this feeling calls for everything I can't afford to know is possible now

[nextchance]

Jyn had barely left Cassian's side since she first caught sight of him walking up to her ship. Really, it was as much for his sake as her own. He was the one who'd newly arrived here; she was helping him acclimate. That she didn't particularly want to be away from him, half-convinced that he would just be gone again, was true but secondarily so. At least, she kept telling herself as much, which had to be a start. Eventually, she might even begin to believe it.

Even so, she wasn't good at staying still, and even if she had been, she wouldn't have wanted to hover too much. He knew how to contact her if he needed. It wouldn't have done either of them any good for her to veer from helping into acting like he couldn't do this on his own. Desperate for a chance to breathe a little easier and get her absolute mess of thoughts in order, she ventured out for the afternoon. This time, unlike that first day, she knew where she was going when she left the ship, too. Greta was one of the people here she'd known the longest, who had met her when she was still with Cassian the first time around; she was kind but sensible, someone who would likely be upfront with her and maybe even be able to help her get her head around all of this. Force knew keeping it all in her own head wasn't getting anywhere, leading to more confusion and complication when she already had both of those in abundance.

She also would most likely have dough. It was, perhaps, a ridiculous thought, but since the train crash a year and a half ago, hitting things hadn't always been the best for her injured shoulder. She'd healed well enough, but it still bothered her sometimes. She'd figured out that time the city nearly emptied out and she had helped Greta in the kitchen that kneading bread dough could be just as therapeutic, which seemed like exactly what she needed.

So, after knocking at the door, she offered in lieu of a usual greeting, "D'you have anything that needs kneading?"

Comments

[andhiswife]

Greta blinks at the question, the implications distracting her just long enough for Sadie to slip past her and offer Jyn a warmer, canine greeting. But she rallies quickly, realizing both that Jyn must have some energy in need of dispelling and that clarifying gossip is probably forthcoming. "You know, I do," she says, brightening as she realizes that she really does have something perfect for the occasion. (If she hadn't, she could have thrown something together, but this is far more convenient.)

"Come in," she says, stepping back to usher both her friend and the wayward dog indoors. "I'll get you situated and put the kettle on."

It only takes a few moments to clear a patch of counter, dust it with some flour, and pull some leftover dough out of the fridge. "Here, this needs waking up," she says as she deposits the chilly lump onto the countertop. "You don't have to be gentle."

As Jyn gets stuck in, Greta busies herself with the kettle. "How are things?" she asks, trying not to sound either pointed or desperately curious.

[nextchance]

Jyn wasn't surprised by Greta's response, but she was relieved, even more so than she would have expected. This really was the right idea — a strange thought, one she once would never have imagined for herself, but true nonetheless. Despite her tangled thoughts and the frustration currently in desperate need of an outlet, she summoned up a small, grateful smile for Greta as she followed her inside, as well as some affectionate scritches for Sadie, who was always welcome company in her own right. For someone who had grown up entirely without any presence of domesticated animals, they'd become a big part of her life here, an odd but welcome constant, not least when there was suddenly so much upheaval in other ways.

With the dough placed in front of her, Jyn didn't hesitate to get to work. It was cold and tough under her hands, and while maybe it wasn't quite the level of satisfaction she would have gotten from taking her feelings out on a punching bag, the effect was definitely similar. Her breaths steadied, her movements methodical, unhalting even when Greta's question inevitably came.

"They're... things," Jyn replied, aware that that wasn't much of an answer, but unsure how else to put it. "Complicated." She couldn't say it was a bad time, after all. Cassian being here and alive was, frankly, fucking incredible. It was knowing what to do with that, feeling what she felt but not wanting to set herself up to get hurt again, that was the problem. Frowning thoughtfully, she paused for a moment, then asked, "Remember how I used to be married?"

[andhiswife]

For all that she'd tried not to sound pointed, she's not sure she succeeded. And at any rate, she knows Jyn well enough to not expect an immediate outpouring of a response. Instead, she puts the kettle on, fetches one of her larger teapots, and starts to peruse her looseleaf collection. She has a feeling this will either call for something soothing or something bracing, and assembles a short list of black breakfast blends and herbal concoctions while she waits for more information.

