After Cassian brought Jyn home from the hospital, he devoted himself to learning about pregnancy. It was so easy with Theo; he was just dropped into their lives fully formed and living; he only had to read how to raise a baby. This was different, though. The stakes felt higher somehow. A wrong move or a misstep, or just plain old bad luck, and he could lose everything; Jyn and the baby. Cassian devoured book after book, learning how pregnancy progresses, how to assist Jyn, what foods to avoid, how to keep her healthy. He read parenting books alongside pregnancy tomes; absorbing how to raise his children without damaging them. Theo was an easy child, he learned, in spite of his tendency to refuse to sleep during normal slumbering hours. He smiled and laughed, and was generally content if they were in his range of sight.

"He'll adapt." Kiwa's mother assured him after a particularly harried few nights of no sleep. "He's cutting new teeth. That's a painful thing to do."

She went on to show Cassian how to mix an herbal mixture from the market into a paste to relieve his son's pain. Developmentally, Theo was ahead of the curve; sitting up, crawling, even walking early. As much joy as he brought his father, however, Cassian couldn't shake the feeling nagging at the back of his mind. Something wasn't right. He was missing something; doing something wrong.

Mabion visited, as promised, with Honza and their son, Jove. Only a few months apart, it was endearing to watch the children play together. They didn't interact that much, which Kiwa promised was normal for that age, but Cassian took a step back in awe anyway. They'd survived. Both of them. Mabion had been in the fight since he was seven, and by all accounts should have died several times over. Cassian was present for a few of those close calls - he even shared a few of them and had the scars to prove it. But against all odds, they'd survived. They'd lived, left, loved, and had families now. Still, unease clutched at Cassian's back, threatened to engulf him some nights. Once things settled down, the nightmares came again.

Theo was eight months old when it felt like it all came crashing down. Jyn had months left to go in her pregnancy, and she hated the way she was being slowed down. Cassian loved to look at her, eyes gliding over her face, her mouth, her abdomen swollen with child, lower. She was magnificent, carrying Theo around, even as she developed a waddle in her step, and responding to his babbles. He saw it, though, the furrow in her brow, the hitch in her step. He saw her struggling to stand when she heard him enter the room, rubbing at her temple when she thought no one was watching.

"Jyn." A single syllable, laced with so many emotions. Love. Fear. Compassion. Hope.

She meets his eyes, and forces a smile.

"Tell me." He doesn't need to finish the thought. She knows what he means, what he's worried about.

"It's nothing." She shrugs off his inquiry and pushes to her feet.

"Jyn." Sometimes it feels like he's known her forever, for his entire life. They communicate in syllables, not sentences. In looks, gestures. Touches. They've always been like this, even on Jedha. Cassian thinks sometimes that he could never have married anyone else but Jyn.

"It's just a little headache." He notices how she downplays the symptoms, but he's been reading. He remembers. Kaytoo would be able to bring up the file and read it verbatim, but Cassian recalls the important details. He sees how she's shrugging off his concern.

"Jyn, it's not." He stills her with a hand on her forearm, sliding his fingers over her skin until he can tangle his fingers with hers. "You've been bothered for days. It hasn't gone away." The books warn of headaches as a harbinger of things to come; things too unseemly to think upon. Premature infants, dying mothers, strokes. He won't lose her. He can't.

He's bundled her into the speeder before she can protest. Kiwa is watching them from the door, waving with Theo in her arms. In the end, it's not nothing.

"How long have you had these headaches?" Doctor Shoret is sitting primly on the plasteel stool as Cassian hovers anxiously. Neither the doctor nor Cassian can make out Jyn's mumbled response.

"What?"

"I'm sorry?" They both ask in unison.

Jyn is still unaccustomed to having anyone hover over her, fuss over her. Saw barely noticed when she came back with her first blaster burn. It had been her abdomen, and she still bears the ugly scar. He shook his head, lips pursed and disappointed when she showed him, and shoved her in the direction of the bunks. She'd washed it out over the sink, and Codo helped her bandage it with old strips of cloth. The pain was agonizing, and it kept her up for days. Unable to find a comfortable position, she'd writhe on her flat, hard pallet all night, irritating the soldiers in the bunks above and below her with her constant movement. Three years later when she took a vibroblade to the thigh, Jyn was thirteen and old enough to know to tourniquet the wound and move on. It missed the artery, and she could stop the bleeding later. No one was going to come rushing to her with fresh, white bandages and gentle hands. Some days she thinks those memories are false, it never happened. She never had a loving mother who swooped in and made things better with a dab bacta and kiss on the knee.

Cassian hovers. She usually appreciates his concern, but she's on the edge of her wits, patience worn thin from too-little sleep and too much throbbing pain in her temples, behind her eyes. Her head might explode.

"Jyn." Her husband's voice is soft and sharp at the same time, and she realizes dimly that no one heard her whisper.

