Jyn Erso (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nextchance) wrote2017-04-12 01:52 am
nextchance) wrote2017-04-12 01:52 am
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this is a place where I feel at home
Some nights are like this: what Jyn, who has never known peace except in the moments before her death, imagines peacefulness must feel like, quiet and still and warm. The familiar impulse to run isn't starting to choke her, though it's maybe the second or third consecutive night she's been here. Usually, she hangs around for a day, or several, before retreating back to her own apartment on the other side of the city, as empty as it is, as much as she hates it. Usually, she can feel it hanging overhead, closing in on her, the knowledge that she needs to go before she gets too settled. She isn't thinking about that now, though, nowhere other than right here. It's late, but not too late; she and Cassian haven't done anything more than lie around in bed, Jyn half-sprawled out, her legs in his lap, wearing the t-shirt and boxers of his that she stole when she woke up this morning. That baking show she's grown fond of is on, and there's food on the way — a good thing, when watching this always, infallibly, seems to make her hungry, not that she needs help on that front.
These nights, and more and more frequently lately, she finds herself thinking about what Cassian said to her in the hangar on Yavin, the words overlaid now on the life she has here. This could be home, maybe, if she'd let it. She can't begin to understand this place and she can't even say that she likes it, but still, still — she has Cassian and she has Bodhi and they're all alive, and maybe that's all she needs. It's certainly more than she would have asked for or expected.
How they started congregating here, in Cassian's apartment, she doesn't entirely know, except that it's probably her fault. She's the one who started showing up first, letting herself in uninvited, and it isn't as if it would make any sense for them to go to her place, all of a block from the beach. She already feels like she can't breathe when she's there as it is; she would never try to inflict that on either of the others. Besides, then they'd see how sparse it is, hardly seeming as if anyone lives there at all, and Jyn couldn't bear that, or how they might look at her if they knew. It doesn't matter. It can't. The important thing is that they have somewhere to go, anyway, showing up as they need to, filtering in and staying up all hours until they can't anymore, chasing away nightmares. What happens when she's not here is irrelevant.
If she stopped to consider it, then, it might occur to her that there's no guarantee that the person at the door will be bringing the food. It's supposed to be here by now, though, and that's the only thing she thinks of when she hears a knock. "I'll get it," she says lightly, hopping to her feet and moving to the door, as easily as if she lives here, retrieving her wallet as she goes. The same delivery guy brings their food so often, and usually so late at night, that she's gotten in the habit of tipping generously. It's a surprise, then, her eyes widening with it, when she opens the door to find Bodhi instead. Even so, she lights up in short order, the way she always does when she sees him. "Bodhi!" she says brightly, stepping aside to let him in, turning to glance over her shoulder as she does. "Cassian, Bodhi's here!"
These nights, and more and more frequently lately, she finds herself thinking about what Cassian said to her in the hangar on Yavin, the words overlaid now on the life she has here. This could be home, maybe, if she'd let it. She can't begin to understand this place and she can't even say that she likes it, but still, still — she has Cassian and she has Bodhi and they're all alive, and maybe that's all she needs. It's certainly more than she would have asked for or expected.
How they started congregating here, in Cassian's apartment, she doesn't entirely know, except that it's probably her fault. She's the one who started showing up first, letting herself in uninvited, and it isn't as if it would make any sense for them to go to her place, all of a block from the beach. She already feels like she can't breathe when she's there as it is; she would never try to inflict that on either of the others. Besides, then they'd see how sparse it is, hardly seeming as if anyone lives there at all, and Jyn couldn't bear that, or how they might look at her if they knew. It doesn't matter. It can't. The important thing is that they have somewhere to go, anyway, showing up as they need to, filtering in and staying up all hours until they can't anymore, chasing away nightmares. What happens when she's not here is irrelevant.
If she stopped to consider it, then, it might occur to her that there's no guarantee that the person at the door will be bringing the food. It's supposed to be here by now, though, and that's the only thing she thinks of when she hears a knock. "I'll get it," she says lightly, hopping to her feet and moving to the door, as easily as if she lives here, retrieving her wallet as she goes. The same delivery guy brings their food so often, and usually so late at night, that she's gotten in the habit of tipping generously. It's a surprise, then, her eyes widening with it, when she opens the door to find Bodhi instead. Even so, she lights up in short order, the way she always does when she sees him. "Bodhi!" she says brightly, stepping aside to let him in, turning to glance over her shoulder as she does. "Cassian, Bodhi's here!"