Chapter Text
“Life is short, and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children.”
— Good Bones, Maggie Smith
***
Jyn was six when she became Saw’s girl.
She was half-starved and near-feral when he found her. She hadn’t eaten in three days, holed up in the bunker where her mother left her. She pointed her father’s welding gun at him when he ducked into the bunker, and he just chuckled and said, “Hello to you too, little cat.” And she saw, she saw who he was, and she scrambled to him, threw herself against him, and he caught her.
He rested one big hand on her head. “You’re safe now,” he said, and Jyn pressed her little, six-year-old skull to the stiff metal breastplate he wore. It was nothing like the warm press of her father’s chest, where she could hear the thump-thump-thump of his heart, but she could hear the raspy hiss of Saw’s breathing, and the deep sound of his voice, rumbling up and out of his chest and rising through his throat.
It was different, but she felt just as safe as she ever had when Saw gathered her up in his arms and carried her back to his ship. It was different. It was the same.
***
“Saw’s girl” is how she was introduced to Saw Gerrera’s people.
“This is my girl, Jyn,” he told the medic, a frowning Zabrak, who prodded at her for a moment before declaring her bruises and abrasions superficial and recommending a meal and a good night’s sleep.
“This is my girl, Jyn,” he told the cook, a smiling Twi'lek, who hummed and slipped Jyn an extra candy for dessert.
“This is my girl, Jyn,” he told his lieutenant, Vyna, who nodded at Saw and then winked conspiratorially at Jyn.
From basecamp to basecamp, city to city, planet to planet, Jyn was Saw’s girl, little cat, Jyn Erso.
She asked him once what she should call him in return. The rebels at each new basecamp would call him Saw Gerrera in hushed, reverent tones. Though the Partisans had little in the way of military hierarchy, it was something of an inside joke among the lieutenants and rebels who traveled with them to call him “the General”. None of this described Saw to Jyn, who still slept curled up in his bed, using his great body as a shield between herself and the world.
“Uncle,” he said. “You can call me uncle.”
And so she did.
If she was Saw’s girl, then he was her uncle, and she had no qualms about reiterating that fact when Vyna turned her away from war room meetings, saying she was not a soldier. Not yet.
“It’s not fair,” Jyn whined. “You’re already teaching me to fight, how’s that any different?”
“That’s self-defense,” Vyna said, unruffled as ever, “it doesn’t make you a soldier.”
“It’s not fair,” Jyn cried again, and Vyna squatted down to look her in the eye, resting a hand on her shoulder.
“I know it feels that way now, kiddo,” they said, “but give it a few years. This isn’t a life you choose easily.”
She did give it a few years, had little choice in the matter. In the interim, she learned to fight. Then, she learned to fight well . She learned how to pickpocket, how to make herself small and unassuming so that bored, careless Imps would let their tongues loose in her presence.
And she learned to wait.
She learned to wait outside of locked rooms while Saw and Vyna conferred with the other lieutenants. Outside the medical ward, at whatever new rebel camp they’d landed on, while the muffled voices of Saw and the medics carried through the doorway. On the ship, while Saw did something dangerous, something he wouldn’t tell her about.
“Be seeing you,” he said before he left. Be seeing you, never goodbye.
And then, one day, Jyn is done waiting.
***
When Jyn is sixteen, she is no longer Saw’s girl.
She wakes up alone in a safe house on Tatooine. Saw is gone, along with Vyna, Rysi, Jallo, and the others, presumably. In his place, he leaves a knife, a blaster, a bag of credits, and a holomessage.
Jyn flicks on the holomessage.
“Little cat,” rasps the flickering blue image of Saw, “know that it was not easy to do this. But this is a choice you must make on your own.” He pauses, taking a deep inhale from his respirator before continuing, “If this war is what you want, meet me in one month. You will know where.”
He pauses again, shoulders slumping. He looks tired . Even in this tiny, grainy hologram, Jyn can read the exhausted lines of his body as easily as she can read Basic.
“This is not a fair choice,” Saw continues, “but choices rarely are in war. You are still so young, Jyn, and you have so much life. But… if this war is what you want then I will not deny you any longer. Be seeing you, Jyn Erso.”
The holomessage blinks off, and Jyn blinks at the empty, black space where the hologram of Saw once stood. Her eyes sting, and she rubs at them viciously. Then, she stands, shoving the knife into her boot, holstering the blaster, and stashing the credits in the innermost pocket of her jacket.
She swings her bag over her shoulder, and ducks out the now-barren room, and onto the street. She makes a beeline for a well-known smuggler’s den and asks the first person she sees how she might go about chartering a ship.
It is an impossible choice. It is the easiest choice that she has ever made.
When she is sixteen, Jyn Erso becomes one of Saw Gerrera’s people.
***