12 BBY

Rain pounded against the hard rock canyon below. Fog hung low close to the ground of the canyon, clouding over the images of the training dummies. The dummies were tied down with heavy rocks, and could only be seen with night vision scopes or quadnocs. The starry night sky had been covered by dark, stormy clouds. The harsh wind pushed against Cassian as he stayed low to the ground. He grasped his sniper rifle tightly, making his knuckles turn a ghostly white.

"Breathe normally. Steady your grip," his mother, Xyrias, instructed loudly over the howling noises. She knelt down beside him, observing his composure. They had been practicing for hours. It went from hand-to-hand combat to sniping practice dummies.

Cassian felt more confident with a blaster in his hand, rather than physical fighting. It was something about the control he had that soothed him. Physical fighting was too unpredictable.

The training dummies swayed back and forth, making the young Rebel's job much more difficult. Focus. Pretend the dummies are the droids that killed Papa. Cassian thought to ease his mind. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, slowly releasing the death grip he had on his gun. The plasma cartridge was full. He was in position. All he had to do was pull the trigger.

The images of that day came into view. Them running. The droidekas hot on their tail. The way his father looked at them as he shut the door. The blaster shots firing. He locked that image into his brain and started to shoot. The dummies down below jerked to the side, giving Cass the chance to shoot them before the wind tossed them to the other side. His father's last words echoed in his mind. Go, my loves.

Tears fell from Cassian's eyes onto his cheeks. This is for you, Papa. You'll be proud of me, wherever you may be. He shot round after round. Anger and loss swept up inside him, mixing together in a deadly concoction. Cassian reloaded bitterly, and pushed himself to keep going.

I'll make sure I can save the ones I love. I don't want to disappoint them like I did you. His hand swept down to the trigger in one fast move. He fired his weapon, pushing down the trigger harshly. The wind pushed harder against him and the dummies, but he would not give in. He was soaked from head-to-toe from the rain, and his body temperature dropped, but the warmth from his emotions distracted him. His face felt hot. Too hot. Cassian shot two, three more times until the dummies were nothing but sticks. Even when the clip ran out, he clicked the trigger over and over, yearning to shoot more.

"Stop," his mother ordered. The storm calmed, and all that was left was a calm wind and light rain. The clouds were lighter in color, but still filled the sky fully.

Cassian set his head against the scope on the rifle for a moment, hiding his tears from his mother. Crying was a sign of weakness. He knew better than letting things get to him...But this was about his father, a wound that hadn't healed. It had scabbed over, and he kept picking at it like a vulture.

Xyrias saw right through him and observed his pain. Through her hard training and efforts to make him one of the best soldiers the Rebels had, she failed to care for the salt in his emotional wound. They hadn't talked about what happened to his father since it happened eight years ago. Sure, she mentioned Kylath here and there, but mostly to motivate her son.

The motherly nature that had been smothered by her anger and discipline started to rise up from the ashes. She set her hand gently on Cassian's back and said in a soothing voice, "Let me see those adorable brown eyes."

They aren't adorable. Cassian snapped back in his mind. He was fourteen, not a child. Nonetheless, he raised his head from its resting position. This was his mother. He remembered the real her vaguely. The one that cared. The one who said she loved him every night before bed. The one who made his favorite food, Endwa, for dinner every weekend. She was back. It may be for a glimpse of a moment, or a few minutes. Either way, he was going to accept this moment of care and love.

Xyrias smiled softly at the sight of Cassian's face. It was still young, but hardened from training. Cuts lined his left cheek, and a bruise formed on his neck. His face was red and hot, despite the cold weather conditions. His reddened, brown eyes screamed of pain and innocence. Her training hadn't broken him, but he was on the verge of tipping over. "¿Que esta mal, mi hijo?"

What's wrong? Everything, Mama. I've trained. I've hurt innocent people to jump start a rebellion. I've killed. Everything is wrong. I'm not a good person. As much as he wanted to scream those words out loud, he held himself back. He didn't want to talk to his superior that way, even if she was his mother. She cared right now. Saying all of that could make her revert back into mentor mode. He mustered up his voice and replied with deep sadness, "Lo extraño."

Xyrias' smile fell instantly. She hesitated before holding out her arms to him. He reluctantly scooted over to his mother and welcomed her embrace. Xyrias' arms wrapped around her frail son. She sighed, knowing exactly how he felt. "I know, mijo. I miss him too," she responded. With complete sincerity, she admitted in the most quiet voice, "Your father would be proud, Cassian." She wrapped her arms around him tighter and kissed his head. Cassian almost sobbed at those words, no matter how untrue he thought they were.

For the longest time, they just sat there in each other's arms mourning for the loss of their loved one, but also the loss of their mother-son connection.