"Almost a year." She pushes the words out as though it hurts, scraping them against her larynx. The effort leaves her feeling bruised.

Cassian does the math. That would either be in Wobani or just after.

"Did something cause them? An injury, perhaps?" Dr. Shoret is the model of patience, and Cassian reminds himself to relax and stay impassive. Jyn has always been his blind spot.

He looks down at the table where Jyn is sitting hunched over and tips her chin up with one finger. They share a look, and his eyes widen in spite of his silent admonition to remember his training. Scarif. When he nearly lost her.

"She had an injury. A head injury." He supplies, understanding that Jyn isn't going to say anything further on the subject. "She hit her head on some flying debris or something in an explosion. She, ah, she was in a coma. Had bleeding in her brain. They had to do surgery to decrease the pressure. He knows that scar. Jyn hides it, wears her hair so that it doesn't show. It's the only scar she doesn't like him to see. He searches for it anyway, runs his fingertips featherlight over it, presses soft kisses to the pink, hairless line through her scalp. It saved her. It is the physical representation of his begging, pleading with the Force, the universe, anyone who would listen, to not let her leave him. Keep her here. Help her. Save her life. He loves that scar because it healed, and healing means living, or at least staying alive. Perhaps neither of them will ever heal.

Dr. Shoret just purses his lips and nods slowly, eyes assessing the patient.

"And are they worse now?"

Jyn just nods, and Cassian sees the flush spread up from her collar. She's embarrassed. She doesn't like being doted on by strangers, and barely tolerates it from him some days. Cassian clenches his teeth, and forces his hand to remain comforting as he swipes her bangs from her eyes.

A few scans later, and Jyn has a diagnosis that Cassian can't pronounce. He's read abut it, though. It's dangerous. Jyn's blood pressure is too high, and she's spilling protein into her urine. Her headaches are mingled with post concussion headaches - post surgical headaches. They'd be impossible to separate. She's in danger, and so is the baby. Jyn doesn't take to bedrest well, and predictably grumbles and snarls at being incapacitated. Even with the medications and the bedrest, she has to deliver the baby early or risk even more danger to them both. Cassian maps out the numbers in his head, tangible things with so much meaning attached to them. Each week inside means so much more development for the baby. Thirty eight weeks is full term. Forty is better. Thirty two is as far as she gets. At thirty two a baby is more than viable, Cassian knows, but he'll be small. Lungs not quite developed, brain tissue not quite solid enough to be safe on the outside.

In the end, his worries prove useless, as he can do nothing but watch as the doctor hands his tiny son to the waiting arms of a neodroid. The baby is whisked away for treatment, and Cassian is left holding onto Jyn's hand and hoping he isn't breaking her fingers. He has a glimpse, though, and he suddenly remembers, plain as day, the moment he first saw his baby sister. She was so small, and pink all over, this smattering of dark hair tufting at her scalp. They wait four weeks to get to take their son home, and Cassian is certain he didn't sleep at all.

Jyn insists on naming him Nalin, and Cassian has a suspicion that she's merged his brother's name and his baby sister's name to come up with it. Jyn just smiles and tells him she found it in a book, and she can't recall which one. He offers Bodhi or Chirrut or Baze as middle names, and Jyn rejects them each in turn. She won't name someone after the dead, she swears, and Cassian wonders if she really did find Nalin in a book. Her aversion to naming customs shouldn't surprise him, afterall. Saw Gerrera raised her, and she told him they didn't honor their dead. They just moved on. Pushed the pain down. No one ever spoke of it.

He is surprised when she tells him she's going to talk to someone, and he's even more surprised when she asks if he wants to come with her. He does not go. She continues seeking help, working through her issues with a professional because she doesn't want to risk screwing these kids up with her past. Jyn knows her childhood was backwards. Eight years with her loving parents - who at this point seem but a distant memory, maybe just a shadow of that - it wasn't enough. She feels insufficient and ill-prepared for the task, and she prays to the Force to help her make better lives for her children.

Cassian is a frequent topic of conversation in their sessions, but Jyn supposes that it's only because she's actually able to talk about him. She brings the babies with her, sometimes one or the other, and strokes their downy hair, fingers Theo's dark ringlets, and clutches his chubby form to her like a shield. Her therapist calls her on it, frowning. Theo smiles in response to his name and grabs the cord of Jyn's necklace before demanding to be put down on the floor. Without her son on her lap, Jyn feels exposed.

"Tell me about the nightmares, Jyn." Dr. Leeda repeats the request.

Which ones? The bunker cave, where she thought she'd starve to death before Saw found her and took her away? The memory of her mother falling, lifeless, into the neatly ordered crops, her blood seeping into the volcanic soil? The memory of the first life she took. Aged nine. The treat she got for pulling the trigger is the real reason she hates sweet things, even though she tells Cassian it's just because she never had them as a child. Sugar still turns her stomach. Cassian falling and hitting every beam on the way down the data tower? Her father dying in her arms on a sodden platform? Watching Saw's hideout erupt around him in all directions, burying her surrogate father under mounds of rock and ash? The dreams where she sees Bodhi and Baze and Chirrut all die, one by one? The first attack that left her wanting to peel off her own skin and set it on fire to clean it? There are too many reasons for nightmares. She doesn't know where to begin.

