The clothes weren't enough to offer an explanation of what he was doing out here or why he was asking that question. The pants he wore were definitely part of a uniform, but the shirt didn't match, it was too casual and didn't fit the look of what she'd seen of the First Order. It didn't fit anything she'd seen before, which just made her wonder more about his story. Was he a deserter like Finn? A thief, living off what he could steal? A drunk? She'd certainly known plenty of those.
If he was any of those things, he'd probably need reminding of even of the planet they were on, so she took pity on him and started there.
"In the Outer Rim on Batuu, outside of..." She paused, wracking her brain to recall the name that had just slipped through her fingers. Glancing back as if she could see a sign somewhere through the trees with the name written on it, she frowned and sounded almost apologetic as she admitted, "Actually, I don't remember which outpost this is. I just came from Black Spire, though. It's a few hours from here."
And then, because it was worth asking: "Does any of that sound familiar?"
He stared at her, grateful for the detailed answer, not knowing how to incorporate it.
"I've… never been there." A ridiculous thing to say about a place you were, but notable in his lifetime of bouncing between worlds; and in that— "I was… just on Scarif. …I mean: a moment ago." And I was dead… I thought… "How am I here?"
That... What? Rey stared right back at the stranger, her expression incredulous as he failed to make any sense at all.
"You were there a moment ago?" Had he hit his head and lost all memory of traveling to a completely different system? But that failed to explain one very important detail. "On Scarif? That's not possible. No one's been on that planet in decades."
"No, it's…" …a top-secret facility that he shouldn't let anyone know he knew about, was going to—no, had gone to… He put a hand to his own head to check for lumps or blood; but nothing. "I was there," he repeated slowly, trying to clarify for himself as much as for her. …Screw it, if it wasn't atomized by now—"There's an Imperial facility there. A research base. …Or there was ten minutes ago." He dropped his hand from his head, frowning. He hoped she was… who? what? …by all his (however probably compromised) profiling skills, she seemed genuine in her concern and apparent desire to help. He didn't have it in him to resist that. "What time is it? What day?"
An Imperial facility. Ten minutes ago. Every word of it sounded crazy and made her wonder if he was a spice addict, but the way he checked himself and tried to explain... The Force was telling her it was true, he believed what he said and there was no lie to it. She'd grown to rely on her instincts these past months since beginning her training, but this was perhaps pushing things a bit far.
"It'd midday here," she offered, not knowing the exact time because the past few outposts hadn't really been sticklers for such things. And then she gave him the galactic standard date, which she did know precisely — including the year, 36 ABY.
Something was very wrong with this entire situation and it was frustrating Rey to no end that she couldn't understand it. This man would have to practically be from Wild Space to not know the meaning behind the ABY designation.
Still, after a good long stare at him, she explained (in a perhaps too simple tone), "After the Battle of Yavin."
…He'd died. That had to be it. He'd died and this…
He reached blindly behind him. His hand found a tree—his ambient awareness must not be fully offline after all—and he leaned on it.
Okay. One thing at a time. Before asking her anything else about the universe— "Sorry. I'm sorry." He rarely volunteered his name, and when he did usually not his real one; but right now… even if he weren't mistrusting reality at the moment, instinct yelled loudly to tell the truth. Especially when that was what he badly needed, back. "My name's Cassian. Who are you?"
His reaction took Rey aback. Of everything they'd been talking about, that's what caused him to need physical support? The knowledge of the present year was enough to bring out an apology? Like all the other pieces of the mystery that was this Cassian, it just didn't fit.
"I'm Rey." She answered automatically, not bothering with the alias she'd been given for this mission. Honestly, she hadn't used it since the first outpost — she just wasn't cut out for secret identities and lying about who she was. Gesturing up and down in his direction, she repeated her earlier question, hoping for a more thorough answer this time. "Are you okay? Because you don't look it."
"Rey." Okay. Not a name that meant anything to him, so probably not one he'd make up, if this was all in his head. "Hi. I'm…" …in need of some medical attention very soon, as adrenaline started failing, but maybe more importantly right now: "really confused."
His reading of her continued to suggest authenticity. Her speech, her responses, were unusually, mercifully clear. Which… thank goodness because the content of what she said…
He didn't know how (or whether) to walk the old tightrope of giving enough info to get more back, without unduly influencing what he got back… how to learn how much he could reveal without revealing it… and how he'd just thought himself done with all this…
"Where I just came from, we used the Lothal Calendar," he said at last. "May I ask—who are you with?"
