Work Text:
Jyn Erso doesn’t listen to the tired, old speech. She knows it by heart, committed to memory due to the fact her agent, Saw Gerrera, never changes a fucking line.
“Murder. Mystery. The macabre,” Saw says, pure white noise. Jesus, how do crowds stay awake for his bullshit? Not even the open bar helps her. But that isn’t stopping her from ordering a double whiskey which she drinks quickly.
“What is it about a hardboiled detective, a homme fatale, and the cold steel of a gun that keeps our bedside lamps burning until the wee hours of the morning?”
Before she starts mouthing along to the words sarcastically, drawing even more attention, she signals for another round of Jameson.
“You might consider going gently,” Chirrut Îmwe, her partner in crime (literally, until they left the foster system), grabs her drink. Donned in his pressed suit he always wears at these things, he looks like a blind, Asian James Bond, a remake she’d actually consider watching.
She scoffs when he doesn’t even bother to drink her whiskey himself, what a nerd.
“How else am I going to get through this press party?” She asks rhetorically, fingers reaching for her drink once more.
Even blind, he stops her, and downs her drink himself. She watches, impressed, until he splutters spit of her expensive drink on her dress. Her tight, shiny, impractical, expensive, uncomfortable dress. Hell, it might be an improvement, but she won’t let him think that.
“For God’s sake, man, pull yourself together.”
“How was I supposed to know it was whiskey? Hate the stuff,” He coughs out. “Besides, if people hate the ending of Storrm’s End, this might be your last event ever.”
“Knowing Saw, probably not,” Jyn smiles, mostly baring her teeth at her publisher’s direction as he gives her a warning smile from the podium. “But I can hope, can’t I?”
“But you don’t,” Chirrut says, still coughing a little. “Even though the hope is there with you all the same.” She gives him a sideways glance he won't see as he already starts to sway after his philosophical bullshit. He’s such a lightweight she’s going to have to watch him carefully tonight. Or at least get Baze to do it. Speaking of which, where the hell is Baze?
Before she can ask, she hears the wrap-up of Saw’s speech, “The Mistress of the Macabre, Jyn Erso!”
The crowd erupts into applause as a light shines down on her and she puts on her Publicity Smile and sighs inwardly.
She isn’t drunk enough for this, but with one glance at the giggling Chirrut, she knows someone is.
+
Detective Cassian Andor walks onto the scene, a penthouse apartment this time around, ducking under the bright yellow CRIME SCENE tape. Before any other sense, he focuses on sound and how he hears music, loud top 20 music, blaring from inside.
Next, the smell. Normally, bodies are pungent and ripe, but this one is not so bad.
Preliminary observation shows the victim is a Caucasian female, covered in flowers. Explains the oddly fresh smell. Sunflowers are placed on her eyes, and her naked body is strewn with rose petals, completely covered. The crime scene photogs’ cameras flash and other officers discuss around him, but Cassian is focused on the body.
“Who are you?” He asks her, having a bad feeling about this. The whole thing looks oddly familiar, but he can’t yet explain why.
“Ailla Tislin, 24, grad student at CCU in the social work program,” Detective Solimar Kaytoo reads off his file. His six-foot-five frame is imposing, his voice is clipped and his words are usually rude, but he’s a good worker and, though neither would admit it, they’re close. “5’7, blonde, blue-eyes, 123 pounds.”
“Pretty nice apartment for a grad student,” Cassian says, remembering his own shitbox place when he left the Academy. It’s now only slightly better.
“Daddy’s money,” Detective Bodhi “Rookie” Rook says. The newest addition to their squad, he’s slightly on the shorter side and kind of lanky. Rook is an odd addition but he has these great moments of usefulness, especially considering the case that got him promoted to detective. Plus, he’s just a good kid.
Cassian raises his eyebrow at him, since he’s taken it as his responsibility to take him under his wing since Kaytoo definitely won’t.
Rookie coughs nervously before correcting, “Her father is Bail Tislin, the multimillionaire.” Cassian knows the name, the man practically runs Temple Street.
“According to the black and whites, the neighbors called a noise complaint and the landlord entered to investigate when she didn’t answer,” Kaytoo continues.
“No forced entry?” Cassian checks. Kaytoo nods. “Then she knew him.”
“Highly statistical probablility,” Kaytoo agrees.
“Two small caliber wounds to the stomach,” Cassian says, using a pen to reveal the wounds by pushing away the rose petals. Even with the cause of death right in his face, he’s drawn back to the petals.
They’re so striking, so noticeable. He feels like he’s seen this before, and he has a feeling he knows where. But he’s not going to be the first to say it.
“Does this look familiar to anyone else?” He gestures to the victim’s body.
Rook shakes his head while Kaytoo says, “No, but you are the one with a penchant for preferring the cases with the more grotesque body maladies.”
“The ‘grotesque body maladies’ require more, reveal more,” He tries to explain to his close colleague who might as well be a robot. “Look, the killer left her naked but covered modestly by the roses.”
“So?” Rook asks. “Sir.” He tacks on.
“So, there won’t be a trace of sexual abuse, even with all the effort and preparation,” Cassian says.
“You can tell just by looking?” Rook asks, barely bothering to hide his impressed tone.
“Yes,” Cassian says, then adds, “That, and I’ve seen this before.”
“Seen it?” Kaytoo says.
“Roses on her body, sunflowers on her eyes,” Cassian says like trying to lead a horse to water.
“I have never heard of a case like this,” Kaytoo says, and Cassian can see him mentally going through a rolodex of cases he probably has memorized.
Now he can’t hold it any longer when they just stare at him blankly. “C’mon, guys, don’t you read?”
+
The flashing lights of the paparazzi cameras are blinding, but Saw’s grip on Jyn’s side is keeping her grounded in the moment and not looking dazed.
“What kind of moron kills off her cash cow main character?” Saw says through a Publicity Smile that far outshines hers.
“The same moron who associates with someone who uses the phrases ‘homme fatale’ and ‘Mistress of the Macabre.’ I’m not fucking morbid imagery,” Jyn says right back, losing a bit of her cool for the photogs.
“Are you punishing me by killing her?”
Jyn just barely smothers the urge to roll her eyes. “Would it make you feel better if the answer was yes?”
“After everything? No.”
Jyn sighs, covering it as a yawn, “You practically raised me, and my closest friend, and you inspired me to give writing an actual chance. And I appreciate it, but this wasn’t against you. Hell, it wasn't even about you at all.”
“Then why?” Saw waves to them and leads her away, probably sensing a Talk (ugh) is going to be had. They walk back to the private area of the release party.
“Because Dera Storrm used to be exciting, daring, fresh,” Jyn mocks the publicity quote on her first book because it’s becomes an inside joke between her, Chirrut and Baze. “She got stale, I lost inspiration, so I killed her.”
“You could have retired her, crippled her, but no you had to have her die in a warehouse explosion,” Saw says, a glint in his eyes not unlike ones she’s imagined murderers having.
“I go where the muse takes me,” She says sarcastically, signing an advanced reader’s copy to a smiling girl. After thanking them for reading, she turns back to Saw. “But don’t worry. Dera Storrm isn’t the cash cow, I am. I wrote bestsellers before her, and I can do it again.”
“Oh really?” Saw says. “Because the new manuscript was due two months ago and yet it isn’t on my desk.”
“You can’t rush genius,” She deadpans.
“Genius, Jynnie, or blockage? Because I have a very reliable source that says you haven’t written in months.”
Jyn freezes, a chill going through her veins. “That’s bullshit. Who said that?”
“A very reliable source,” Saw takes a sip of his drink.
“Well, your reliable source is wrong,” Jyn stammers back. Normally, she has a sharp grip on the English language but, in that moment, she’s spiraling, thinking of all the people that could have betrayed her- oh dear God.
“If you don’t put that new manuscript on my desk in three weeks, Rogue Publishing will demand your advance back,” Saw grins a grin as sharp and scathing as his namesake.
“I already spent it on your bail,” She snaps back, then leaves her devious publisher to go weasel out the snitch.
It takes all of five minutes to find Baze and Chirrut at the bar. Baze Malbus was an old friend of theirs during the high school days, and now they’ve all made something of themselves. Chirrut teaches martial arts, Jyn writes bestselling novels and Baze drinks and lives in Jyn’s apartment.
Before she can speak, Baze does first. “Are your sales slipping, little sister? They’re only serving soft stuff,” He says as he shakes his drink. “I had to order a combo of everything. On your tab, by the way.”
“Get a job,” She tells him, like she tells him every day. He ignores that as well, like he does every day. She whirls on Chirrut. “How the hell do you get off blabbing to my publisher?” Her fingers dig into his shoulders slightly to demand attention.
“Comfortably and with a lot of practice,” Chirrut says, words slurred and motions fluid.
“Lay off him, he’s sloshed,” Baze says.
“And you’re supposed to watch him,” Jyn turns to him. “You’re lucky I have a regal and private persona I have to keep up, otherwise I would curse you all out in at least five languages in front of all these people.” She smiles at them, the act so sharp it doesn’t even undercut her words.
Keeping that persona in mind, she tries to take a calming breath. “Why are you talking to my publisher?”
“Because he used to be our foster father.”
“We’re nearing our thirties, he didn’t even last having us for six months, and I have a business relationship with him. You really fucked me over,” Jyn grabs her head, feeling a migraine start to appear.
“The fact you aren’t writing is screwing you over,” Chirrut says. Even drunk, he refuses to swear.
“Be nice, Chirri,” Baze says. “She’s having writer’s block.”
“Don’t say that, not here,” She hisses then composes herself. “If you guys are living with me, I can’t have you blabbing to Gerrera about my writing processes, alright? That was the deal. Both of you.”
“But there hasn’t been any writing going on,” Chirrut says like the smartass he is.
“How would you know? You’re blind.”
“I can’t hear the typing,” He pantomimes typing on a keyboard. Jyn exhales sharply and wishes the private bar was serving harder stuff.
“You’re ruining my life,” She says, only half-serious. Chirrut smiles, then rests his head on the bar counter, already out.
“And he’s out,” Baze sighs. “We should have watched him.”