Cassian figured out some of them. He learned that she wakes gasping and reaching for him when she dreams of Scarif. That she wakes tearful and disoriented when she dreams of Eadu or Jedha. He learned while she was awake that she needs to see his face when he makes love to her. Looking back, he can see how she'd tensed when he'd turned her around. Her strangled cry as she tore herself away from him haunts his own memories. Moment ruined by his own idea, he just reached for her with gentle arms and soothing words.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. My Jyn. I'm here. I'm here. I'm sorry." She hadn't even known she had an issue until then. Cassian still feels guilty and lecherous for dredging up bad memories, for scaring her. He's more careful now, even as he pretends to be NOT acting careful. But it's there, between them. He wonders if she tells the therapist what happened.

Nothing prepared Cassian for the feelings that welled up inside his chest the first time Theo called him "papa." It was a difficult sound for his mouth to form, or so Kiwa and her mother told him. He was flying, feet no longer firmly planted on the earth below. Papa. Words he hadn't heard or spoken since he was six. A name he'd scarcely allowed himself to remember. He'd babbled the typical baby sounds that children who hear Basic and Monbetsan and Festian make; a strange amalgam of mixed up phonemes that secretly worried Cassian. Hanako promised him that the boys would sort out the languages in time, and told him not to worry. He worries anyway.

He refuses to go with Jyn to therapy until Theo is almost two, and Nalin is one. He can't recall what the boys where making noise about, but he remembers yelling at them. Yelling. Harsh, angry words snapped at babies. The memory of the look of fear on Theo's little face brings Cassian shame every time he thinks about it. He knows that fear, still remembers it well. He had an uncle who instilled that sort of reaction in him with a yell and a slap. His cheek still feels hot and raw just thinking about it. He has to deal with his own issues, or he'll end up scarring the children. He never wants them to be afraid of him. Cassian's own father, Jeron Andor, was a kind, loving man, at least from the bits of memories and shattered pieces of emotions that Cassian has left. He'll work harder to get better, deal with the past, and move forward. He'll do anything to keep that look of fear from ever crossing Theo's face again. He was wary of his father for hours after Cassian yelled at him, even as Jyn shushed him patiently and explained that "Papa just isn't feeling well." His wife will not have to make excuses to their children for his behaviour. He's seen how that ends, and he won't be party to it. His cheek throbs with memory, and a flush covers his face.

Therapy is harder for Cassian, because there's so much he actually can't say - not without risking the safety of the soldiers in the Rebellion. Still, he muddles through, and finds things are both better and worse because of it. He tries the medications for a while, but they dull his senses and slow his reactions. Talking to Hanako helps more than the therapy, he thinks, and he can tell her the things he can't trust a counselor to keep private. His guilt over the assassinations, the explosions, even the mercy killings. Tivik. He reminded Cassian of a caged, desert womprat, all skittish and scared. He shot him in the back, and that still keeps Cassian up at night. He wouldn't have withstood interrogation, and it was the best thing for the Rebellion - even the best thing for Tivik given the circumstances, but Cassian feels like every life he took somehow broke off a piece of himself, too. Jyn is patient with him, which both frightens and encourages him. Perhaps in a few months, he will be that calm and patient, too. She's always been stronger than him, he thinks.

Two miscarriages in a row put a dent into Jyn's calm, though. She's on edge and Cassian sees some of that anger in her eyes he remembers from their first meeting. Fire. Life. Years pass, and Jyn throws herself into her boys. Even though they're eleven months apart, Nalin has caught up to Theo in size. This causes Jyn unspeakable joy, because she was worried that her small stature and his prematurity at birth would stunt his growth. Both boys are fluent in Basic, Festian, and Monbetsan, and Jyn begrudgingly accepts that they'll always be able to speak the latter two languages better than does she. Cassian asked shyly soon after they signed the adoption forms for Theo if he could teach him his mother tongue. His native language. The language of his people - of his heart. Jyn agreed heartily on the condition that he teach her, as well. Cassian admits that Jyn has a gift for languages, but learning as an adult is different. She's fluent enough, but she'll never have the easy grasp of verb forms and complicated inflections that her husband and children have. Her disappointment is tempered somewhat by the fact that she and Cassian both still struggle with Monbetsan. She wishes her father had taught her his own native tongue so she could feel on more even ground sometimes.

