Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

TEARS fell down her face, sobs wracking her body as she stood above her mother's grave. There wasn't anything she could do to bring her back. Gustav, her father, tried to comfort her, but she didn't want it. She pushed him away, falling to her knees in grief. The funeral had just ended, and she would not leave. She refused. There was a voice from behind her, speaking to her father. Veronica tried to make it out, but her attention was focused on nothing else.

Orson Krennic had attended the funeral. He didn't feel emotions—nothing of the sort. Orson didn't think he had emotions to begin with. It wasn't something he cared about. He was a cold-hearted bastard, and he knew it. But he had known Veronica for a long time. He knew when she needed space. Orson placed his gloved hand on Gustav's shoulder, his gravelly voice speaking in his ear. "Perhaps she needs some time to grieve, yes? Give her a moment. Come." Orson led him away from his daughter. He didn't know why he was doing this, but he knew it was for the best. After they stepped away from her, Orson cleared her throat. "Unfortunately, I am prepared for what is to come, Gustav. I don't think your daughter can handle the assassin business much anymore. She's suffered too much loss--"

Gustav cut him off, and Orson's jaw twitched. He didn't like it when people cut him off. "But she was built for this. This was what she was made for, don't you understand?"

Orson clenched his jaw, trying not to snap out of annoyance. If there was one thing Director Krennic didn't like, it was when anyone spoke about Veronica as if she were a toy. Her father talking about her this way was something he would not tolerate. Veronica was a good soldier and a well-trained assassin, but if it wasn't the life she wanted to lead anymore, Orson would find her something else. Yes, she was hot-headed and stubborn, and she did aggravate him from time to time. They weren't friends, but they weren't acquaintances either. Orson knew she had potential. Frankly, that's all that mattered. 

Orson kept his voice level but firm. "I understand, Gustav. But the choice is hers. You're being unreasonable." Orson sighed, moving his cape out of the way. Before he could say another word, he heard Veronica's voice speak up.

"Stop it." Veronica's voice was filled with pain, and her throat had been dry from crying so much. Her eyes were red, and there was a look of anger in them. "I've heard your words." She glanced in her father's direction. "I was built for this, but forcing me to stay like this? I will not stand for it. Mother didn't want me to be an assassin. She trained me for more than that. I--"

Gustav cut her off, just as he had with Krennic. He had a problem with doing that. "Veronica--"

"No! Let me speak." Veronica took a step forward. Orson watched the interaction between them, an almost amused look on his face. "Mother never wanted me to be like this. She had trained me to be a medic, a nurse. I know things, you know I'm smart." Veronica swallowed, her voice breaking. She took a breath. "I want to honour Mother's memory. To do so, I must leave my assassin life behind. I can't kill anymore, knowing I can use my hands for good, too. And that is what I will do. I will not be kept beneath your shackles anymore, Father. I can't."

Gustav's face said it all. He was angered. Veronica could see it, and so could Orson. Thankfully, he took a step forward toward Veronica, speaking up before anything got out of hand. "If I may? I can find a spot in my medical ranks for Veronica if she chooses. There are a few spots in the Death Star's medical bay. It is under construction, of course, as you know. Just a few more additions and it will be complete. Until then, she may serve on the Death Star. Even after it is built, if she so chooses. I can find a new assassin to work for me. It isn't a difficult task, I assure you."

Veronica was shocked, in other words. She worked for Krennic, yes. Though that didn't mean she liked him. This offer that he had put in front of her made her respect him, but only a little. She wouldn't praise him for anything. Veronica looked at him with a nod. "I--Thank you, Director Krennic."

Orson smirked. Gustav was a...friend, yes. But to have Veronica on his side and not her father's? It made all the difference in the world to him. He was sly. Termenously sly. Orson Krennic always got what he wanted. Orson spoke, smiling in Veronica's direction. "Of course. We will not leave you stranded without a job. You're skilled, Veronica. I will give you that. I'd be stupid to let one of my brilliant minds go."

Gustav sighed, finally giving in. Orson was surprised at this. "Alright then. It is settled. I will allow it."

Veronica looked at her father, a thankful smile on her face. She walked towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. Veronica needed the comfort of her own father, no matter how cold he could be. They both lost someone important to them. Orson watched the two of them, a small, sneaky smile on his face. Again, emotions weren't his thing, but knowing Veronica still wanted to work under him? It was a great win for him. 

Chapter Text

RONNIE hated wearing dresses. She despised them. And heels? She hated them too. Her parents were making her attend the Imperial Ball for Imperial Day. It's not that she had a choice anyway. Gustav wanted her to meet somebody there, which was the only reason she was going. Ronnie's Father never told her who, and she was nervous.    

They had arrived at the Imperial Palace by a stuffy shuttle. Ronnie had to admit she was in awe as they entered the building. The palace was beautiful, like anything she had ever seen before. As she became distracted, her father pulled her softly towards him by her arm. "Don't get lost, Veronica. It's a rather big place."  

Ronnie rolled her eyes. She despised being called Veronica. Although it was her name, she always hated it. "I won't get lost, Father." 

Her Mother chuckled, shaking her head at her husband. "Let her wonder, Gustav. It's her first time here; she should explore."  

Gustav sighed, glancing at his wife for a moment. Afterward, he looked at Ronnie with apologetic eyes. "Yes, your mother is right." He let go of his daughter's arm. "But we must introduce you first. You may look around after."  

Ronnie sighed, nodding her head. A small smile appeared on her face as she looked at her parents. No matter what her mother said, her father would always listen. "Of course, Father." 

They walked through crowds of people in fancy attire. Ronnie noticed sparkles among sparkles. They were stunning. Gustav and Annette greeted people whom they knew, introducing Ronnie as they did so. Ronnie hated the attention from everybody. She didn't particularly like being shown off like a prize.  

Eventually, they approached a man who looked like a higher-up. He piqued Ronnie's curiosity. Her Father's voice boomed in excitement. "Orson! How wonderful to see you!"   

The man named Orson turned around to face the man. His features were calm, not as surprised to see him. A minuscule smile lifted at his lips at the sight of him. "Ah, Gustav. Hello." He bowed his head slightly towards him. His gaze moved to Annette. "And Annette. Hello, my dear." 

Annette gave him a kind smile. "Wonderful to see you, Orson." 

"Likewise." Finally, his gaze landed on Ronnie. She was a bit shocked. His eyes were an icy blue, and his hair was grey with a styled look. Orson's uniform was stark white, aside from his black dress shoes. His cape reached the floor as well. Ronnie thought it was dramatic but never said a word. He had a handsome look about him, as well, but she wasn't as concerned about that. What she was concerned about was the way the man studied her. He looked her up and down in curiosity, and Ronnie felt she was in the spotlight again. He was judging her. Ronnie was certain.   

Gustav saw his gaze. He cleared her throat, gesturing to Ronnie. "This is my daughter, Veronica." Gustav then gestured towards Orson. "And this is Lieutenant Commander Orson Krennic."  

Orson reached out his black glove-covered hand for a handshake. Ronnie looked at him, and a nervous smile covered her lips. She cleared her throat softly, shaking his hand. "Hello, sir. It's nice to meet you." 

Orson chuckled as he pulled his hand away, looking at Gustav. "Well, my friend, you've taught her manners. She is respectful." He chuckled again, looking back at her with an amused face.  

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Ronnie tried not to scowl at him, holding back the urge to roll her eyes. Ronnie spoke up again, trying to remain kind. "My parents have raised me well," She nodded. 

Orson nodded his head slowly. Another smile appeared on his face. This one was less egotistical than the last. "Do you prefer Veronica or Ronnie, Miss Neal?" 

Ronnie looked at him in surprise. This was the first time someone had asked her what she preferred. Ronnie almost stuttered over her words. "Ronnie. I prefer Ronnie. Thank you." 

Orson nodded again. "Ronnie, it is then. I—“ 

Gustav cut the man off as he was about to continue. Orson looked visibly irritated at the interruption. "Orson, as we have spoken, I want to get my daughter on your team. She would be a wonderful asset for you."  

Ronnie understood it now. Orson Krennic was the one he wanted to introduce her to, who her father wouldn't shut up about. Orson smiled again, like the interruption hadn't just happened. "Yes, of course. I would be delighted." His tone sounded slightly off, almost like he had a problem with it, not with Ronnie, but with her Father. "Though, could I speak to the young lady alone? Please, enjoy your time here. I will make sure she is looked after. I want to get to know my potential employee more."  