'Complicated' doesn't narrow things down much, but the question that follows pulls her eyebrows up towards her hairline. She hums in affirmation, which is about all there is she could say about the matter — she knew of Jyn's husband more than she knew the man himself, and his loss wasn't something Jyn ever seemed eager to discuss. That reticence hadn't surprised her. It was in keeping with Jyn's character, and even if it hadn't been, some subjects can really only bear so much conversation. But that highlights the oddity of her bringing it up now, so long after the fact, and Greta pretends to read a tea tin's label as she adds, "It was some years ago now, wasn't it?"

[nextchance]

"Yeah," Jyn agreed with a short nod. "Long time." She didn't actually know the precise amount of time it had been; she knew from experience that keeping track of such things only made dealing with a loss more difficult. If she really wanted to, it probably wouldn't be a hard thing to try to determine exactly when it happened. She remembered various things that had occurred around the same time, and there were certainly people around who would have kept track of when those happened, various records in various places. Hell, all she would really need to do was verify the year in which she got married, because Cassian was gone a year after that. While she knew the month and day of that anniversary, it seemed better not to put the year to it, too.

She didn't really want to know just how long she had been alone here.

That wasn't the point now, though, and however much she wasn't prone to discussing such things, she had no intention of being coy about it. She came here for a reason, after all — which, yes, largely involved the dough she was currently giving a thorough kneading, but it wouldn't have crossed her mind if she hadn't considered Greta someone she could go to with her current situation.

A few moments later, eyes on the dough she was working, she added, "He's here. Again. Doesn't remember being here before."

[andhiswife]

Greta turns to stare at Jyn outright, the tin of tea in her hands all but forgotten. "O-oh. That sounds..."

Well, 'complicated' is certainly one word for it, though repeating it would feel a bit silly. She also can't help but wonder if 'complicated' is meant to be a charitable umbrella term for Jyn's actual feelings on the matter. Goodness knows that if Darrow saw fit to reintroduce her husband into the mix, emotions like 'joy' or 'gratitude' might have to queue up well behind things like 'shock' or 'consternation.'

Greta sucks on her teeth for a moment, considering her words, and then offers a dry: "... fraught."

This definitely calls for a bracing sort of cuppa, and Greta turns back to the cabinets to put away the herbal blends that had been under consideration. She can't presume to guess how Jyn must be feeling about it all, but she can imagine that certain feelings might be a bit harder to confess than others. So she adds, her tone frank and one eyebrow faintly arched, "If my husband showed up tomorrow, I'm not sure I'd thank Darrow for it." A little unkind, perhaps, but it's true — and it's not like her husband is here to take offense. "How are you holding up?"

[nextchance]

At Greta's assessment of fraught, in spite of, well, everything, Jyn laughed outright, a short, sharp sound. Just that brought with it a slight sense of relief, as did the solid slap of dough against counter that followed a moment later as she got warmth worked into it. This really was the right idea. It was all this tension that needed somewhere to go, that had become nearly unbearable, and that she was finding an outlet for now. The rest of what Greta said helped, too. It wasn't quite as applicable to her own situation, but she knew that Greta meant it, that if she had felt less than thankful, this would be a good place to let that frustration out, too.

She was thankful, though. Impossibly, indescribably thankful, perhaps the one thing she could be certain of under the accompanying tangled mess of emotions. Cassian was here, which meant he was alive, and that could only be a good thing. Selfish as she might have been, that was one way in which she could set all of her own feelings aside. She would rather deal with all of those confusing, conflicting feelings stirred up by his arrival than deal with the simpler but more oppressive grief that had accompanied his absence, anyway.

"It's a good thing, at least," she said. "His being here, I mean. Better than what was left for him back where we're from." Which, of course, was nothing. "But..." She frowned in concentration, trying to find the words for what was in her head. "It's confusing. Being around him. Having to remember that what I lived here, he didn't. Wanting something. Wanting not to want it." The problem, the whole crux of the issue, was that she was still in love with him, had never stopped being, no matter how hard she tried to bury it. She thought she'd done so well enough, but it all came unearthed again the second she saw him walking up to the ship, undeniable.