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JYN IS RUNNING FOR HER LIFE. Her calves burn as she sprints towards the end of the street, banking left, her skirts rucking up behind her. Her dark hair curls in the wind, and a gunshot rings out in the night.
A bullet lodges itself into the road beside her.
Jyn ignores the pain searing up her thighs as she moves faster, her eyes narrowed at the alley just metres away.
Go to the alley. Take cover.
Stay alive.
Bullets ring about her left and right. She's about to reach the alley when -
A bullet finds its way into her shoulder. She lets out a gasp, stumbling slightly. Her long fingers go to her shoulder, coming back stained red. She slowly takes a step forward, and she finds herself in the confines of the alley.
Jyn looks upwards, at the stars in the obsidian sky, and then to the sides of the buildings towering over her, finding no one. She lets out a soft noise, her adrenaline ebbing away and the pain setting in with a mind-numbing throb.
She examines the wound slowly, sliding her sleeve off her shoulder to assess the entry wound.
And then a hand slides around her arm, tugging her deep into the shadows. She yelps in pain, her wound opening up wider, ripping her flesh. A hand goes to her mouth, silencing her mid-scream.
Jyn turns her head, and finds herself face to face with a man. A hat tips over his right brow, obscuring most of his face. He brings a finger up to his lips - quiet - and then his finger points skywards.
A woman with blonde hair stands on the rooftop, a gun slung around her shoulder. She adjusts the harness, glancing down at the buildings below her before disappearing back over the roof.
Jyn bites into the man's hand.
She wrenches herself out of his grasp as his grip loosens, the man letting out a soft cry. Her hand reaches into her skirts, and she pulls out a knife. She points it at the man, her eyes alight, furious.
"You messed with the wrong girl, sweetheart," she practically snarls, advancing towards him. Girl is an inaccurate name to describe Jyn Erso.
Warrior is more to terms with what she is.
She brings the knife down into a downward arc, and the man catches the blade in mid-descent, gripping the knife between his clasped hands. The blade sings, a trickle of blood sliding down his wrist.
"Ms. Erso," he breathes, "please - I don't want to hurt you."
"Don't stress about it." She kicks upwards, and her knee collides with his groin. He doubles over, dropping her knife.
Jyn picks up the knife and aims it at his head. No remorse is found in her eyes as she brings the knife down
"Your mother sent me."
That stops Jyn in her tracks. The knife stops millimetres away from the man's head.
"My mother was taken by the Empire. She's dead." She isn't sure if she's trying to state fact or trying to convince herself.
"Wrong," the man lets out a wheeze, straightening himself. Jyn's grip on the knife tightens. "I used to be an Imperial pilot. I saw her. She's as alive as you and me."
" 'Used to be'?" Jyn questions.
The man looks up, and the shadows part. His eyes glitter in the moonlight, a ghost of stubble sliding across his chin. He cracks a grin. "Long story."
Jyn's grip on the knife loosens slightly. No one who could smile like that is capable of evil. At least, in Jyn's experience.
"I'm Jyn," she says warily, "but you knew that."
"Bodhi," he replies. "Bodhi Rook."
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"FOR A PILOT, YOU'RE AN EXCELLENT MEDIC, MR. ROOK," Jyn comments, as she examines her shoulder, now neatly bandaged in crisp white gauze.
Bodhi's sleeves are rolled up, his blazer discarded on a chair behind him, an array of medical supplies littering the table.
He discards a bloody cotton ball into a trash can, before shooting her a grin. "Thank you, Ms. Erso."
"Please," she returns his smile with her own, "it's just Jyn."
"Only if you call me Bodhi. I'm not in my sixties yet, Jyn."
That makes her laugh, as she says, "Deal."
Bodhi walks over to the kitchen and makes work of scrubbing Jyn's blood away from under his fingernails.
"Might I ask how you found me?" she asks, standing up, walking over to his blazer. She pulled it off the chair and shrugged it on, tugging the blazer closer to herself, tucking her chin under the collar. They're cooped up in some low budget motel, and the lack of a heater and the cold biting wind does nothing to help the chill settling in Jyn's bones.
The coat does aid a little, as she snuggles deeper into its depths, inhaling. It smells of Bodhi and the streets - the musty rain, weak cologne and musk. Jyn settles onto the bed, curling up to keep warm.
Bodhi eventually returns, and his gaze softens at Jyn, whose tiny form barely takes up half of the bed. She cracks an eyelid open, and notices him watching her.
"What?"
"Nothing," he echoes, a thought in the wind, "Everything."
"Bodhi," she sits up, looking at him, their gazes locked. "How did you find - "
The sound of wood splintering cracks into the room as the door is kicked open, and by the doorframe stands a man, an ominous dark figure in contrast.
Bodhi's eyes fly into a panic, as he practically lifts Jyn up and guides her to the fire escape, a single word on his lips as he shoves her forward insistently:
