Chapter Text
He wakes up because of the alarm going off on the bedside table next to the bunk. Forcing his eyes open, Cassian stretches his arm and turns it off, the movement causing the body next to him to stir and mumble something, incoherent due to sleep. He leans over the sleeping figure whose face is still buried in the small, shared pillow, the mussed dark hair being all over the place. He brushes it out of the way and trails a few languid kisses along the now exposed neck.
"Morning, Bodhi…" he mutters in between. "Time to get up…"
"Mmm… Don' wanna…" drifts up from the pillow, sounding tired, but nevertheless awake.
"I know, but we have to." Cassian replies and presses another kiss to the bit of his cheek he can reach, then he rubs his not-yet shaven face against Bodhi's, knowing full well the stubble must scratch.
Slowly, Bodhi lifts his head and turns around, stretching himself as he blinks up at Cassian. Through the fading sleepiness, there's a faint, mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "What's in it for me?" He asks and Cassian decides to play along.
"Depends," he replies, his mouth automatically forming a smile of its own. "What do you want?"
Bodhi's legs tangle with his and Bodhi puts his arms around Cassian's neck, folding them and pulling him down, bringing their faces close. Near-touching close. Cassian is amazed anyone's able to be this alluring after just waking up, he'd even go so far as to suspect this being a put-up job by the pilot – Bodhi's probably been awake for ages, orchestrating this moment – if he weren't too busy trying to take in the whole sight of him.
"Take a guess…" Bodhi mumbles against his lips.
"Hmm." Cassian hums as he takes the final step and presses them together.
He's enjoying this. The embrace feels soft and warm, comforting in a way. If it were up to him, the briefing in half an hour could go screw itself, he just wants to stay here. With Bodhi, his Bodhi… He smiles into the kiss as gentle fingers begin to play with the fine hairs in the back of his neck.
For a reason he can't seem to grasp, the touch gradually becomes harder, colder... and instead of soft skin, it feels of hard and unforgiving metal, until it ultimately turns into a cybernetic arm, not unlike K-2's…
---
There is a sharp pain in his right leg and Cassian jerks awake, sitting straight up in the bed in his own quarters. Alone. There's no sleep-dazed Bodhi, smiling up at him, lazily flirting with him while he wakes up, kissing him, loving him – there never has been, save for within the sorry dreams of a broken man. He's all by himself.
Except for the pain, that's still there, and by instinct he reaches down to press a hand to his knee in a futile attempt to distract his senses from the original ache. When his hand touches nothing but a stump where his knee is supposed to be, as if slapped in the face, Cassian gets once again reminded of the reality of things.
They succeeded their mission. They delivered the plans. They survived. Long live the Rebellion. But no one ever said there's a Happily Ever After for them.
His leg is problematic. Although the prosthesis works well with the remnants of his leg, he is still not used to actually using the artificial limb. Despite it being a good one, it is a mere replacement, after all, and so his gait remains insecure and he still needs a pair of crutches wherever he goes. Participating in missions, or any other duty for the Alliance that involves legwork, is out of question.
It had been bad enough being confined to the med bay for close to three weeks, but he'd still had hope then. Now, nearly a month after, he's yet barely able to take care of himself. Leading his crew – or what is left of Rogue One – into the next battle is nothing but a pipedream for Force knows how much longer. Maybe forever.
Cassian shudders at that thought, no matter how hard it is to admit, it scares him immensely. He is basically trapped on base as it is, caged by his own body and condemned to inactivity. He hates being this useless, it's a feeling worse than physical torture. And he's allowed to say that, he's lived through it – more than once.
Cassian drags himself out of bed and dresses cautiously, simply waiting for the phantom pain to fade. Because there is nothing else he can do but waiting. It seems to be the only thing he's good at nowadays.
When he's done, he clumsily takes his crutches and hobbles over to the adjacent refresher unit. From the corner of his eyes he catches sight of himself in the mirror. He's not even able to walk straight on his own. Either needing the help of crutches or his prosthetic leg, and it still is a pitiful sight.
Hating the reflection as well as the inevitable truth it depicts, Cassian turns his head and steps – or the equivalent of it – under the refresher.
---
The other four are aware of his discontent with the current situation.
How could they not. It's probably not really hard to catch on, even though he does his best to avoid them most of the time. Or maybe that's exactly the reason why. Either way, he only interacts the bare minimum with them. Cassian knows he's being unfair in shunning them, it's not their fault, after all… he just doesn't want to drag them down with him. He's caused them enough grief already.
It was Jyn who had decided to go, to just grab whatever kind of craft was available and make their way to Scarif to do the right thing. Yes, sure. But she'd never fought in a war before. Cassian is the one with experience, military training, and a good portion of should-have-known-better-than-go-off-half-cocked. And he still –
"Captain."
He's been trying to push the mess hall door button without dropping neither the data pad under his arm nor his crutches, when a young man, rank of a cadet, suddenly salutes, then reaches past him and opens the door, standing and waiting next to it for Cassian to enter first.
Cassian stares at him grimly. Does he have a sign around his neck that says 'Pity me' or what? But the cadet shows no intention to move and Cassian grudgingly goes through the door, offering a clipped "Cadet." and making a point of it to hold his head as high as possible lest he loses the last shred of dignity he has left.
Jyn sits opposite to Baze and Chirrut, apparently heavily engaged in a lively discussion with the latter – something about the advantages of a baton over a staff. Next to her, Bodhi is listening to the two of them trying to constantly one-up each other's arguments and taking a bite of his breakfast every now and then. Still away from their table, Cassian watches the little group and on their own accord his eyes constantly flicker towards Bodhi. He seems happy. Laughing at the bickering now going on between the two guardians as Baze decides it's time to step in.
