nextchance | (no subject)

By the time she leaves Lincoln, Jyn is a little dazed, her head spinning as she makes her way towards the edge of the city and back to the house. It is, in all fairness, a lot to take in. He's left her with a lot to think about. He would have even if she hadn't already said yes — something that she can't help wondering about, in retrospect, if it was the right decision after all — but she has, which means she also has to figure out how she's even going to do this. She doubts she'll ever be organized enough for lesson plans or anything like that, but she ought to at least have some sort of approach in mind.

Of course, every time she thinks that, she also goes back to thinking that she's crazy, that there's absolutely no way she could possibly teach children even just how to fight, so it's probably better that she stop trying to consider it on her own. She'd want to tell Cassian anyway. Something like this, she couldn't just keep to herself, and though she suspects he might be somewhat biased in the matter, always seeming to be willing to see her as better than she is, maybe he'll be able to help, or at least talk a little sense into her. If there's anyone who'll get it, it's him. He was brought up as a soldier, too.

"I'm home," she calls when she opens the door, quickly closing it behind her so she can crouch and pet Sprinkles, who's already come running over, the little dog eagerly jumping up against her. "Cassian, you in?"

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It's perhaps overly sentimental and in another conversation, he thinks Jyn would call him out on it. This has gotten so raw and honest in ways they didn't expect and Cassian prefers to be serious, sincere. Dwelling on what can't be changed leaves him going in circles that eventually turn out to be a downward spiral. It's what tonight threatens to become if not for the choice he's making now, shaped as a promise to Jyn. Promising to believe her means promising to believe it when she says he's not a bad man. Or that she doesn't blame him.

She doesn't say anything in response but Cassian thinks she doesn't really need to. Jyn's never wavered in her assessment of Cassian. He's just the one who's struggled to believe it.

Somewhere, beneath all of the fears and worries, Cassian marvels at Jyn. It's the same kind of awe that he felt for her in Jedha, taking out all those stormtroopers on her own but now it's a quieter, more personal thing.

"I don't think it's a terrible idea," he promises her. It's his turn, maybe, to build Jyn up to try and believe what he thinks of her. "I think the fact that you're worrying about it and want to do right by them means more than someone who's completely certain in their abilities without caring." And Jyn has always cared so much more than she lets on, has ever been given the chance to show.

It's probably somewhat hypocritical, Jyn knows, to wish that he would believe what she says about him but completely fail to understand how he can hold her in such high regard. If anything, the conversation they've just had seems like proof that he shouldn't. No kind person would say the things she said to him, for the reasons she said them. They definitely wouldn't wait nearly a year and a half and only bring it up then by accident. She doesn't want to start talking in circles, though, and she doubts that any amount of reassurance will convince her that taking this on isn't crazy. Knowing that he thinks it isn't will have to be enough.

"I made Lincoln promise to tell me if he thinks I'm terrible at it," she says, "so there's that, at least." That vote of confidence helps, too, as much as anything can. Short of Cassian, of course, Lincoln is the person here she trusts the most. She thinks they're both crazy, but it is, as least, nice to know that the people who mean the most to her think well of her. As dishonest as it feels, she would much rather they be wrong and like her than they be right and write her off entirely, well within his rights as Cassian would have been to do so.

She can't let herself keep thinking about that, though, can't wonder how much damage she did by reinforcing what he already believed about himself. She'll drive herself crazy, and she won't be able to let it go, and neither of them needs that.

Instead, she seizes on something Cassian has just said, the implication in that unearned trust. "You know," she adds, "you might want to reconsider always believing me, or you'll have to believe what I say about you."

Kindness and brokenness aren't mutually exclusive. Jyn has her reasons to be defensive, to keep her hand close to the chest. The world is very rarely kind to those people in return and they've both had to but walls up inside of themselves to survive places and moments that would otherwise strip it from them. Cassian feels as though he's got less goodness left in him than Jyn, though he doesn't say that aloud after what they've just talked about.

