nextchance | crash sites keep me up at night

Climb

It was Nemik, it was Kaytoo, it was Cassian's own desperation to get to Jyn, to make sure she saw this to the ending

Climb

He clawed his way hand over hand, hanging by his fingernails on the cliff face with Melshi beside him as Narkina scout ships soared overhead; don't let them catch you but goddammit

Climb!

Unmistakably Kaytoo, now, his (dying? yes, dying) voice so different than ever before, and Cassian couldn't save him, he could only do as he was told and hope it was worth it.

Jyn. Jyn was up there and might still need him. That was worth it.

Climb. Climb.

No, stay still, a voice like Kerri or Bix pled with him. You can still be extracted and healed if you don't push like that—

No one is coming for me, he answered, almost reassuringly. This is all I have left to do. Help Jyn.

He hadn't died from the fall. Climbing, he knew, would kill him. So be it.

But he had to do it quickly, get there before the Man in White shot her… and he was failing. The climbing wasn't stopping. He knew somewhere above was the snapping trapdoor and he didn't know how he would get through it… but he wasn't even reaching it. He was just

climbing, climbing, climbing

and not getting anywhere.

There was the trap up ahead.

And suddenly a head appeared through it. The Man in White looking down at him. And Cassian knew he was too late as the man took aim and fired down at him and he fell

* * *

And out in the waking world, Cassian convulsed and screamed, "Jyn!"

After she'd first lost Cassian here, such a staggeringly long time ago now, it had taken Jyn longer than it should have to get used to sleeping alone again. It felt as if two years and change of sharing someone's bed had rewired something in her brain, a strange fact for someone who didn't make a habit of being vulnerable around or even relying on other people. Letting herself change that had been a mistake, but knowing as much didn't change how difficult it was to fall asleep without her head on a chest or limbs intertwined with her own, or even just the warmth of another body at a close distance beside her.

Years had passed since then, though, and things had gone not just back to normal but even further in the other direction. She wasn't accustomed to having anyone in her space at night. Even now, remembering that she wasn't alone, the very reason she was curled into as tight a ball as she could manage with the blanket kept over her mouth, it was a theoretical sort of knowledge. She didn't want to wake him — didn't want him to see or hear her like this — but the fact of his presence was still all but incomprehensible anyway, nothing that had settled into any sense she had of reality.

So, when a voice cried out from a short distance away, Jyn was so caught off-guard that her whole body jolted. Only her current state, the panic that had yet to wane, kept her from instinctively reaching for one of the weapons she kept stashed nearby. Later, she would be disappointed in herself for the fact that she didn't do so, having long since been taught better than that, but for now, there were too many other things at hand.

Despite her shortness of breath and racing thoughts, she tried to catalog what she knew. Cassian was here. He was in the next bunk. He hadn't just shouted, but said her name. She didn't want to try to guess at what that meant, but she did suppose she had to say something, which meant collecting herself enough to try to speak without giving herself away.

"I'm here," she ventured, then winced at the hoarse, breathless sound of her voice. So much for trying to hide it.

Even odds if Cassian was woken by her or if he woke himself. Either way, he heard her. I’m here.

Gasping, Cassian lay paralyzed, mind racing, body not yet fully awake. It wasn’t something that usually happened to him: he couldn’t afford it. It felt terrifying. What’s more, his limbs felt aching and exhausted, like they’d really climbed. They must have contracted to the point of pain.

With an unlocking causing another convulsion, the sleep paralysis ended. Cassian rolled out of his bunk, panting for breath, flexing and releasing all of his muscles to try to rid himself of the awful feeling.

And though she’d told him not to, he saw Jyn’s open eyes gleaming in the dark, knew she was awake and seeing all of this, and he panted, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

For waking her, for this display, or for the dream of a reality where he didn’t make it.

She should get up, go to him, try to help. Once, Jyn would have done so without a second thought, least of all about her own emotional state. In a different lifetime, he'd seen her like this and worse. That wasn't now, though, something she had to forcibly remind herself again through the blurry mess of everything else. He hadn't seen this, and she didn't want him to; some part of her did still want to go hold him, but she had no idea now if that would be welcome or if it would only make things worse.

All of that was hypothetical, irrelevant, when she still could barely move or breathe. She watched him move, tear-filled vision adjusting to the dark, but she didn't really see, almost as if she wasn't in her own body at all. Wildly, almost desperately, she remembered something she'd learned from an older woman in Saw's cadre after having nightmares as a child, before she learned how to hide them. It seemed as worth a try as anything.

