they were both finished and clothed again, he sat on the edge of the bunk and looked up at Cassian.

“You can stay.” Melshi said, already knowing the answer.

“Ok.” Cassian responded, as if he could have said no. They both know that wouldn’t have happened. He was often filled with a strange melancholy at times like this: Cassian stayed, he almost always did, but Melshi was left feeling like he wanted more, although he didn’t know what that would mean. Cassian seemed not to notice the slight shift in his mood, and he pushed the thoughts aside quickly enough.

It was a small bunk, but they made room, tangled around one another. It felt like a luxury, to have another person close in such a comfortable, intimate way. It created an illusion of safety, as if the war was very far away.

Despite it all, he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. He laid there, wrapped in Cassian’s arms, staring at the ceiling for several long minutes. He could feel the man’s eyes on the side of his face, watching him.

‘S almost morning.” Cassian said thickly at last. “You should rest, while you can.”

No. He wanted to say. No, I’ll fall asleep and morning will be here too quickly, and you’ll be gone. But he didn’t. “You’ll stay?” He said, a weak question. They both know they’ll have to part ways soon enough.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Cassian said around a yawn. One arm snakes around Melshi’s waist, drawing him close. “Go to sleep.”

Cassian didn’t make promises lightly, at least when he cared about a person. So at last Melshi let his eyes drift shut and was asleep almost before they were entirely closed.

He was woken some time later to a dark room and the soft sound of shuffling. No red light, no buzzing. He lay in silence, listening to the sound of Cassian moving about, then the man leaned over him and he felt the scratch of his facial hair followed by the light brush of lips against his forehead.

He sighed and leaned into the contact, drawing out a soft chuckle from Cassian as he stood. “Awake?”

“Mm.” He hummed, opening his eyes at last to make out the dim shape of Cassian in the dark. He was dressed already, carrying all his gear. Ready to leave again.

“Good.” He said quietly, one hand reaching down to intertwine with Melshi’s. “Said I’d still be here when you woke up.”

“So you woke me up?”

“Why, are you disappointed? Does it not count?”

“No.” Melshi sat up suddenly, reaching out to grab the collar of Cassian’s coat to pull him down into a kiss. It was quick, but hot and messy and desperate. Cassian reciprocated with as much energy, and when they pulled back they were both a little out of breath. “Come back, yeah?” He said.

Cassian nodded. “You, too.” Then he was gone, quick and silent as a shadow, slipping out the door without another word.

Melshi lay in silence, staring at the ceiling for another hour or two before his alarm went off.

Chapter Text

Morning came, but Melshi was up before sunrise, struggling to clear his mind. He would be working: he needed to be perceptive, decisive, and focused. He needed to fully inhabit the role of Sergeant Melshi, officer in the Rebellion, leader of Pathfinders.

His men trusted him to lead by example. It was a heavy weight, but he couldn’t afford to let them down. He drew in a deep breath as he approached the hangar, centering himself. Just another mission.

Cassian had said many times that the Empire’s confidence made them complacent, lazy. It was true, and the rebels used that to their advantage. This was far from the first time that Melshi would be rescuing prisoners, and probably not his last. He knew his way around the average Imperial prison well, inside and out. They were made to prevent escape, not intruders, and a place as dull and ugly as Wobani likely did not inspire the guards to be as attentive as necessary.

Only a small team of men was necessary, plus Kay who’d been sent by Cassian. He’d been over the plan numerous times: landing, watching the transport routes, creating a distraction and blockade, the extraction and escape.

Nothing was ever simple with the Rebellion, but this was about as routine as it got for him, and hardly the most dangerous mission he’d been on. He wasn’t particularly worried. In fact, Cassian seemed far more concerned given that he had sent Kay along with them. Melshi didn’t know quite what to think of the gesture, whether it was out of concern for his safety, mistrust in his capabilities, or purely out of practicality. Knowing Cassian, it was likely a combination of the three.

The journey to Wobani was uneventful, and by the time they landed he was all focus, any hint of apprehension left back in his quarters on Yavin IV.

As he stepped off the ship, his boots immediately sank into a muddy slush of soil and ice. Wobani, it seemed, was an endless expanse of murky gray from the overcast sky to a stretch of churned-up dirt dotted here and there with patches of snow. The air was cold and smelled sharply of chemicals.

“Couldn't they send us somewhere nice for once?” He joked as they set up the speeders. “Somewhere with a beach?” It was lame, he knew, but his team was used to this and it worked to keep the tension to a minimum.

They set off for the extraction point, leaving the ship behind. No going back.

To his immense relief, everything went according to plan: infiltration, setting the detonator charges, but their success didn’t stop the pounding of his heart and brimming anxiety in his gut. He knew from prior experience it wouldn’t go away until his boots were back on the ground on Yavin IV.

Crouched in the shelter of a heap of soil, he drew in several deep breaths to calm his breathing. The pathfinders around him were just as tense and still. He clenched his hand more tightly around his blaster counting down the seconds until the transport passed. He could hear it in the distance, then closer and closer until the roar of the trucks was the only thing he could hear. Then he detonated the charges. The explosion rocked the icy soil and set off ringing in his head. Despite the piercing shrill he erupted to his feet, vaulting over the top of the snowy slope followed by the rest of the pathfinders.

He watched the truck pitched to the side with a groan, then settled. Before it even stopped moving, Melshi was leading the Pathfinders down the embankment. They quickly took their places: two flanking the sides of the vehicle, watching front and back. Him at the rear with Kay, two more at the cabin door. Seconds flashed by, his pounding heart a constant reminder of the limited time they had. A thudding came from the interior. Two pathfinders set charges. He held his position, blaster raised.

The charges blew a moment later and he ducked against the blinding flash and sound. Smoke billowed, and amongst the confusion several shots rang out.

He clambered inside before the smoke even cleared. Two guards lay in the narrow aisle, both dead.

“Hallik?” He shouted. “Liana Hallik?” He quickly scanned the interior of the transport: four prisoners, only one a human woman.

She looked shocked, but was doing a good job of containing it. Her gaze flickered to him as he called out the name. He approached. “You wanna get out of here?”

Wordlessly, she extended her handcuffed wrists, watching him the whole time with an intense, unblinking gaze. He released the cuffs, but before he could pull her to her feet, another shout rang out behind him.

“Hey! What about me?”
He turned his head to find another prisoner, a large man, also holding his hands out. In that short moment Liana drew back one leg and kicked him hard, right in the groin.

