Hello readers and fans!

I don't know how well this is going to go over, but after putting my Cassian and Jyn one-shot "The Last of A Thousand Chances" out there, I simply wasn't satisfied. Then, the other day, I sat down intending to read all the amazing fan fiction already out there, when lo and behold, an idea struck me. I ran with it and haven't stopped writing since.

This is not an AU or a fix-it. It stays true to the Rogue One story, but I have added a little spice of my own, a little dashing behind the scenes. Cassian came across to me as a reclusive and untrusting character, and quite by necessity. But what if he had a companion this whole time (besides K)? Someone akin to family? Enter Benduday Andor. Her name is kind of whack, I know, but this chapter will explain it presently.

This story is about our rebel Captain Andor and his adopted little sister...and Jyn Erso...and the Rebellion, of course.

I hope you enjoy! And if you don't, I promise it shouldn't be a long one.:)

Once, before Captain Andor of the Rebel Army, there was Cassian, a boy caught in a war he did not choose. Just a boy.

I forget about him sometimes.

I forget until I take a look in the mirror. The same eyes. The same face and hair. But the innocence is gone. This boy has fought and killed.

This boy has chosen war.

But this boy has saved people, too. This boy has hope.

And it all started with Ben.

23 BBY

BAKURA

I played alone as a child. I never had any siblings. The open spaces and creeping forests of Bakura were my friends. Good for running and yelling and never being bothered. My father had moved us there before I can remember. He told me later that Fest, my homeworld, was no longer where we belonged. My mother died there.

My father was a hard man. Rough and untrusting. He seldom let me wander farther than the edge of our vegetable farm. But once every Benduday, he let me go as far as I desired. And far I went. I ran and climbed and imagined. I found many hiding places in my wanderings, though I doubt I could fit into any of them now. They sufficed for a three-year-old boy.

It was on one of these particular Bendudays that I was running through the forest and heard the cries.

I found her in the arms of a boy. They were on the ground in an open field nearby. She was wailing incessantly, only an infant. He must have been close to ten. He was so still and silent, like he had fallen asleep. I tried to wake him up, shook him and asked him questions, but his eyes never opened. There was a hole in his back. I searched in the surrounding forest, looking for signs of where they came from. All the while, the baby kept on crying. I lost my voice before she did, yelling myself hoarse, asking if anyone was out there. No one came.

Until someone did.

I heard them before I saw them. A distant droning. To this day, I don't know why I picked the infant up, but something made me. I pried her from the boy's cold arms and ran to my nearest hiding place. It was a hollow tree trunk. They came on speeder bikes. Men in shiny white armor. They flew right past me where I sat in the dark. In my arms, the infant had gone quiet, staring up at me through hazel eyes. Wisps of tawny hair on her head floated with the dust moats in a faint shaft of light. I waited there as the droning stopped. They must have been in the field, but I couldn't see them anymore.

Carefully, I set the baby down in the tree and climbed out. I peeked out from behind the trunk to see them standing in the field around the boy. There were four of them. One of them nudged his foot, but he did not move. Then, another gave him a hard kick. I remember shoving my little fist into my mouth to keep from screaming. I felt a tear burning a trail down my face.

Then she started to cry again. She did not like being left alone. That still stands true today. Four white heads snapped in my direction. I didn't know what else to do. I got back into the tree with her and picked her up. I held her tight, willing her to stop crying. After a moment in my arms, she did, but I was afraid it was too late.

I heard the footsteps, the garbled voices.

"Was it over here?"

"I think by that tree."

More tears came then, hot and silent. I didn't want to be kicked like that boy. I didn't want to be found with a hole in my back.

"This one?"

"Yeah."

The footsteps grew louder and louder. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Then something strange happened. I felt a tiny finger touch my wet cheek. I opened my eyes to see the baby with her arm raised, reaching for my face. She was smiling so big that I could see her toothless gums. The hazel eyes were calm and clear. She couldn't have known it, but she gave me hope in that look. Everything is going to be alright, it seemed to say. I smiled too despite myself, despite the approaching footsteps. Everything was going to be alright. I will never let you go.

The silence was broken by the sound of a faraway explosion. Somewhere in the distance, a siren began to wail. The footsteps halted right outside my tree. I could see the side of a white-plated leg, just inches from the opening.

"What is that?"

"I don't—"

A burst of static, and then, "All units report to the southwest entrance of the mountain. A breach in the mine. Workers have set charges everywhere."

As the footsteps faded away, I could hear more explosions, followed them all along the horizon. A few moments later and four speeder bikes moaned noisily past my hiding place. I stayed there for a while, where it was safe, watching as smoke began to rise from behind the trees. The siren never stopped wailing. The baby never stopped smiling. After half an hour, I decided to run.

The war reached Bakura that day. It was Benduday.

I was far from home and the journey was long. The baby in my arms grew heavier and heavier. My legs got slower and slower.

"I won't let you go," I kept telling her. "I will never let you go."

It was dark by the time I finally made it back. I can't remember ever being so tired.

In the years I knew my father, he got mad often. Looking back, I realize that was his way of expressing fear. The more afraid he was, the angrier he became.

My father was furious when I returned. He was furious until he saw what I carried.

I told him everything, about the boy and the men in white armor and the explosions. He told me there was nothing to fear, even though there was. But we had other things to worry about now.

My father laid her out on a table (she cried when he took her from my arms). He inspected her for injury, gave her Bantha milk to drink.

I named her myself.

"What should we call her, Cassian?" my father asked me.

"Benduday," I cried immediately. "Benduday is when I can run and play. That way she won't ever forget when she was found." I was three years old, what in hell did I know? Surely nothing about what makes a good name. She has never let me forget this. ("I can't imagine if you had found me on Taungsday, Cassian," she'll say to me. "I don't think I could've lived with that name.")

Despite this, my haphazard choice proved unmistakably fortuitous. Ben is named after Benduday. Benduday is named after Bendu. The fabled and wise entity of the Force on a planet called Atollon, Bendu hangs somewhere between the Dark and Light, refusing to choose a side.

I think my father only allowed me to name her because deep down he hoped she would live up to it.

And live up to it she has. She is a woman of mystery. She lives in a world of grays and blurred lines. Nothing is cut and dry to her. But the universe is full of people who believe that everything is cut and dry, and there often come moments when she has had enough. A mask falls over her face. Smooth and beautiful. I have seen it many times, even when she was a child. When it happens, you can never tell what she's thinking. She is shut off from the world. When the mask is on, no one can take it off, though I have tried and almost succeeded. She rarely jumps at voicing her own thoughts, seldom lets her composure slip. She never elects to choose a side unless she is absolutely certain it is the right one. And when she chooses one, she is committed, irrevocably.

That is how we ended up in the Rebellion. This is our story.

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter as told by Cassian Andor! There is action to come, I promise.

Just FYI: Benduday is the fifth day of the five-day Galactic Standard week.

Additionally, there will be a year reference and location at the beginning (or near to it) of each chapter. "BBY" means "Before Battle of Yavin" in which the Death Star was destroyed as seen in A New Hope. It is also the year in which the Death Star plans were successfully stolen from the Imperial Base on Scarif as seen in Rogue One. Thus, like B.C., all the years previous to this count down to 0 BBY, so when a chapter is set in 23 BBY, you'll know it's 23 years before the events of 0 BBY.

Hope to see you next chapter!