like a row of captured ghosts over old, dead grass

[nextchance]

It was raining. Had been, on and off, all day, thunderstorms the night before tapering into intermittent drizzle throughout the afternoon. Jyn hated that it left her slightly uneasy. It was only weather, after all. Maybe it was just the familiar restlessness that had been building in her for she wasn't even sure how long now, the sort that felt like an itch under her skin that was impossible to scratch. The Falcon was a decent-sized ship, but as rain pattered against the viewports, its rooms and corridors felt minuscule, like prison cells. She just needed air. Needed to do something, really. The weather ruled out working in her small-but-growing garden, and the way the dampness made her shoulder ache meant taking her feelings out on a punching bag would probably wind up being regrettable. She could be reckless, but she wasn't stupid.

That left her with going for a run, as good an option as any. It would at least be likely to help her shake that skin-crawling feeling. Her hair in a messy ponytail, overlarge T-shirt hanging off her small frame, she bent to scritch behind Sprinkles's ears and promise she'd be back soon. On another day, she might have taken the dog with her, but today, now, she needed the space not to be worrying about another being.

The dog, it seemed, had other ideas. As soon as she began lowering the exit ramp, Sprinkles made a run for it, yapping — well, really, howling — enthusiastically at the approaching figure. For half a second, Jyn held back an exasperated sigh, unsure why one of her few regular visitors would be worth such a fuss.

Then she realized that it wasn't one of those regular visitors. It was, in fact, someone she knew very well, someone she never expected to see again.

Jyn hadn't kept track of the time, hadn't counted the days as they turned into weeks, months, years. She knew from experience that to do so would only make her miserable, and she'd already been in Darrow for a hell of a lot longer than she had anywhere before. So she didn't, off the top of her head, know how long it had been since she'd seen Cassian Andor, and yet he was unmistakable. He probably would have been even if she hadn't spent two years sharing his bed, eventually sharing his name. Darrow being Darrow, she had assumed if she ever did see his face again, it would belong to someone else, the way sometimes tended to happen here. Even if she'd wanted to, though, she wouldn't have been able to even entertain the possibility of that being the case now. She knew him, but she knew those clothes, too, the remnants of a stolen Imperial uniform that helped get them onto the base at Scarif. There was simply no one else who would look like that, wear that, and show up at her metaphorical doorstep.

She was staring, she realized, frozen at the top of the ramp, the color drained from her cheeks, as if she was looking at a ghost. In a way, it truly felt like she was. Her voice came out smaller, shakier than she'd have liked, traitorously betraying a torrent of emotion that she didn't have the first idea how to begin sorting through.

"Cassian?"

Comments

[fulcrum3]

He sputtered. "Capes? Like that Baron from Socorro? No thanks."

Looking at her, his face broke into a full smile. "I probably shouldn't wait any longer to hydrate. Then maybe a shower, then maybe I'll have remembered how to have an appetite."

He stood and looked down at himself again: starting with the tunic he'd been living in for five days, now scorched where Krennic shot him and bloodied where he'd hit the durasteel, not to mention stained with sweat and full of sand. "If there's a laundry function on board, I can clean these and make do. If you find anything else," he indicated the hateful trousers, "maybe we can have a bonfire."

[nextchance]

It was too kriffing cute, the way he sputtered and smiled. Jyn turned her face toward her shoulder as if to hide a smile of her own, but mostly failed. The last minutes may have been a confusing, world-altering mess, but the one thing she could say for certain — that she probably should have said out loud, but didn't trust herself not to fall apart if she did so — was that she'd missed him. Despite her best efforts not to, and then to convince herself that she didn't, she'd missed him so, so much, down to the littlest details.

"You think I know any barons?" she asked, teasingly incredulous. Difficult as everything else might have been, finding that familiar banter was too easy.

Moving away from him was not easy, but she made herself do so, standing so she could get him some water. A little distance would be good, anyway, help her get her head on straight, at least enough to deal with whatever happened next. "Right. Water, shower, food," she said. The first was easy; the bar in the common area wasn't really something she used as such, but it did mean there was water without her having to leave for the kitchen. Filling a glass, she added, "There is laundry, but I like the bonfire idea. I think those've earned it."