His vision flashed white as he toppled back on top of the other prisoner, who let out a muffled shout. The man shoved him onto the floor and he fell to his knees, fighting to regain his bearings. With a pained grunt, he pushed himself to his feet.

Melshi turned to find the flat end of a shovel being swung directly at his face. He only had a split second to think ‘Oh, kark’ before it made contact with his head and he crumpled to the floor again, blinding white light flashing in his skull.

He snarled at the sudden flare of pain and clutched at his skull, only somewhat aware of the commotion in the background. The woman shouted, which was followed by the thud of hand to hand combat, then the clatter of feet and a sudden, strangled cry.

From outside the transport, he could make out Kay’s even, emotionless voice: “Congratulations. You are being rescued. Do not resist.”

Now nursing a pounding headache and a wave of intense pain in his groin, Melshi staggered to his feet. He couldn’t tell if the droid was being sarcastic or serious, but it didn’t matter. He’d stopped Liana, or Jyn, or whoever she was, from getting away, and now they could all leave the disgusting muddy pit that was Wobani.

Pausing to help one of the other Pathfinders to his feet, he gathered up his weapons and limped to the entrance of the transport. The large, male prisoner was still shouting in the background. He gestured for the pathfinders to leave.

Looking down, he saw Jyn laying flat on her back in the mud, Kay standing over her. “You’re coming with us.” He said firmly. “You don’t give us any trouble, and you won’t get any from us. Got it?”

She glared at him but said nothing.

“Right.” He grunted stiffly as he got down from the back of the transport. “Come on, get up. Kay, you stay with her. Don’t let her run.”

“She won’t be going anywhere.” Kay said with an air of mild offense, as if the mere suggestion were preposterous.

“We have to move!” Melshi called to the rest of the team. Already, the driver was exiting the vehicle, climbing down with his blaster drawn. Upon seeing the group of rebels, he fired once, crying out unintelligibly.

Melshi whirled and dropped into a crouch, using the rear wheel for cover, firing off three rounds in quick succession. Three of his pathfinders turned with him, crouching in the deep wheel ruts. “Get her out of here!” He shouted, firing one more round that struck the trooper in the shoulder. He cried out and ducked behind the front of the truck, but still remained standing.

Standing, he strode over to the three men with their blasters drawn. “Finish him.” he said quietly. “We’re starting back to the speeders. Make it quick.” He signaled for the rest of the crew to begin their retreat back across the stretch of open land. Behind him, Kay grabbed Jyn by the collar and began to haul her along.

She snarled and struggled, her legs kicking in the air.

“Kay!” He shouted. “Easy!” Then to Jyn. “You want to take your chances against the troopers? Be my guest. We’re getting out of here. So you’re going to run and you’re going to stay with the group, or you’re on your own.”

It was rhetorical. He wasn’t letting her get away, but it would be easier for them all if she was at least somewhat helpful.

Her face was still creased with anger, but being shot at seemed to have shaken her up at least a little. After a brief pause, she nodded, and they all took off. The sound of back and forth blaster fire continued for a few brief seconds, then stopped, and he glanced back to see all three of his men sprinting after them.

A wave of relief washed over him that they were safe, and then they were all off, racing back to the waiting ship before real reinforcements could catch them. By the time they made it, he could hear the distant whine of a TIE fighter. He almost flinched, but maintained his focus.

“Move!” He shouted to the Pathfinders. Jyn flinched, glaring at him. Kay grabbed her by the back of her coat, hauling her onto the ship where she collapsed against one of the seats. She was sweaty and there was a wild look in her eyes, but she seemed unscathed. Melshi leapt back onto the ship after her, waiting only long enough for the rest of the men to scramble aboard.

Slinging his weapon aside, he banged on the wall and called out to the pilot. “All accounted for!” He yelled. “Get us out of here!”

The transport came to life with a dull roar, lurching to one side before shakily rising from the ground. He heard blaster fire far below, but the shots went wide, flying past the side of the ship with plenty of space to spare.

One of the Pathfinders was struggling to close the side door, and Melshi watched the muddy ground recede below. With a metallic grating, the door finally came unstuck and rattles closed, sealing off the outside world. The sound of blaster fire became muted and distant, but he couldn’t relax yet.

“Everybody strapped in!” He called out as he took his own seat. “I want to be in hyperspace as soon as possible!”

The ship jerked, letting out a long groan, then the dark sky faded away into long streaks of white.
---

Jyn was silent for most of the trip back, watching everything and everybody with a darting, distrustful gaze. He checked on all his men and contacted the Rebel Base with a curt message warning of their imminent arrival. No casualties, mission successful. He can’t bring himself to feel anything other than relief. Such an obvious victory is fairly uncommon, but he’s not about to celebrate it. Too close of a call, and he knows bringing Jyn in is only the beginning. If they really want to be successful, a lot more pieces need to fall into place.

By the time they landed, a raised bruise was forming on his head and a terrible headache was coming on, dampening whatever triumphant confidence he would usually feel returning to Yavin IV after a successful mission.

Jyn seemed poised to cause trouble as they stepped out into the hangar. Her gaze darted around the open space, from him to the other pathfinders to the other ships. They lingered a little too long on one of the exits.

“Keep walking.” He said coldly.

She stiffened slightly and turned her head a bit to look at him. “You’re still mad, aren’t you?”

He was too weary to be playing these kinds of games. “About what?”

“Being hit with a shovel.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn’t mad, but he was certainly frustrated and sore and a thousand other things. The last thing he wanted was to be putting up with attitude from her as well as Kay. “They’re waiting.” He grunted, and she at last fell silent.

To his immense relief, General Draven arrived moments later.

“Sergeant Melshi.” He said. “Excellent work. We’ll take it from here.”

He let out a long, slow exhale as Jyn was led away. She glanced over her shoulder once, and for a moment it looked as if some of her anger was gone, replaced with something more vulnerable.

With that, his latest mission came to an abrupt close. He felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, like he could breathe again. The feeling was familiar: every mission ended with a precipitous drop in energy as his adrenaline ran out and the focused haze in his mind lifted. Within minutes he knew he’d be crashing if he didn’t get some caf in his body, or something stronger.

He turned back to the Pathfinders. “You’re dismissed. Rest up, good work. We’ll speak later.” They nodded and parted ways, breaking into a few smaller groups that were soon lost in the crowds that were ever-present in the main hangar bay.

Despite the mission being formally over, Melshi was not dismissed yet. He had quite a lot left to do: checking in with the deck chief about their transport, returning safe and unscathed, speaking to the quartermaster about their weapons and gear, and his own debriefing with his superior officer.

