Finals are next week and I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. But, on the bright side...more Rogue One fanfic!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, Rogue One, or any of these characters. This work is for entertainment purposes only, and to mend our broken hearts after listening to "Your Father Would Be Proud" too many times on repeat, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 1
Congratulations, You Are Being Rescued

"Yes, it was him." Jyn knew she had said the wrong thing when the lines around the man's eyes tightened, when his small reassuring smile became forced. He patted her shoulder gently, but Jyn still shifted away, taking two steps backward for good measure.

"All right, thank you for telling me, Jyn." The man in the vest and navy uniform tucked his yellow notepad back into his utility belt, drawing her eyes to the gun holstered there. A Glock, twelve rounds max in the mag, she could tell just from looking. He'd been waving it in front of him like she'd seen Saw do sometimes when he trained other men. She'd be old enough for him to teach her soon. "My name is Detective Merrick," the police officer told her, coming down to one knee so that he was more on her level. "You're safe now."

"I was safe before," Jyn retorted, glaring angrily at the man. "It isn't like you think—he doesn't hit me for no reason."

"Uh huh," Merrick said, glancing down at the sleeve he'd forced her to roll up. The dark bruises stood out clearly against her pale skin, so she pulled it down again, staring at him defiantly.

"We'll get you out of here, somewhere he can't hurt you anymore, so you won't have to cover for him."

"No!" Jyn's arm swung almost before she knew what was happening, hitting the officer in the jaw. "No! You can't take me! I don't want to leave!" Rage and desperation were swirling up in her, making it hard to remember her training, and her hits were sloppy and she couldn't quite remember the first step to putting a man of his size into a headlock.

"Melshi, a little help in here!" Merrick called as he went for Jyn's flailing arms. His partner appeared through the entrance to the kitchen. "Did you get CPS over here or not?"

"No, no, no!" Jyn continued to fight, kicking at the other man as he bent down to help. She felt her knees connect with something hard even as her arms were captured and pressed firmly into the floor. Lead weights engulfed her ankles as well and she found herself unable to move, pinned down by the two men. She writhed against their iron grip. They couldn't do this to her. They couldn't take her away. Saw wouldn't let them. He wouldn't.

"He's certainly done a number on her, hasn't he?" the one called Melshi commented sadly.

"CPS should be here in less than a minute, although at this time of night I think I woke 'em up with my call…"

Jyn worked up saliva in her mouth and spit it at Merrick right as he looked down at her again, getting him straight in the eyes. He jerked back reflexively, a few swear words falling out of his mouth, and Jyn took advantage of the commotion to slip out of the other man's hold as well, scrambling to her feet and sprinting for the kitchen. For Saw.

"Jyn, my child," Saw rasped upon seeing her. His hands were bound behind his back, and he sat leaning against the drawers below the counter.

"Don't let them take me, I want to stay, please Saw I swear I'll work harder," Jyn babbled upon reaching him. "What do I do, Saw?"

The first teardrops had only just fallen on Saw's military-style top—that was bad, strong girls don't cry, Jyn had to be strong—when she was wrenched away from hm by the two officers.

"Jyn!" Saw said sternly. She gulped and stopped crying, stifling her sobs in her throat and making her stomach go all tight and nasty.

"Jyn," a new voice interrupted. A woman stood in the entranceway to the kitchen, someone Jyn recognized immediately. The sight of her social worker instilled a pit of cold dread in her gut. "Mr. Gerrera. We will be taking her with us, pending a full investigation. You know the rules."

"No!" Jyn shouted at Sabine, bringing her fists up and readying for a fight. Sabine would take her away and then she would be homeless again, or bounced around from place to place where no one wanted her. She was wanted here. Saw wanted her—he'd taught her to be strong.

"You must go with her, Jyn," Saw croaked. She stared at him, betrayed. She'd never known Saw not to fight.