[fulcrum3]

He followed her to the bar. Ridiculous, the distance was negligible and she'd be bringing the glass right back… but it was automatic—no, autonomic. Where you go, I go.

Trying to cover, he closed his fingers, alternating with hers, on the glass, and took a step back. "Good." There was supposed to be more banter there, but all he had was another— "Good."

Stepping further back, he took a sip. Which turned into an overlong swig. He forced himself to slow down lest he vomit it back up. So he could feel things like thirst, and now that he allowed it, he was parched. How had he even been speaking?

Because he needed to be with her and speaking was a kind of connection

A little out of breath, he finished drinking and handed her back the glass. "Check, one."

[nextchance]

She watched him, because what else could she do? He was here, and so close, and still none of this felt quite real, like any moment now, she would wake up alone in bed. While he did feature prominently in her dreams, though, even all this time later, they were never like this. The kinder ones were of Scarif, dreams after which she usually felt ill upon waking but changed nothing. The truly torturous ones were the dreams where they were together and happy. Those were worse than any nightmare. She knew all of the awful things she'd experienced in her life; that was fine, a simple fact of being, something she'd long since come to terms with. Being reminded of the happiness she'd once had and lost was agonizing.

Besides, no matter how well she knew him, she didn't think memory or imagination or any of that could really do him justice. However difficult to believe, it had to be real, which meant she had to figure out what the hell to do about it.

"You sure that's enough?" she asked, brow raising with some combination of concern and amusement at the way he'd all but chugged the water down. "Shower's that way. I'll see if I can find something for you that's not a cape."

[fulcrum3]

"Yes, I think so." More would probably come back up. Hell, better make sure what he already had wouldn't do so.

Very, very slowly, alert for the merest sign from her that he shouldn't, he reached out and, this time, so gently touched her arm. What came to mind was You'll be here when I get out? but what he said, from some deep instinct that the shoe was on the other foot, was, "See you when I get out."

[nextchance]

Jyn let her eyes fall closed, drawing in a deep breath, as his hand brushed her arm. She didn't pull away; even if she'd wanted to, she wouldn't have been able to when it was taking all of her strength to suppress a shiver. And anyway, she didn't want to. She was far more inclined to grab his hand and ask him not to go, or to listen to the small voice in the back of her head that said he might not turn her away if she followed him. It would have been a catastrophically bad idea, though, and she knew it. All of this was complicated enough without her further muddying those waters.

"I'll be here," she said instead, as solemn as any vow. There were things she needed to do, and it was probably for the best that she had a moment to clear her head. She just had to keep herself busy to make sure she didn't fall apart in the meantime. "There— There should be towels. Just shout if you need anything."

[fulcrum3]

Impulse was… too many things at once. Kiss her cheek, embrace her, kneel before her and weep… All he did was lightly squeeze her arm, give a nod, and turn where she'd pointed. He resisted looking over his shoulder on his way because that was ludicrous.

That's just love

The freighter was… rustic (he really had to ask Jyn about it, at some point when the issue cracked the top ten) but the lav facilities were adequate and familiar. If he were thinking strategically, he'd wash his skivs in the sink before showering himself… but he couldn't stand being like this a moment longer. He tore off everything. Where normally he'd stack his things at regulation angles, instead he left it all in a heap; and stepped into the shower under a scouring hot stream.

Take it all away. The sand of Scarif. The blood of everyone he'd taken there. —No, no, that should stay with him forever. His own blood, then, at least. The sweat and stink of combat, not that that ever really left either. The damnable sand. He would have stayed there until his skin was raw, except he was so anxious to get back to Jyn.

He drip-dried while he did what he should have done first and washed his skivs in the sink. Of everything he was wearing, they stood the only chance of being salvageable. They were military-grade and made to be lived in, so they were antibacterial, stain resistant, fast-drying—just not that fast. (Why he should have done it first.) He wrung them out and left them hanging on the grab bar.

His old tunic might have been saved if not for the scorch marks. Thanks, Man in White. Come to think of it… Cassian wasn't the best fan of his own reflection, but now he wiped away some of the steam and leaned over the sink to examine his shoulder. —Yes, in the hollow of shoulder and breast, a new shining blaster scar. He'd healed, but not without a mark. Well, that was nothing to what the man had done to Jyn. Cassian was glad he'd given some back to the mudcrutch. He shuddered to imagine if he'd arrived at the top of the tower just seconds too late.

Jyn's alive. She's alive. Go to her.

Cassian wiped out his reflection again and turned to find the towels. He wrapped one around his waist and draped another around his shoulders. At the moment, it was as covered as he could get. He didn't think Jyn would be shocked by anything he had—anatomy being the least of it; they could compare scars some other time—but he didn't want to impose anything on her. Not ever.

The door opening released an embarrassing amount of steam. So much for military quickness. Cassian poked out his damp tousled head and called, "Jyn?"

[nextchance]

As soon as he was gone down the hall, the sound of the door confirming that she was alone for the moment, Jyn let out a heavy breath, feeling like she'd been holding it in since she first glimpsed him there. She stayed like that for what must have been an embarrassingly long time, hands curled into fists so tight that her blunt nails left impressions on her palms, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping her composure. Now that she had a few moments of privacy, that shouldn't have been so much of a concern, but she knew that if she let herself fall apart now, she probably wouldn't stop. Whatever she had to tell him, and there was so much, too much, she didn't want that to be the how or the why of it. For his sake more so than anything else, she had to keep it together now.

When she did finally let herself move, she let instinct carry her. One step, then the next. Keep going, keep moving. For so long, that had been just about the only thing that kept her alive. Somehow, although this was hardly a matter of life and death, the stakes here felt just as high. All the while, she listened to the distant sound of the water running, relieved when she heard it shut off, as if that served as confirmation that he was still here.

In the meantime, she scrounged up clothes. The T-shirt was hers, but it was large and it was clean, and he didn't need to know that it was hers. Rifling through a few drawers in compartments she hadn't been using ultimately paid off, yielding trousers and a pair of boxers. They might have been Poe's, or Han's, or even Rey's boyfriend's, so many people who'd been here and gone, but these, too, were clean, and most importantly, they weren't part of an Imperial uniform.

At the sound of her name, of his voice, she jumped, then internally chided herself for it. "Be right there," she called, hurrying back to the shower, pile of clothes in hand. There was one small mercy: Whatever part of her might have been flustered by the knowledge that he'd just used her shower, that he was wearing only towels, it was overridden by the fact that she'd grown up in a cadre of soldiers without much in the way of privacy. Bodies were just bodies. His just happened to be a very familiar one.

"Bonfire's on," she said, careful to look only at his face as she held the clothes out to him. "I found some things you can wear. Not sure about the size, but hopefully they'll do for now."

[fulcrum3]

He wouldn't have minded knowing it was her shirt. He'd worn a lot of genders' clothes for work.

"Thank you." Their fingers brushed again as he took the clothes. His thumb momentarily smoothed over hers—something maybe he should resist, or maybe the reassurance was something they both needed.

He ducked back into the lav to change and reemerged shortly, barefoot but otherwise clothed, holding the Imp trousers by one finger.

"Everything fits," he said, making a show of twisting around to show her. Some things were just a little tight, but the effect… wasn't unpleasant. "I hope whoever left without their pants isn't missing them."

[nextchance]

Every touch felt like electricity, sparks under her skin, somehow even more so the lighter or more fleeting they were. Already the fact of his appearance made it difficult to think straight, but that only added to it. At the same time, Jyn found herself grateful. For all that she didn't know, a list too long to try to think through, what she did know was that she needed any sign that she could get that this was real.

She breathed as she waited, leaning back against the wall and trying to slow her racing heart. It didn't really work, but she gave him a small smile all the same when he emerged again. "Like I said, ship's passed through a lot of hands," she said. "A lot of things've been left behind in the process."

For that matter, there were probably more belongings of other people's than of her own throughout the ship. Despite how long she had been here, Jyn still wasn't prone to accumulating belongings, too used to having to throw everything in a bag and run at a moment's notice. The important thing now was that he wouldn't have to worry about cleaning and reusing the Imperial uniform trousers, which she nodded toward. "You can just leave those for now. Once the rain stops, we can burn them."