Present Day...

Cassian snapped out of his sleepy stupor, quickly taking in his surroundings. Most of the furniture consisted of dark colors, both metallic and variations of black. The walls were gray, and the floor was a soft white carpet. A hot sensation swept up his spine, adding temperature to the cold sweat that controlled his body. He wiped his clammy hands on his pants, inhaling and exhaling as quietly as he could. The memory brought up old feelings of anguish and depression.

He brushed the sweat off his brow before moving towards the window. He peeked through the closed blinds, searching for anything suspicious. The street mongers that were once there disappeared. A couple of Drebins roamed down the street. They were far from home, considering there wasn't much plant life they could feed off of in the city. It was too late at night for people to be hanging around, especially near the Imperial housing.

If Talia was being followed, the bounty hunter sure took a long while to finish the job.

Cassian dragged his hand down his face as he tiptoed over to Talia's door. He checked up on her and made sure her window was firmly shut. He glanced over the dimly lit room illuminated by a bedside table lamp. Closet door shut. Bed too narrow to hide under. Corners of the room were lit up enough to see. The room was clear.

Cassian peered at Talia for a moment. Talia slept in the fetal position, knees drawn up to her chest. Her brown hair covered half her face, while the rest acted as a waterfall on the pillow. One hand tucked under her pillow, probably holding onto a blaster pistol of some kind. Her other hand draped across a small open book.

She had fallen asleep looking through an old photo album. Couldn't have been more than ten years old. From his position, all he could see were two smiling faces, but couldn't make out who the second person was. A part of him wanted to take a closer look, but the other ushered him against it. That's none of my business. I'm not here to gain information to use against her. Cassian walked out of her room, closing the door behind him as he did.

He wandered around the small apartment for a while. The goal was to stretch his legs, yet he couldn't help but to analyze what kind of person Talia was. Clean. Maybe purposely disorganized to show she's not too clean. Too clean gave off a whiff of suspicion. Too watchful. Something a spy should avoid, especially in deep Imperial territory.

Cassian hated it. The semi-perfection spies were supposed to uphold. Their mission was difficult enough, and not getting caught was icing on the cake. Being clean wasn't an option in a lot of situations. Yet, Talia found a way. She barely managed to come up with a good plan, but in the end, they got out of the senator's office in one piece. She impressed Cassian. Showed him not all situations end in someone's death.

That was a rare occasion.

General Draven would be quite surprised to find out someone had impressed the intelligence officer.

The night dragged on. Cassian got lost in thought as he walked around the place, blindly following a trailed path he had made at least a dozen times. Through the kitchen, to the living room, to the doorway, and back. Soon, the sun rose, allowing light to enter through the cracks of the blinds. He sat down on the chair next to the window, opened the blinds, and watched the sun rise into the sky.

It was gorgeous. The reds, pinks, and oranges dashed across the sky, blending together as if it were being painted there. This was the first time in a year or so Cassian got to admire a sunrise. He'd been so busy flying back and forth between planets that he hadn't gotten to relax and enjoy life. His tired brown eyes fixated on the sky, imagining what it would be like to fly his ship through the colorful clouds.

Talia's footsteps rose from the kitchen. She walked into the living area, fully dressed in her Imperial uniform. She fidgeted with putting her gloves on when she looked at him curiously. "Did you stay up all night?"

Cassian didn't move his eyes from the sight outside. How could he? He was in a daze from lack of sleep and the exhaustion in his muscles. His mouth barely moved as he questioned in a low tone, "Does it matter?"

"Thank you for the protection, Captain, but you really need to sleep. I fixed the bed, but feel free to use it."

"I don't need to," he replied sharply.

Talia laughed shortly in response. She motioned to his eyes, "Says the person with bags under his eyes."

Cassian turned away from the sunset to look at her with a blank expression. He stood up and fixed his brown Corellian-cut field jacket. "I have to leave today, but I should be here before you come back."

"Where are you going?"

He wanted to scoff. To tell her she wasn't able to know. To tell her this was way above her pay grade. To tell her to stop asking questions that shouldn't be answered. He settled with a simple sentence, "None of your business."

"You're a man of few words." She adjusted herself and brushed out the creases in her outfit. "Did you check the drive?" Cassian nodded. Short. Quiet. Simple. Talia looked at him, waiting for something more. "Find anything useful?"

"Not much."

Talia couldn't read his face. It was as blank as white canvas. She rolled her eyes at his secrecy. It's not like he had anything to worry about. Her life was on the line here. If she needed a back up plan, she'd rather know his location so she could flee to it. At least then she'd have more of a chance of surviving. "I'm leaving."

Cassian didn't say anything and let her leave for work in silence.