In some ways, Jyn has never shed the habits that come from a lifetime spent on the run. No matter how much has changed, no matter the dangerous extent to which she let herself settle down, she never could rid herself of that entirely. Her decorating is sparse, her belongings few. When she never knew at what point she would have to pack up and leave, being able to gather her things at a moment's notice and carry her life along with her, or to have only things that she wouldn't mind leaving behind, was necessary. She just never really thought she would have to put that into practice here.

She does, though. It takes her only a few minutes to pack the duffel bag she stored under her bed. Most of her clothes fit inside it; she leaves only a few in drawers. The drawing Lincoln once gave her of herself, the first item of any sentimental value she let herself keep besides the crystal already hanging around her neck, gets carefully folded and stored, and she fits her computer and its charger in as well.

Two and a half years, and this is what her life amounts to.

Everything of Cassian's goes untouched, as does everything he gave her. She can't go near any of it yet, unable to decide what she wants to do in the first place. So with her bag slung over her shoulder and her jaw set in determination, mostly so she won't do something stupid like start crying, she heads back to where she knows Lincoln will be. "Alright," she says. "This is everything."