"Let's go," the social worker said, coming forward to take Jyn's hand. Jyn shook her off, crossing her arms, lungs heaving. The tears had dried up out of her eyes, leaving only the fiery anger in her chest, eating her up from the inside. The two officers let her go and stepped past to pull Saw to his feet.

"You going to be okay with her if we take Gerrera to the station?" Merrick asked, rubbing his jaw where Jyn's fist had connected with it. She stuck her tongue out at him impulsively, seeking any small thing she could do to hurt these people who were ruining her life, even if she wasn't allowed to hurt hurt them. He had been observing her training bruises, well, now he had one of his own to match.

"We will. Jyn and I go way back." Sabine gave Jyn what was supposed to be a caring smile. Merrick looked down at her as if he was going to say something. She glared at him. Merrick left.

She watched the police car carrying Saw pull away from the curb through the living room window.

"Come on," Sabine said when its tail lights had disappeared from view. "Gather what you'll need."

"Where am I going?" Jyn spat, climbing the stairs after her.

The social worker looked at her with pity in her eyes. "I don't know yet, Jyn. But we'll find somewhere for you to stay until this is all sorted out."

"I hate you," Jyn told her honestly, the burning in her chest blazing to new heights. "You ruin everything, and I hate you."

"I know."

The first time Chirrut heard the knock at the door, he thought he had dreamed it. After all, what was the likelihood of someone banging on their door at this ungodly hour of the night? That and Kyber hadn't even stirred from where she snoozed at the foot of their bed, and her hearing was supposed to be even better than his.

Ding-dong. So, he hadn't dreamed it.

Chirrut slid his legs out of the bed and stood up, finally causing Kyber to lift her head. She watched him silently as he pushed open the door to his bedroom, then laid back down with a snuffle, clearly intent on going back to sleep.

And that was why Kyber was a therapy dog, not a guard dog, the lazy furball.

It didn't matter; Chirrut had lived in this house for going-on fifteen years now, and he knew every step of the stairs and the six additional feet to reach the front door intimately. He opened it after flicking on the porch light, which helped illuminate the two shadowy figures standing there to his nearly-blind eyes. One of the figures was tall, the other short. Beyond that, Chirrut could tell little.

"Mr. Îmwe," the taller figure greeted him.

He recognized her by her voice; he had gotten good at that. "Sabine Wren. Is this…?"

"Yes. I apologize for the lateness of the hour, but you were the only ones who fit the bill. We know you laid off on the emergency fostering after deciding to adopt, but…"

"No, no, it's fine, this is why we're still on the list," Chirrut assured her. He heard the heavy footfalls of Baze coming down the stairs after him, his prolonged absence probably having woken him up. "Baze, we have a guest."

"I can see that," his husband replied in a neutral tone. Chirrut kicked him slyly, knowing the grumpiness probably stemmed from the interruption to his sleep.

He addressed the child. "What's your name, young one?"

A sullen voice spoke back at him: "Jyn."

"That's a pretty name," Chirrut told her kindly.

"No, it's not. It's a type of alcohol," the girl said, the buried anger clear in her voice.

"Well, type-of-alcohol, why don't you come inside and I'll show you to your room?" Baze asked. The taller shadowy figure gave the smaller one a slight push, and Jyn stepped over their threshold. "After you," Baze said. A few seconds later, Chirrut could hear two sets of footsteps climbing the stairs—one quick and light, and one lumbersome but with the grunts that indicated that he was taking them two at a time to keep up.

Chirrut didn't have to see Sabine to see her smile; he could hear it in her voice. "I'd forgotten how unconventional you two are."

"Conventional is boring," he said.

"Well, this placement certainly won't be boring," Sabine warned him, tone returning to a soft tiredness. "She's got a file twice the size of any you've fostered before, and three times as bad. Hasn't had the best influences, or much stability. Jyn's a handful on a good day. Here." The shadow moved and Chirrut held out his hand, waiting for her to place the file into it rather than trying to take it from her blind.