[fulcrum3]

Cassian understood that—how ‘what you owned’ was only ever what you could carry. He understood having lived it and understood that Jyn had lived it.

When have you known such understanding, recognition… Much as he’d… (cared about, feared for, wanted to protect) Bix, there hadn’t really been that. Not that one had anything to do with the other. Just being back in such cramped quarters, imagining…

“I’ll have to hear the story of this ship sometime.” As he gladly obeyed her suggestion and tossed the trousers over his shoulder back into the lav.

“I guess step three was food?” Though he didn’t want any. What he wanted, more like hunger than hunger, was to lie down on the ship’s cot beside her, take her in his arms, and sleep. Sleeping without her seemed unimaginable. How else could he possibly find any rest but holding her, and how else could they make sure they weren’t parted again?

It was too much to ask, so he stuck to the plan. Food.

[nextchance]

"Honestly, I don't know that much of it," Jyn told him. Aside from a few anecdotes, most of what she knew was that it had been in the care of several people here, until none of them were left but her. Then, somewhere down the line, she stopped just minding it and started living in it. The ship may have been grounded, and not one with which she'd had any experience prior to Darrow, but there was still something comfortably familiar about it, a feeling like she could have been anywhere, gone anywhere.

Whatever she could tell him of it, that ranked lowest of the things she should probably share. All of that was still too overwhelming to touch, though, and easy to delay when it hadn't sunk in that they might well have time now. If all she had was this, a few brief moments, she didn't want to spend them trying to make sense of the logistics of past lives and nonlinear time.

"And yes, food," she agreed. Whether or not he was hungry, she knew that it had to have been some time since he'd eaten. She would hazard a guess that he needed it more than he knew. Gesturing down the corridor, she started toward the kitchen, stealing a glance at him to make sure he was still there. "I don't have too much here, but I'll figure something out. Sorry, I'm not much of a cook."

The few things she could cook decently, she'd learned from him. As was becoming a pattern, Jyn couldn't discern whether that made her want to laugh or cry.

[fulcrum3]

“I think the plainer the better right now,” said Cassian, following her (of course). He stopped and flushed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry… I appear and just make demands of you…”

[nextchance]

"Stop," Jyn cut in, turning to face him. There was too much damned tenderness in her voice, a gentle sort of exasperation along with it. "You haven't demanded anything. I offered." All things considered, it was the least she could do, and she felt certain that it was no less than he'd have done for her if their positions were reversed. "So let me do this, all right? I insist."

At least it was one thing she could do. When so much felt like it was wildly out of control right now, including and especially her own heart and mind, there was some welcome reassurance in that.

[fulcrum3]

Again, he could have just stood there staring at her face.

When he first stood on the tarmac beside Draven watching Kay and Melshi bring her back from Wobani, he'd nearly turned to his S.O. and said, No, not her. Assign me somewhere else. He'd sensed, one way or another, partnering with Jyn would be the end of his world.

He hadn't predicted how glad he would be that it was. Not only for the sake of the Rebellion, of the Galaxy, which he was, but for himself. He wouldn't go back to the version of himself he'd been before her, if he could.

Don't put any expectations, any needs…

He still wouldn't kiss her, but he reached out—again, alert for any sign he should stop—and, feather-soft, with fingertips, touched her face shoulder. "Thank you. Okay."

Withdrawing his hand, he said lamely, "Let me know if I can help."

[nextchance]

If only it were that simple. If only anything were. Jyn knew he probably meant in the short term — getting food together, taking care of these small, basic necessities, although food and shower and shelter were things she would never be inclined to take for granted with how frequently she'd gone without them — because he didn't, couldn't know how much bigger this was. There was no help for that, which wasn't at all his fault. It just was.

At least it meant he was here, and alive. His presence was unquestionably a good thing, far better than the alternative. Selfish as Jyn might have known herself to be, she wasn't so hung up in her confusion as to have any doubts about that. If she hadn't been stupid enough to let herself fall for him — as if she'd had any choice in the matter — then that could have been the beginning and the end of it.

Instead, he touched her shoulder, and she tried to hide the way her breath caught. "Of course," she promised. "I will." She made herself turn and start walking again, though not without glancing over at him, a ghost of a smile in the curve of her mouth. "But I think I can handle getting some food together."