Ronnie looked at her parents with pleading eyes not to leave her, but it did not work. Annette linked her arm with Gustav's, looking at Orson. "Of course, Orson. Ronnie would be glad to. Come along, dear." Annette pulled her husband away from them. 

Gustav chuckled, looking at Ronnie behind him. She had a frightened look on her face. "You just sent her out to the wolves." 

Annette chuckled, shaking her head. "She is a grown woman. I'm sure she'll be just peachy."  

Ronnie watched as her parents walked away, almost like a lost pup. She turned around to look at Orson, and he smiled. "I can sense your nervousness from here. I promise, I won't hurt you. I want to ask a few simple questions." He nodded to the side. "Come." 

It didn't seem like he was giving her a choice. Ronnie almost hesitated but followed him to a quieter location. She felt like everyone was watching her. Ronnie followed behind him as he led her to the balcony. “A bit quieter out here, isn't it?"   

Ronnie looked at Orson for a moment. She nodded, clearing her throat. "A lot quieter, actually, yes." Ronnie stood tall, although she remained a bit shy. "Why did you want to speak with me?" 

Orson spoke, looking at the skyline of Coruscant, instead of at her. "What are your ambitions, Miss Neal?" Orson turned around as he asked this, his hands behind his back. "I wanted to speak to you privately because your Father tends to talk for people—“ His tone sounded annoyed. It was as plain as day. “—And I'm sure you can speak for yourself, yes?" 

Ronnie nodded her head in response to his question. "Yes, of course, I can." 

A smirk appeared on Orson's face. "Good. Now, your ambitions? Inspire me, Miss Neal." 

Ronnie thought for a moment before answering his question. "Well, I—“ She paused. Asking about her ambitions was a big question, but if she knew her ambitions, she wouldn't be at a loss for words.  

Orson spoke again, taking a step forward. "You can speak your mind. Unless you're an idiot, then there's no point." 

Ronnie was fuming. His words struck a chord within her. He was respectful, but his attitude was not. It infuriated her. He was frankly rude. "I am not an idiot."

He smirked. "You're not?" Orson took another step forward, his smirk dropped. His tone became serious. "Then tell me your ambitions. You must have them."

"I do.” Ronnie calmed herself down, taking in a breath. After composing herself, she spoke. "I want to make something of myself. I want to be useful. I don't want power; that's the last thing I want. But I also don't want to be known as a coward." Ronnie shook her head, looking into his eyes. "I want to be strong. I—I am strong, but I wish to become more. I want to be—" She paused, "Invincible. I don't wish to be frightened anymore. I want to be an assassin one day. I have the proper qualifications for it. My Father implemented me into a training program to become one." 

Orson studied her for a moment. Ronnie was confident in her words; he would give her that. Her words and her voice were strong. He cleared his throat. "Excellent ambitions to have." Orson paused for a moment. "You see, I want someone with talent and skills who can take orders. New employees are very hard to come by these days. Would you like to work for me?" 

Ronnie nodded her head. "I would like to, yes." 

Orson nodded as well. He was glad. She knew what she wanted. "It requires a lot of time and unnecessary paperwork, albeit needed. Sacrifices must be made, do you understand?" 

"I understand, sir." Ronnie looked at him with passion in her eyes—something he liked to see. 

Orson smiled. "That is what I like to hear, Miss Neal. Now, how long is your training program? Did you recently begin?"  

"Yes, two months ago, but it will take me three years to finish the program." Ronnie frowned. 

Orson nodded in understanding. "Perhaps an assassin position will be available after you finish."  

A look of surprise flashed on her face, her brows raising. "Are you serious?" 

"Look at my face and tell me if I'm lying, Miss Neal." Orson raised a brow, waiting for her to challenge him.  

His face said everything. He was telling the truth. "Thank you, sir," Ronnie said softly.  

 Orson hummed softly with a sharp nod. "Of course. Now, let's get you back to your parents, shall we? I will need to speak with your father about this. I'm sure he will be thrilled." Orson smirked. "And, please, call me Orson for now, will you?" 

Ronnie didn't get any time to reply before he moved to walk away from her. She stood dazed momentarily before snapping out of her trance, following behind him just as obediently as before.

