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It began with a single droid.
Coming home to Cassian tinkering in his workshop wasn’t unusual—it tended to be where he retreated when he returned from the short supply runs into town and he’d spent most of the day there. She’d been building the frame of a greenhouse in the fields since early morning and knew to find him here. It was his quiet place of order, where he could work and let his mind go blank, focused entirely on the motions.
She punched things. Or, in this case, hammered. Cassian fixed things. They each had their own ways of coping with the various shitstorms in their heads.
Dr. Dellis kept trying to reel them in for a ‘Talk.’ They went once, both of them finding that no words could put to sound what kept them awake at night, what kept them on the move for so long and still chased their heels on land. They’d both spent that night laid out in the field, staring up at the stars as the hours ticked on til daylight. Better to lay awake, outrunning the nightmares, than give in and let them come.
Neither of them went back but she knew Cassian had begun meeting the other man for caf at the Pilot’s Den every few weeks to talk. A tooka cat in his lap and a mug of caf in his hands made it easier for him to speak.
She still wavered on talking to a doc, having spent her life without the use of one, but maybe, one day, she’d take the doc up on his offer of therapy.
So they coped in their usual ways, especially on days when the urge to run reared its head, fearful of the depths their roots were reaching.
But instead of working on the usual K-X series pieces scattered on his desk, he was kneeling in the dirt beside a Class-Two droid that was squat and flat-topped, covered in swatches of chipped blue paint. Their lower chassis connected to two broad rollers, making them seem like a bulkier, sturdier astromech.
“That’s gotta be hell on your back,” she told Cassian, announcing her presence. Two heads immediately swiveled to face her, one human, one droid.
Cassian looked up at her and winced, bending to plant one hand on the ground and push himself up. “No, it’s not ideal.”
“You are hurt,” the droid said.
“No,” Cassian assured them, though the way he grit his teeth as he straightened belied his words. “It’s an old wound.”
“Not healed?” A series of sharp trills followed the question as the droid rolled back and forth, a nervous tick.
“It’s healed. But some injuries don’t ever go away, even when they’re healed.”
“Oh.”
“Who’s this?” Jyn asked while the droid processed Cassian’s words. She leaned her hip against his desk and smiled down at the droid, hoping to appear friendly enough. Cassian had a knack for putting them at ease but she tended to come across too aggressively for the nervous ones.
The droid gave a soft beep-boop but stayed where they were, ocular sensors assessing her.
“BD-12. They’re a class-2 maintenance droid.” Cassian stepped around them and put a hand on her shoulder, using it to brace himself as he leaned forward to kiss her. “Just getting some work done.”
From the looks of things, he’d been there most of the afternoon, an empty canteen and ration pack wrapper sitting on the desk beside Falcon. The tooka cat lounged between two K-X forearms, head resting on the elbow joint as his eyes tracked their movements with the lazy interest only cats managed to achieve.
She reached over to give him a scratch on the ear. Wherever Cassian was, Falcon was never far. Even, once or twice, sneaking aboard the speeder when Cassian went to town. Thankfully, he never wandered far and the one time he got lost, he plopped down right where he was and yowled at the top of his little lungs until he was found.
He should’ve been named Shadow but it was too late to change things now.
Cassian joined her, leaning against the desk so he faced her, leaving only enough room between them for him to cross his arms.
“I may need a massage tonight,” he said with a crooked smile. Though he added a playful lilt to his voice, the fact that he outright asked meant he was in far greater pain than he let show. But he wouldn’t appreciate her mentioning it and in any case, she was proud of him for the progress he’d made in learning to trust that she wanted to help.
“I think that can probably be arranged.” She matched his tone and smile, genuinely looking forward to later. It’d taken her a few months to learn proper technique for dealing with the aches and knots his back would always have now, but once she had, the relief it gave him brought her a joy she hadn’t known what to do with in the early days. She’d run from it, fleeing once the massage was over because it made her want in ways she didn’t think she was allowed to.