By the time he got back to his small cabin, he didn’t do anything except drop his bag on the floor before he collapsed on the bunk and let his eyes slip shut for only a moment. Pain buzzed at the edge of his awareness, creeping from his aching head all the way down to a familiar numbness in his feet. It wasn’t long before sleep swept that all away.

Chapter Text

Melshi’s thoughts were hazy, drenched in weariness. There was something just outside of his field of awareness. His alarm? ‘Another few minutes…’ he thought vaguely.

A soft shuffle. He threw his arm over his eyes, as if that would help block out the disturbance. The sound came again, louder this time. Something was there. Something was in his room.

All at once, wakefulness came crashing back, and with it, a sense of clarity.

Melshi’s whole body grew rigid and he rolled onto his side. There was the shadowy shape of a figure by the door, hunched over, carrying something. Scrambling to the edge of the bunk, he reached for his blaster.

“Hey!” The figure stepped closer, into the light. “Melshi, it’s just me!”

He froze. A pair of dark, sparkling eyes were staring back at him, reflecting the same exhaustion he felt. It was only Cassian. He slouched back with a sigh, tossing the blaster away. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Sorry.” Cassian whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Melshi groaned and rubbed at his eyes. His whole body ached. “Wasn’t sleeping. Just dozed off.”

Cassian cast off his coat and bag, dropping them directly on the floor. “You’re still covered in dirt.”

Melshi didn’t respond right away. It was true, he hadn't changed, he was still wearing his hat, and most of his clothing was covered in a layer of dried mud. He sat up, drew a hand over his face and watched Cassian move around the small room. He was a little stiff and mostly silent, his expression serious and withdrawn.

Melshi’s eyes followed him silently for several minutes, tracing the way the shadows fell across his face, the crease of a frown around his mouth, a small cut on his temple. He seemed reserved. It wasn’t unusual for Cassian to be that way when he returned from a mission, but for some reason the silence seemed to lay more heavily between them than it typically did.

With a sigh, he sat up from the bunk and removed his hat and gloves and jacket. His mind felt clearer almost immediately, as if the dirty clothing had been weighing him down. It was easier to take stock of the situation when he wasn’t caught in a spiral of overthinking. He wasn’t the only one who was sore and weary, Cassian seems to be hurting too. That, at least, was something he could try to fix.

Standing with a groan, he moved past Cassian into the refresher, one hand brushing against his back. The man jumped, though the touch was light. ‘Take it slow’, he thought to himself as he washed up. ‘Give him space.’ Cassian didn’t have to come to his room: he could have just as easily avoided Melshi, so it was promising that he had showed up at all.

“Kafrene?” He asked cautiously as he exited, running a towel over his head. They were careful when talking to each other about their missions, careful about digging up painful memories or asking questions that the other couldn’t answer.

Cassian glanced at him, then his eyes flicked away. “It was fine.” He said coolly. “In and out, not a problem. I learned what I needed to.”

He turned to Melshi after a moment, and his face brightened slightly. “I heard Wobani was successful, though.”

“Hmm.” Melshi hummed in acknowledgement. If that was what Cassian wanted to talk about, he could do that. “You haven't met her yet?”

“No. They’re letting her rest. I’ll see her soon. What do you think?”

He thought back to his first impression. She’d been angry and bitter, utterly ferocious. If it hadn’t been for Kay, she likely would have gotten shot by a storm trooper as she tried to flee, and for once Melshi was silently thankful for the droid.

Normally, he’d have empathized with her, but in the moment, with the safety of the team and the success of the mission on the line, it had only been an irritation. She glared at him the whole way back, watching, assessing, looking for a way out.

“She doesn’t want to be here, and I doubt she wants to help the resistance.” He said at last. “I’m guessing you can force her to stay for whatever you need her to do, then she’ll run off.”

Cassian hummed softly in acknowledgement. “Right.” He said.

“And she hit me with a shovel.”

That drew out a short laugh from Cassian. “Yeah? Did you deserve it?”

“Answer that for yourself.”

He drew closer, his hand rising to gently brush against the bruise on Melshi’s forehead. “So that’s where you got this. I was going to ask.”

“Not a terribly heroic story.”

“Ah, you have plenty of heroic stories to tell.” Cassian was smiling, almost. His expression remained neutral, but there was something in his eyes that looked like fondness.

“Glad you think so.” He let his head drop slightly until their foreheads were gently touching. It hurt a bit, but the contact was grounding. Cassian was warm and solid and he didn’t pull away. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

“In a few hours, I think.” Cassian said. “I’ll be going in to speak with Jyn soon. Then, hopefully, we’ll be off to Jedah.”

“Who's going?”

“Me, Kay, Jyn.”

“Small team.”

Cassian drew back with a sigh, parting from Melshi with a gentle pat to his shoulder. “It’s all I need, Melshi. I’ll be fine. We just need Jyn to behave long enough to get a meeting with Gurerra. He has someone we need to talk to. Kay and I will do all the real work.” He unclipped his holster and slung it over the nearby chair.

“I know.” He followed Cassian further into the room and sat, watching him as he poured himself a cup of water and drank. “I’m not worried about that.”

Cassian paused, glancing at him over his shoulder. This time, a knowing smirk curled at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, you are.” He snorted.

Melshi didn’t respond to that. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched Cassian clatter around the small space. “You got a plan at least?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll figure it out.”

“Better start thinking.” He said pointedly.

He saw Cassian shoot him a look out of the corner of his eye, his gaze a little harder than before. “Give it a rest, Melshi.” He said.

“Hey, I-”

“Melshi.” He turned to face him fully, his face creased with restrained frustration. “I just want a break, ok?”

Throwing up his hands, Melshi let it go. There was no use in arguing, they were both too tired for it. “Ok, fine.” He said, and a little bitterness crept into his voice. “Fine. Forget I asked.”

“Melshi, really.” He said wearily. “Don’t worry about me. You’re just going to make it harder for yourself.” He sounded like he was speaking from experience.

‘I know I shouldn’t,’ he thought to himself. ‘I try not to. I can’t.’ Instead of voicing any of his thoughts, he just nodded. “Right.”

Cassian sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and seemed to reset himself. When he approached Melshi, he looked more relaxed, less closed off. “Do you want to do anything?” Cassian’s hand settled on his hip.

“I…no. I don’t know.”

