#rogue squad

Chirrut and Baze promised. They had promised that Jyn and Cassian and K2 would be safe. He had trusted them, believed in the truth of their words (for they were one with the Force, and surely the Force know the future?), and fled Scarif with them at his side.

They had held his hands in theirs, lied to him, and guided him to safety as his friends were killed.

He had raged at them upon hearing the news, the outburst sending a nurse and the unfortunate messenger scurrying away; he raged at them still, a near hour after.

“YOU LIED!” He’d lost track of how many times he’d said it. “YOU SAID THEY WOULD BE SAFE! THEY’RE NOT SAFE! THEY’RE DEAD!”

He wanted to destroy something, destroy everything. He wanted to tear the room apart. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream and never stop screaming.

But he couldn’t so much as get out of the damn bed.

So he sat, propped up by soft pillows with tears streaming down his face as he mourned. He mourned the deaths of Cassian, of Jyn. He mourned the destruction of K-2SO. He mourned the deaths of Baze and of Chirrut, even as he hurled accusations.

“I COULD HAVE SAVED THEM! WE COULD HAVE SAVED THEM! THERE WAS TIME! WE COULD HAVE SAVED THEM BUT YOU TOLD ME TO GO! YOU TOLD ME TO RUN AWAY, YOU SAID THEY’D BE SAFE BUT YOU LIED! YOU LET THEM DIE! YOU LET ME LET THEM DIE!”

He didn’t know how long he continued on like that, but eventually, he exhausted himself and lay in bed panting and sobbing. His throat was raw, his head pounded, and he could feel the tracks his tears had made down his cheeks, especially where his skin was newly scarred.

“Jyn…Cassian…I’m so sorry…”

Don’t be.

Chirrut and Baze. They had been silent throughout his grieving, giving his shouted accusations no answer. And now, now they told him not to be sorry?

Bodhi nearly began the entire thing all over again, but suddenly –

Two hands, one in each of his own. He knew immediately whose they were.

Jyn…and Cassian…

Jyn held tightly to his left hand. Her fingers were slender and strong, nails biting slightly into his flesh; not hurting but oddly focusing. Her hand was warm, almost hot.

Cassian’s hand, which grasped Bodhi’s right, was cooler. His wide palm, rough with calluses that Bodhi traced in his mind, pressed into his own with understanding.

They do not blame you, Bodhi. They are glad that you survived, and they want you to be happy.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes at Baze and Chirrut’s words. He squeezed Jyn and Cassian’s hands tightly, and they squeezed back.

They cannot speak to you as we do, said Baze and Chirrut, but with our help, they can do this.

Bodhi lay like that for some time, holding the hands of his friends who had passed, comforted by the assurances and affirmations of his other friends, one with the Force as well.

As Bodhi began to drift off into sleep, the touch of Jyn and Cassian’s hands slowly faded. But the presence of his friends – his strange rogue family, gone from the galaxy too soon – didn’t in the slightest.

This hurt a little to write.