“You should have,” Jyn replies. Speaking of drunk, she orders a drink from the bartender, pointing at Baze’s since he always knows what to order. “I’m too busy schmoozing.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Baze asks. Jyn nods. He, after drinking and spending too much time with Chirrut, gets very philosophical, so she expected a question eventually. “Why did you kill Dera?”
Jyn doesn’t answer for a moment, waiting until her drink comes. After a long sip, she answers.
“She became predictable. Her crimes, her ‘homme fatale,’ her inner workings. Writing her used to be fun and surprise me, but now the only fun thing I could think of was exploding her,” She chuckles sardonically, actually feeling like a Mistress of the Macabre. “The fans too, all these people are fans of Storrm and they only say the same things. ‘What a badass’ ‘Love the sex scenes’ ‘You’re so great for a woman writer.’ I appreciate it, sure, but just once I want someone to come up to me and say something new.”
“Exciting, daring, fresh?” Baze quotes at her, causing her mouth to quirk up a little.
“If only, Malbus,” She says, sipping at her drink. Then, realizing the party is over and she’s having a rough goes of it, she downs the drink. Wow, whatever Baze ordered was strong because she already feels the effects and she's no lightweight.
“Ms. Erso?” A new voice, deep and Mexican-accented, speaks from behind her.
“Oh, what the fuck is it now?” She groans like an angsty teen and spins around to investigate, completely devoid of all tact and professional courtesy.
She’s suddenly face to face with a devastatingly attractive Latino man. But, more importantly, he’s holding up a police badge.
“Detective Cassian Andor, CPD,” He says. “We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that happened tonight.”
Jyn, normally so in charge of things, feels even more lost than she did before and her jaw just drops, unable to school her face.
“Exciting, daring, fresh enough for you?” Baze speaks up from behind her, grabbing her drink that’s still in her hands before she accidentally drops it.
+
Cassian had heard many things about Jyn Erso, a lot of them conflicting. A sordid past, a vaguely sordid present, mostly private. He leaves her to stew in the interrogation room while he goes over information with Kaytoo and Rook, watching her through the two way mirror in the observation room.
“Erso seems pretty upstanding. Popular author, lots of charity donations, there’s a library named after her in Tattooine. She does have a locked juvenile record,” Rook says, buried under piles of paperwork in his lap. “But nothing more than a few public intoxications on her record since turning 18.”
“She understood the system, played it smart,” Cassian nods to himself, crafting an image of her criminal past in his head.
“Jyn Erso, while her legal name, is not her birth one. I am unable to find her birth name on any record. She has a few professional and nonprofessional aliases, some with potential ties to crime lords,” Kaytoo says.
“Potential?” Rook asks, swearing as he drops some files. “What does an author have to do with crime lords?”
“Or murder, for that matter,” Kaytoo adds.
Cassian looks at her once more. She's leaning back against the chair, looking exhausted but awake and wary. He caught her drunk off her ass and clearly in the middle of a discussion, so hopefully he can keep her on her toes.
“I’ll find out,” He tells them, assured, and goes into the interrogation room.
“For the record’s sake, you’ve waived your right to a lawyer, Ms. Erso?” Cassian says as he enters the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Don’t trust them,” She says blandly. “Don’t have one.”
He avoids sitting down yet, standing with her file that Kaytoo was just going through. “You’ve got quite the rap sheet for a bestselling author. Multiple public intoxications, one drunk and disorderly, and a resisting arrest, not to mention whatever you have sealed in juvie records.”
“And those are sealed for a reason,” She says with a slight edge. “I paid my time for those.”
“But for the recent crimes,” Cassian moves on, since she’s right. “The charges have all been dropped,” He says. “Why is that?”
“Mayor’s a fan,” Erso says.
“There’s no accounting for taste,” Cassian says, disinterested. He thinks he catches her smirking but he pays no mind to it as he works with the Tislin file.
“I had no idea drunk and disorderlies were gateway crimes to murder, Detective Andor,” She says sarcastically. “And since they aren't, why am I here?”
He ignores her sass and puts a picture of Tislin on the table. “Ailla Tislin, social worker, dead as of this evening. Did you ever meet her? Book signing, charity event, social gathering?”
“You mean a party?” She corrects. He doesn’t amend his statement. She sighs and answers, “I don’t recall meeting her at a charity event or a ‘social gathering.’ As for a book signing, she might have gone to one, but I sign thousands of books a year. Unless someone flashes me or pulls a gun, they usually blend together.”
“What about this man? Marv Fisken, small claims lawyer,” He pulls out his photograph from the Fisken file. “Murdered two weeks ago in his office.”
“We’ve established for the record’s sake that I don’t do much business with lawyers,” Erso says. “And, again I ask, what does this have to do with me or my drunk and disorderlies?”
Cassian doesn’t directly answer her question yet. He pulls out crime scene photos. “I didn’t make a connection until Tislin’s crime scene tonight.”
He lets Erso look them over. The realization in her eyes is instantaneous. “Flowers for Your Grave,” She says, almost a whisper.
“And here is how we found Marv Fisken,” Cassian reveals the photo of Fisken, spread out on a pentagram and symbols. “Exactly like Hell Hath No Fury.”
Erso gives him a look before she looks through the pictures, “Seems like I have a fan.”
Of all these things, that’s what she focuses on?
“Yes, a sick, deranged fan,” He says, a bit stunned. He’s never confused in the interrogation room, so this is an odd feeling.
“You don’t look sick and deranged to me,” She says, coquettishly yet not focusing on him.
Cassian is definitely taken aback now. “Perdon- Excuse me?”
Erso looks back up at him, and exhales a laugh. “Hell Hath No Fury, a bunch of crazed wiccans out for blood? I wrote that back in high school and they published it during a dry spell when they shouldn’t have at all. Only hardcore fans of mine read that one,” She explains with a slight self-deprecating chuckle.
For some reason, he has a feeling Rook is laughing at him from the other side of the mirror.
“I’m not a fan,” He insists, but she’s not focusing on him, so he moves on, “Do any of these ‘hardcore fans’ send you fan mail?”
She nods.
“Disturbing letters?” He clarifies.
She shrugs this time then goes back to the photos. “Almost all. Occupational hazard. Especially as a woman in the murder mystery business.” She seems a bit uncomfortable at the mention.
He explains, “I have to ask, Ms. Erso. In cases like these, we find that the killer-”
“That the killer attempts to contact the object of their obsession?” She finishes the phrase, word-for-word for what he was about to say. When Cassian doesn’t say anything, she looks up once more. “I do my research. I’m well versed in psychopathic methodologies and police proceedings. Occupational hazard. By the way, you do a very nice job of sticking to the typical script. Your captain must be pleased.”
Cassian takes the photos from her. “I take it you won’t have any objections to us going through your mail.”
“Help yourselves,” She says. When Cassian goes to leave, she stands and he gives her a look. “Can I get copies of those?”
“Of what?”
“The crime scene photos.”
“You want pictures of dead bodies?”
“I have some friends in the writing business, and this would really put them in their place,” She says, to his confusion and vague disgust. “And make them insanely jealous.”
“Jealous?” He would almost laugh if this weren’t so dire.
“In my line of work,” She explains. “A copycat is a pretty high honor-”
He gets in her face, moving the pictures out of her potential grasp. “People are dead, Ms. Erso.”
She gives him a look, “I’m not asking for the bodies, just the pictures.”
“We’re done here, Ms. Erso,” Cassian says. “We’ll contact you if we need you but you’re free to go.” He leaves the room and goes back to the other side of the mirror to put the photos back in their file.
Kaytoo and Rook are both staring at him. Kaytoo is actually smirking and Rook is about to burst into laughter. “Not a damn word,” He tells them.
“You are not sick and deranged to me either, Cassian,” Kaytoo says and Rook starts laughing.
He scowls and goes to his desk.
+
Jyn Erso, drunk and hungover at the same time, gets into her apartment. A bit confused at the sound of music playing, she sees Baze and Chirrut in the apartment’s living room, playing the grand piano. Well, Baze is playing and Chirrut is dancing. Horribly.
“Jesus, why did I let you move in with me?” She says.
The playing stops and they both turn to her.
“How was prison?” Chirrut asks.
“I wasn’t imprisoned, I wasn’t even detained,” She tells them as she grabs herself a bottle of water from the fridge. “They had some questions about a case. Apparently, someone is copycatting the murders from some of my books.”
“Dera Storrm?” Baze asks, helping Chirrut over to the kitchen island so they can all sit down together even though it’s nearing 2 in the morning. "And did you bring the pictures?" Even though he's not a writer, he gets the big deal. He probably wants proof, just like she had expected.
“No, Flowers and No Fury, and no photos,” Jyn finishes downing the water then goes to her book display. She keeps all the copies of her books downstairs and the ones she actually reads are in stacks around her room, organized in a way only she understands.
“No Fury?” Chirrut snickers. “Your magnum opus in high school?” They have very similar feelings about the book.
“Shut up,” She says and goes to the pages where the murders are described. She’s written over thirty books, with almost 20 of them published, she can’t remember every detail. She starts taking notes on her notepad of all the crime scene details.
“So are you in trouble?” Baze asks, like the older brother he is.
“Despite my best efforts and my sordid past,” She says, with a flash of a wicked grin. “No. They may want my help on the case, actually.”
“How many people have been murdered? Just the two?” Chirrut asks.
“Just the two,” Jyn confirms.
“Is that weird for you? You okay, little sister?” Baze asks.
“I’m fine, I’m just confused,” She says. “Why these books and those people?”
“These books? You mean like why you?” Baze asks as Chirrut starts to fall back asleep again.
Jyn shakes her head and speaks quieter, “No I mean, Flowers and No Fury are some of my lesser, earliest works. Dera Storrm, Final Gaze, those ones were bestsellers, those ones people know and recognize,” She tries to explain. “Why would a psychotic fan pick them?”
“Because they’re psychotic?” Chirrut slurs. Baze rolls his eyes and helps him to stand.
“It’s bedtime,” Baze says, then looks over at her. “You too.”
Jyn sighs but follows them to the bedrooms, honestly beat. She goes to her laptop and pulls up an empty Word document.
“CHAPTER ONE” she types.
Nothing else appears.
+
Cassian walks into the precinct the next day without his usual cup of coffee but with heavy boxes.
“What are those?” Rook asks, sounding wary of the potential work.