The hand was withdrawn. “Do you want me to leave?” He sounded vaguely sad.

“No, Cass.” Melshi sighed and turned to envelope Cassian in his arms. “It’s not like that. I’m just tired. You can stay.” ‘Please stay. Please don’t go.’ He thought. He left that part out. “Let’s just rest, for now. See what happens.”

They lay on the narrow bunk, facing one another with their arms and legs tangled. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke and Melshi found himself wondering if Cassian had dozed off. His eyes were still partially open, however, and the rise and fall of his chest was too brisk.

The intimacy between them felt…different. Usually, it was so straightforward: a familiar face and a warm body to come back to. Anything else went unsaid. Now, in the silence, it was apparent they both weren’t being entirely honest. Something had been nagging him about their recent missions, the sense of urgency and finality. Something was going on, and he couldn’t yet see the whole picture.

“Cassian?” He didn’t know what prompted him to speak. The feeling of vulnerability? The intimate proximity? Or was he just looking to fill the silence? He half hoped that Cassian really had dozed off and wouldn't answer.

“Hmm?” His eyes flickered open, fully fixed on Melshi. For a moment, he couldn’t quite find the words to answer. Cassian was uncharacteristically patient, waiting in silence without looking away.

“I think about you.” He said. It was vague, not at all what he really meant, but they were the only words he could find to express the depth of his feelings.

“Yeah?” Cassian seemed to take it in stride, but he had to know what Melshi was really talking about, between his simple words.

“When you’re gone. All the time.”

Cassian nodded, for a moment seeming to be lost in thought. “Yeah.” He said softly, not quite meeting his gaze. “Yeah, uh, me too.” It was quick, a small acknowledgement, but it was there. He cleared his throat and started again. “What do you think about?”

“Just…anything, I guess. Just miss you.” He felt like his throat was closing when he said it, like he was admitting something he should never have said out loud.

Cassian moved closer, propping himself up on one elbow. He was hard to look away from, his hair artfully ruffled over one eye. “Yeah? Anything specific about me?”

‘Oh.’ He almost rolled his eyes realizing what Cassian was going on about, and the tension between them dissipated. Perhaps that had been his plan all along. “You just want me to admit that I jack off while thinking about you.”

Casian smiled mysteriously. “Maybe.”

He did roll his eyes in earnest then, earning himself a jab in the ribs.

“Come on.” Cassian urged, though his voice was teasing.

“Fine, fine. Yes, I have. Maybe a few times.”

“And?”

He shot Cassian a look. “I have the real thing right here, Cass, why do you want me to relive that? It’s pathetic.”

“Maybe I like it.” He said after a beat. “Maybe I like thinking about you.”

“You get off to thinking about me thinking about you?” Melshi asked.

Cassian shrugged slightly. “If you wanna put it like that.”

“Force, that’s complicated. Fine.” He exhaled through his nose, then propped himself up slightly so they were both laying on their sides, facing one another. “I have jacked off to thinking about you when I’m alone. Happy?”

Cassian didn’t joke back. His eyes were dark and intent, watching him carefully. “Tell me about it.”

He let out a snort. “What is there to say? I miss you, I think about you, and when I think about you, I think about your voice, and your body, and, well…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his free hand.

“Ever look at any holos?”

“Of you?” He cocked his head. “Uh, no. Just…”

“All in your head.”

Cassian seemed pleased with that answer.

“You?” Melshi prompts

He nodded, stretched slightly, and for a moment Melshi could see it in his mind. Cassian, stretched out on some distant bunk alone. Fully clothed or partially or nude, rhythmically stroking his cock to completion while his eyes are locked on some holo of Melshi, his face flushed with exertion. The whole imagined scene was kind of hot. “Hm.” He mused softly, and based on the look on his face, Cassian knew what Melshi is picturing.

“Do you see anybody else? When you’re gone?” He asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

Cassian watched him, his expression suddenly guarded. Melshi knew it was dangerous territory, a potentially sensitive subject, but he didn’t feel guilty for asking.

“Sometimes.” Cassian said. “Usually I’m too busy trying not to die. But it helps, sometimes. With the mission.”

“So it’s just part of the job?”

Cassian met his gaze, and didn't equivocate. “Usually. Sometimes not.”

Melshi nodded, surprised that he wasn’t particularly jealous. The honesty was refreshing.

“You?” Cassian asked after a beat.

He raised his shoulder in a shrug. “Once or twice, I guess. When I was really feeling it.” He let out a long breath. “It isn’t the same.”

“It’s not.” Cassian said quietly. “I wish this were easier.”

“Nothing we can do about it.” Melshi said quietly. It didn’t encompass everything he felt and wanted to articulate, but in the moment it was all he could say.

They both lapsed into silence, and for a time, it was strangely peaceful. Cassian settled closer to him and they just lay like that, arms around one another without speaking. For a moment, he could imagine them like this every night. Together, for real, no strings attached. It was a nice thought: dreamy and comforting but entirely unrealistic.

It felt like only a short while before Cassian shifted and began extracting himself from Melshi’s arms. He had been drifting into a doze again, and was immediately awoken.

“Sorry.” Cassian said quietly. “I have to go now.”

Melshi sat up, then groaned and stretched. “It’s fine. I should get up now too.”

Cassian paused from picking up his jacket. “You should rest. You only just got back.”

“You did too.”

Cassian didn’t respond, already preoccupied with something else. Melshi watched him, several thoughts swirling in his head. At last, he pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll come see you off.”

A brief smile flashed across his face. “Alright.”

The air between them felt different as they made their way through the base to the hangar. Neither of them said anything.

From a distance, he watched as Kay and Jyn and Cassian boarded the small vessel, then watched its progress as it took off and was finally lost among the clouds over Yavin IV. The sun was setting. There was a strange finality to it.

When he returned to his cold, dark room, it felt terribly lonely. As he lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling again, tingling pain started traveling from his feet into his legs. He gritted his teeth against it, and struggled to find anything comforting to think about. His mind kept coming back to Cassian, again and again. He could think of a thousand different ways the mission could go wrong, and he wondered if Cassian had thought of them too.

Chapter Text

It was the middle of the night when he was called up. Barely a day of rest, if it could even be called that, and he was getting back into his uniform. The halls of the base were a chaotic mess, even more so than usual. He could hear the roar of x-wings taking to the sky and saw, in passing, a group of pilots making for the main hangar at a sprint.