"It's not a competition, Jyn." He likes to remind her, and Jyn thinks back to the first time he said those words to her. She doesn't compete with him. She pairs with him. Teams up with him. She loves him. It still frightens her, but she stays, even though her feet are trained for running. It never occurs to her to leave, or to even want to leave, but she can tell that sometimes Cassian wishes he could. She knows he'd take them all with him, but he misses feeling useful in a larger sense. Misses the knowledge that his hard-won skills are contributing to the future freedom of the galaxy. Sometimes she reminds him that twenty years of his life is more than any one person should have to devote to a cause, even one they believe in so fully. Cassian just wraps his arms around her and breaths in her scent, nose buried in her hair. The feel of Jyn in his arms grounds him, reminds him why he left. He sounds of his children laughing keep him rooted in one place, rather than ferrying them back to a Rebel base that probably doesn't exist any more. Surely they've scattered the fleet by now. He saw it coming for years before they left. Mon Mothma and Admiral Raddus had nerve and guts. Admiral Ackbar. Even General Draven, whose courage was only seen in corners and shadows because that's where he operates - even Draven had cojones (as he tells Jyn once after too many litres of ale). The rest of the Rebellion leadership lacked spines. Jyn likes the word "cojones," and Cassian thinks she has more of them than anyone he's ever met.

On the back of a third miscarriage in three years, Jyn conceives again, and this time she makes it to the third trimester. They are a family of almost five - soon to be five. Cassian waits with baited breath for the other shoe to drop. In an odd reversal of the way they came to have two children in the first place, a knock at the door throws their whole lives off balance. It's Da'at again, with Kentaro, and a small girl who is visibly shaking, whether from cold or fear, Jyn can't decide. Cassian says it was both.

"I just removed her from her house." Da'at tells them gravely, eyeing the shivering child sadly. He'll tell them the rest later, over lunch the next day. The child shouldn't have to relive what he saw in that building. "We think she's about three, and we think her name is Yuka, but she hasn't said a word."

It's the same thing, but in reverse, and Jyn realizes that there is no way Cassian is letting go of this child. She's huddled on the chair, refusing to look at anyone, and not speaking a word. Jyn watches in silence as he shakes Da'at's hand, and listens to the constable's promise that it's just for "a day or two." Just until suitable housing is located or space at an orphanage has been found. When she looks back from closing the front door, Nalin and Theo are peering around the corner at the spectacle in the kitchen. Cassian has seated himself on the floor beside the child, and he's talking to her in low tones that Jyn can't make out. They put her to bed on the sofa with plenty of extra blankets, a plasteel sippy cup of water, and the stuffed, blue Cervus that Theo shyly offered for comfort.

"What did you say to her?" Jyn asks as she crawls in beside her husband that night, tucking the blankets around her to keep out the draft. Even pregnant she's still prone to chilling.

"That she doesn't have to talk until she's ready, and that I'm happy to wait." Cassian adjusts his arms around his wife, and caresses her swollen abdomen, feeling the life inside. "That I'm happy to learn whatever signals she wants to use to tell me what she needs." Jyn drifts to sleep thinking about what a kind and loving man her husband is. Cassian lays awake remembering being six and being too scared to talk to anyone.

The house is still a disaster a few weeks later, as the Andors are moving to a larger home again. Jyn smiles to herself as she packs up the baby things she has leftover from Theo and Nalin. She's not sure she'll ever get used to having time and the ability to bring her things with her when she moves. For so long the only things she had were on her back, anyway. Her boys have never known that kind of loss and want, and she prays they never will. She smiles as she looks up and sees Cassian moving a handful of blankets into a crate, Yuka on his hip with her spindly arms around his neck. They've been inseparable since that first night when he spent two hours on the kitchen floor taking to her. He asks her questions, but always ends them so that she can answer with a nod or a shake of her head. She's still wary of Jyn, though, and her heart breaks as she wonders if this small child is just a timid personality, or if someone made her this way. Jyn can feel Yuka watching her, so she looks up and smiles tenderly at the little one wrapped around her husband. Jyn knows this one is staying. There's no doubt. Make it a family of almost six. Nearly six. Soon.

They move, ultimately, to a lovely, if older, home on the other side of the town. Thankfully the house had four bedrooms, since they bought it before knowing that Yuka would be joining their family. The Constable and the social worker drop by every week or so and promise that they're working hard to reintegrate Yuka back into her home, but Jyn can tell that Da'at is only giving lip service to the idea. He knows something that he isn't telling them, and Jyn, who has actually become good friends with a law enforcement officer, suspects that he brought this child to their house on purpose. He knew they'd take her in, that Cassian wants a big family, and that neither one of them can say no and turn away a child in need. She sees the haunted look on Da'at's face when he watches Yuka huddle in the corner, clutching the stuffed animal that she refuses to give back to Theo. Theo tells her she can keep it, and Jyn slips him an extra piece of fruit at dinner.

Mabion and Honza bring Jove and Arla for a small vacation before Jyn's due date. She has fewer complications with this pregnancy, and hasn't needed bedrest. Headaches still plague her, but they're unchanged from her typical post-concussion/post-brain injury headaches. The three boys head outside to play, rowdy and noisy and jubilant. Arla plays in the garden by herself, happily picking flowers and digging up bugs and worms. Jyn sees a pair of wide, brown eyes watching the spectacle outside from the other side of the window.