Just for that, Cassian drops them on his desk. “Jyn Erso’s greatest hits,” He says. “You’re going to familiarize yourselves with all her murder scenes to see if any other cases matchup.”
“All of them?” Rook asks, near a whine.
“All of them, Rookie,” Cassian says. He points to their murder board, decorated with all the details of the case. He points to Fisker, “Small claims lawyer.” He points to Tislin, “Social worker. In these books, we have the connection. We just have to find it.”
They both get to work, but then Kaytoo opens up his book to read, “From the library of Cassian Andor.” He holds the writing up with a raised eyebrow.
“Do you have a problem with reading, Kaytoo?” Cassian asks
Rook gasps, “You’re a fan!”
“Yeah, a fan. Of the genre,” Cassian says, trying to play it casual.
“Is one of these going to be signed?” Kaytoo asks, holding the book to his chest lovingly.
Cassian just rolls his eyes and goes to get the fan mail from the publisher’s truck.
When he returns, he finds his fellow detectives immersed in the books. But they quickly get distracted when they see the quantities of letters.
“Holy shit, how much of this stuff is there?” Rook asks, watching as officers pile in with more bags of letters. “Don’t people send emails anymore?”
“Don’t worry, I got these,” Cassian tells him then drops off them off in the briefing room, where he plans on working. He's going to grab a coffee when he bumps into Kaytoo, who’s giving him a look. “What is it?” He asks, already exasperated.
“When I return home, I prefer a respit from all the murder and crime,” He says, then holds up Final Gaze. “You, instead, turn to these fictional diatribes of murder and crime and immerse yourself in them. Why?”
Cassian makes sure no one else is listening before he says, “I just want to know why someone could do it.”
“Do it?” He repeats. “Murder?”
“Yes, these disturbing crimes, how can someone do that to something else? And these books-” He catches himself. “This genre, they try to understand too.”
Kaytoo says nothing for a moment, just studies him, then says, “You need to attend more social gatherings.”
Cassian ignores that and moves on. “Did we hear back from the lab?”
“Yes. Scene was negative for prints or any DNA, just like Fisker. The un-sub is careful.”
“Have we found a connection between Tislin and Fisker yet?”
“Other than your idol-in-understanding over there, no,” Kaytoo says, a devious look in his eye and tone. He points subtly behind his partner.
Cassian, confused, turns around and sees Captain Mothma talking to Jyn in her office.
“What is she doing here?”
Kaytoo shrugs, “Maybe she has a crush on you too.”
Cassian hisses, “I do not have-”
“Detective Andor,” Mothma’s voice rings through the precinct. “May I have a word?”
“Of course, Captain,” He says and goes over to her office.
“Ms. Erso has offered to assist on the investigation,” She says.
Cassian looks over at Erso, who’s smiling the most professional shit-eating grin he’s ever seen. “It’s the least I can do for the city I love,” She says and Cassian has to resist the urge to make a face at her. He must be the professional here.
“Consider the fact that the main connection of the two crimes is based around her books, I believe it’s a good idea,” His captain says.
“Captain, can we-” He starts to say but then she shuts her door in his face.
“Ooh, swerved,” Erso says. He ignores her and heads to the briefing room. “Alright, wait, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” She says, and that catches his attention. They stand off to the side in the middle of the hallway. “Why don’t we start over? I was drunk and there were other issues going on when you interrogated me, plus you had arrested me but that's no excuse. I apologize for any additional problems I caused when I was being a-”
“Rude, self-centered jackass?” He interrupts her this time. Her eyebrows raise ever so slightly. “If you don’t plan on changing, then why do we need to start over?”
With that, he heads into the briefing room to read all the creepy fan mail, which he oddly prefers to the company he finds himself saddled with.
+
Jyn thought she had a handle on who Cassian was, but the conversation in the hallway throws her off. But she has this itch to be here, and she’s not going to fuck it up. So she reads through her fan mail. She tries to read at least 25 letters a week normally, but that’s after all the letters have been vetted by publishing interns so she doesn’t have to read anything too gross or too sexual. These ones haven’t been vetted, and it shows.
She also studies Cassian’s face. It’s a good face (a great one, not that she’d tell him) but she’s focusing on his eyebrows.
“What are you staring at?” He asks.
“Your face,” She says. “Specifically, the way your brow kind of crinkles in between when you’re thinking,” She says honestly. He looks up from the letter to give her a slightly severe look. “It’s cute and all, but deadly in poker.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Cassian asks, setting his letter aside and not picking up another.
“You're the cop here,” Jyn says, placing a letter in the ordinary pile. There are two piles that he set up, Ordinary and Remotely Threatening. Most of these are just gross, but the only pile for that is Ordinary.
“Why are you here?”
She looks up but doesn't answer. She wants to see him guess.
He does, or at least eliminates. “You don't know or care about the victims, so this isn't justice. You don't care that the killer uses your books, so this isn't outrage. So why? Just here to annoy me?”
“Don't flatter yourself, Andor,” She says then exhales. Then she realizes she doesn’t know the answer, so she goes with what feels right. “I guess I'm here for the story. Why these people? Why these murders? Why my books? Why these books? It doesn't make sense.”
“There is no story, sometimes,” He breaks the news to her, not un-gently. “Sometimes, it's just a psychopath.”
She oddly finds herself offended, but makes sure she doesn’t show it. “There's always a story. There's always some sort of linchpin in everything that makes everything make sense.”
Cassian turns back to the letter in his hands. “How adorable.”
“I'm serious. I bet there's a story as to why you're here.”
He gives her an arch look over the letter. “Because it's my job?” He says sarcastically. “Because I get paid? You solved it. Impressive.”
He goes back to the letter so she takes the opportunity to roll her eyes. “Okay. I'll take the bait. Under ordinary circumstances, you should not be here.”
“Why? Because I'm Mexican?”
“Don't be an idiot,” Jyn says. She did her research, she knows his qualifications and general CPD backstory, but nothing personal. So she goes with what she knows, what she can see and deduce. “You're attractive, you're young, you’re smart, and- alright yes. You have the accent, the name. CPD isn't known for their stunning racial diversity.” If he agrees, he doesn’t say so. “But here you are. Why?”
“You're the novelist, Ms. Erso. You tell me,” He sets the letter in the bad pile before squaring up to stare at her, like it is a poker match. He’s doing better than she expected.
“You're smart and dedicated, that's obvious. You probably faced race-based setbacks, of course, but you had options. Lawyer, actor, scientist, professor, but you choose cop. Now, if teachers are people who are trying to fix their school mistakes, I bet that cops like you are fixing something bad that happened in your past.”
Cassian says nothing.
“You're damaged,” She leans back in the chair and crosses her arms. “Scars, military tattoo- sniper, I bet, and bags under your eyes, you're damaged. But not that damaged. Whatever catalytic event didn't happen directly to you, but someone you cared about. Someone you loved.”
Cassian says nothing, but goes back to the letters. But not before he pulls down his sleeve to cover his tattoo a bit more. From her glimpses of it, it’s two dog tags but she can’t read the writing on them.
She doesn't stop talking, she doesn’t remember the last time she talked this much and wasn’t paid to do so, “And you could've lived with that, gotten through it, but the person responsible was never caught. So that is why you're here.”
His jaw is tense and shut. She has a feeling she hit a nerve.
She goes quiet and waits for his response. He's still focusing on the letter so she keeps staring.
“Not even close,” He lies, probably thinking he's convincing. “Fun party trick though.”
“I think you mean ‘social gathering trick,’” She says while grabbing a letter. He grabs a new one too.
“My point stands: a story is always there. You just have to find it,” She tells him sagely.
He doesn’t say anything, so she looks up. He’s staring at the letter with an intensity she hasn’t seen on his face before. “I think I just did.”
He holds up the letter so she can see it. Angry scrawl covers the pages, but even more importantly, there are sketches of each of the murder scenes they found.
+
Cassian, Kaytoo, Rook and, unfortunately, Erso are all sitting in the bullpen, waiting for news and going through the files while waiting.
Rook clears his throat and says, “So, Jyn, you know the scene in Dead Man’s Chest where the fishermen find the body in a crab pot?” He holds up the book as evidence.
“Yes,” She says, a slight obvious note in her tone that unfortunately makes Cassian smirk. Luckily, she’s not looking at him.
“How do you come up with that stuff? It’s pretty fuck- I mean, messed up,” He says, correcting himself when Cassian gives him a look.
“Foster care,” She says with a smile. “Some pretty messed up stuff happens in there.”
Cassian then gets a call and answers it, all the people around him perking up. He hangs up quickly, feeling a headache come on.
“The lab got a print off the letter,” He tells them, since the suspect left no name or return address.
Erso straightens even more, “Whose?”
“The system is backlogged, we won’t know for a week for a match,” He says, a bit frustrated. Normally, it takes a couple days at maximum, but apparently this is not his week. He wonders who he has to blame for this bad energy and mentally answers his question by looking at Erso.
“And that is assuming there is one in the system,” Kaytoo says. “Which only has the probability of being fifty percent possible.”
“A week? For a 50-50 chance?” She says, sounding dismayed.
“Welcome to reality, Erso,” Cassian says. “This isn’t one of your books.”
“Well, I didn’t much like reality, which is why I wrote my books,” She pulls out her phone and quickly scrolls then taps the screen.
“What are you-” Cassian asks but Jyn ignores him.
“Sabé? It’s Jyn Erso, how are you?”
Cassian and Kaytoo share a look of confusion, an odd show of solidarity.
Erso keeps talking, “Always great to hear your voice, but unfortunately I have business. Is she in? Thank you.”
“Who-” Kaytoo starts to ask.
“The mayor is a fan,” She says, and then turns back to the phone. “Leia, babe, am I catching you at a bad time?”
“Leia? Leia Organa?” Rook scrambles to stand straighter even though she’s not physically there in the bullpen. Erso leaves to talk privately.
“Did she just call the mayor of our city without an appointment? And refer to her as ‘babe’?” Kaytoo asks, disbelief coloring his usually bland voice. “The rich do live differently. I had lived with that hypothesis for so long, but it has been proven.”
“You want her to follow you around? You can have her,” Cassian tries to go back to work but he keeps thinking of the fact that Jyn Erso just called Leia Organa. In front of him.