Now, though, she took her time with it. When the knots were worked out and a languid peace came over him, she switched from hands to lips and they passed the rest of the evening exactly as she’d once imagined.
Well, not always exactly. Before, she’d never understood how sex could be more than just a temporary, mutual using of the other for one’s own pleasure. With Cassian, her goal became making sure he knew how much every inch of him meant to her; learning what made him lose his vaunted control; finding new and interesting ways to make him moan or laugh—both good in their own ways.
“I’m looking forward to it,” he told her, leaning forward to brush her hair back from her temple. When he pulled his hand back, he showed her the leaf he pulled from somewhere in her hair and held it in front of her face. “Been rolling in the fields?”
“You know me. Day isn’t complete if I don’t get covered in mud.”
He showed her his palms, shiny with grease. “We both need a shower.”
“Did you just get grease in my hair?”
“I’ll wash it for you,” he said, brushing both hands into her hair, cupping her head as he leaned down to kiss her. It was a clumsy bumpy of lips as she half-laughed, half-groaned at the feel of the slick grease against her scalp. She nipped his lip in retaliation. He gave a gentle tug on her hair before pulling back. “Now you really need a shower.”
“Thanks.”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead and stepped back, kneeling down to the droid’s height.
“Here,” Cassian said, hooking BD-12 up to a modified power station. “Finishing charging and I’ll come check on you in the morning. We can finish up with your regulator tomorrow.”
The droid whistled their approval then powered down to standby.
As Cassian closed up the shop, she turned back toward their house, across the courtyard where they parked a small speeder and the tractor she was still learning to use. At her feet, Falcon wound his way between her legs, leaving a trail of brown fur in his wake. He knew it was dinner time as soon as Cassian turned off the shop’s lights so the cat darted toward the house, leaping in the open window.
“You’d think he was starving,” Cassian muttered, coming to stand at her side. “I gave him treats.”
“They’re always starving.” She glanced up at him. As they set off, she nudged him with her elbow. “BeeDee gonna be ok?”
“They were running on a severely outdated and overloaded processor. Still perfectly capable but slow and uncommunicative. Their—” Cassian’s lips twisted in a sneer he didn’t bother to contain. “—their owner decided that meant they were worthless and dropped them on a scrap pile to be melted down. I was helping Lorne when we found them. They’re perfectly fine, just needed some updates and a good cleaning.”
Lorne owned the scrapyard in the city and Cassian made frequent trips for supplies, helping out in exchange for steep discounts. Cassian had gained a reputation even in the short time they’d been in Radix as being good with machines—better with machines than people.
“So you brought them home,” she said it with a soft smile, unable to not look at him and admire the man he was, so much kinder than he gave himself credit for. Now he had the chance to be kind.
He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets, his footsteps hurried as they made their way across the courtyard. “I thought they might be able to help with some of the planting and climate monitoring. They’re not a farm droid, not exactly, but it’s easy enough to shift some of their programming and I can sync their drive with the sensors.”
“Sounds good.” But she watched his agitation build, the outline of his clenched fists against the fabric of his pockets, the stiffness in his posture—although that might well be pain from his back, too—and the furrow of his brow as he stared off into the distance.
The man kept too much inside. Even now, in peace, that would likely never change.
Some survival mechanisms ran too deep.
She could be patient. Sometimes. There were moments to let him think it out, work through whatever was bothering him in his own time and be there when he was done.
There were other moments, like now, when he needed a push.
She aimed her next step to bring her closer and slipped her hand around his arm, resting in the crook of his elbow.
“Need to hit something?” she asked.
That startled him enough to pause and glance at her. Then he shook his head and laughed, a beautiful sound she still chased even though it came far easier now.
“No, I’m fine. I just—” He trailed off.
“It pisses you off.”
“Yes.”
She hummed and he took the bait.
“People just—make all these droids and expect them to do everything but don’t take care of them, they don’t bother learning anything about them, and then just—throw them away! Like they’re trash.” Cassian threw himself into it, his hands gesturing at his words before he shoved one in his hair.