She's pregnant, and feels like she's about to pop, but Jyn lowers herself to the floor beside the silent child anyway, hands full of jackets and bags.

"Will you go on an adventure with me, Yuka?" Jyn asks, smiling widely. "I need some company." A vigorous nod is the only response, but Jyn thinks she sees a sparkle in her eyes. She dresses her in a jacket, adds a scarf to be safe, finds a wide-brimmed hat, and helps her fasten her shoes.

"You'll need this to make it a proper adventure." Jyn hands her a little bag to wear over her shoulders and a small canteen. Her mother used to take her on hikes like this one. Perhaps she can bond with Yuka this way, too. "We'll take the speeder to the base of the trail." She keeps up the chatter for Yuka's sake as they climb into the vehicle. She parks at the base of the trail Hanako showed her years ago when they first moved here, and holds out her hand. Yuka tilts her face up, and stares at her for a moment before slowly fitting her tiny hand in Jyn's. They set off down the wooded trail, and Jyn stops to point out every interesting thing. She tells her about the trees, and how they only grow here, at this elevation on this planet. She points out the birds, a special kind of bird that only nests in these trees. They find rocks, and Jyn remembers how her mother used to go hiking on Lah'mu and collect rocks with her as a child. Yuka packs the sparkly ones into the bag on her back.

They find a stream, and Jyn thinks of the baby she bathed in a creek once. Yuka just squats down and watches the minnows and tadpoles, fingers dipping into the cool water to try to touch them. She picks a flower and holds it up for Jyn's inspection.

"It's a senjyu-ganpi." She tells her excitedly, and points out the jagged edges of the petals. "It only grows here, not on any other planet." Yuka puts the flower in her bag, as well, and holds her hand out for Jyn to hold.

They make it to the clearing, and Jyn sits on the flat rock and takes in the scenery. The ravine is the same. The high peaks around them are covered in green, the highest has a dusting of snow on its cap. The sun has warmed the rock, and Jyn places her palm on it, flattened, and remembers how Cassian leaned her back against it and kissed that first time they came here. This is a good spot for building trust, she thinks. For growing memories. Yuka is running back and forth, finding interesting things and bringing them to Jyn for inspection and explanation. When she tires, Jyn holds out a sandwich and invites her to join her on the rock. She barely finishes her lunch before she's curled up asleep, head pillowed on Jyn's lap. Naptime, Jyn thinks. Safety. She knows what it's like to finally realize you're safe. The constant need for vigilance is exhausting, and the sensation of finally - finally - being able to let go and rest is liberating. She combs her fingers through Yuka's dark hair and hopes she's too young to remember whatever it is that scared her voice away. She has to carry the child most of the way back to the speeder. It's awkward, because of the baby growing inside of her, but she does it anyway. Now that they've built some trust, she isn't willing to put the child down. She will endure. Saw taught her how to do that.

The next day Mabion wants to take the children to the beach, and he misses the way Cassian reaches for Jyn's hand as they shudder at the thought. They rent a large beach house, big enough for the three families, and Jyn smiles as she watches her boys run into the ocean with Mabion's children. Kentaro dashes after them, laughing and doting like the Grandpapa they know him to be. Jyn cranes her neck to find Yuka watching them from behind the window - still anxious and isolated, even after their breakthrough the day prior. The look on her face reminds Jyn of her own childhood. After she'd been stuck with Saw and his Partisans, she'd see children from time to time in the markets or around the towns. They'd be playing or laughing, on their way to school, or out with their families. She'd watch them with envy, wishing she could be that sort of normal again, then chastise herself for feeling ungrateful and being distracted. Saw says distractions get you killed.

She's already on her way to see if she can coax the small girl into playing outside when Cassian appears beside the child. He sits on the floor beside her and speaks quietly, words Jyn can't make out. Yuka nods and waits patiently for Cassian to pull himself to standing, levering up using the window ledge. His back and leg never healed completely, and Jyn wants to scream and strangle the Rebellion for taking him out of bacta too soon. She wasn't even conscious at the time, and yet she feels guilty for his injuries. He's everything to her, and she'd go back in time and give up her own time in the tank to make him more mobile again - to give him a healthy spine and hip. She'd sell the crystal around her neck to buy him more time for the blaster injury to the leg to heal. But then, she thinks, none of this would exist. Theo would be who knows where. Nalin wouldn't have even been conceived. Yuka might not be safe. Her hand rests on the side of her abdomen, fingertips echoing the kicks inside. You wouldn't be here, either, little one, she thinks. Perhaps it all worked out fine. In her dreams, Chirrut still tells her to be patient. Technically, Baze tells her that, interpreting what Chirrut actually says with a direct simplicity that reminds Jyn why she liked him so much in life.