“A control freak like you with someone you cannot control? Oh no, that is definitely an experiment I want to watch unfold.”
“Of the two of us, I’m the control freak?” Cassian can’t help but laugh a little at Kaytoo. “That is such-”
He’s saved from swearing in the middle of the bullpen because Erso sits right back down beside him.
“Your prints will be ready in an hour,” She says, sounding accomplished.
“Ms. Erso,” Cassian says, just barely restraining himself. She turns and moves closer to him. “We don’t do that here.”
“Do what here?”
“All the people here have prints they need identified. We don’t just jump the line. We have protocol.”
“And I have the mayor in my contacts, I made your job easier for you,” She says, condescending. He scoffs but she keeps talking, “No, it’s okay. I’d feel threatened too if I couldn’t call the mayor.”
“I’m not threatened, this is about procedure-”
“Well, you already seem pretty clear on my stance of procedure,” She says. He thinks he hears Kaytoo laugh. “Do you ever have fun?”
“No,” Rook answers from his desk. Cassian sends a glare his way but luckily his phone rings so he's distracted.
“It might do you some good,” Jyn says. “There is such a thing as working too hard.”
“And how would you know?” Cassian says sharply. Her eyebrows raise and he feels oddly pleased he got a reaction from her.
But then Rook stands, “They found another one. Midtown.”
+
Jyn watches the crime from the doorway of the indoor pool. The victim is a young woman, wearing a yellow dress with a knife in her back. She’s floating facedown in the pool and she guesses it immediately.
“Death of the Prom Queen,” She says, sparing Cassian the embarrassment of knowing another one of her works.
This book pick only adds to her feeling of confusion. This one was published right before the second Storrm novel, it went bestseller but was quickly surpassed and forgotten. Why would someone pick this one?
“Maintenance found her an hour ago,” Kaytoo says. Of all the detectives she’s come across in the past few days, Kaytoo is her least favorite. He has made it clear, when Cassian or the Captain isn’t around, that he finds her presence annoying. Well, sucks for him.
“ID?” Cassian asks. They both still stand as the officers try to pull her from the water with minimal damage to the body.
“Kendara Pitna, lives in the building,” Kaytoo answers.
“We’ll have the M.E. take a look when she’s out of the water,” Cassian says and then he turns to her. “You. Don’t move at all.”
Jyn narrows her eyes but doesn’t say a word. She stands still for a moment, looking around when a woman walks in. Short, stocky, but pleasant-looking. She has very dark skin and very dark eyes, she’s stunning. The woman does a double take when she sees her. And, honestly, Jyn would have done the same if she weren’t more focused on Pitna.
“Are you Jyn Erso?” She asks. Jyn nods. The woman sticks out her hand, “I’m Padme. Padme Parrishe. I’m a huge fan of your work.”
“Thank you, nice to meet you,” Jyn says.
“Now what are you doing at a murder scene?”
“The police wanted my assistance, I’m consulting on the case” She says, partially the truth.
“Well, I’m the medical examiner. Since you wrote this whole murder scene, you can join me.”
Jyn glances at Cassian, Kaytoo, and Rook, who are talking to the landlord, it seems. So she takes the opportunity to study the body with Padme.
“One of the reasons I love your books,” Padme says as she studies the body. This is the weirdest context for a compliment Jyn has ever received. “Is that you really get the medical details right. So many writers just completely fudge the science to make the story more interesting, but you do both.”
“That’s high praise from an M.E-”
“What are you doing over here, Erso?” Cassian interrupts.
“Consulting,” Jyn answers.
“Is she bothering you, Parrishe?”
“Not at all.” Jyn and Padme share a look and she appreciates the solidarity.
“What’s the COD?” Cassian moves on. Cause Of Death.
“I won’t know officially until I do a full exam, but this wasn’t a stabbing,” Padme says.
“Lack of blood around the entry wound suggests that the knife went in post mortem,” Jyn says, feeling her traditional writer’s tinge that she hasn’t gotten in months. “And there’s no foam around the mouth meaning she hasn’t drowned. She was simply posed like the others.”
Padme smiles, “You’re good.”
“I do my research-”
“Ms. Erso, may we have a word?” Cassian interrupts once more. Jyn simply nods and they both move to stand off to the side.
“This is a homicide investigation, not a day in the park,” He says, voice hushed and scathing but she isn’t taken aback. “If I give you an order, I expect you to obey.”
“I don’t do well with expectations, unless they’re sales projections and then I excel,” Jyn says, hoping to come across as a little shit. It works, Cassian’s jaw ticks. “In my book, the dress was blue.”
“Don’t change the subject,” Cassian walks back towards the other detectives. Since he didn’t order her to stay put, she follows.
“I didn't. Did Tislin and Fisker know each other?”
“We haven’t found the connection yet,” He says. “Why?”
“What about motive?” Jyn continues, struggling to keep up because Cassian’s legs are longer than hers.
“He’s a psychopathic serial killer, he does not need motive,” Cassian says and then his phone rings he answers it. “Thank you,” He says on the line and turns to Kaytoo and Rook. “They got a match for the print.” Jyn has no time to be smug. “Kylo Caba. Southside. We need to go, now.”
Jyn perks up at the lead and follows them out.
+
Unfortunately, Cassian got stuck driving Bestseller Princess Jyn Erso. “Stay in the car,” He orders her as he pulls on his bulletproof vest.
“Scout’s honor,” She says immediately. He narrows his eyes at her but doesn’t have time for this.
They flank the door, weapons drawn. “Kylo Caba, this is the CPD, we have a warrant, open up!”
No answer. Cassian steps aside so two uniforms can break down the door. As people call out “empty!” and “clear!”, Cassian takes the lead on checking through things when he sees a slanted bookcase, completely filled with Jyn Erso books.
He goes to move it and it reveals a closet. Well, it’s more like a shrine. Ripped-out pages from Jyn’s books with things highlighted and scribbled on, pictures of her from the backs of books, and more drawings of the murder scenes like in the letter.
“Jesus! That’s creepy as hell.”
Cassian turns around to see Erso standing there, cringing at the pictures of her everywhere. She notices him glaring at her. “Like you honestly thought I was a scout.”
He ignores her for now as an officer calls for him.
“Detective Andor, look at this.” He old out a blouse with two bloody bullet holes in a plastic bag.
“Ninety-five percent likely that it is Tislin’s clothing,” Kaytoo says.
Rook pulls out a gun from a drawer, “.22 caliber, just like Ailla’s wounds.”
“Factoring in this new information, ninety-nine percent likely,” Kaytoo says.
“Do you always do that?” Erso asks him.
“Do you always disobey the rules?” He says back.
She shrugs. “Only when-”
They all stop talking when they hear an anguished shout from a door just off to the side. It’s the only one unopened. Cassian, Rook, and Kaytoo all pull out their guns. He moves Jyn behind him and for once, without a word, she listens and remains quiet.
Know it sounds like someone is hitting the walls and it keeps increasing, and Cassian signals to Kaytoo and Rook to keep their weapons trained but not shoot yet. He opens the door.
There’s a man inside, hitting his back and head against the walls, mumbling to himself.
“Show me your hands!” Cassian shouts as the others do the same. Just barely, he can recognize the man as Caba. Two uniforms grab him and pull him out and he’s screaming in anguish.
Once he’s safe in cuffs and dragged away, Cassian holsters his revolver and looks at Jyn, who’s staring off into the distance.
“You alright there?” He asks her since she looks like she's in shock. She nods, but he doesn’t believe her. So he keeps her close as they walk back to his car.
+
Jyn watches from the two-way mirror with Captain Mothma as Cassian tries in vain to get Caba to talk. The suspect won’t say a word at all, he just sits in his chair and shakes. After another attempt, the detective leaves and comes into their room.
“Still won’t talk,” He says as he walks in. “His records say he has ‘Pervasive Developmental Disorder.’”
“That makes sense,” Jyn says. They both give her a look so she explains, “PDD is known to manifest an obsession with a single subject, which is why he seems fixated on my books.”
“Well, your fan also has a history of delusions, along with being on multiple antipsychotics,” Cassian says.
Kaytoo and Rook enter. She likes Bodhi Rook, he’s her favorite. He’s been the nicest and he’s funny as hell, if Andor would let him. She has the strongest urge to get him drunk with Baze and Chirrut and see what they’ll destroy together.
But this isn’t the time.
“Just got off the phone with Social Services, guess who was Caba’s social worker?” Bodhi says.
“Ailla Tislin?” She and Cassian say at the same time.
Kaytoo studies them both before Bodhi says, “Part of volunteer work for her degree. Caba works at a diner in Midtown, which is where Fisker and Pitna went a lot.”
“Looks like he did not go far for his victims,” Kaytoo says. One day, she’ll get his full name because what kind of name is Kaytoo? Is it a nickname? A combination of two names? Is his name actually Kay Too and she’s been thinking of it wrong?
“Very well,” Captain Mothma says. “Get him a public defender and send it up to the D.A.”
Mothma, Kaytoo, and Bodhi all leave. Cassian goes last and Jyn was struck frozen before she caught on and followed him to his desk.
“What do you mean? Is that it?” Jyn asks him.
Cassian looks over at her as he goes back to work. “We got the killer, Ms. Erso. That’s it, it’s up to the lawyers now.”
“The guy can barely string a sentence together, what makes you think he killed three people?” Jyn asks, indignant and obstinate. She thought when people solved crimes, the puzzle pieces came together. Now, they seem scattered. And she needs to drop this metaphor and focus.
“The fact he had the murder weapon and the victim’s clothes in his apartment, along with his prints and a connection to each murderer help,” Cassian deadpans, going back to his computer.
“That’s the problem!” She says. He looks up at her, confused. She explains, “It’s too easy. The readers would never believe it.”
“Luckily, this is reality and that’s not our problem,” He says. “In the real world, the person standing over the body with the gun is the one who did it. It was nice working with you, Ms. Erso.”
And with that, she’s dismissed.
Later, she’s eating Chinese takeout with Baze and Chirrut on the living room floor, some cheesy rom-com on the TV as background noise.
“You’ve been avoiding it all night,” Chirrut says and she freezes. “Why did you kill off Storrm? I liked her, she had spunk.”