They were going to be in the shower awhile.
“They’re thinking, conscious beings!” he continued. “At least set them free. What they’re doing is killing them.”
They’d stopped just outside the door leading to the kitchen, letting him get it out.
He clenched his fists where he gripped his head and breathed in deeply, holding it for a count of five before releasing it. When he’d repeated this a few times, she stepped forward, pressing against him and wrapping her arms around his waist, her cheek laying on his chest which rose and fell in a rhythm that would put her to sleep if she let it.
His hands dropped from his hair to her hips, pulling her closer. With a sigh that released the tension in his shoulders, he rested his head on hers.
“Thank you.”
“BeeDee is welcome to stay here if they want,” she told him, “whether they can help or not. We’ve got plenty of room.”
—————
The droids multiplied after that. Not literally, in the organic way, but in the word-of-mouth, do-something-once-and-gain-a-reputation-forever, fulfilling-an-existing-need kind of way where droids of all kinds found their way to Cassian’s workshop: scraped droids, droids who can no longer ‘do their jobs’ (according to their ‘owners’), and even the occasional runaway droid. Most of them required extensive work, either new parts or a series of neglected upgrades and nearly always a thorough cleaning. It kept Cassian busy but the subsequent influx of droids willing and able to help out got the farm up and running smoothly.
They never forced the droids to stay after they were rehabilitated but some chose to. Their once quiet farm on the edge of town, just them and their growing brood of tooka cats, was now a bustling center of activity during the day, with droids tinkering in the shop with Cassian, joining Jyn in the fields, keeping the house running with its occupants were otherwise occupied. Some even spent their time in town, with Bodhi in the cafe or offering up their services to those in need.
If anyone had ever asked Jyn what she’d imagine her life to be after the war, she’d have been skeptical of the possibility in the first place, followed by a shrug and a quiet conviction that she’d never truly escape the transient life, a woman whose only skills were war set adrift in the galaxy.
Without Cassian, it was likely that would’ve been her path. She wasn’t sure she’d have survived the war at all.
Now they were busier than ever. The war meant long periods of waiting, gathering intel, traveling—interspersed with short bursts of action, tension, pain. Peace meant long days of hard work and more socialization than either she or Cassian knew what to do with: people in Radix who dropped by for visits or asked for their help, Bodhi who spent at least one night a week with them for dinner, or the market days when she sold their excess harvest to other locals and people knew her name.
The Radicians called it the Andor-Erso farm.
She liked the sound of that.
Not only did the droids help ensure the farm thrived, with the aid of Setee-6, an engineering droid who assisted Cassian with the workshop, they finally made progress on rebuilding a KX unit for Kay.
“A little scratched up but he should feel right at home,” Jyn commented as she studied the finished chassis. She sat at Cassian’s desk, watching as he striped the paint of the Imperial seal. He’d been quiet, sitting back every so often to stare at the droid’s face as if it might start moving at any moment.
“What will he do on a farm?” Cassian asked. “What if he decides not to stay?”
“I don’t think that will be an issue,” Jyn told him. Kay’s loyalty, at least as far as she’d seen, was to Cassian, not the rebellion. If Cassian asked him to help out around the house—or lift boxes for Bodhi—he’d do it. He’d bitch about it the whole time, but he’d do it. “But if he wants to do something else, it would probably be in town and he’d always be welcome here.”
Cassian glanced back at her, lips quirked. “Even if he’s not your biggest fan? The last memory he’ll have is just after Eadu.”
Thinking back on that time, she winced. It was true she probably felt more affection for Kay than he’d ever reciprocate, if only because she’d spent years watching Cassian mourn his friend and wishing she had the power to bring him back. But she could put up with his potential animosity if it made Cassian smile the way it had when he’d put together the last few parts, realizing they were ready to bring Kay back.
“So when do you want to do this?” she asked, not giving him the chance to dwell any further.