He checked his comm. No terribly urgent messages. So he and the Pathfinders weren’t needed immediately, but he couldn’t let himself relax yet. Nobody seemed entirely sure what was going on, so he spent several minutes dashing from one truncated conversation to another trying to piece together the situation as best he could. Something about Cassian, that much he was certain, but beyond that he didn’t know much. What have you gotten yourself into this time, Cass? He thought. Though his stomach dropped at the idea that Cassian was in danger, he wasn’t entirely surprised, and was even accustomed to the feeling. That idea hurt, and he quickly brushed it aside. No use getting upset now. That won’t help him.

To his mild relief, he quickly found General Draven. The look on the General’s face when he spotted Melshi wasn’t promising.

“Sergeant Melshi.” The man looked harried and scattered, his eyes darting from Melshi’s face to a dozen things happening all around them.

“Sir.” He said. “What’s going on?”

“Deploying fighters to Eadu.”

“Eadu? Not Jedah?”

“You heard me. Come. Command is just talking about it now. The Pathfinders should be part of this.”

Cassian was included in these kinds of conversations far more often than he was. He tried not to let it irritate him, but the idea that Cassian knew more about the Rebellion and their missions wasn’t always the best feeling. Cassian didn’t often share the details that he was privy to, and that had led to some tension in the past.

They were just doing their jobs, Melshi told himself. Despite the Rebellion’s amateur, makeshift facade, Cassian did outrank him. If they were going to be taken seriously by the Empire, organization was important and the privileges of rank were part of that.

He nodded in acknowledgement and followed Draven silently, doing his best to ignore the feeling that something terrible was happening in the background that he didn’t know about yet.

The circle of solemn expressions gave him some pause: some people like Draven and Senator Mothma and Vel Sartha were relatively well known to him, others he knew little of besides a rank and title. It was moments like this that reminded him the Rebellion had grown extremely quickly, and was a far cry from the small cells he’d fought and struggled for prior to arriving on Yavin. As a sergeant of the Pathfinders, many of the people around him outranked him considerably: he stood back and watched in silence as they spoke.

The air was tense, and it seemed that the group was already in the midst of conversation by the time Draven and Melshi arrived. Besides a few brief glances, there was little acknowledgement of their presence.

“We recently heard about an accident on Jedah.” Draven broke in, silencing the previous discussion and drawing stares from all around the room.

“An accident? What kind?” Mon Mothma’s concern was apparent in her voice.

“Most of Jedah city was destroyed. We were going to send Pathfinders in to investigate, then Captain Andor contacted us with Galen Erso’s apparent location. He is aware of the city’s destruction, but they have the pilot and Galen takes precedence. Hence, we’re sending in air support now.”

“What do you need me for?” Melshi straightened up at the mention of the Pathfinders.

The man flashed him a hard look, fraught with tension and apprehension. “I don’t know. Anything. That’s your job, isn’t it? Standby. Get your Pathfinders ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

He stood back, fighting back a flash of annoyance at Draven’s reaction. They were all on edge. No use in starting a fight now.

The rest of the meeting passed unproductively: the fighters had been scrambled to Eadu, little was known about Cassian’s intended action there, and there wasn't much any of them could do until the x-wings arrived or Cassian contacted the base on Yavin.

After departing, Melshi briefed the Pathfinders and spent the rest of the night pacing and tense. His legs ached, burning with an insignificant but persistent ache.

A message came several hours later. It was from Kay, notifying the commander that they’re returning with Jyn and the pilot in a stolen imperial vessel.

Melshi exhaled slowly, and felt no relief. First Wobani, then Jedah, then Eadu…where next? This secret weapon is starting to feel larger and more important than anything else the Rebellion has ever been involved in before, and therefore far more dangerous. Where will it take them? And what will happen next?

Hours later, he and the Pathfinders finally get the order to stand down, but it was mid morning by then. Despite his exhaustion, he felt no desire to go back to his quarters, so he drank a truly obscene amount of caf and hung around with the rest of the Pathfinders, speculating at the specifics of Cassian’s mission while they waited for the fighters to return. The x-wings came first, causing the usual excitement on base. There were two fewer fighters than what had left, which significantly dampened the mood. The pilots were stressed and sweaty, congregating in a tight knot before slipping off to attend to their own matters.

Finally, after what seems like ages, a battered imperial transport came into view, landing amidst the x-wings as if it belonged there.

First off of the ship was Jyn. Her hair was plastered to her forehead as if she’d been soaked, and she wore a haunted look on her face. There were three men with them that Melshi doesn’t recognize. A younger man in an imperial pilot’s uniform: the pilot who’d been causing so much commotion, he assumed. The one from Jedah.

The other two were older: the first was blind, carrying a staff, the second was large and strong, clad in armor with an enormous gun. They stuck close to one another.

Kay came next, looking much the same as he always did.

Finally, finally, Cassian got off the ship. He looked grim and barely acknowledged Melshi as he passed, striding ahead of Jyn and the others to lead them away, no doubt to speak to Mon Mothma and the rest of rebel leadership.

Melshi watched them go, allowing himself one moment to worry, then he was off again to his own duties. He hadn’t been briefed on the outcome of the Jedah or the Eadu missions, but he heard snatches of it from the returning pilots and the Pathfinders as he dismissed them yet again to rest.

The picture that begins to emerge was grim: Jedah City destroyed, Galen Erso dead. He assumed Saw was dead too, but was unable to confirm that. The whole base spoke of nothing but Jedah and Eadu, Jedah and Eadu, yet it seemed nobody knew quite what was going on.

The Pathfinders were frustrated, he was frustrated, Cassian was nowhere to be found, the Rebel Command had no official directions or orders or any kind of explanation. Just when he felt like he was about to push himself into the command meeting and ask what the kriff was going on, somebody called his name.

“Sergeant Melshi.” It was Cassian, looking somber.

He turned and stared at him. “Captain?” He responded, following his lead.

“Come with me.” And then he spun around and was gone.

Melshi followed, barely able to keep up with Cassian’s quick stride despite the fact he had much longer legs than the other man. He didn’t speak or even look at Melshi and he followed in silence until Cassian stopped suddenly, and he realized that they were back at Cassian's quarters.

Cassian fumbled at the keypad and the door slid open with a hiss. Wordlessly, Cassian took him by the wrist and pulled him over the threshold. It was cold inside and the room was bare, even more so than Melshi’s.

“Galen Erso is dead.” Cassian whispered as soon as the door closed. He shifted around the room with a tense, coiled energy, not quite meeting Melshi’s gaze. “They used it. The weapon. I saw it. It’s real, and they used it on Jedah.”