Jyn relaxes, “If you were sober at the party, you would have heard me tell Bazzy that I was bored of her. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore because the book comes out in one week and it will consume my life for months so if you want to continue living here, Dera Storrm is banned.” She swipes her hands grandly as a last note.
“You know what I want to talk about?” Baze says. “The copycat case. Did you solve it? Did you bring pictures?”
She nods. “Yeah, I did. Well, the detective I worked with and I did. And still, no.”
“Who?” Chirrut asks as Baze looks bummed.
“You were drunk, but the same one who brought me in for interrogation at the night of the party,” Jyn explains to them both.
“He was cute,” Baze says. Chirrut smacks his arm with his special type of precision.
Jyn smiles to herself before she says, “Sorry, C, he was. But it’s just a fact.”
“So who did it?” Baze asks, probably changing the subject since Chirrut keeps sulking.
“Kylo Caba. He was person assigned to the second victim’s case,” Jyn says, drifting off a bit.
“You alright?” Chirrut asks.
“I’m working on a new story,” Jyn says, almost a lie. “And I need your guys’s help, I’m stuck.”
Baze nods while chugging a beer and Chirrut says, “Yes, go for it.”
“So the story starts with a famous writer-”
“How convenient,” Baze says.
She ignores him, “Who’s dealing with a serial killer who murders people like she does in her books.”
“How familiar,” Chirrut says.
“The crime scene,” She bites out the words and they pay attention now. She continues normally, “Is clean. No prints, no DNA, but the killer sends the writer a letter with his prints on it.”
“Then what?” Chirrut bounces a little, like he always does when Jyn reads her stories to him and getting in the thick of it.
“Then the cops track him down to his apartment, and there in do they find all the evidence they need for a conviction,” Jyn finishes.
Neither of her best friends say anything.
“Is that it?” Baze asks, sounding confused.
“That’s it.”
“That’s shit,” He says.
“Hey-” Jyn starts, oddly indignant.
“Prints on the letter but not the crime scene? You lost me there,” Baze says. “Serial killers don’t make that dumb move.”
“Where’s the twist?” Chirrut asks. “That’s even worse than Hell Hath No Fury.”
“Maybe it does need a twist,” Jyn ponders, ignoring the dig. “Maybe the suspect is innocent.”
“Yeah, that’s what you need,” Baze says.
“You need a character to believe that and prove him innocent,” Chirrut says, then adds, “And find the real killer.”
Jyn bites down on a piece of chicken, swallows, then says, “I think I know just the character.”
+
It’s getting late and the case is closed, but Cassian is still pouring over the files. “Did you know Caba was bounced around the foster care system?” He asks Kaytoo and Rook as they clean up the murder board for their next murder.
They say nothing so he keeps talking, “Looks like he never got proper care until Ailla Tislin got his case. She got him the job at that diner and her notes indicate he was doing better.”
“Well, that is for the District Attorney to ponder about now,” Kaytoo says. “Our job is done.”
Rook makes a noise of agreement and goes to take notes down but Cassian puts his hand over it.
“You can leave it, Rookie, I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” He tells him. Rook nods and leaves, sending him a salute.
And, instead of going home himself, he digs through the file again.
The next morning, Cassian comes back from his coffee run to see Jyn Erso sitting in his perp chair, flipping through a file that’s on his desk.
“Hey,” Cassian walks over quickly to interrupt her and pulls the file from her grip. She looks up at him. “What are you doing here? Case is closed. And your free trial is over.”
“Novelist’s habit,” She says, sheepish but a bit too sheepish so he has the feeling she’s lying. “We just love rifling through people’s things to find what makes them tick.”
“My files are confidential,” He tells her.
“And they’re boring,” She tells him like it’s a secret.
“I ask again, what are you doing here? If it’s just to go through my things, leave, I have actual work to do,” He sits down at his desk while Erso goes to stand and grab something from her bag. He stares at it suspiciously, causing her to scoff out a laugh.
She starts talking, “I brought you something, a trinket to memorialize our brief-partnership.” He gives her a look at the word ‘partnership’ that she doesn’t acknowledge. She pulls out a gift-wrapped rectangle. “Don’t look so frightened, open it.”
Against his better judgment, he does. It’s a book and, upon closer inspection, it’s a glossy, hardcover copy of Storrm’s End. That's not out for another six days.
“I know it’s a bit self-aggrandizing to give someone a copy of your own book, especially one you signed and especially since you’re not a fan and all,” She says, a hint of teasing in her tone, but he doesn’t pay it mind as he flips through.
Wait, signed?
He opens it to the title page. Thanks for the story, Detective Cassian Andor. And thanks for letting me play detective instead of just writing one. May the Force be with you, Jyn Erso.
He’s not sure what he’s feeling as he studies that page. He looks back at her. “Thank you,” He says, his voice a bit huskier than he wants it to be but he blames that on the fact he’s spent all night and morning working. “That’s very kind of you.”
Jyn gives him a smile and slings her bag over her shoulder. “Thank you, Cassian,” She says then leans over and kisses his cheek, lips just brushing where his stubble meets the rest of his face.
He feels like he’s been stun gunned for the entire moment, even after when she pulls away.
It’s only broken when she simply says, “Well...”
“Well,” Cassian agrees, clearing his throat.
“It was nice to have met you, Detective Andor,” She says, both light and formal at the same time. And then she walks away.
He waits until she’s left the hallway to rub his hands over his face to snap himself out of it. He smiles to himself for a moment and goes back to work. But he notices something off with his files and the way they’re placed.
“She didn’t,” He says to himself, and then he goes to find the copycat’s case file.
It’s missing.
“Oh she did,” He nearly smacks himself in the face as he goes to stand again and quickly goes to chase after her.
+
Jyn works peacefully in one of the reservable rooms in the library. She’s done extensive research in the half hour since she stole the files. Honestly, if Cassian was going to fall for the whole kiss-the-cheek distraction, he deserved to lose them.
She’s enjoying the quiet rhythm of her work, taking solid notes and also taking other notes for a potential book she might write. The second notes, of course, are in her standard shorthand in case anyone gets their hands on them.
“Jyn Erso!” A familiar voice booms from nearby when a door slams open. Knowing she maybe has ten seconds, she folds up her personal notes and puts them in the secret compartment of her purse since they’ll take her personal effects away.
She turns around with a smug look placed firmly on her face to see Cassian coming up with two uniformed officers flanking him.
“You are under arrest for felony theft and obstruction of justice.”
Jyn leans back in the chair as she pulls on her purse, “You forgot making you look bad. Or is that just a misdemeanor these days? It’s been a while since I went to prison.”
Cassian is suddenly in her face, and she’s surprised when she finds herself taken aback. “For a moment there, you made me believe that you were decent.”
Jyn clears her throat but she says nothing.
“Cuff her,” Cassian dismisses callously. Jyn is pulled out of her chair.
“Hey, I’ll go willingly, what the hell-” She looks to see Kaytoo is the arresting officer. She should probably expect he’ll be rougher than necessary so she doesn't fight the cuffs.
“How’d you find me anyway? What took so long?” She asks as the cuffs go on. It’s a feeling she hasn’t experienced (outside the bedroom) in a while, but she wouldn’t say she missed it. At all.
“It’s called detective work, Ms. Erso,” He tells her, going through his files again.
“My roommates told you, didn’t they?” She says, internally planning on killing them later. Andor says nothing, but the quirk of his lips tells all.
Kaytoo drags her away, but Jyn doesn’t stop talking. “By the way, the roses in the Tislin murder? They’re grandiflora, not hybrid teas.”
“Uh-huh,” Andor calls back to her.
“And the dress was yellow, not blue,” Jyn says, almost tripping from being lead forward so harshly.
“I’ll make a note of it,” He says.
“You should, because it means that Kylo Caba is innocent.” That’s when she faces forward as her punctuation, then turns to Kaytoo as she’s taken outside. “Don’t you have to read me my rights?”
“For starters, you have the right to remain silent, so you should probably shut up.”
Later, what feels like hours but is probably no more than one, Jyn sits in a private cell. Her neck is sore, but that’s from being hunched over the files. They took her purse, but she’s thinking of potential character names when an officer appears at her cell door.
“Jyn Erso. You made bail.”
She’s given her things and then escorted down a hallway. At the end of it, she’s faced with Baze, Andor, Captain Mothma, and Saw.
“Where's Chirrut?” She demands after she hugs Baze tightly, ignoring the others.
“In the car,” Baze grumbles, sending a grim look Saw’s way after they pull apart.
“What! I didn't want to worry about him here,” Saw says and Jyn scowls at him. “Don't worry I left the window open,” He says, like he's referring to the family dog and not an actual human being.
Jyn, on instinct, punches his shoulder for his callousness. It’s one thing for him to be a dick to her, but to Chirrut? After everything? He’s lucky she didn’t break his balls. Saw hisses in pain like a drama queen.
“I just bailed you out for obstruction of justice, don't make me put you back in for assault.”
“If you want to press charges, be my guest,” Andor says. Jyn flicks her eyes over to him. He smiles. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.
“I see you’ve met Captain Mothma and Detective Andor,” Jyn says to be polite. “Captain,” She excludes Andor, to not be polite, “This is my bloodsucking publicist Saw Gerrera and my bastard roommate Baze Malbus. My other bastard roommate Chirrut Îmwe is in the car, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“We’ve dropped the charges against you,” Captain Mothma says, barely concealing a smirk. “Under the agreement that you won’t interfere with the case again.”
“You have my word,” Jyn says. As soon as the Captain’s out of earshot, she turns to Andor. “But you still got the wrong guy.”
Saw groans and turns to the detective, “Sorry, Detective Andor, my client doesn’t believe in keeping her mouth shut.”
“For that, you can take an Uber, Baze will drive me back,” With that, she walks with her roommate back to Chirrut in the car, leaving Saw and Andor in the hallway.
+
Cassian stares at the murder board he recreated, leaning against a desk with his arms crossed over himself as he tries to piece this puzzle together.
“Oh no,” Kaytoo says, appearing beside him. “Do not tell me the writer got to you.”
“She didn’t, she did,” He says, pointing at the picture of Tislin.
“Ailla Tislin? What about her?” Kaytoo sits down and studies the board as well. A true partner.