"Does Child Protective Services also print their files in Braille now, or will I have to wait for Baze to come back for this?" Chirrut asked in a teasing tone.

"Sorry. Budget cuts," Sabine replied.

"How long can we expect her to be here for?"

"The investigation into her old home shouldn't take longer than two weeks, but in all honesty I don't see that placement working out," the social worker said. "When it's over, we'll revisit her case. Take her off your hands if you'd like and place her somewhere else. An orphanage for a while, if we can't find anywhere willing to take her."

"That won't be necessary."

"You haven't even had her yet," Sabine told him, doubt clear in her voice. Chirrut simply smiled in response. Her hair rustled as she shook her head. "Good luck, Mr. Îmwe." She stepped down off the porch step, heading back to her car. "And have Baze read that file!"

He closed the door, then headed back up the stairs toward where he could hear his husband talking in a low voice. "If you need anything, our door is at the end of the hall," Baze was saying. There was only silence in response. "Would you like your door closed or open?"

"Closed," Jyn said. "And locked."

"Our doors don't have locks," Chirrut told her.

"Hmph."

"Goodnight, Jyn," Baze said. Chirrut repeated his statement, but the girl was apparently done speaking for the night. Chirrut touched his arm after hearing the door close, beckoning him to come down to the kitchen. He turned on the light, pulled out Baze's chair at the dining table, and set the file down in front of it. Then he sat down himself.

"File's upside down," Baze told him. The seat creaked as he sat on it.

"It is not. You're messing with me." Chirrut was proud that he didn't mess up things like that, even being blind as a bat and without the useful tool of echolocation.

"I am," Baze agreed, as always. A rustling of papers reached Chirrut's ears. "Two children in the house now."

"We've had more at a time before."

"Not sure it counts when they're twins and a baby."

"Of course it does. Tell me, what does she look like?"

Baze paused thoughtfully. "She's scrappy." Chirrut smiled. Anyone else would have told him her hair color or the color of her skin, but not Baze. "Small. Underfed, maybe, but definitely has musculature. And a lot of anger to go with it."

"I sensed that," Chirrut sighed. "And her file?"

"Last name is Erso. She's twelve. Held back a grade because she failed sixth, most likely due to truancy…says here she missed over a third of the school year two years in a row."

"We can help her with that," he said.

"We can make her go to school, at least," Baze grunted. "Whether she stays there…"

"What about why she's here," Chirrut prompted.

Baze flipped through pages. "Family history…isn't here. That's odd. Records of her being in the system start when she was six. Eight foster homes in four years before permanent placement at the last one, with a man called Saw Gerrera, when her parents' will was found naming him to her guardianship. In previous homes, she's noted as being unruly, hard to control, sullen, provocative, snarky, violent, reckless, aggressive, undisciplined… She's run away three times, one of which was probably warranted as the father was later charged for improper relations with a different minor." He flipped another page. "She's here because the neighbors called a noise complaint tonight about this Gerrera's house, saying they heard a child in pain…" Chirrut's hand tightened around the edge of the table. "The police are investigating him for child abuse. And it says she punched one of them in the jaw." He paused, then grumbled, "Is there anything this girl hasn't been exposed to?"

"Drugs," Chirrut reminded him.

"Well, that's a relief." Baze sighed heavily. "How long is she with us?"

"Sabine said it would be until the investigation into her previous home was finished—less than two weeks—before they would relocate her to another home or an orphanage," Chirrut said. "I told her it wouldn't be needed."

"Chirrut," Baze grunted.

"Yes, dear?"

"You're taking in strays again."

"And you love me for it," Chirrut hummed.

"Mmph. At least you didn't sign any papers this time."

"How do you know?" Chirrut asked with a laugh.

Baze sighed, standing up. "Let's get to bed. I have a feeling we'll be in for an interesting morning."

"Those are the best kind," Chirrut replied contentedly.

Please let me know what you thought! I only have a vague notion as to where this story will go, so ideas/requests/headcanons about this situation are all incredibly welcome.