Chapter Text

NIGHTMARES were never a new thing for Ronnie. She had them almost all the time. Waking up from them was never fun, just like this morning...Ronnie woke up, blasting from her bed in a cold sweat as she heard her alarm. She looked around, ensuring she was in the same room as when she fell asleep. Thank goodness she was. Ronnie let out a heavy huff, wiping some tears from her cheeks. Standing up from the bed, she moved her black hair out of her face. 

Ronnie walked to her bathroom and got ready for the day ahead. Her uniform included a black turtleneck, black jeans, and a black vest with the Imperial logo. Her hair was short enough that she didn't have to put it up. After looking at herself in the mirror, she nodded. Ronnie looked presentable enough, so she left her quarters for the day.  

As Ronnie walked down the hallways of the Death Star, many Imperial officers ignored her or looked at her with fear in their eyes. Knowing her past, they knew she could kill them in the blink of an eye. If she heard someone call her "Doctor Death" one more time, she was sure to have a fit. 

As Ronnie made it to the medical bay, the doors slid open once she scanned her ID badge. It was quiet, as always. Ronnie let out a huff, knowing the day would be slow. She heard Doctor Williams speak. "Ah, you're here." 

Ronnie turned around, nodding at the man. Her voice still sounded tired, knowing she should've gotten a cup of caf before coming in. "Good morning. Anything at all today?" She cleared her throat. 

Doctor Williams shook his head, collecting his things. "No, as usual. But I'm sure you'll get some people soon. Krennic is off ship at the moment, perhaps you'll get something when he comes back." He nodded, walking towards the door. "If you need anything, you'll page me, yes?" 

Ronnie raised a brow. That was a stupid question. "You know that I will." 

Doctor Williams gave her one last nod with a smile before stepping out. Ronnie sighed, sitting at her desk to finish off some reports from the night before. She was bracing herself for yet another boring day. 

⟡ 

RONNIE fell asleep at her desk again. Yet she was still alert to any beeps or sounds from the intercom. Ronnie opened her eyes, lifting her head off her desk. It had been an hour since she arrived, and nothing had happened.  

Ronnie stood up from her desk, stretching her arms over her head. Ronnie walked towards the break room to make a cup of Caf. She desperately needed one to stay awake. As she took a sip from her cup, she let out a huff of contentment. Before she could remain at  

peace, the intercom went off. Ronnie turned her head to look out of the door. "Oh, shit."  

Ronnie placed the cup down on the counter and walked towards the speaker. She pressed the button and heard commotion on the other side. "This is Neal." 

There was a voice on the other side that sounded robotic. It was undoubtedly a stormtrooper. "Prepare a bed. Krennic has been shot in the shoulder. It isn't anything drastic, but he is injured."

"Alright, I'll be here." Ronnie swallowed nervously, rushing to prepare a bed. Was she worried about him? Yes, she was always concerned about him. Ronnie knew he could care for himself, but he never went so far as to get injured. He was careful and strategic.  

Ronnie laid out any tools that she would need, wheeling the tray over beside the bed. While waiting for the doors to open, she looked at the clock, biting her thumbnail in distress. In a few minutes, the doors were opened, and it was noisy as ever. Orson walked in holding his shoulder, a look of pain on his face. Ronnie could tell he was angry. She pointed at the bed. "Lay him there."  

One of the shadow-troopers guided him to the bed, placing him down. "It isn't that bad,"  

Orson gritted. 

Ronnie moved to put a pair of gloves on, shaking her head at Orson's words. "I'll be the judge of that." Ronnie turned to look at the shadow-troopers. "Please leave. I can handle this." 

One of them spoke, "Are you su—“ 

Ronnie spun around, pointing at the door. She raised a brow. "Get out. This is my medical bay at the moment; you will do as I say. Leave, now!"  

The shadow trooper nodded, leading the others out of the room. As the doors slid shut, it was silent again, except for Orson's heavy breathing. Ronnie turned around and took him in. His hair was messy, and his uniform was in tatters. She swallowed, speaking calmly. "I'm going to take the top of your uniform off." 

Orson sighed in frustration. "I'll handle it myself." 

Ronnie huffed, shaking her head and closing her eyes in annoyance. "Will you just please let me—“

He cut her off, his voice loud. "I will do it myself!"  