“Marv Fisken was the first murder, someone Kylo barely knew from the diner, then he escalates and kills Ailla, his social worker, then un-escalates and kills Kendara Pitnay, another person he barely knew.”
“De-escalates,” Kaytoo says, a grammar stickler. “But what do you mean?”
“It’s the convenience part,” He tries to explain. “Goes from murder of convenience, then to someone he knows very well, then back to convenience. It makes no sense. Erso was right,” He says that last part mostly to himself because it makes the space between his shoulder blades itch in irritation.
“How?” Rook speaks up, joining him on his other side.
“If Caba was going to follow her books, he would have done it to the letter. Fisken wasn’t strangled with a plastic bag like he was supposed to be, the roses weren’t hybrid teas, and the dress wasn’t blue. Someone with PDD like Kylo would have had to do it right.”
“Then who did it?” Kaytoo asks.
Cassian sighs, “I don’t know yet. But Ailla is the key, she is the only one with a real connection to Caba, the only one who really knew about his condition. She’s the one who the killer is trying to hide in these other murders.”
“But who wanted her dead?” Rook asks. “As far as we know, she wasn’t seeing anyone and none of her other cases fit the profile.”
“Well, there had to have been someone in her life who knew about Caba,” Cassian says, then it hits him. “And I think I know where to start.”
After a couple phone calls and a short drive to Temple Street, he enters a skyscraper that apparently has the office of Bail Tislin when he sees a familiar, short woman standing at the desk. If he eavesdrops, he can hear her say, “Hi, I’m Jyn Erso, I have an appointment with Bail Tislin.”
Cassian shakes his head to himself, not even surprised. He keeps listening to hear the secretary say, “You can go up, he’s expecting you.”
Unable to miss the opportunity, Cassian pulls out his badge as an all-access key and walks past both the secretary and Erso. “Is he now?” He asks her. Once he’s waved through, he doesn’t look twice at the writer.
He presses the elevator button and turns to see Erso stammering, which is a pleasant thing to see, “This isn’t what it looks like- okay, it’s exactly what it looks like but I can explain-”
“Are you coming or what?” is all he says, but she quickly joins him in the elevator.
+
The elevator ascent to the top floor is slow and awkward. So, Jyn asks the question she’s dying to know, “Are you going to arrest me?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” He says.
Since he seems in light spirits, she asks another question, “I thought the case was closed.”
“It is,” He says simply. And to that, she can’t think of anything else to do but not ask anymore questions.
Inside the office of Bail Tislin, Jyn is drawn to all the pictures of him everywhere for two reasons while Andor focuses on the businessman. One, he looks considerably better in the photos. Two, who puts pictures of themselves everywhere? She has pictures of Chirrut and Baze (together, alone, and all three of them) and some nice stuff fans send her in her office. Not pictures of herself getting awards like Tislin does.
She lets Andor do the work, since he’s the actual detective, but she takes the time to observe as he asks questions. “Did Ailla ever mention having enemies or being threatened?”
Tislin shakes his head, “No, everybody loved her. All she wanted was to make the world a better place, and look how it repaid her.” His voice is tight and he clears his throat. “But I told all this to the other detective.”
Jyn watches Tislin’s hands and the way he keeps touching his hair and the fact it moves ever so slightly when he does. He’s nervous, and she thinks that might be a toupee. But she doesn’t say anything. Yet.
“We’re just following up,” Andor reassures him as Jyn mentally holds up a picture of Bail and the man standing before her now.
“Do you know of anyone who might have profited from Ailla’s death?” She asks before the detective can talk. He sends her a look but she ignores it.
“Ms. Erso, I may be rich, but my daughter was not. She abhorred money. Anything that she had, she gave to charity,” He says. Jyn thinks back to the pictures she saw of the victim’s fancy-ass apartment but sure, who is she to argue with the dead.
“Thank you, sir,” Andor says and turns to leave. So she steps up to speak.
“Mr. Tislin, I believe I read in Temple Magazine that your net worth is near 100 million dollars,” She says, bending the truth a little because she googled it in the Uber over. “Is that accurate?”
Tislin touches his hair again, “I don’t check day to day.”
Right after he finishes the sentence, Jyn speaks again so Cassian can’t dismiss them, “But it’s in the ballpark?”
“I’ve been lucky, yes” is all Bail Tislin says, but she’s had to rub elbows with a fair share of rich people in recent years and he’s trying to be humble. So it’s just a straight yes.
“Thank you for your time,” Cassian says and his hand touches her elbow. She tenses slightly and moves away from his grip. Thankfully, he lets go quickly so she decides to follow him out.
Until one more question pops into her head.
“Out of curiosity, what would happen to it if something were to happen to you?” Jyn asks. She peeks to see Cassian shooting her a harsh look but she can’t let something as useless as tact let someone wrongfully arrested rot in jail.
“Erso-” He starts to say, but luckily Tislin answers the question.
“Half of my estate would go to my foundation, and the other half would go to my children- my son,” He says. And when Jyn sees that grief in his eyes, that’s when she decides to drop it.
“Thank you, sir,” She says, and follows Cassian out.
+
Only after do they leave the building does Cassian dare to speak about what happened, “What was that all about? You were being tactless,” He tells her.
“He’s dying,” Erso says, causing him to freeze and turn to her.
“What? Who’s dying- Tislin?” He tries to eliminate because he can’t think of anyone else.
Instead of answering him, she seems to notice the hot dog cart outside the building for the first time. “Do you want a hot dog? I want a hot dog.” She says.
Cassian watches as best-selling author/world-class annoyance Jyn Erso leaves him, a lowly detective, to grab a hot dog from a vendor.
“What do you take-”
He pinches her ear to get her to focus, and she gasps in pain and smacks his hand away, “What the hell-”
“What the hell are you talking about? What makes you think that? Explain,” He orders her.
She rubs at her ear before explaining, “Did you see those pictures in his office?”
Cassian nods. He always tries to ingest every detail he can and he definitely thought all the pictures of Bail himself were overkill.
“He’s much thinner now, like unhealthy thin not workout thin.”
“His daughter was just murdered,” He says, confused by her nonsense.
“But add that to the fact he kept touching his hair, like he’s worried about it,” She says obviously, but he isn’t catching on. She sighs and rubs at her ear again. “Christ, your fingers are strong-”
He finally gets it, “Do you think it’s a toupee?”
“Yeah, it’s a good one, but it’s new to him,” She says and Cassian thinks back to the office and he actually starts to see what she’s talking about. “The chemo is recent, and I'm certain he was wearing makeup.”
“He’s trying to look healthier than he is,” He says, all of it actually coming together.
“Probably for the investors or shareholders,” Jyn says. “Those Temple Street bastards would really worry about that since it would tank stocks to hear the head of their company is dying.”
Even with all of Erso’s speculation, he has to be the reasonable one, “So he has cancer. That doesn’t make him terminal.”
“But it’s a better story if he is,” She says, flashing him a quick smile. He doesn’t return it. “Did you interview Tislin’s son, Ailla’s brother?”
Cassian shakes his head, “Never a reason.”
“Well, now there is,” She says, just shy of grandiose. Before he can respond, she’s focusing on the hot dog cart again and placing her order.
Another short drive and a hot dog later, they’re at a warehouse, approaching someone who looks like the picture of Ailla’s brother from the file. “Harrin Tislin?”
“Yeah,” The guy says then promptly ignores them. “Mitk! I need these boxes on the truck-”
“Detective Cassian Andor. Jyn Erso. We’d like to ask you some questions about your sister,” He introduces them.
Harrin gets a grim look on his face but nods, “Let’s go inside, yeah?”
Once in his office, Harrin immediately sits down but he and Erso remain standing. “You know, I just can’t believe she’s gone,” He says, shaking his head.
“Did you two get along?” Cassian asks.
“Everybody loved her,” He says, unintentionally echoing his father’s words. “She just wanted to see the good in people, y’know? Even that psychopath that killed her.” He gets a bit angry, vindictive. “She did everything she could for that kid. Even tried to get him a job here, but you know guys like him. Too unstable.”
One quick glance tells Cassian that Jyn is clenching her jaw, so he keeps the focus on himself.
“So you didn’t hire him?” He clarifies.
“If an employee screws up, I lose money, I couldn’t afford it,” Harrin says then sighs, “Maybe if I had, then he wouldn’t have killed her.”
“How’d your sister react when your father told you he was dying?” Cassian takes the leap. He can feel Erso’s eyes on him but he doesn’t look back at her.
“She was upset, we both were,” Harrin answers. This time, Cassian does look over at Jyn and sees the ever so slight look of told-you-so on her face. But also another note of confirmation, so he can deal with the smug.
“Now that she’s dead,” Jyn says, casual but with a slight edge. “Your inheritance stands to double, is that correct?”
“Is this some kind of joke?” Harrin asks, recoiling. “You’ve caught the killer!”
“Yes, but the first thing the lawyers will do is shift suspicion to someone else,” Cassian placates, noting the impressed look on Erso’s face. That might be projecting but he’ll take what he can get. “They will put me on the stand and ask me ‘why didn’t you investigate further?’ and it will create reasonable doubt. I want your sister’s killer to go away,” He chooses his words carefully. “Don’t you want justice for her?”
“Of course.”
“Then you won’t mind us asking where you were at the night of the murder,” Cassian checks.
“I was travelling on business,” Harrin says. Cassian glances at Erso once more and sees her look shocked for one quick second before fixing her face. What was that she said? “Deadly in poker”? Then he starts digging through his desk to pull out a passport, “I was out of town for all three murders, actually. Check the dates.”
Cassian flips through the passport. All the dates match up. And he can see the disappointment in the writer’s eyes.
“Thank you for your time,” Cassian says, and then he leaves with Jyn on his tail.
+
Jyn jogs a little to keep up with Cassian as they walk to his car. “A U.S. Passport,” She says, speaking for the first time since they left the office. She shakes her head, genuinely disappointed but trying to conceal it.
“Completely unassailable,” Andor says in response. How can he be so cavalier?
“I was sure it was him,” She scowls.
“Ah, don’t take it so personally, Erso,” He says. “After all, you’re not a cop. Just a writer.” She goes to give him a glare for his words but then sees he’s smirking, like he’s trying to contain his glee but there’s too much of it.
“What?” She asks, demanding clarification.