"When you care about something, it's impossible not to see it," he says, thinking about the council meeting and then the speech she gave onboard. If she commits to teaching, Cassian has no reason to think she won't bring the same attitude. "Maybe I'm biased but I don't think that makes it untrue."

The subject changes back to him and Cassian makes a face. "I knew you'd find a loophole," he says, even though it's one he'd expected her to take. "I don't believe in myself, but if I have to believe you and you believe in me..." He smiles, though there's still self-deprecation in his eyes. Cassian wants to be the man Jyn sees in him, the man he doesn't believe he can be. But Jyn believes it and so he must believe her. Or try to be what she thinks is true.

As much as Jyn would like to push, she knows she's not likely to get any more than that from him. It's enough, at least for now. It has to be. Besides, it's probably fair that this loophole comes with an inherent compromise. She doesn't think he should put that much faith in her; he doesn't agree with her belief that he's a good man. They both have to make a concession of sorts here. Reluctant as she may be, she'll accept that trust, far more than she deserves, if it means he'll at least try to take her at her word.

Her own smile in response is a little sad, a little reluctant, though she doesn't know if that's specifically to do with what he's said or the weight of this conversation hanging over her. None of this is anything she really intended to revisit. Jyn isn't entirely sure what that says about her, but given the circumstances, there's probably no sense in trying to say that. Chances are, he would just tell her that he didn't bring it up, either, which is true enough, even if she's more inclined to let him off the hook than herself.

"If you knew I'd find one, you shouldn't have given me such an obvious one," she says, making a face in turn. It's a little halfhearted, but at least she's trying to get out of her own head. "You don't have to agree with me. Just... maybe trust that I'm not wrong. That I feel the way I do for a reason."

"I always trust you now," Cassian says. He's trusted her implicitly since Scarif. It's strange to think that he also fell a little in love with her then too, though the first he noticed far before the second. It's his own judgment, his own merits he doesn't trust but it's too late by far to say Jyn shouldn't trust him. It'd be callous, given that they're married. He just needs to turn that allowance inward.

"You're the only one I trust with all my loopholes." He scrunches up his face, realizing that it sounds suggestive out loud rather than sincere, but he hopes Jyn understands.

To make up for it, he leans over to kiss the top of Jyn's head and spends a moment with his arm around her, just holding her close for the simple fact that he can. The hardest words have already been exchanged, though he doesn't expect everything to lighten back to the conversation they'd had before dinner. "The food's gone cold. Want me to heat it back up?"

Jyn stays still, again, when he pulls her in close, taking a deep breath to try to pull herself together. It isn't a rejection, or at least she hopes he knows it isn't meant as such. She'd be pushing him away and walking off somewhere if it were. Before, when they first started sleeping together and she started spending days on end in his apartment, she would put physical distance between them when she started to feel like she was getting too close or like she made herself too vulnerable. She has no desire to do that now, but it still isn't easy for her to talk about things like this. That would be the case under normal, equally serious circumstances, but it's even more so with the weight of something they've been carrying around and leaving undiscussed for a year and a half. She's left feeling strangely raw now, sad in a way she wouldn't have the first idea how to articulate. Even if she tried, it would probably just bring them back in circles and not help anything.

She just has to pull herself together. Easier said than done when Cassian has long since become the person around whom she lets her guard down the most, but she still ought to try.

"Yeah, alright," she agrees with a nod. With her stomach in knots, she doesn't feel half as hungry as she did when she first got here, but she's too much in the habit of not letting herself turn down food. Especially after Cassian cooked for her, she doesn't want to let that go to waste or to seem unappreciative just because of an unexpected turn of conversation. Instinctively, she thinks that it shouldn't even matter now, except she thinks the fact that it's always mattered might be at least part of what's stopped her from bringing it up. "Sorry. That would be great. It really is good, I just got... sidetracked."