Cassian fastens Yuka's hat around her chin, and they head out, hand in hand, to play in the sand. He takes her close to the edge of the receding surf, but not too close. Jyn sees her stop, plant her feet, and tug on Cassian's hand, refusing to go closer. They dig in the sand, build lopsided castles in the moist earth, and Cassian keeps up his commentary that he does when he's entertaining Yuka. She grows bored after a while, and sits down beside him, watching the other children play. Theo comes over and asks if she wants to join, tells her how fun it is. Cassian feels her press against him, shaking her head.

"You should come." Theo calls as he dashes back into the water.

Cassian wonders if she's picking up on his disdain for the ocean. She's a sensitive child, and he and Jyn both hate it here, even though they want the children to enjoy it. She joins them with juice and fruit slices, lowering awkwardly to the sand beside him.

"It's different." She says simply, eyes never leaving their children frolicking in the ocean. "They're safe." She voices refutations to Cassians silent fears. He just nods and pulls Yuka into his lap.

He's watching the boys the next morning as they play in the ocean while Jyn, Mabion, and Honza try to get things packed up. Mabion ends up outside with Arla, who decided she wants to swim, too. Cassian hears the young girl calling excitedly to her brother as she sprints down to the surf. He looks up to see a look he can't categorize on Mabion's face.

"Cass." He calls to his friend, waiting until he's closer to finish. "It's over. We won."

The words take a moment to sink in, to penetrate his muddled mind. We won. The men share a hug briefly, tight and fierce.

"They did it. They destroyed the Death Star."

Cassian feels the world closing in around him. This happened already. A farm boy from nowhere destroyed the weapon. His vision is going dark and fuzzy around the edges, but Mabion continues.

"It's all over the net. The Emperor is dead. Darth Vader is gone. We won."

Cassian falls to his knees, the descent cushioned in the sand. Awareness of time and place escape him for a moment as he processes and mourns. Twenty years. So many lives lost. His own childhood gone, and his own life nearly lost more times than he can count.

A small hand on his cheek draws him back to now.

"Don't cry."

Yuka. The first words she's spoken in months - maybe years. He's never heard her voice before. He hadn't even realized he'd been crying, but she pats his tears away in that awkward, loving way that only a child can manage.

"Don't be sad." She's standing in front of him without shoes on. No hat or jacket. She must have run to him when she saw him fall.

"I'm not sad, Baby." He murmurs as he sweeps her into a hug and the tears fall in earnest. "I'm happy. I'm very happy." This is what he fought for, right here. This child, his not-yet-official daughter, his sons playing in the surf, the baby growing safely in Jyn's abdomen. He fought for them, so they can know safety and peace.

"Cassian?" Jyn's voice is beside him. Close. They're always close. She knows, he can hear it in her voice. "Cassian." No longer a question.

"It's over." He croaks. Mabion leaves them alone. He reaches an arm to draw her closer to him, and she lowers to her knees and wraps her arms around the two of them.

"What's over, Cassian?" She murmurs into his shoulder.

"The war, Jyn." He blurts out, half a hiccup. "It's over. We won."

"Papa's sad." Yuka alerts Jyn gravely, in spite of his earlier protest that he is not.

"He's not sad, Baby." Jyn presses a kiss to Yuka's forehead. "We're both very, very happy." For so many reasons, she thinks. Cassian fought bitterly for twenty years. He gave up so much of himself to the cause, nearly lost himself. This is a day for celebration. And Yuka spoke aloud, which may be adding to his tears. Force, it's adding to hers. She's been with them for months, and not a peep. Not so much as a sound when she cries, which breaks her heart and Cassian's. It's a big day for the Andors and the Waydaus. Neither man, she figures, imagined they'd live to see this day. She never even considered it for herself. She just accepted that she'd die alone somewhere, in an alley or a warehouse or a prison. It was all the same to her.

"If Saw could see me now." She thinks to herself sometimes. He'd call her soft and weak, she knows. But her Papa would be happy. This is a quiet life. A happy, peaceful life. This is what her parents would want for her, not Partisans and struggling to survive.

When they've pulled themselves together enough to stand, Yuka tugs on Cassian's hand wordlessly, reverting to her silent communication. He follows her to the edge of the surf while she stands, waffling with indecision. He can see it happening. She wants to play so badly, but she's scared.

"It's okay." He urges, heart light with joy. "I'm right here."

She dips a toe into the wave as it laps against the shoreline, shrieking at the chilly temperature, and climbing Cassian like a tree. He hauls her up, ignoring the pinch in his back, and sits her on his forearm.

"Let me know when you want to try again, okay?" She just nods solemnly in agreement.