“Nothing,” He says, all too casually.
Jyn, using her small but mighty legs, walks in front of his and puts a hand on him to force him to stop. “What?”
“Oh come on, you must be kidding me,” Andor says, shaking his head while laughing like he’s in on some obvious joke. She just stares at him and waits for him to explain. He does, “Harrin’s lying.”
Jyn takes a moment to think about this, but it still doesn’t make sense. Luckily, Cassian keeps talking, “I get that he would know where was on on the day of his sister’s murder, but the other two? He did not pause, he did not ask a question, he didn’t even check his calendar. But there he was, with an alibi. Most innocent people, in my experience, do not prepare alibis.”
It starts to click for her, and she lets herself smile a little.
“But then how did he get the dates right on his passport?” Jyn asks. Cassian pauses.
“Come, we have to go to the precinct.”
Later, in the bullpen, Jyn, Cassian, and Kaytoo are all surrounding Bodhi as he makes a phone call to verify the alibis. Getting bored of all the bureaucracy, Jyn decides to stir the pot. “Why can’t you admit I was right?”
“Because you so fell for it,” Cassian says, then turns to Kaytoo, “She totally bought the alibi.”
“Figures,” Kaytoo says.
While she’s glad that Cassian is finally loosening up a bit, Jyn sneers at Kaytoo before defending herself, “I had a fleeting moment of self doubt.”
Luckily, before either detective can say anything, Bodhi hangs up the phone and all eyes are on him. “Credit card company confirms he paid for three round-trip tickets and the dates coincide with the murders.”
“So, according to the credit cards, Tislin was out of the country,” Kaytoo says then huffs a little. “His statistical probability of committing the murder is down to fifteen percent.”
Cassian gasps, “Which means the passport stamps were forged.”
Jyn watches, vaguely impressed as all three detectives spring into action, naming things like calling passport control and checking with the embassies. It’s highly organized chaos.
But she’ll have to burst their bubble.
“That’s not how we would have done it,” She tells them.
They all freeze and stare at her like she’s an idiot.
“Do you have a better idea, Erso?” Cassian asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Hmm-hmm, second passport,” Jyn says.
“How would he get one of those?” Bodhi asks, playing with his desk phone.
“You guys think like such goody-two shoes cops,” She says, playfully condescending. Kaytoo narrows his eyes. Good. (She can’t tell if they actually hate each other or not). “Our suspect-”
“My suspect,” Cassian interrupts.
She ignores him and continues, “Is an arrogant jackass, but more importantly, he’s rich. Those things together, he probably knows how to buy and do illegal things. Like buying a second passport on the black market and paying for the other flights with cash.”
She watches as the gears turn in Cassian’s head.
He thinks it out loud, “So he flies out on his legal passport, comes back in on the second, commits the murder, flies out on the second, and flies back in on the first,” He works it out then turns to the others for verification. Both Bodhi and Kaytoo nod.
“Perfect alibi,” Jyn agrees.
“Makes sense,” Bodhi agrees as well.
“That is almost impossible to prove, ninety-eight percent chance of failure,” Kaytoo says.
“Not if you find the second passport,” Jyn says.
“After your talk, I bet he’s spooked,” Bodhi points his pen at Cassian.
“Keep your eyes on him, if he moves, I wanna know,” Cassian orders them. Unlike her, they both nod and get to work.
Cassian walks back to his desk so she follows him. He’s shaking his head in disgust, “The things people will do for money.”
“The guy killed his sister in cold blood and murdered two others to cover it up. He’s either a world-class sociopath or...” She trails off in thought. Cassian is dialing a number, but he’s looking at her. She interprets that as him waiting for her to finish so she says, “Or there’s more to this than just money.”
“Judge Markaway, please,” Cassian says.
Jyn lights up, she loves Markaway. “Oh, Rel Markaway? Tell them I say hello.”
+
Cassian shouldn’t be surprised at this point that if Jyn Erso knows the mayor, then she probably knows one of the most important judges in the district.
Whether it’s during her juvie days or her writer fame days, he is unaware.
“We have an exigent situation,” Cassian says as he and Jyn try to keep up with the Judge as they go between court sessions.
“Very well, Detective, play through,” Markaway says.
“We need a search warrant,” Jyn says. Both he and Markaway give her a look. “He needs a search warrant.” She quickly corrects, giving Cassian a quick, apologetic smile when the Judge has turned away.
“For the arrest of Harrin Tislin,” Cassian says, trying to be quick because the Judge has another case in ten minutes and Rook is right, Tislin’s probably spooked. They need to do this fast. At the beginning of this case, he didn’t think he’d be grateful for all of Erso’s connections.
“That wouldn’t happen to be the son of Bail Tislin, correct?” Markaway checks, hesitantly.
“Yep,” Jyn says. “He murdered his sister and two strangers in cold blood then pinned it on a mentally disabled individual.”
“Murder involving the Tislins? You better be right about this, Detective,” Markaway says.
“Bail Tislin has terminal cancer,” Cassian says resolutely. “With his sister out of the way, Harrin stands to inherit all of it-” His phone starts to ring. “Excuse me,” He steps aside to answer.
“What is it, Rook?” He listens to Bodhi frantically explain that Tislin bailed from work early. “Thanks, detective,” He quickly hangs up and goes back to the conversation. Erso was in the middle of speaking, but this is more important.
“Harrin was just seen leaving work,” He explains to the Judge.
“He’s probably on his way home to destroy evidence,” Jyn says dramatically.
Markaway gives them both a look. “You can tie him to the other victims?” They check.
“Through the person he was framing,” Cassian nods.
“Days like this,” Markaway twirls their finger so Jyn turns around so they can sign the warrant on her back as a makeshift desk. “I wish I studied dentistry like my mother wanted. Godspeed, detective. See you at poker, Jyn.”
“Thank you, Judge,” Cassian says and they both quickly move to his car to try and beat their suspect.
He pulls up to the curb outside Tislin’s building, lights flashing, trying to ignore how Jyn kept saying that was “fun when you’re not in the backseat” and goes to see Kaytoo and Rook standing outside.
“What do we have?” Cassian calls to them as he steps on the sidewalk.
“Turns out Harrin Tislin’s business is failing,” Kaytoo says. “He is going completely bankrupt.
“With his father’s inheritance, he’ll pay off his debt and then some,” Erso says, bouncing a bit as the other officers start to gear up. Without a word, he can tell she thinks she's going in with them.
But he has a plan.
“Erso,” He puts a hand on her shoulder and leads her back to the car. “If you’re coming in with us, you have to be armed,” He tells her then points to his car. “My backup’s in the glove compartment.”
He watches as she goes for it, resting her hand on the open window as she digs through the compartment. Too easy, he thinks to himself as he handcuffs her to the car.
“What-” She twists to face him but he just makes it a bit tighter.
“This time, you stay put,” He orders as Rook hands him his vest. “Stay here.”
“Funny, Andor, come on-” She says, but he’s already heading for the apartment building.
Maybe this time, she won’t be a nuisance.
+
Jyn scowls to herself as she berates herself for falling for that. Waiting until Andor enters the building, she digs into her pocket for her wallet. A bit difficult with one hand, but she’s flexible.
“Cuff me once, shame on you,” She hums to herself as she goes for the key she stashed. She had assumed that the Detective had a celebrity crush on her and that he’d avoid arresting her, but that was quickly proven wrong.
So she called up some old crime buddies of hers last night and got them to give her one of their handcuff keys and stashed it in her wallet, like some fuckboy in high school with a condom, just in case.
She gets it. “Cuff me twice, shame on-” She goes to unlock herself when she manages to drop both the wallet and the key on the ground.
“Well shit.”
Annoyed with the setback, she easily gets goes for the key, but her arm wingspan is too short. She tries with her foot, but that’s also too short. “Damn my fucking height,” She curses herself before kicking off her sneaker to use her more dexterous toes to grab at it.
It works!
She reels back a bit at her own enthusiasm. God, she needs to get out more.
As she goes to undo the cuffs, she sees a man climbing down the fire escape. Oh god, it’s Tislin.
She shoves the handcuffs in her pocket and grabs her phone instead. Ignoring her one bare foot, she quickly dials Cassian’s number (she’s always had a penchant for remembering phone numbers and she’s glad it pays off).
He answers quickly but Tislin is moving fast too so she says, near-rambling, “He’s heading down the fire escape! I’m going after him.”
“How did you get free?" He demands incredulously. She ignores that as she chases down the alley. “No, Erso, stay there-”
She hangs up and keeps running after Tislin as he lands on the ground, carrying shredded paper.
Shit. The passports. They don’t have any evidence now.
Tislin takes off down the alley.
“Stop! Police!” Cassian calls down, but Jyn doesn’t stop running even though the gravel hurts her foot. “Erso! No!”
She follows after the murderer and dives behind a car, shoving her phone in her pocket, where she saw him turn. But as soon as she turns, something strikes her down her face, causing her to see stars.
+
Cassian heads down the alley, weapon raised and feet precise in their movements. He goes to the dumpster but then there's Tislin, using Jyn as a human shield with his gun pointed at her temple. There’s a cut on her eyebrow, slowly, lightly bleeding down her face.
“Whoops,” She says, slightly sheepish and slurry, and Cassian might shoot her himself.
“Stay back!” Tislin shouts as he steps backwards, pulling Jyn with him. When she stumbles, he sees she’s only wearing one shoe. “Stay back, stay back!” He points the gun at Cassian now, but Erso is still in his grip.
“Let her go, don't make this worse-” Cassian starts to say.
“I said stay back!” The gun is now haphazardly pointing at her shoulder. But he still can’t get a shot.
“Erso, are you okay?” He asks her.
“I'm fine,” Jyn says, seeming to come back into herself and her speech is better. “Except Psycho here smells like Axe spray.”
“Shut up!” Tislin demands.
“You shut up,” She hisses back like an annoying sibling.
“I'll blow your goddamn head off,” He warns her.
“Erso, you're not helping-”
But then she gives him a look, and for some reason he knows to be quiet and let her talk, against his instincts.
“I have a question. If you were so goddamn in debt,” She says to Tislin, and he immediately regrets his decision. “Why didn’t you ask your father for the money?”
“Shut up!”