Really confused. Well, at least that made two of them. Having something in common was always a good start, right? Especially since she had no idea what to make of him other than he probably needed to be examined by a med droid sooner rather than later.
The next things he said stacked on top of the rest of the pile of unknowns in her mind, teetering on the edge of comprehension... and then tumbling down in a scattered mess she scrambled to order into coherency. Each piece suddenly fit into the next, the information dovetailing with her own observations, until all that was left was the realization that it was kriffing insane.
"I'm with the Resistance," she answered without hesitation, everything in her returning to a state of calm and confidence that had been lost since she'd met him. "And I don't know how it's possible, but you're not from this time."
The Resistance. The Atrivis Resistance Group, maybe? Those who associated it primarily with them might call the Rebellion 'the Resistance'… though not usually…
Not from this time. And 'this time' was—"36 ABY," he repeated back to her, a little dumb and a lot numb. Well, was it so much more bewildering than the things he already couldn't account for? If one could travel spontaneously through space… that was traveling through time. So…?
The kyber blast…
"I'm from 3277 LY," he said at last. And clearly there were far more things to clear up: re: identities and allegiances than he'd supposed, so he stopped making those prerequisite to just coming out with it: "What was the Battle of Yavin?"
Rey dropped her bag finally, propping it beside another tree before taking a few steps closer. He'd still have plenty of room, she had no intention of cornering him, but this way she could keep her voice down just in case. There were First Order sympathizers out here in the middle of nowhere, after all, and she really didn't want to have to deal with someone overhearing them and asking too many unwanted questions.
"It was one of the first major battles won by the Rebellion in the war against the Empire," she explained, speaking as if she were talking with a friend instead of a complete stranger who anyone else would think was out of his mind. Even the way she looked at Cassian was beginning to take on a bit of wonder, her mind struggling to accept what her instincts knew was true. "It was where the first Death Star was destroyed, in 3277 LY."
Her galactic history lessons may have been rather lacking in her upbringing on Jakku, but everyone knew about the Battle of Yavin. The stories of the Death Star being destroyed by Luke Skywalker were legend now. And, in her rare spare time since joining the Resistance, she'd started to learn more about the Galactic Civil War — because history apparently liked to repeat itself.
He tensed a little as the bag dropped, but this was no longer a battlefield and nothing exploded. Nor did she reach for a weapon. The way she was speaking to him didn't feel like she was techniquing him. She just continued to read as sincere. Either she was one of the most talented liars he'd ever spoken to, or she was sincere. He found the prospect of her lying to him unlikely, just because he was so little of a threat or any importance right now. Why would she bother?
And the way she was looking at him, speaking to him… he wasn't sure he had in him to resist or reject right now… being treated as an ally. (Or a friend.)
And then what she said—
Cassian sank back against the tree, let himself slump and slide down until he was sitting on the ground. His vision actually blacked out for a moment. In a way that wasn't just the concussion.
(Save the Rebellion - save the dream We cannot in good conscience risk entire worlds for our cause We joined an Alliance, not a suicide pact I can't, I'm not hooked in to the communications tower)
He closed his eyes and worked on getting the planet to stop spinning out from under him.
Sefla. Melshi. Basteren. Calfor. Eskro. Farsin. Jav. Pao. Rostok. Stordan.
Rook. Malbus. Îmwe.
He wondered if there was anyone left, back there—back then, whatever—who knew exactly what names were on that list.
(I do. Someone's out there.)
Erso.
He wondered if any of them had survived.
(Closing the vault door now. Goodbye)
Kaytoo.
(I'm sorry. I loved you. I'm sorry.)
But it had worked.
Cassian opened his eyes, was rewarded with the absence of double-vision, and looked up at… Rey.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
If he was any of those things, he'd probably need reminding of even of the planet they were on, so she took pity on him and started there.
"In the Outer Rim on Batuu, outside of..." She paused, wracking her brain to recall the name that had just slipped through her fingers. Glancing back as if she could see a sign somewhere through the trees with the name written on it, she frowned and sounded almost apologetic as she admitted, "Actually, I don't remember which outpost this is. I just came from Black Spire, though. It's a few hours from here."
And then, because it was worth asking: "Does any of that sound familiar?"
no subject
"I've… never been there." A ridiculous thing to say about a place you were, but notable in his lifetime of bouncing between worlds; and in that— "I was… just on Scarif. …I mean: a moment ago." And I was dead… I thought… "How am I here?"
no subject
"You were there a moment ago?" Had he hit his head and lost all memory of traveling to a completely different system? But that failed to explain one very important detail. "On Scarif? That's not possible. No one's been on that planet in decades."
no subject
no subject
"It'd midday here," she offered, not knowing the exact time because the past few outposts hadn't really been sticklers for such things. And then she gave him the galactic standard date, which she did know precisely — including the year, 36 ABY.
no subject
"What's 'ABY'?"