Cassian doesn't want to know what Bodhi must think of him. Nevertheless, a few guesses float around his head. Broken. Incapable. A failure.
They haven't spoken much, barely even interacted ever since they made it back, despite spending two of the three med-bay-weeks in a sickbed next to each other. Most of the days Cassian had spent pretending to either be knocked out by analgesics or, later on, being busy writing reports. The nights he'd used to watch the soft rising and falling of Bodhi's chest as he slept and remind himself that they'd all survived and he wouldn't yet have to add another name to the list of bodies he's leaving in his wake.
Jyn is the first to spot him. For a second her eyes follow his gaze, and her eyebrows rise slightly before she calls his name. Noticing he had been staring, Cassian quickly looks away and tightens the grip on his walking aid as he comes over. Hearing Jyn, Bodhi turns around and his face splits into a wide smile. He quickly scoots over on the bench and waves, offering a place for Cassian to sit.
While he doesn't like the special attention, Cassian gives a short greeting in return and attempts to sit down. He has to sit somewhere. Of course, it doesn't go smoothly. The crutches are in the way and he struggles, slipping a little trying when they bump against the table's leg as he tries to manoeuvre around the bench and store them under the table.
"Here, let me…" Bodhi says and reaches out to take the data pad from him.
"I don't need help," he snaps before he can stop himself, and the metal construction stops mere centimetres before actually touching Cassian.
Bodhi flinches at the harsh tone of his voice and he mumbles an "I'm sorry…" before he pulls back the cybernetic prosthesis replacing his right arm.
Jyn shoots him another look around Bodhi's back, her brows risen – again – as if to ask 'What do you think you're doing?' and Cassian is pretty sure now she's caught him staring at Bodhi. Maybe she doesn't know why or just doesn't want to meddle, either way, she doesn't call him out on it.
So Cassian expertly ignores her and with a tap to a button brings the pad to life, starting to stare into it as well as evading also the other three's non-too-subtle glances.
---
After the gloomy excuse of a breakfast, he has a meeting with High Command scheduled. It's a general strategy briefing, and Cassian doesn't get why Mon Mothma even insisted on his attendance. He's no use when it comes to any political decisions or pulling the strings in the background of an organisation. He's a man of action. The kind that has to be out there and physically do something, help change something. Or at least he was.
He sits through the briefing only listening with half an ear and giving a grunting sound of approval or disapproval whenever directly addressed. For the rest of it, Cassian remains silent. He doesn't even notice how the hours pass. Only when General Dodonna declares the meeting closed with a knock on the table, he checks the time and is surprised to find it already afternoon.
Excusing himself, he more or less limps back to his quarters. His leg is always worse after sitting still for several hours, but he has to move it again, whether he wants to or not. It's probably better, anyway, to finish some of the paperwork in privacy without any glances thrown his way than at a table in the crowded mess hall. The shortest way there is crossing the hangar and he's halfway through it when he sees Bodhi talking to Jyn, the both of them sitting on two tool boxes in front of a battel-marked U-Wing Bodhi has started repairing a couple of days ago. Cassian had intended to just walk past unnoticed behind them, when he suddenly overhears his own name and stops.
"He's been like that ever since we got back. Hell, he barely even talks to us anymore and I feel like it's getting worse every day." Jyn is gesturing with her hands as she speaks. She wears the face of someone that wants to be angry, but is left without options to whom this anger is directed at. Her gesticulations falter and her voice calms as she concludes, "He's depressed and it's eating him up. We have to do something."
"Yeah," Bodhi agrees. In contrast to Jyn, he talks quietly and his shoulders seem to be hanging down. He has a small, cylindrical item in his hands that he passes from one into the other. "I'm worried, too. I just …don't know what. It's as if he doesn't want help – or even company." He pauses and swallows. "…you've seen how he gets when I only so much as come near him."
"He's a stubborn idiot, that's what he is." Jyn huffs. "He's putting too much on his shoulders… If he'd accept just some support! We're his friends, for Force's sake, we're on his side."
Bodhi fiddles with what has to be a sonic screwdriver between his fingers. "You know, about that, I have a suspicion," he starts tentatively. "I – I haven't told this anyone yet, but… I think it might be my fault…"
Hidden behind the wing of a near-by X-Wing, Cassian sucks in a sharp breath. How could Bodhi know? Had he been too obvious? He's been a kriffing spy, after all! He tells himself to keep it cool and continues to listen.
Just like Cassian, Jyn, also, doesn't seem to understand "What do you mean," she asks, looking at Bodhi with a dumbfounded expression. "That he's irritated and snaps at people? Of course, it's not. How could it?! Cassian's not blaming you for anything, he's probably angry at himself. No matter how ridiculous that is," she adds.
"Are you sure?" Glancing up from the tool, Bodhi's eyes meet Jyn's. "I mean, he doesn't talk much to me. In the med-bay, he even made up excuses not to, just because he was forced to stay in a room with me. And now, every time he looks at me, he seems so disappointed and frustrated, like he doesn't want to see me."
"Bodhi that's not –" Jyn starts, but Bodhi cuts her off, apparently wanting to say his part.
"You know, things might've been different, had I been able lower the shield system earlier. We nearly failed because of that and, I mean, look at us –" He shifts the screwdriver in his left hand and holds up his replaced arm, flexing the metal fingers. "I'm not sure when I'll be able to fly again, but I've only ever been a mediocre cargo pilot… not a highly proficient intelligence officer. I can – I can understand that Cassian is mad at me. It's just…" Bodhi drops his arm again and stares at his feet. "… before, I actually thought he'd… like me. And I thought… that'd be nice." He gives a short, humourless laugh. "Guess I was wrong about that, huh?"
tbc.