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Feb. 23rd, 2017 02:35 amThough Jyn doesn't think, at first, that she'll be able to sleep at all, after what was apparently days of it, it turns out that that part comes easily enough. It's what comes after that that doesn't. When she sleeps, she dreams, and when she dreams, she's back on Scarif, Cassian growing weaker beside her, the bodies on the ground now those of their comrades, their friends. In person, she never actually saw them die to get confirmation of it, but their silence over the comms had spoken for itself. She sees them now, Bodhi and Chirrut and Baze, bloody and burned and broken because they were stupid enough to follow her, because her father built a monstrosity for the Empire, because all those years ago, he tried to run and they found him again.
She's sitting in a bunker, waiting and waiting, but light shines through the hatch, splits it into pieces, and she knows it's the Death Star, that they've found her, too. This time, there's no peace in it, no warm body against hers, because Cassian is already dead. All of them, gone because of her. Everyone she's ever cared about and plenty more besides. Galen Erso built a planet killer, but what is she?
Her father's creation swallows her whole, and this time, every inch of her is on fire, burning her to ashes. My Stardust, she hears in her head. It's me, she'd told Cassian, the two things her father made inextricably intertwined, she and the Death Star both causing nothing but destruction.
She wakes with a start, remembering that she isn't alone before she's even processed where she is. In one swift, sudden movement, she tugs the pillow out from under her head and presses it to her face instead, using it to muffle the gasps of air she has to force into her lungs. The instinct is an old childhood one, going back to her days with Saw and not wanting to admit to the weakness of nightmares among his company of soldiers.
Only when her breathing levels out and her pulse slows does she move the pillow again, letting it rest against her abdomen as she lies flat on her back on the thin mattress, staring up at the ceiling and taking everything in all over again. The room is still dark, the hallway outside nearly silent. If she had to guess, she'd say it's still probably the middle of the night, no light coming in from behind the re-closed shades. It's a relief and it isn't. She doesn't want to face any doctors or nurses, but the dark and the quiet are about as oppressive as her own thoughts, and she can't stop trembling. There won't be any getting back to sleep tonight, not for her. Even if she thought she could manage it, she'd be too afraid of what she would see this time.
When she speaks, it's on a whim, the impulse acted on before she can try to talk herself out of it, which she too easily could. Even then, she's cautious, her voice not rising above a whisper so she doesn't wake him up, in case he is asleep. If he can get the rest she couldn't, he deserves it. "Cassian?" she asks, still staring straight up, not sparing so much as a glance in his direction. "Are you awake?"
She's sitting in a bunker, waiting and waiting, but light shines through the hatch, splits it into pieces, and she knows it's the Death Star, that they've found her, too. This time, there's no peace in it, no warm body against hers, because Cassian is already dead. All of them, gone because of her. Everyone she's ever cared about and plenty more besides. Galen Erso built a planet killer, but what is she?
Her father's creation swallows her whole, and this time, every inch of her is on fire, burning her to ashes. My Stardust, she hears in her head. It's me, she'd told Cassian, the two things her father made inextricably intertwined, she and the Death Star both causing nothing but destruction.
She wakes with a start, remembering that she isn't alone before she's even processed where she is. In one swift, sudden movement, she tugs the pillow out from under her head and presses it to her face instead, using it to muffle the gasps of air she has to force into her lungs. The instinct is an old childhood one, going back to her days with Saw and not wanting to admit to the weakness of nightmares among his company of soldiers.
Only when her breathing levels out and her pulse slows does she move the pillow again, letting it rest against her abdomen as she lies flat on her back on the thin mattress, staring up at the ceiling and taking everything in all over again. The room is still dark, the hallway outside nearly silent. If she had to guess, she'd say it's still probably the middle of the night, no light coming in from behind the re-closed shades. It's a relief and it isn't. She doesn't want to face any doctors or nurses, but the dark and the quiet are about as oppressive as her own thoughts, and she can't stop trembling. There won't be any getting back to sleep tonight, not for her. Even if she thought she could manage it, she'd be too afraid of what she would see this time.
When she speaks, it's on a whim, the impulse acted on before she can try to talk herself out of it, which she too easily could. Even then, she's cautious, her voice not rising above a whisper so she doesn't wake him up, in case he is asleep. If he can get the rest she couldn't, he deserves it. "Cassian?" she asks, still staring straight up, not sparing so much as a glance in his direction. "Are you awake?"