(Last he knew, it was 3277 LY.)
no subject
Still, after a good long stare at him, she explained (in a perhaps too simple tone), "After the Battle of Yavin."
no subject
…
…He'd died. That had to be it. He'd died and this…
He reached blindly behind him. His hand found a tree—his ambient awareness must not be fully offline after all—and he leaned on it.
Okay. One thing at a time. Before asking her anything else about the universe— "Sorry. I'm sorry." He rarely volunteered his name, and when he did usually not his real one; but right now… even if he weren't mistrusting reality at the moment, instinct yelled loudly to tell the truth. Especially when that was what he badly needed, back. "My name's Cassian. Who are you?"
no subject
"I'm Rey." She answered automatically, not bothering with the alias she'd been given for this mission. Honestly, she hadn't used it since the first outpost — she just wasn't cut out for secret identities and lying about who she was. Gesturing up and down in his direction, she repeated her earlier question, hoping for a more thorough answer this time. "Are you okay? Because you don't look it."
no subject
His reading of her continued to suggest authenticity. Her speech, her responses, were unusually, mercifully clear. Which… thank goodness because the content of what she said…
He didn't know how (or whether) to walk the old tightrope of giving enough info to get more back, without unduly influencing what he got back… how to learn how much he could reveal without revealing it… and how he'd just thought himself done with all this…
"Where I just came from, we used the Lothal Calendar," he said at last. "May I ask—who are you with?"
no subject
The next things he said stacked on top of the rest of the pile of unknowns in her mind, teetering on the edge of comprehension... and then tumbling down in a scattered mess she scrambled to order into coherency. Each piece suddenly fit into the next, the information dovetailing with her own observations, until all that was left was the realization that it was kriffing insane.
"I'm with the Resistance," she answered without hesitation, everything in her returning to a state of calm and confidence that had been lost since she'd met him. "And I don't know how it's possible, but you're not from this time."
no subject
Not from this time. And 'this time' was—"36 ABY," he repeated back to her, a little dumb and a lot numb. Well, was it so much more bewildering than the things he already couldn't account for? If one could travel spontaneously through space… that was traveling through time. So…?
The kyber blast…
"I'm from 3277 LY," he said at last. And clearly there were far more things to clear up: re: identities and allegiances than he'd supposed, so he stopped making those prerequisite to just coming out with it: "What was the Battle of Yavin?"
no subject
"It was one of the first major battles won by the Rebellion in the war against the Empire," she explained, speaking as if she were talking with a friend instead of a complete stranger who anyone else would think was out of his mind. Even the way she looked at Cassian was beginning to take on a bit of wonder, her mind struggling to accept what her instincts knew was true. "It was where the first Death Star was destroyed, in 3277 LY."
Her galactic history lessons may have been rather lacking in her upbringing on Jakku, but everyone knew about the Battle of Yavin. The stories of the Death Star being destroyed by Luke Skywalker were legend now. And, in her rare spare time since joining the Resistance, she'd started to learn more about the Galactic Civil War — because history apparently liked to repeat itself.
no subject
And the way she was looking at him, speaking to him… he wasn't sure he had in him to resist or reject right now… being treated as an ally. (Or a friend.)
And then what she said—
Cassian sank back against the tree, let himself slump and slide down until he was sitting on the ground. His vision actually blacked out for a moment. In a way that wasn't just the concussion.
(Save the Rebellion - save the dream
We cannot in good conscience risk entire worlds for our cause
We joined an Alliance, not a suicide pact
I can't, I'm not hooked in to the communications tower)
He closed his eyes and worked on getting the planet to stop spinning out from under him.
Sefla. Melshi. Basteren. Calfor. Eskro. Farsin. Jav. Pao. Rostok. Stordan.
Rook. Malbus. Îmwe.
He wondered if there was anyone left, back there—back then, whatever—who knew exactly what names were on that list.
(I do. Someone's out there.)
Erso.
He wondered if any of them had survived.
(Closing the vault door now. Goodbye)
Kaytoo.
(I'm sorry. I loved you. I'm sorry.)
But it had worked.
Cassian opened his eyes, was rewarded with the absence of double-vision, and looked up at… Rey.
"Thank you," was all he could say.