[fulcrum3]

He smiled back in the corner of his mouth and in his eyes; all the more genuine for being small.

He'd clocked the catch of her breath. He tried to simply have the information without judgment or analysis—without… hope. It was so ingrained, he couldn't help reading people, but he wasn't going to operate that way with Jyn. He wasn't going to 'operate' any way. He would be present and pay attention, but not to any end, just to be available.

As she turned to the kitchen, he turned to the lav to make something better of his clothes and towels than a messy heap. He couldn't stop himself turning back. "Hey.

"I don't know what happens next. But wherever I go from here… however's okay… I hope you… have a say."

[nextchance]

Jyn stopped when he called back out to her, turning partway down the corridor. Whatever she might have expected to hear, it wasn't that. Of course, that made sense, when all of this was already beyond unexpected. Being around Cassian had always been easy — too easy, probably — but that became now another complication, another liability. She didn't know how to hold back around him, and it had never been more important for her to do so.

Grateful for the safety in the vagueness of that statement, she nodded, the motion slight but earnest. She had no idea what would happen next either. What she did know was that no matter how much easier for her it might have been if she could, she would never be able to turn him away entirely. He was too much a part of her.

"Well, someone's got to show you the ropes around here, right?" she pointed out, masking the ache in her heart with levity. It was impossible not to think that she'd never had a say, that she would never have lost him if she had, but she knew too well that wasn't what he meant. "And last time I checked, I wasn't going anywhere."

[fulcrum3]

I'm not used to people sticking around…

She was a brilliant masker. Still, the depth of whatever-it-was under the levity, once noticed, wasn't missed.

Okay. He wouldn't push. Not uninvited.

Right now, there was another reaction to go with, in him, and that was relief. Not surprise, but still: down his core, to his toes, abject relief. His smile filled in to both sides of his face, the fathoms of his eyes. In step with her, he let the depth tend to itself and only responded lightly, touching his temple with two fingers and saluting.

Turning, he went back into the lav and collected up the towels for the laundry and his clothes for the fire.

Maybe they'd yet get to
Welcome home.

[nextchance]

Jyn didn't believe for a moment that he wouldn't see through her. That had never really been an option with him, and she had no reason to suspect that now would be any different. Mostly, she just needed to buy herself some time. A chance to begin to make heads or tails of the dizzying surge of emotion he'd unknowingly brought with him, and to figure out what to say and how to say it. Simply not telling him wasn't an option, no matter how tempting it might have seemed. She couldn't keep a secret that big from him. But all of this was enough to take in without her adding all of that to it, and she knew too well what he'd just been through.

So, time. She gave him a nod before continuing back in the direction of the kitchen. As with the rest of her belongings, she kept the kitchen sparsely stocked, typically buying food only when and in whatever quantities she needed it. That suited her fine, given that she wasn't much of a cook. But there were a few things on hand, and after a moment of checking the cabinets, and keeping in mind what he'd said about plainer being better, she grabbed a plastic-wrapped packet of noodles, then a small pot in which she set water boiling. It wasn't much, but it was quick and easy, filling without being too rich, and that seemed like the best bet right now. Upon second thought, she also took an egg out of the refrigerator, figuring that might at least make it a little less ridiculous than just instant noodles.

Something fuzzy brushed against her ankles and she smiled. "There you are," she said, bending down to hoist the orange and white cat into her arms. "Yeah, you know there's food happening, don't you?"

[fulcrum3]

Cassian reemerged into the kitchen, setting the now-neat pile of un-neat clothing onto a reasonable surface, and the stolen Imperial boots onto the floor nearby. Those, he wouldn't burn. Never waste a good pair of boots. He'd look for an opportunity to give them away to someone the Empire would hate.

The sight of the second new little creature of the day made him stay bent over.

On Lothal during the Blockade, Cassian had had to monitor Imperial probe droids. To avoid getting shot, he'd had to lay in the tall grass so still, for so long, that wild loth-cats had come up to him, climbed on top of him, and fallen asleep.

This creature wasn't a loth-cat, but it might be in the tooka family. It more resembled—

"Is that a pittin?" He knelt, not quite courting it, just trying to get on its level.