He didn’t ask what happened, or what the weapon was, or what it did. He could tell just by the look on Cassian’s face that it was terrible, so he just wrapped his arms around him and rubbed small circles into his back.

After a moment of rigidity, Cassian melted into the touch. His hair was still damp, and he smelled like rocks and dirt, but just having him in his arms was nice.

“We’ll do something about it.” Melshi said, though he didn’t quite believe himself. “We have to. It’s not too late, we know about it, and they won’t expect retaliation. There’s time.”

When Cassian pulled back and he saw the horrified, lost expression on his face, and his heart plummeted. It was worse than he could even imagine right now, he realized. He knew he would hear the details soon enough, and he could already tell that they’d make his blood run cold.

Despite the fear that was plain on his face, when Cassian spoke his voice was filled with a grim determination. “We have to stop it, Melshi. Jyn is meeting with them now, and it won’t go well.”

“Why?”

He grew silent, deep in thought. Melshi was about to prompt him to answer when he finally responded. “It’s what we’re up against. They call it the Death Star. I saw what it did on Jedah: destroyed all of Jedah city like it was nothing. The planet will be devastated. I believe if it were at full power, Jedah wouldn’t exist at all any more.”

A planet killer. It was worse than what he had imagined, and more powerful by far. Cassian must have seen the look on his face, because he gestured wildly. “You see? They’ll say there’s no hope, it’s too late, it’s too powerful. This will be the most dangerous thing the rebellion has engaged in by far, but we have to try.”

There was a deep ferocity in his voice, a fury. The look on his face was ruthless and unforgiving, and in that moment Melshi understood. They had to stop the Death Star. There wasn’t an alternative: they had only one choice, and Cassian knew that.

“I’ll help, Cass. I’ll do whatever I need to do.”

“It’s going to be dangerous, Melshi, even if they can get a good plan together. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“I don’t need your permission, Cassian. I’m part of the Rebellion, same as you. If it needs to be done, I’ll do it.”

His words were harsh, but Cassian didn’t seem offended. Of all things, his gaze softened. “Alright.” He nodded. “We’ll need all the men we can get, I reckon.”

Melshi moved closer. “I’ve got your back, you know that. Tell me what I need to do.”

He pulled away, and suddenly it was only Captain Andor standing before him, professional and serious. “Saw had a hologram from Galen which he gave to Jyn. She was the only person who saw it before it was destroyed, but her father says that he built a weakness into the Death Star plans, one we can exploit. The plans are being kept at an Imperial facility on Scarif.”

“So we go to Scarif? Steal the plans?”

He nodded. “I want you to come. I want you to lead the ground team.” The words were spoken softly, as if the plan were merely logical, but to Melshi they came as a surprise. He’d asked before, many times, if Cassian wanted him to come on his missions. To him, it made sense. Cassian almost always got the team he asked for, and they worked well together. That was just a fact.

Cassian always refused, saying that it was too dangerous, or unnecessary, or a risk they didn’t need to take. Though he’d tried to ignore it in the past, Cassian’s rejection always hurt a bit.

Yet here he was, asking Melshi in no uncertain terms to come with him to Scarif.

For a moment, he could only stare at Cassian, and then all at once it made sense. There was fear in those wide, dark eyes. Cassian was absolutely terrified, and he wanted, no, he needed Melshi with him.

A shiver ran up his spine, but he didn’t stop to contemplate. “Yeah.” He said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Yeah, of course.”

Some of the tension between them dissipated, and Cassian flopped back onto his bunk and stretched with a groan, his shirt pulling up to reveal a stretch of skin. Melshi sat abruptly, feeling unsteady.

“Alright.” Cassian said. “Alright, I’ll work out the details.”

Neither of them really seem to know what to say, so they stayed like that, Melshi sitting on the end of the bunk, Cassian on his back with his knees bent, one arm slung over his eyes.

After a moment, they both spoke at the same time, quick and hesitant.

“Cassian?”

“Melshi-”

“No, you go first.”

He exhaled deeply and drew his elbow away, revealing eyes that were as large and frightened as they had been minutes before. “Melsh.” His voice was a little strained now, like he was desperate to seem calm. “Can you…can you stay?”

“Hm?”

“Can you stay, here, for a little while?”

He didn’t even wait a beat before lowering himself down to squeeze onto the tiny bunk next to Cassian, and already the man was shifting to accommodate him. “Of course.” He said. “Don’t even need to ask.”

Cassian mumbles something unintelligible. “Still.” He says, a little louder. “Thank you. Jyn should be speaking to the council for a while yet, we should have a few minutes.”

 

Curling around him, Melshi wraps both arms over his front and pulls Cassian closer so he’s flush with Melshi’s chest and stomach. It’s intimate, but entirely non-sexual and at first it’s…strange.

He’s used to a different kind of relationship with Cassian, one that’s defined by life in the Rebellion. They’re apart for days or weeks, then fall back into one another. He trusts the man with his life, but still feels as if he knows next to nothing about him. This kind of quiet, personal comfort is something they don’t have the luxury of, it’s not something he’s let himself enjoy.

A memory resurfaces in his mind: rocks biting into his bare hands and feet, cold wind on his back. Cassian looking down at him like his gaze alone could keep him tethered to the rock. His broken voice saying the words “Tell me they’re leaving,” almost begging, and Cassian’s response, soft and reassuring: “They’re leaving, they’re leaving.” The embrace feels a bit like that, minus the desperation and pain, so he lets himself relax into it.

He can still hear the normal commotion of the rebel base outside his door, but it feels muted and distant. Far more present is the sound of Cassian’s heartbeat, which he can hear clearly from where his cheek is pressed against the center of his back, right between his shoulder blades.

His breathing slows, evens out and syncs with the steady in and out of Cassian’s breath. They’re breathing in tandem, deep and slow. He’s warm in Melshi’s arms, relaxed and calm, and for a single brief moment an immense calm settles over Melshi’s mind. It’s not even his usual feeling of accepting the situation at hand, but rather a deep peace, and for a while it’s just…quiet.

He doesn’t know how much time passes with them like that, but after a while Cassian begins to shift in his grasp, so he moves his arms away and rolls onto his back. Cassian sits up with a groan, gripping at the edge of the bunk, skin stretched tight over his knuckles.

“I should go.” He said, quietly enough that it felt more like he was speaking to himself than Melshi.

He turned, then, and looked back at Melshi with an odd expression. “The Pathfinders will come with you?”