But she doesn't. “You know, I bet you did. I bet he said no. I bet he sneered at you for asking.” Split second silence. “I bet the mighty, self-made Bail Tislin thought you were weak-”
“He was the weak one,” Tislin snarls and now Cassian thinks he understands what Jyn is trying to do here. “I was trying to do something with myself! All he cared about was that self-righteous bitch!”
Cassian watches as recognition flashes on her face. “That’s why you killed her. It wasn’t just the money, you wanted to take the last thing he cared about before he died. Punish him. That’s a great story!”
“What the hell is your problem?” Tislin sneers at her, moving the revolver again so it’s facing away but pulling Jyn tight against him so she covers him.
“It’s over, Tislin, let her go,” Cassian says, even though unable to find a clear shot with Jyn in the way. And as much as he might love to shoot her, not like this.
“It’s not over!” Tislin snaps, hand shaking. “Drop your gun or I’ll blow her brains out-”
Before the weapon can complete its arch to aim at him, Jyn, in one fluid move, smacks her elbow into Tislin’s face and grabs the gun from his grip as it drops.
Tislin falls to his knees, hands covering his face. When Cassian pulls them away to handcuff him, Harrin’s nose is gushing blood all over his face and fingers. He’s not surprised to see Jyn has a good striking elbow.
Once he passes the murderer off to Officer Kiplan, he whirls on Jyn, “What the hell were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed.”
“Not likely,” She says and hands him the gun safely. “The safety was on the whole time.”
He exhales sharply as he affirms this for himself, “You could have told me that.”
“Not if I wanted him to confess,” Jyn says pointedly then she grins, “C’mon, be a bit more grateful, I solved your case for you.” She goes to walk back with him but she stumbles.
They both look down and she lifts her foot slightly to reveal a few slightly bloody scrapes.
“Go get your shoe on” is all he tells her, turning away so she doesn’t see him smirk a little at her valid points.
Later, when Jyn has tied on her shoe and Tislin is off to processing, Cassian walks back up to her with a butterfly bandage.
“I guess this is it.” He quickly places it on her eyebrow, trying not to let the touch linger.
“Thanks. And it doesn’t have to be,” Jyn says. “I can buy you a drink. I promise, I’m a fun drunk when not at press parties.”
“I’ll pass,” He tells her, unable to really nail down why he passes. “It...” He takes a deep sigh then reluctantly admits, “It was nice meeting you.”
She salutes him. “Nice to meet you too, Detective Cassian Andor.”
“Get home safe, Erso,” He says and goes back to his car, since she said a friend of hers was going to pick her up.
“You can call me Jyn, you know,” She calls over to him from the sidewalk, a wicked smile on her face.
He humors her as he opens his car door. “Get home safe, Jyn.”
With that, he drives away.
+
The instant Jyn gets home, she quickly changes into comfortable pajamas then goes to her office and goes to her desktop computer. Even though one of the EMTs said she might have a concussion, even though her foot aches, and even though she just wants to curl up in a bubble bath, she sits at her computer.
She winces a little at the dust covering the screen and keyboard. After a quick swipe of a dust rag, she starts typing on a new Word document.
All it takes is the length of one breath for him to remember why he’s there. Detective Colten Blazt’s rough hands touch his service piece at the holster at his hip, an anchor. He unbuckles his seatbelt and moves to pull on sunglasses in the bright Coruscant sky.
There’s something about the day-to-day of solving murders that could be a routine, but he never lets it. Each murder is their own, each victim and their family unique. Nothing could be routine about that...
...
“It’s raining men,” A voice deadpans from behind him and he doesn’t even need to turn to recognize it.
“Galen.” He doesn’t give her any more of a satisfactory response.
“Hallelujah,” She continues the song. When she says nothing, that’s when Colten looks over at her. Hair in a loose bun, Stelle Galen is dressed in her typical reporter look, ready to be a thorn in his side.
“There’s a dead body, show some respect,” He gestures to the corpse, flat on the ground from a many-story fall prompting her tasteless joke.
“I don’t think he can hear me, Blazt,” She says in response.
He ignores her for the time being. He’s not sure what karmic power he pissed off to deserve being saddled with the perpetual human annoyance. Being a detective in a crime-filled city like Coruscant was hard enough, but with a reporter constantly at his side? It’s a goddamn miracle that any work got done at all...
...
And as the shadows of the alley closed around them, he knew the job would never be finished, even as cases closed. Especially not with Galen at his side. But that thought is also oddly empowering.
“I could really go for a hot dog right now,” The reporter says.
“You could really go to the hospital,” He says in response, studying the way her face bleeds.
“But they don’t have hot dogs at the hospital,” She says with a snort and then she goes to step forward and she tumbles forward. He nearly leaps to catch her.
Their faces are inches apart suddenly, lips only one breath away.
Colten clears his throat, “I assume I can come and bring you one, if you promise to get checked out.”
Their arms, in unison, wrap around the other’s waist as they go to meet the ambulance at the other end of the alley.
“You know, Blazty, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership,” Stelle says.
“You wish, reporter,” He says, trying to hide his smile. With that, he goes to put her on an ambulance, safe and sound.
When Jyn breaks from her writing storm, it’s 5:45 in the morning. Her fingers ache and her eyes burn but she’s written almost 290 pages since 5 in the previous afternoon. And it’s actually finished. Well, first draft anyway. She rubs at her neck and sighs deeply.
“Only a twelve hour run,” A voice speaks from the door. She looks up to see Chirrut standing at the open door, holding a cup of coffee (which means Baze is also up). “You still haven’t beat our trip to Cloud City.”
She smiles slightly to herself as she remembers. Twenty solid hours of writing while being locked indoors in one of the most beautiful places in the country. Only her.
“I know, and I even had notes to help me out,” She holds them up between two fingers. “Any extra coffee?” She checks.
Baze peeks out and comes over to place her coffee on the coaster. She takes a sip, doctored perfectly.
“I didn’t want to bother you, but he insisted,” He throws his other half (not that he’d admit it, yet) under the bus.
Chirrut huffs. “She hadn’t typed in five minutes.”
“Shush,” She tells them. “I solved a murder and wrote almost 300 pages in one go. I can’t deal with your nonsense.”
“I thought you already solved it,” Baze says, sitting in the love seat. Chirrut uses his walking cane to find the other chair. She doesn’t normally have company, but sometimes she likes to write in different positions and places. “And what happened to your face, little sister?”
“No, it was a red herring,” She yawns. “We caught the real killer, and he’s going away. I got hurt in the scuffle, but they gave me the all-clear.”
“That’s got to feel good,” Chirrut says.
“Hmm-hmm,” She says, noncommittally.
“Probably not as good as actually writing again, right Erso?” Baze chuckles, a deep sound coming from his large body.
She smiles, and actually finds the two feelings in a dead heat. Even though she is actually done with the first draft, which is normally akin to five orgasms in a row.
Speaking of ‘Erso’, and not the five-orgasms thing, she says, “One second, guys, I’ll grab us breakfast to celebrate, but I need to make a phone call.”
“Have fun with your detective, Jyn,” Chirrut says, holding out his arm for Baze to take. He heaves him out and they both leave her to her privacy.
Even though he’s wrong, but close, she doesn’t bother to correct him.
+
Cassian is on his break, but he still sits at his desk. When he hasn’t been working on case files, he’s been reading Storrm’s End. He’s almost to the second to last chapter, and he’s afraid that Jyn- Erso is setting up to kill Dera. While it makes sense and he'd heard rumors, it still makes his lungs feel tight.
He taps his fingers on his desk slightly, thinking back to the past week. If someone had told him that he would have solved a crime with the Jyn Erso, he would have laughed in their face.
But he’s glad they did. Hell, he’s even a little sad to see her go.
“Detective Andor,” Captain Mothma calls to him. He puts the flap at his page and looks up.
“Yes, Captain?”
“My office. Now.”
He nods, even though she’s turned back inside already. Kaytoo and Rook are both surprised, but he doesn’t think he has anything to be worried about.
“You wanted to see me,” He says in the doorway.
“Come in, Detective,” She says and he stands in front of her desk.
“I just received a call from the Mayor,” She says by way of greeting. “Apparently, you have a fan.”
He feels his eyebrows crease together, then remembers what Jyn Erso said when they were going over letters and smoothes his face over. “A fan, ma’am?”
“Jyn Erso, in fact,” She continues.
Even though he had just found himself missing her a bit, his jaw ticks. He thought he’d seen the last of her so he could be nostalgic. What's that quote? “I can't miss you if you won't leave?”
Captain Mothma keeps talking, “Seems she’s found the next character for her next set of novels, starring a tough-and-savvy Latino detective.”
Cassian isn’t sure what to say, and he goes through a range of emotions, most of the flattered or confused. “I’m flattered?” He tries to guess an appropriate response.
“I wouldn’t be,” The Captain says, and he thinks she might be trying to stop a smile. What is it with his authority figures and being charmed by her? “She says she has to do research.”
Whatever feelings of confusion or flattery is instantly replaced with dread.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” Mothma says.
“No way,” Cassian says, completely unprofessional.
“Andor-” She tries to speak but Cassian actually interrupts his captain, this writer brings out the worst in him.
“Captain, she is like an annoying younger sister who trails around and gets in the way, and she will not take a thing seriously,” He protests.
“Didn’t she help solve this case?” Mothma arches an eyebrow in a regal way. “In fact, I believe your words were ‘insightful’ and ‘instrumental’ in your report.”
Cassian smothers his scowl.
“And, also, the mayor is a fan.” He never wants to hear those words again. “And the fact that Mayor Organa is happy, makes the commissioner happy, which makes me happy.”
He takes a deep breath and tries to reason. “How long, ma’am?”
Mothma’s eyes dart away and look behind him. “Well, it’s up to her,” She goes back to work.
Cassian turns around to see Jyn in the doorway, eating a hot dog and wearing a guest pass.
“Hello again, Andor,” She says after swallowing. Then she tosses something wrapped in tinfoil at him.
He just barely catches the warm projectile. After opening it, he sees it’s another hot dog. Surprisingly, it’s doctored just how he liked it.
“Nice to see you again, too,” She heads back to his desk and he’s helpless to follow. “Any fun murders today?”
Cassian stifles a groan. This is going to be a very long indefinite.