Cassian took a deep breath and nodded, rising to his feet.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow it is.” She glanced out the door where BeeDee peaked inside, Seetee-6 over their head, and on the other side of the door, X-8 didn’t bother with subtlety, parked in plain view with their head tilted to the side.
Using her head to gesture toward their observers, Jyn smirked. “Think Kay’ll be up for droid sitting?”
—————
The day they brought Kay back, she asked the various droids to stay away from the shop while she and Cassian revived him. Cassian needed time with Kay in order to bring him up to speed on all that had happened since Scarif.
She was there for moral support.
Neither of them had a clue how he’d react to the sight of a strange world, a strange place, filled with strange droids. Nor how he’d react to the news that the war was over, that Cassian was no longer part of the Rebellion and Jyn, no longer a tentative ally.
Kay had many adjustments to make.
They’d discussed it a hundred times over the years: was it right to bring Kay back? Was it fair? At the end of the day, they decided Kay left behind his backup for a reason. After that, the choice of what to do would be Kay’s.
They waited, a safe distance between them and the droid as he booted up. Jyn kept a tonfa within reach, ready to go for the knees should this go sideways. For Cassian’s sake, she hoped not but she wasn’t willing to take the risk without a backup plan.x
Thankfully it wasn’t necessary. Kay’s eyes lit first, then his head shifted as if testing his mobility.
“Cassian.” Kay’s ocular sensors scanned them both, but his focus was on the man in front of him. “You’ve aged significantly.”
“You’ve been asleep for awhile, Kay,” Cassian told him, his voice choked with tears even as he laughed.
“I’m incapable of sleep.” The droid lifted his arm, opening and closing his fists. “This is not my original construction. My calculations indicate it is likely my chassis was destroyed during the unsanctioned Scarif mission. Yet you are here despite the significant likelihood of your death—was the mission successful?"
“Retroactively sanctioned,” Jyn clarified. “And more or less.” How successful could it have been, given the construction of a second Death Star before the first was even destroyed?
Somehow, Scarif seemed far away. So much had happened since. Like a nightmare from another life she could pretend was behind her if she kept herself busy enough, focused on the now and the responsibilities that were so different from anything she’d done before.
That didn’t help on the bad nights but—little did. Those kinds of nights just had to be lived through.
Kay turned his head, focusing on her. “Jyn Erso.”
“Andor-Erso,” Cassian corrected.
“Hyphenated last names imply familial connection—I know you’re not related by blood which means—marriage.” As he pronounced the word, his head swung back to Cassian. “Married? You married Jyn Erso? The unpredictable, reckless thief and former Partisan?”
“This ‘unpredictable, reckless thief and former Partisan helped put you back together, she can take you back apart.”
Cassian hung his head to hide his smile. “She’s also a former Alliance Captain. Still unpredictable, somewhat less reckless.”
“‘Awhile’ is an imprecise unit of measurement,” Kay said after a long pause. “How long was I disabled?”
“Fifteen years,” Cassian answered.
Taking the time to process that, Kay rose to his feet. Both she and Cassian stepped back to give him space. When he was fully upright, she tilted her head back.
Damn, she’d forgotten how tall he was.
“You’re still alive,” Kay told Cassian.
If Jyn were fanciful—and some quiet part of her still was—she’d say Kay spoke with a smile in his tone. Something like marvel, as if he’d hoped but hadn’t dared believe. She’d never paid much attention to the debates over what and how droids felt; the feelings of other sentients always confounded her more than she liked to admit so, all things considered, she didn’t see much of a difference. But if there was ever any doubt about whether or not droids could care, Kay was proof that yes, they did.
Cassian’s worries were for nothing. Kay’s loyalty remained intact and whatever path he chose next, it would not be to abandon the partner he’d had for years. Jyn could relate.
“I am glad.” Kay’s gaze flit over to her. “My previous calculations put the likelihood of your continued survival at less than 20%. There are evidently factors I did not consider.”
“Jyn saved my life,” Cassian told him, voice quiet. “Many times.”
“Mutual ass-saving,” she clarified.