He nodded. “I won’t order them, but most of them will follow me, if not all.”

His gaze is distant. “Good, good. I have to go. I have to figure some things out. We’ll need a team, volunteers, since the council won’t send a squad.”

“You really think that?”

Cassian shook his head bitterly, getting to his feet. “Jyn’s passionate, and she’s right, but they won’t trust her. It’s just her word, and this may be the riskiest thing the rebellion has ever done. So it will be down to us to follow through.”

“You mean to stage a mutiny?”

Cassian turned back to look down at him, his eyes bright and ferocious in the room’s dim lighting. “No. But we need to take matters into our own hands. Jyn’s counting on us. The galaxy is.”

His blood runs cold at those words. As chilling as they are to hear, Cassian is right, he feels it in the depths of his heart. He rose to his feet too, collecting his things as the two of them made their way to the door.

“Speak to your men.” Cassian said bluntly. “Meet by the stolen vessel, ok?”

“Yeah.” He nodded fiercely. “Stay safe, yeah? Don’t do anything too risky.”

Cassian shook his head. “Can’t make any promises, Melsh.”

Melthi’s touch on his arms was feather-light, like if he gripped any harder Cassian wouldn't be there, and he’d have been nothing but a ghost. “Right, yeah. Well. I’ll be thinking of you. I hope everything works out.”

“Hope.” Cassian repeated the word softly. “Sometimes I feel like that’s all we have.”

“You have Kay.” Melshi says, partially to reassure him, but more so to reassure himself. “You have me, and the rest of the alliance, and you’re smart. Just another mission.”

Cassian swallowed hard, nodded again. “Right. Well, I’ll see you…I’ll see you soon.” It was stiff and uncertain, and both of them knew nothing more could be said.

“Wait.” Melshi said before Cassian could pull away again. He took his face in both hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Cassian made a small noise as Melshi stepped back.

“See you soon.” Melshi repeated weakly, then they pulled away from one another, and then Cassian was gone, slipping out of his small, bare room in silence.

Melshi’s mind was already elsewhere. What was he going to say to the Pathfinders? What could he say? If we go, we’re going to our deaths, but we need to go? Some heroic bantha fodder about being remembered? About legacy?

No. He told himself. Better go in with honesty. It was still a long shot, even if they could get a fully equipped team of hundreds of men. He couldn’t lie to the Pathfinders: anybody with even a bit of intelligence would see right through it.

After a moment of contemplation, he sent out a message and within minutes every Pathfinder on base was gathered in an empty storage locker. The air in the room was tense: even if information was spotty and scattered, word got around the rebel base quickly and everybody knew that something serious was going on.

“We’re all here for a reason.” He began, feeling dozens of eyes on him. He wasn’t the kind to get nervous speaking to a crowd, but this time he felt so exposed. He felt a tinge of tingly pain dart up his calf, and did his best to ignore it. He had to get it right, he had only one chance.

“I don’t know those reasons, and won’t pretend to. So, I can’t speak to what will motivate you, not really.” A murmur of confusion ran through the small crowd. “You’re probably wondering what I called you up. Kriff, you’re probably all wondering what is going on.”

He took a deep breath. “The Empire is building a very dangerous weapon. It’s already finished, and will soon be fully functional. Captain Andor saw it first hand and can attest to its power. They’re calling it the Death Star. You probably have heard rumors of the destruction of Jedah city: the Death Star did that, and when it’s fully functional, it will be able to destroy entire planets. We need to stop it now, and we will never get another chance.”

The faces of the men and women watching him darkened with concern. He could see their worried glances, feel their fear. “That’s where you come in. We need to go to the planet Scarif. We’ll be infiltrating the Imperial Center for Military Research there and retrieving the Death Star Plans stored there. Other than that, I can’t tell you much. The base will be heavily defended, we’ll likely only be able to transmit the plans out. If nothing else, I can say the conditions aren’t looking great.”

A murmur ran through the gathered Pathfinders, forcing him to raise his voice. “I probably don’t need to tell you that this will probably be the most dangerous thing you will ever do. If you go, a lot of us won’t be coming back. Maybe none of us will. I can’t tell you what you need to hear, but I can tell you that you’re needed. By me, by the rebellion, by the galaxy. We have the chance right now to help everybody out there who has ever been hurt by the empire, and we will never get another chance like this.” He paused, looking around for a moment. “I hope some of you will come with me.”

A pause ran through the gathered rebels, followed by increased muttering. For a moment, he was convinced they’d all turn away, leaving him with nothing, but then Pao stepped forward.

“We trust you, Sergeant. If you say we have to go, we’ll go.”

“I can’t ask that of you.” He said firmly. “I won’t. You have to volunteer. There’s no shame in staying back. The rebellion still needs you, and those of us that go likely won’t return.”

Another pause, another long, cold silence. Then Basteren stepped forward, and Rostok and Tonc and then about half of the gathered Pathfinders. The others hung back.

“Alright.” He folded his arms over his chest, drawing a deep breath. “Those of you who aren’t coming, you’re dismissed. Please return to your normal duties, and say nothing of this. That is my only order.” None of them would meet his gaze as they left, but he couldn't find it in himself to detest them at all.

He turned back to the crowd that had remained. About twenty. He opened his mouth to speak. “I…” the trailed off, unsure of how to thank them, or if he even should be thanking them for what was undoubtedly a sacrifice.

“You don’t need to say anything, sir.” Basteren said. “We’re with you.”

Not long after, Cassian returned with another dozen or so rebels in tow. “More volunteers.” He explained. “Your men?”

“They’re coming.” Melshi said with as much determination as he could muster, gesturing to the Pathfinders gathered behind him.

Cassian gave him a curt nod. “Bodhi’s willing to go, too. Chirrut and Baze as well.”

“Good.” Melshi said. It tasted like a lie on his tongue. It wasn’t good, it wasn’t even close to enough, but it was all they had. “We have a pilot, that’s good.”

“There she is.” Cassian turned abruptly and pointed across the hangar. It was Jyn, speaking to Chirrut, Baze and Bodhi. As a group, they began to make their way over to her. Melshi couldn’t make out what they were saying, but Baze smiled wryly and pointed over Jyn’s shoulder, towards him and Cassian and the others.

When she turned, her face softened from a confused, frustrated expression to a look of genuine surprise.

“They were never gonna believe you.” Cassian said. So he’d been right. Of course he had.

“I appreciate the support.” She gave a small, mocking bow, but Cassian wasn’t phased.

“But I do.” He took a step closer. “I believe you.”

Something changed in Jyn then. Even as Melshi watched, some of the distrust seemed to melt away, and he was suddenly confronted by the thought of how young she was and how much she’d lost. They’d all lost so much to the empire, and he’d come across people far younger than she was fighting the empire until their last breath, but those 6 words from Cassian, I believe you, seemed to have lifted some of the burden from Jyn’s shoulders.

“We’d like to volunteer.” He turned then, looking directly back at Melshi. There was something in his gaze that he couldn’t quite read, beneath the outer layer of determination. Yearning? Sorrow? It was only a moment, then it was gone, leaving Melshi feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Some of us…well, most of us, we’ve all done terrible things on behalf of the rebellion.” He turned back to face Jyn then, who was watching him in rapt silence like she didn’t quite believe what she was hearing.

“Spies.” He said, looking back at the gathered volunteers, his gaze finding Melshi again, then floating to other rebels he knew and had worked with in the past. “Saboteurs. Assassins.”

Jyn was staring back at him now, the surprise fading, a spark of determination alight in her eyes. Cassian continued. “Everything I did, I did for the rebellion. Every time I walked away from something I wanted to forget, I told myself it was for a cause that I believed in. A cause that was worth it.”

Melshi knew that feeling. It was the same thing he told himself, again and again. The same thing they all told themselves.

“Without that, we’re lost. Everything we’ve done would have been for nothing. I couldn't face myself if I gave up now. None of us could.”

He spoke for all of them in that moment, the same fears they all felt, the same pain they experienced, the same struggles they dealt with every day they spent fighting the empire. Something seemed to shift in Jyn’s gaze as she looked at all the gathered men and listened to Cassian speak, and though he couldn't prove it, Melshi was sure she understood. She swallowed, hard, and blinked rapidly, then a small hopeful smile began to spread across her face.

“It won’t be comfortable.” Bodhi’s timid voice broke the silence. “It’d be cramped, but we’d all fit.” Now smiling fully, Jyn turned and nodded towards him. “We can all go.” He finished with a shrug.”

“Ok.” Cassian turned back towards the gathered rebels, the moment of inspiration broken. “Gear up. Grab anything that’s not nailed down.”

As they began gathering supplies, he ran through the stats in his head. Where he’d been hopeful just moments before, he quickly came crashing back to earth. It wasn’t looking good.

32 of them, all told. It wasn’t enough, not even close, but it was what he had. He was good with working with what he’d been given. Everybody in the resistance was accustomed to having to be resourceful and flexible, but this was certainly pushing his limits of creativity. They barely knew anything about Scarif, they were practically going in blind. Still, they did have some things: a stolen imperial ship, an experienced imperial pilot, a reprogrammed imperial droid, Cassian’s experience, Jyn’s knowledge of her father, plenty of desperation and the element of surprise. It all had to count for something.

They loaded up onto the stolen cargo vessel quickly, only able to take essentials. There were a thousand other things Melshi could think of in the back of his mind that he would have liked to take, but they didn’t have the time. They had to leave before anybody tried to stop them, and before anybody lost their nerve.

For once, the constant motion and chaos of the rebel base was a good thing. It wasn’t unusual to see large groups of people moving equipment, so nobody tried to stop them.

It was cramped on board even before they were set to take off. Between several dozen Pathfinders and all the gear they were able to carry, there wasn’t a lot of extra space. The tension in the hold was almost palpable: he could hear it in the voices and see it on the faces around him. Bodhi looked terrified, Cassian looked grim, Jyn looked like she couldn't decide if she’s frightened or angry. Only Kay and Chirrut look at all fine with the situation, Kay because he couldn't have expressions at all.

It would have been a lie for Melshi to claim that he wasn’t scared. He was, but at the same time it was just another mission, just another risk. He could accept that, even if the stakes were a whole lot higher. He ran through his usual pre mission affirmations.

One: Assume you’re already dead. Coming out alive is going to be a pleasant surprise.

The last of the men were loading up. He glanced out onto the hangar platform. Nobody was coming to stop them.

Two: Your men trust you. Give them a reason to feel that way.

He did a quick tally of the rebels around him. Everybody, save for Cassian and Jyn, were accounted for.

Three: Being underestimated is likely, but not a given. Don’t take stupid risks.

He quickly inspected their hastily stashed supplies. It still wasn’t enough, but it was prepared as they’d be.

Four: Let yourself trust your team. There’s no victory without it.

Cassian and Jyn finally boarded, making the small space feel even tighter. Cassian squeezed past him, pausing to look directly in his eyes before he clambered up to the flight deck. As the doors closed, Jyn looked around with a renewed determination that Melshi couldn’t help but share in.

“May the force be with us.” She said, and for once Melshi truly believed those words.

A murmur of agreement rippled through the hold of the ship, then Jyn followed Cassian up to the flight deck. As they prepared for takeoff, Melshi got to his feet and wandered amongst the volunteers, trying to check in with all of them.

He could hear Bodhi and Jyn right above them, conversing with the command center, some muffled dispute about whether or not they were allied to leave. A knot tightened in Melshi’s stomach. He’d been so caught up in their urgency to leave that he hadn’t really stopped to consider what they would do if somebody tried to stop them from departing.
“You’re not cleared for takeoff!” The indignant sound of some poor mission control technician crackled over the comms.

“Yes, yes we are!” Bodhi sounded desperate. “Affirmative!”

“That’s an impounded imperial ship! What’s your call sign, pilot?”

“Um, it’s um…”If it had been a less dire situation, Melshi expected he would have laughed at the pilot’s attempts to convince the technician of their legitimacy.

Finally, Jyn came to his rescue, hissing “Say something!” From somewhere near the ladder to the lower deck. “Come on!”

“Rogue.” He said hesitantly, then with greater certainty. “Rogue One.”

“Rogue one? There is no Rogue One!”

“Well, there is now.” Comes Kay’s clipped, mechanical tones, and with that they pulled away, the ship jostling into motion. The engines roared to life, and Melshi was pulled back into his own thoughts, unable to hear anything from the upper deck.

His thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, testing plans, running possible outcomes, but something stuck in his mind about what Bodhi said.

Rogue. It was oddly fitting. The naming was rushed and uncertain, the callsign itself is scrappy and thought up by a runaway Imperial pilot. Rogue one. He thinks again. At least it had been Bodhi who named the squad, and not Cassian. Who knows what he would have come up with. It’s not a bad name. Not a bad name at all.