Yuka tugs on his sleeve and wiggles to get down when she's stored up enough courage. Cassian sets her gently on the sand, but doesn't let go of her hand. She makes it ankle deep this time, and stands there, smiling brightly up at him. Proud, he thinks. She's proud of herself. He's proud of her. He hopes that some of Jyn's fearlessness rubs off on her. Maybe not all of it. She has a tendency to make his heart stop beating when she charges into situations without thinking. But some of that strength, some of that courage - he wants that for Yuka.

She keeps walking, out to her knees now, picking her way carefully into the gently lapping waves. Turning to look at him, she tugs her hand free and jumps up and down. Cassian follows closely, trousers soaked halfway up to his knees now, and not minding the sodden clothing at all.

"Yuka, good job!" Theo comes dashing beside her, Nalin following close behind.

Cassian smiles and nods encouragement when she glances at him. Uncertain. Theo takes her hand, though, and carefully helps her out further. He shows her how to jump and bob in the waves. Nalin dives to retrieve something, and comes back up with a shell.

"Here." He hands it to her, pointing to the smooth, shiny inside. "You can have it."

Cassian has never been more proud of his boys. He stands close, but not too close while they play in the ocean. The boys are careful, mindful that Yuka is anxious and smaller than they are. He worries about her size. Da'at says she's three, but she's smaller than Theo was at two. Or maybe she's the same size he was at two. It's hard to recall sometimes. He sees the wave before it happens, but he can't get to her fast enough. A larger wave, bigger than the rest comes and tugs Yuka under. Nalin implored her to jump, but she didn't get to it in time. The boys ride it from the top, and Cassian dashes to pull Yuka up, sputtering, into his arms. She's soaking his shirt, coughing and breathing wetly. Theo and Nalin are standing in front of Cassian, eyes wide, concern evident on their faces.

Cassian soothes the child, pats her back and murmurs "you're okay" over and over. Her eyes are wide, and he can't tell if she's crying or just soaking wet from being submerged.

"That happens to me, too." Nalin offers, trying to make her feel better.

"Me, too. All the time." Theo chimes in.

She glances from the boys back to Cassian, and he smiles at her, heart in his chest.

"It's just the waves." Theo tells her before the group is joined by Arla and Jove. "They get you if you don't jump in time, but they spit you out on the beach,so it's okay."

Cassian can tell she's not entirely convinced, but the sight of the four other children standing expectantly, waiting for her, seems to be enough. She wiggles in Cassian's arms, and he lets her slide down, controlling her descent easily and setting her back on the sand.

"Here." Nalin grabs her hand, and Theo takes the other. Cassian's heart is in his throat as he watches the three of them play with Mabion's children. Three, four, and five. Another on the way. Mabion's two are five and three, even if Arla is taller than Yuka by several centimeters. They survived the war. They married and had families. They're thriving, in spite of their messed up childhoods and daily struggle to stay alive.

"Hey." Jyn nudges him as she climbs into bed that night. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He tells her honestly as he wraps his arms around her. "I was just thinking."

"About?" She waits, knowing how the game is played.

"This one will never know the war." He presses his face into her hair as he caresses her swollen belly. "She'll be born into a galaxy without the Empire. Without the fear that they'll take over any moment."

Jyn had a similar thought earlier as she watched him play with the kids in the ocean.

"Theo and Nalin won't remember it, either." She runs her fingers through his hair. "I'm not sure what Yuka will remember, but I hope it's only life with us."

Cassian murmurs his agreement against her shoulder. He worried for a while that if this day came he'd feel empty. Worthless. Instead he's elated and relieved. His children will grow up in a galaxy that's safe. Theo is already five, just a year younger than he was when he lost his family. He's just a child, he thinks sometimes. Cassian doesn't remember ever feeling as carefree as Theo seems to be. This is why he fought. This is what he fought for. Jyn drifts off to sleep peacefully in the dark room, and Cassian thinks back to the day she told him why she needed light.

They weren't even married, yet, but they'd just moved into the first little cabin. He was trying to find something he could use as a small light, something he could rig, even a temporary thing. Jyn was calling him to bed, tired from the effort of the move.

"It's okay, Cassian." She'd trailed fingertips across his back and shoulders. "I don't need it."

"But, you always..." He trailed off warily.

"We have windows in the bedroom here." She shrugged. "I don't need a light."

Understanding bloomed, and Cassian stopped what he was doing. "The cave?" He whispered.

She only nodded. Claustrophobia. She needs to see her escape routes. Windows are easy. He places a light outside the window to illuminate the path up to the house. It shines all night, letting in enough light to make the exits easy to find. He does this in every house they live in. For Jyn.

Jyn wakes with a dry mouth and throat. She never quite adapted to the indoor chiller, and finds that she ends up dry in the summers with the cool air blowing her all night long. Padding quietly to the door, she opens it to find a terrified Yuka on the other side.

"What's wrong, Baby?" She kneels beside the child, brushing her hair from her face. She points over Jyn's shoulder at Cassian. "He's sleeping, Sweetie. Let's let him rest."

