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The freezing Fest wind has Cassian pulling his parka tighter while he trudges through the slush covering the path to the house. Jyn’s house. Their house.
Never, not in a million years, did Cassian ever hold out hope that he’d be home, well and truly home, ever again. Fest was different when he left — Imperial occupation swept through the cities and countryside like a virus, decimating the vibrancy he knew as a small child. Even when he’s freezing his ass off on the hunt for firewood, Cassian can’t bring himself to care so much.
Their house is a small cottage on the outskirts of the town he grew up in. He and Jyn had agreed that they needed something simple, uncomplicated, after the fall of the Empire. Lah’mu was an option — they discussed finding the old Erso farmstead and reviving it, but Jyn was against it.
“It’s too isolated for children,” she’d said in bed one night, quiet. “I want Lyra to have people. A family.”
Shifting his arms to circle Jyn’s rounding stomach, Cassian had said, “I think Lyra will have a family either way, mi amor.”
“You know what I mean,” she’d answered, turning to press her lips to the roughness of his jaw.
He knows what she means. Jyn wants Lyra and…well, they haven’t quite settled on a name for the little one (Lyra’s taken to looking up at Jyn’s belly and whispering estrellito, but that’s not much of a real name, even if it does make Cassian’s heart warm each time she does it) to have a network of people to lean on. It takes a village, or so he’s heard.
Smoke swirls out of the chimney, a dark streak against an already grey sky. Jyn’s kept a fire going at all times of day since they arrived on Fest a few months ago. She claims pregnancy screws with her internal temperature and, after Kay nearly took a wrench to the optic circuit, Cassian isn’t inclined to comment. Even though he could avoid a trek in the cold if she’d just take the endless stream of blankets he’s been offering.
There’s likely going to be another conversation about appropriate indoor temperatures for pregnant women at Kay’s behest, but Bodhi’s stopping over on a transport run for the night, so that should put everyone in a good mood. That’s what Cassian’s hoping when he pushes the cottage door open, anyway.
When he gets inside, shaking the Festian chill out of his bones, Cassian frowns. The fire’s out.
The fire isn’t ever out.
It’s quiet, too — Lyra’s three and a half; their house is never quiet.
Jyn rounds the corner from their room and Cassian adds another item to the list of unusual occurrences: her hair’s down.
She looks up, face eerily blank. “Lyra,” Jyn starts, mouth hanging open, “Lyra’s gone.”
The way she says it has terror he hasn’t felt since he was six years old rearing its head. “What do you mean?”
“She’s…missing. I can’t — “ Jyn sucks in a breath that comes out shaky, “ — find her.”
“Missing?” Cassian asks, voice wavering. “Jyn, what happened?”
“Lyra was sleeping. I — She was taking a nap.” She squeezes her eyes shut, clenches her fists. “I heard a scream. I was…I was getting dressed. I didn’t — You know how she yells sometimes?”
He nods, fear wrapping itself around his chest.
“I…ignored it. Force, I just kept getting ready. I was just putting my hair — “ Jyn threads her fingers through the hair hanging lose around her shoulders, “ — and then I heard her again and it…” she trails, brow furrowed
“Jyn, I need you to tell me what exactly happened.” Cassian’s dangerously close to taking her by the shoulders and shaking, just to get the words out, but Jyn seems shaken as it is and he doesn’t want to hear what must come next
“It was different than the first time. My blood ran cold. It sounded like something…someone was hurting her.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “I ran into her room but she was just gone.”
“Okay,” Cassian says, running a hand through his hair. His mind goes on autopilot, an old spy trick. “Okay. Here’s what — “
Jyn cuts him off, voice rising higher and higher with every word, fear and anger coloring her speech. “And Kaytoo was shut down and I couldn’t reach the port to turn him back on because I’m so short and the last doctor said not to raise my arms above my head because of the baby and — !”
Cassian pulls her to his chest, wrapping himself, coat and all, around her shaking frame. Jyn doesn’t ramble. Ever. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen her this upset unless he counts Eadu. “It’s going to be okay,” he says, hoping the words themselves will make it so.
He hears her sputter a few times, struggling against his hold. Then, she gives in. “I lost our baby,” she sobs, fingers curling so hard into his coat Cassian’s worried she might tear the fabric.
Jyn pulls away, finally, looking the worst he’s seen since Scarif. “I have a plan,” Cassian says, looking right into her red-rimmed eyes.
She nods, lower lip quivering.
“I’m gonna start Kaytoo up. We’re going to look for her outside. You are going to stay here.”
He sees the fire flicker in her eyes, the way her brow furrows and her shoulders set. “You should stay here,” Cassian starts, “because Lyra could still be in the house. You know how sneaky she is. She could’ve hidden somewhere and fallen asleep.”
Retreating from her battle stance, Jyn says, “Alright. But comm the second you know anything.”
“Of course, mi amor,” he replies, voice deceptively steady. “Start another fire and have some tea. Stress isn’t good for either one of you.” Cassian presses a kiss to the crown of her head, then turns to the hallway.
In the spare room — while it isn’t being used as a nursery — Cassian turns Kaytoo back on.
“Cassian,” the droid starts, “I know you said I needed to stop arguing with Jyn, but my thermal sensors detect it is at least five degrees too cold for a woman with child — “
“Lyra’s gone, Kay.”
Kaytoo prides himself on being calm and collected in all situations. Kriff, he isn’t even programed for extreme emotion. But the long, high pitched whirring that comes from his auditory tract almost seems like a cry of anguish. After a minute, his eyes go dark, then flicker back on.
“I can calculate the odds of her survival if you wish.”
Survival. Odds. Those words hit him right between the ribs, nearly knocking the air out of his chest. “No,” Cassian answers, clipped. “I don’t want to know.”
“Very well. Are we going out?”
Cassian nods. Kay follows after him to the front door. Just before they go back into the cold, Kay sets a heavy metal hand on Jyn’s shoulder. “Stay warm, Jyn Erso.”
Outside, where Jyn can’t hear him, the weight of the situation hits him. The worlds spins round, but suddenly Cassian’s rooted to that spot in the Hoth medbay where he held Lyra for the first time. He’s back in his quarters watching her take her fist steps into Jyn’s arms. He’s listening to her say papá for the first time.
Kaytoo’s voice, methodical as always, cuts through the memories. “Crying in this temperature increases your chances of hypothermia by 11.4 percent.”
“Thanks, Kay,” Cassian says, wiping at his eyes with gloved hands. “We should get moving.”