“The war is over?” Kay asked. No longer interested in them physically, he scanned his surroundings and strode around the workshop, examining Cassian’s desk and its organized chaos.
“Yes. The Empire officially surrendered 10 years ago. We’re on Takodana, in a town called Radix. We’ve lived here a few years now.”
“And why—” Kay asked, turning his frame toward the door, ocular sensors flashing, “—are there at least six droids just outside this structure?”
“Ah.” Cassian looked over at her, eyebrows raised. “We, ah, this is our farm. There are a lot of—”
“Welcome to the madhouse,” Jyn finished, when he trailed off. “We have six tooka cats, anywhere between eight and ten droids, depending on the day, the occasional pilot drop-in, and two ex-intelligence agents who don’t sleep very well and don’t like being snuck up on. We have an opening for a snarky, reprogrammed KX-series droid, if you want it.”
Stepping up beside her, Cassian wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her against his side. She felt the familiar press of his lips in her hair, the comforting tap of his fingers against her side. He communicated no message through code this time, just an absentminded tapping, but it immediately set her at ease, an engrained response to the way they silently spoke for so long: I’m here, it always meant, I love you, welcome home.
Seeing Kay again had dredged up memories of she’d tried to leave behind; confronted by his assessing, judging, skeptical eyes was like stepping back into the past, those early days of resentment and distrust. If past was prologue, tonight would be rough, filled with dreams that cut to the bone.
But for all those experiences would always be with them, that was no longer their life. She could relax into Cassian’s embrace, glancing around the shop that evoked much more recent memories: measuring out the walls and tiling the roof, cutting and soldering the pieces of scrap they used for the desk and shelving, clumsily learning to sew together a cushion and accompanying lumbar support for Cassian’s seat. The hours spent watching him work in companionable silence as she studied the latest treatises on agricultural methods on Takodana.
This was their home now. And she wanted Kay to be part of it.
Kay reached for Cassian’s most recent project on his desk, a repair on the mouse droid their cats finally destroyed with some well-placed chewing on wires.
“My expertise is in strategic analysis and security enforcement.” He set the droid back down and turned to them, arms falling to his sides. “However, my capacity for adapting to changing circumstances and learning additional skills far surpasses any human capabilities. If the two of you have learned to live this life, I am certain I can be of use.”
Cassian shook his head. “You don’t have to be of use. Just be here. If you want.”
“I doubt you wish for me to become bored. In the past, this has led to destructive tendencies which are perhaps frowned up now that the war is over.”
Jyn barked a laugh and nudged Cassian with her elbow. “He has a point.”
“Yes,” he said, raising a brow at her. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
“Bodhi?”
He leaned down and nipped at her neck then brushed his nose over the same spot to soothe the minor sting. “Not quite.”
“Is this normal behavior?” Kay asked. “If you are married, you are no longer in the courting stage of human bonding. Biting seems an ineffective means of procreating. What purpose does this serve?”
The mention of procreating from Kay’s voice modulator had her choking on her next inhale. Cassian buried his laugh in her hair and she could picture the flush to his cheeks that always embarrassed him for how easily it rushed to the surface.
“We are not procreating,” she told Kay.
“Is that not the purpose of human bond pairing?”
“Not always,” Cassian explained. “Sometimes it’s simply companionship. Family comes in a lot of forms.”
Tilting his head, Kay took in this information. But they needn’t have worried—the droid caught on quickly. “Are these droids and cats part of this family?”
“Yes. And you too.”
Kay considered this before nodding. “That is acceptable.”
“So you’ll stay?”
Both she and Kay heard the cautious hope in Cassian’s voice and they shared a look. A quiet agreement that this man could be their common cause, the tie that bound them together. At least for now. Maybe, one day, they’d have their own ties between them now that they had the chance to get to know each other. They’d lost so many years but a time that seemed like it would last forever had ended and the long stretch ahead promised other possibilities outside of war and loss.
She looked forward to it.
“I will stay,” Kay answered. “But you are responsible for keeping your cats’ fur out of my circuits.”