Yuka is silent for a moment as the door closes quietly. She stands still in front of Jyn, and stares at her hard in the dim, yellow light of the hallway.

"Thirsty." She finally manages timidly, and Jyn feels her heart burst with happiness.

"Me, too." She pushes her way to her feet, and lifts Yuka up, carrying her easily. "Let's get some water." She can feel the child relax in her arms, and Jyn curses whoever taught her to be afraid to ask for what she needs.

"Let's have a snack." She whispers quietly, as she places an unbreakable cup half filled with water in front of Yuka at the table.

"Okay." Jyn drops a kiss to Yuka's hair before moving to cut up some fruit.

"You know, when I was your age, this was my favorite." Jyn slides the plate of fruit between them, closer to Yuka so she can reach it. "My mom would make this for me when I needed a snack."

The slices are slippery, and Yuka drops one on the ground, eyes widening with what Jyn has come to understand means fear.

"That's okay, Baby." She slides off her chair and bends, trying to reach the fruit, but her third trimester belly is in the way.

"I get it." Yuka jumps off of her chair and reaches under the table, picking up the slice and handing it to Jyn. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Jyn tosses the slice in the sink, and wipes her hands and then Yuka's on a towel before helping the little girl back up into her chair. "It happens. No big deal."

They finish their fruit and water, and Jyn takes Yuka back to bed.

"No." Yuka pulls on her hand and refuses to go inside her bedroom. "Stay."

Jyn just smiles, and runs possible translations through her brain. "You want to stay with me?" A shy nod. Jyn recognizes a test when she sees one. "Come on, but we have to be quiet."

Cassian wakes with a gasp, unsure what drew him from slumber. There's a tiny foot lodged against his liver, he finds, and traces the leg up to find Yuka asleep in Jyn's arms. He meets her gaze, his heart stuttering a bit like it always does when her green eyes sparkle at him.

"Sorry." She whispers. "She told me she wanted to sleep here. I couldn't say no." Not after she used words to express her needs. She couldn't push her away after that. Yuka just started to trust her. She's not going to start refusing her needs now.

"It's fine." He tells her honestly, understanding the desire to say "yes" to anything at all if the child is willing to speak her needs aloud. They don't usually let the children sleep in their bed, but there have been exceptions. This fits the bill. He would have done the same thing.

"Do you want some breakfast?" He kisses her lips softly as he rises, dropping a kiss to Yuka's cheek as well.

"Thank you." She calls after him as he leaves for the kitchen, and looks at the small body pressed against her. It's awkward because of the belly, but they managed.

The child shudders and wakes with a start and a silent gasp.

"It's okay, Sweetie." Jyn tugs her closer. "I'm right here." But Yuka can't be contained.

"Papa?" She swivels her head and finds his side of the bed empty.

"He's in the kitchen." Jyn brushes the hair from Yuka's face and makes a note to put it in braids today. "You can go if you want."

She watches as the little girl scrambles from the bed and runs down the hall. The bond Cassian formed with this child is stronger than she ever imagined possible. Or, perhaps it's exactly like the one she had with her own father at that age, she muses.

Cassian hears little feet running down the hall, and pauses before he opens the front door.

"Do you want to see the suns rise with me, Little One?" He bends to scoop her into his arms as she nods.

They step into the golden early morning sunlight, the first new day without the threat of the Empire. The first day of the rest of their lives. He's lost in thought just watching the spectacle of nature before him when he's joined by Jyn.

"Cassian." Her voice is urgent. "It's time."

He knows those words. They spur him to action. It's time. It's a tad early, but so was Nalin.

"Time?" He clarifies, just to be sure.

"Yes." Her eyes are sparkling, the greens and golds dancing in the sunlight.

"Are you ready to be a big sister?" He asks Yuka, who is sitting comfortably on his arm again. She just nods, eyes wide. "Go wake up your brothers." He sits her down and shoos her back inside.

"How much time do we have?"

"Enough." Jyn shrugs, reaching for her husband. "I love you."

"And I love you." He returns. "More than the number of the stars."

Author's Note: I still can't believe that anyone reads anything that I write. Thank you all for sticking with me! I had to leave it happy. I think they deserved happy. I tried to tie up as many loose ends as I could while trying to make the epilogue coherent. I hope you enjoy it if you read it.

Thanks especially to the incredibly kind reviewers, Christmas 95, Icbacteria, Vilian (your last review cracked me up. I wrote it, you don't have to tell me :) the whole thing was planned back in January), Mademoiselle le Chat (whose constant encouragement helped so much during this exercise), Loli-pop0394, Guest, FlyingCats777, Claire de Blance (I agree about the droid, but I'm rubbish at writing him in character), Moniecat, gandalf537, TortoisetheStoryteller, and 16KnightOwls. Thanks to everyone who "favorited" or followed (I'm not up on the lingo), and every single reader to made that "hit count" tab keep going higher. You are all so kind. Thank you all. Have lovely weekends, everyone.