Ronnie opened her eyes, sending him a glare. She could shout right back if she wanted to. She was the one in charge right now. "Do not shout at me! You will let me do it, or I swear by the maker, I will make this more painful than it already is!"  

Orson glared back at her for a moment before letting out a huff. "Fine."   

Ronnie curtly nodded with a quiet sigh. "Wonderful." She maneuvered around him to unclip the belt from his waist, carefully placing it down as it held his blaster. She carefully unclipped the cape from his neck and took it off. Then came his shirt. Ronnie was extra cautious so as not to bother the wound. Lastly, she also removed his gloves and put them to the side. 

Ronnie moved to face him. She struggled not to look down at his chest. For the love of God, don't. "How much does it hurt?"  

Orson looked up at her, letting out a groan. "It isn't drastic, if that's what you're wondering." Orson watched as Ronnie walked to his side to look at his shoulder. She touched it lightly, which made him hiss in pain. Orson rolled his neck in annoyance. "Woman—!" 

Ronnie raised her brow at him. "It isn't drastic, hm?" She moved to touch it again, which made him hiss in pain once more. "Don't lie to me."  

Ronnie moved to her tool tray, taking some healing ointment. She moved around him, reaching her finger into the container and dabbing some on his wound. "This will soothe the wound to make sure the burn doesn't hurt; it will also make sure it heals properly. Thankfully, it's just a graze. If it went through your shoulder, it would be another story," She muttered her explanation, almost as if she were talking to herself.  

Afterward, Ronnie took some medical tape and some gauze. She cut a decent amount and then placed a couple of patches on the wound. Ronnie laid medical tape on the gauze to ensure it didn't move. She sighed. "There. Now, I will give you your own bottle of ointment, including some tape and gauze. You will redress your wounds when you wake up in the morning and when you go to sleep. Be sure to apply the ointment as well. If you have any issues, make sure to come to me. Do you understand?" 

Orson glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow. "Do you think I am a child? That I cannot understand simple instructions?" He hummed.  

Ronnie scoffed, reaching over to place his uniform on his lap. "I am trying to help you. You needn't be so defensive around me." She took the gloves off her hands and threw them in the garbage. Ronnie crossed her arms over her chest, a disapproving look in her eyes. "I know you're angry with yourself for getting bested, but don't take it out on me."  

Orson's face dropped. He sighed, shaking his head. "I apologize." After a moment, Orson banged his fist on the table beside him. "I should've expected that! Galen's wife—“  

Ronnie stepped forward. "You went to visit him? You found him?" She asked curiously.   

Orson carefully placed his uniform over his head and put it back on. He looked up at her afterward. "I needed him to come back, but he refused like the idiot he is." He reached over to grab his gloves, slipping them back on. He was seething. "His wife is dead, and I'm guessing he escaped, and that daughter of theirs, too. I needed his expertise on Kyber crystals for the laser, but alas..."  

Ronnie nodded in understanding. Orson was a furious man when he wanted to be. His rage was almost uncontrollable. He tried to manipulate Galen into returning, and she knew it. When Orson had someone he couldn't manipulate, he was not happy. She finally spoke. "I'm sure you'll find him." 

Orson glanced up at her, studying her. He hummed softly, helping himself out of bed. Ronnie tried to object, but he stopped her. "Enough, I'm fine." Orson groaned as he stood up. "There's no need to coddle me." 

"You know, admitting you're not fine is okay." Ronnie lifted a brow, giving him a pointed look.  

Orson scoffed, took his belt, and clipped it around his waist. He then took his cape and draped it over his arm. "I am not one to admit that you know that," he snapped. Orson grabbed the ointment off the table. At least he wanted to take it. Orson walked silently towards the sliding doors. 

"Orson—" Ronnie started.  

"No." Orson held his hand up, turning his head to look at her. There was that scrutinizing look in his eyes. "Veronica, I am fine." He only called her by her full name when he was upset with her. "There is no need to fuss, as you always do. That's enough. I will see you soon." 

Ronnie watched as he walked out of the medical bay, the sliding doors shutting behind him. Ronnie sighed, walking towards her desk and taking a seat. Not even a "thank you" escaped his lips. Perhaps, he thanked her in his way, even if she didn't realize it. His stubbornness would be the death of him.