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They don't keep her in the hospital for even twelve hours. In all fairness, even if they'd tried to, Jyn would probably have attempted to sign herself out well before then anyway. But, as it's put to her, the hospital is dealing with a very abrupt surge of activity and there are simply people who need the bed more. They can't really do anything more for her, anyway. Her right shoulder is stitched, front and back, and she's gotten a blood transfusion, having apparently very nearly bled out in the crash, and they've done a scan and confirmed that she does, in fact, have a concussion. That's about it, though, so they discharge her with some prescriptions she knows she won't bother to fill and a number to call to set up physical therapy in a few weeks that she probably won't do either, sending her back to the Falcon so they can take care of people's more pressing injuries.
She's never called the ship home, but she has come to consider it hers over the past year or so, since she started living there full-time. Going back there now, though, is just sort of miserable. It's quiet and empty, and Force knows she isn't about to ask anyone to come see her or stay with her or anything like that. Not after the train, and those phone calls that she so fucking stupidly believed. This was her own fault, a result of the weakness she's spent so many years trying to bury and only ever just barely keeping below the surface. The consequences of that are hers to deal with, and the least she can do is resist that same impulse now.
At least she has Sprinkles to keep her company, and a garden to finish getting ready for winter. Both are fairly difficult to deal with when she really only has the use of one arm, her right limp at her side. They gave her a sling back at the hospital, too, but she's stubbornly refused to wear it, not wanting to broadcast her own uselessness for everyone to see.
Despite her intentions, she winds up just sitting on the ground, staring blankly at a nearby tree. She's so fucking sad, and she shouldn't be. She knew she would never see any of those people again. Still it somehow feels like she has to grieve all over again. Sighing heavily, she hits her good hand against the dirt. "Shit."
[ set pretty much anytime in the days post-Mothman plot, hit me up with any questions~ ]
She's never called the ship home, but she has come to consider it hers over the past year or so, since she started living there full-time. Going back there now, though, is just sort of miserable. It's quiet and empty, and Force knows she isn't about to ask anyone to come see her or stay with her or anything like that. Not after the train, and those phone calls that she so fucking stupidly believed. This was her own fault, a result of the weakness she's spent so many years trying to bury and only ever just barely keeping below the surface. The consequences of that are hers to deal with, and the least she can do is resist that same impulse now.
At least she has Sprinkles to keep her company, and a garden to finish getting ready for winter. Both are fairly difficult to deal with when she really only has the use of one arm, her right limp at her side. They gave her a sling back at the hospital, too, but she's stubbornly refused to wear it, not wanting to broadcast her own uselessness for everyone to see.
Despite her intentions, she winds up just sitting on the ground, staring blankly at a nearby tree. She's so fucking sad, and she shouldn't be. She knew she would never see any of those people again. Still it somehow feels like she has to grieve all over again. Sighing heavily, she hits her good hand against the dirt. "Shit."
[ set pretty much anytime in the days post-Mothman plot, hit me up with any questions~ ]
