(no subject)

Ever since she first got here, or at least was released from the hospital, it's been a habit of Jyn's to make her way down to the beach, wandering along the sand. When she's in her apartment, the distant sound of waves on the shore is enough to make her feel like she can't breathe, throat and lungs heavy with smoke that isn't actually there. Facing it herself, though, doesn't leave her quite so panicked, even if she would hesitate to call it easy. It shouldn't be that, anyway. That would be worse, she thinks — to be able to come out here and not think about Scarif, to find it as easy as everyone else here seems to. It wouldn't be right, to lose sight of what happened, to not be haunted by what preceded her arrival here.

And haunted she is, perhaps more so now than ever, having been bearing the weight of it on her own for weeks rather than with the usual comfort of Cassian and Bodhi with her, even when they don't talk about it. That's important, though, just one of many reasons she's made herself stay away. She should be able to deal with this on her own, because that's how she's spent most of her life, because that's how she'll inevitably wind up again. She should be able to sleep alone, something that hasn't yet gotten easier since she left, evident in the dark circles under her eyes. It doesn't help, she's sure, that she can barely stop thinking about how awful this is, how, even if she did go back now, she very well might not be welcome. She's always intended to go back eventually, just as she always intended before then to do this at some point, to leave before she could be left, to stop herself from needing anyone else. All this time, though, hasn't helped her much at all, and for all she knows, it's too late to get back what she's distanced herself from, what she's refused to let herself have.

After losing two families, she thought it would be easier if she didn't allow herself to have a third. Instead, it leaves the same hollow feeling in her chest, that much worse for the fact that she knows that she's the one who put it there, that she's the only one who could fix this.

Running is always what she's done best, though. Even here, in a place so small it's stifling sometimes, a prison in its own right, it seems that's still the case.

It's another sleepless night that's brought her to the beach this time, giving up on her tossing and turning early in the morning. At least at this hour, it's quiet out here, rather than with the crowds in the afternoon that the warm weather has brought, the way they laugh and smile and play on the sand nearly sickening. She passes the occasional runner when it's early, or someone going out to surf, but mostly, she has privacy, and she savors that quiet. It doesn't matter that it only gives her more time trapped in her own head. There's no escape from that now anyway.

On an empty stretch of sand, she takes a seat, knees drawn up to her chest, one hand curled around her crystal as she watches the sun rise over the ocean. If she stares hard enough, lets her vision lose focus, it almost seems like she's back on Scarif again, watching the blast from the Death Star roll towards her, save for the absence of a sturdy pair of arms around her. She thinks sometimes — more these days than usual — that maybe that really was meant to be the end for her. It was a good one, at least. She'd felt at peace for the first time in such a long time, a feeling that's eluded her since, that she probably doesn't deserve. She'd felt cared about, too, and she certainly can't expect that from anyone now.

At least her instincts are still sharp, one of very few ways in which she thinks she wouldn't have disappointed her former father figure. She's aware of it when she isn't alone anymore, when there's someone nearby, but she doesn't turn her head or look away from the sunlight on the water, not seeing the need to.

(no subject)

When she goes back to Cassian's, she sleeps for what feels like the first time in a long time. It's an exaggeration, of course — she's slept, just not well — but even so, those few hours she spends curled up in his bed, warm morning light filtering in through the windows, are more restful than any she's had over the last few months. That isn't much of a surprise. Since they first got here, Jyn has slept better in Cassian's bed than she has in her own, and that's without so much hanging overhead, the worry that she'd ruined everything simply by trying to protect herself, doing what she's always done. At least on one count, she hasn't. That's still both a relief and difficult to process. When she left her apartment today, wandered out to the beach before the crowds come as she so often does, she'd been alone. For months, she'd been convinced that Cassian couldn't possibly want anything more from her than they already had. Now, they're— She's not quite sure what they are, but they're something, and that's enough.

He isn't the only person with whom she has damage to try to undo, though, and Jyn knows, when she wakes up a little while before Cassian is supposed to leave for work, where she has to go next. This isn't something she can put off. It wouldn't be fair to, nor is it something she would want to. Still, she's more nervous than she probably ought to be when she leaves, promising vehemently that she'll be back later. Running into Cassian this morning had been a coincidence — a painful one, maybe, at least at first, but perhaps easier, in a way, than having to work up the will to go back unprompted, even if she'd meant it when she told him that she always intended to. This uncertainty, this self-consciousness, she can barely stand it, but she owes this to Bodhi. She's made him wait long enough. She just hopes it hasn't been too long.

On her way to his apartment, she stops on a whim in a bakery she knows they both like, emerging a few minutes later with a box of four cupcakes, all different flavors. It isn't as if she thinks showing up with baked goods will actually make a difference, but it seems right even so, bringing a peace offering of sorts, an apology better than whatever she can stumble through. In front of his door, she stops, paces a few times, frowning deeply to herself, then finally forces herself to stop and knock, taking a deep breath as she waits. Putting this off any longer isn't going to make it any easier or any better. She might as well get it over with.