[ooc: I'm trying to avoid headcanon, but sometimes a loth-cat slips in.
Pittins are from Barbara Hambly's Children of the Jedi—more on why Cassian knows about them, potentially, in subsequent tags.]

[nextchance]

Where Sprinkles had been perhaps too enthusiastic in greeting this new arrival, Beany was far more reserved in reacting, sniffing at Cassian, then wandering toward the boots he'd set down to examine those as well. Jyn didn't need to look down from where she'd turned her attention to the water on the stove to guess at what the cat's face must have looked like, all big-eyed and vacant. Especially considering the rough state she'd first found him in, she was strangely appreciative of the fact that he had seemed to become increasingly stupid. It was a good thing he'd had a chance. Jyn felt a small amount of satisfaction that she had been able to help give him that.

"It's a cat," she answered. "They're sort of like tookas. One of the more common animals here. I found him half-dead outside some months back and he's been here ever since." That may have been understating how worried she'd been when she first spotted him and in the days that followed, when she couldn't be certain if he would make it or not, but that felt like something too soft, too vulnerable, to admit to now. There was enough of that already, Cassian's presence making the kitchen feel that much smaller and herself too unguarded.

Instead, she glanced back as she stirred the noodles into the boiling water, gesturing with her elbow toward the cat. "That's Beany. And the little dog you met outside earlier was Sprinkles. Had the name when I got her. She's... a lot." She was yours, she thought. It was no wonder that the little dog had taken off running at Cassian's approach, far less restrained in her reaction than Jyn.

[fulcrum3]

Cats seemed to have enough in common with tookas behaviorally that Cassian didn't immediately blow it. He let Beany come to him and sniff his fingers, then leave of its own accord. That, as far as he could tell, was a positive beginning.

For a moment longer, Cassian stayed kneeling, elbow draped over knee, looking up at Jyn: stirring in a pot, having pets… looking very natural in a life he knew for a fact she'd never been able to have before.

He was struck with sudden disgust at himself that he'd read her file, even though it had been his job to do so; and deep, thundering regret at how much of her life he knew because of it. He wished he could have waited and only learned what she chose to share. Well, files could only tell someone so much. Indeed, he'd read the file because, pre-Wobani, he'd been tasked with building her profile. And though he was incredibly good at that job, in that moment he first saw her, he'd been struck by, somehow, how wrong he'd been.

"She's still outside," he realized, standing up. "Should I let her in?"

[nextchance]

"She'll be all right for now," Jyn said, shrugging easily. It was true — especially if she was doing something outdoors, she was prone to leaving the ramp down so Sprinkles could go in and out as she pleased — but mostly, she just didn't want Cassian to leave. She may not have known what she did want, but she was sure of that. Like a heartbeat, steady and inexorable, it echoed in her head, pulsed through her veins: please stay please stay please stay. She didn't dare say it. For one, she couldn't ask for a promise that she couldn't make, and what was more, giving voice to it would mean allowing herself that attachment again, something that only ever got her hurt.

Really, she wasn't fooling herself. If there was any way to stop feeling the way she felt about him, she would have done so in her first weeks here, and she definitely would have done so when he disappeared all those years ago. It never was that easy to stop caring.

"I'll bring her in later. Besides, if she comes back in now, there's no way she'll let you eat in peace." Sprinkles was, quite frankly, an obnoxious little thing. Jyn couldn't have loved her more.

[fulcrum3]

In peace

"In a secure location, nothing exploding, everybody stable, with someone I trust," he said. "I'm good."

Is this place at peace? But he couldn't muster interest in the City just yet. The welcome paperwork, moreso Jyn's manner, convinced him that there was nothing more urgent, yet, than this: Jyn herself.

And he had more or less just died in action. If he'd ever earned a night off. Hunger was finally hitting him, and exhaustion.

He hoped he wouldn't be too tired to go somewhere else, if he had to. Not too tired to make the trip, but too tired to… be without her. Right now he felt he'd rather sleep under the ship than go to the apartment waiting for him. To stay near her.

[ooc: "Stable" here meaning "in a physically stable condition" e.g. not bleeding]