Five things you can see. Cassian. The opposite bunk. The closed door. Her own blanket, where it was held up to her face. Closet door.

Four things you can touch. Blanket. Bulkhead. The cord — her free hand found it — of her necklace. In the process, the racing pulse in her throat.

Three things you can hear. Her own shallow, rapid breathing. Cassian's equally rapid breathing. Soft footsteps on the bedroom floor.

Two things you can smell. Sweat. Him.

One thing you can taste. Salt, where tears had dampened her lips.

Jyn tried to breathe, still feeling as if that was a losing battle, and again took stock of what she knew. Cassian was awake, and had called her name. He was panting now and apologizing, and that was backwards. She should have been apologizing to him instead. The words wouldn't come, but she gave a short, sharp shake of her head that she hoped he would be able to see. "No, it's—" she tried, but that was wrong. "Me too."

Cassian had sat back on the edge of his bunk and was opening and closing his fist, over and over; working out a cramp or possibly running through a similar mental process. Hearing the quality of her voice, he looked up.

Whatever he'd just gone through, the question would always be deeply earnest. "Are you okay?"

If ever Jyn had pretended in her life — and she had, in fact, spent most of her life doing a lot of that — this was the moment to fall back on it. Dry her face, say she was fine, roll over and go back to sleep. Maybe whatever he was going through, her awareness becoming sharper that there clearly was something, would prevent him from detecting the lie in it or at least from caring enough to call her out.

The words were right there on the tip of her tongue, but didn't come out as she had meant them to, either in phrasing or in tone. "I'll be fine," she said, hollow and unconvincing. She didn't want to look away from him, but she couldn't look right at him, either, her gaze unfocused, trained somewhere in the distance. "Are you?"

Did you sleep well?
No.
Do you ever sleep well?

A laugh rattled at the back of his throat. "I'll be fine."

The difference was… What really hurt was…

He looked at her long and hard, eyes piercing the darkness. At last, all he could think of to say was, "Trust goes both ways."

Under other circumstances, having her own words repeated to her like that would likely have made her indignant. That reaction would have been disingenuous in its own right, but a far more comfortable defense mechanism than any she could manage right now. Sniffling, she stayed still and silent for a moment in turn, then finally shook her head, looking up at the ceiling as if it might hold some answers. It didn't, of course. There probably were none for something like this.

She was a little girl in a cave, alone in the dark again. Cassian was at the hatch holding a hand out to her, but she wasn't sure if she had it in her to claw her way out just to wind up back where she started.

"Just a bad dream," she said, trying, at least, to give him something without revealing too much of herself. She let the blanket drop, her face flushed and tear-streaked. "I was trying not to wake you."

Another I'm sorry died on his lips. Tipped askew, he moved his head somewhere between a nod and a shake. "Thank you," he said at last. "I hope, though, you get not to feel that way. That you know it's okay to wake me. …Force knows I would've just failed not to wake you."

The solution, of course, was his own apartment. But that was just pain.

He considered his bunk for a moment. Then with a quick, "May I?" he took hold of the mat and dragged it from the berth to the deck.

"Kay did this," he explained, sitting on the mat now on the floor. "Once when he had to carry me back to the ship and had a hard time laying me in the bunk. I dunno. It's stupid but I found it… a little less… like there was a little less pressure on my mind." He indicated the empty deck space between his mat and her bunk, where her mat could fit. "I can move over if you want to try it."

Kriff, what was even wrong with her? Here she was, hiding under blankets and crying like a child, while he was going through something just as bad or worse. Jyn still barely even felt present in her own body, repeating her earlier lists in her head to try to get herself to snap out of it, but it seemed suddenly unforgivably selfish of her just to lie here like this rather than trying to help him. Stiff-limbed and shaky, still not quite able to catch her breath, she forced herself to sit up, dragging the blanket with her like a cape around her shoulders, her apology held back only because she didn't want to interrupt him.

As she waited, watched, she turned those words over: I hope you get not to feel that way. She knew what he meant, and yet, in the dark and with so much weighing on her, there was something staggering about it all the same.

"Yeah," she said quietly, clearing her throat to try to at least sound a little less wrecked than she was. "Okay." Anything would be worth a try, even as it struck her as entirely too dangerous to sleep in even closer proximity than they already were. Careful, moving slowly, she got to her feet so she could start to pull her mat down beside his. "Sorry," she added, not looking at him. "I should've... Are you all right?"

Rolling his weight, he shifted his mat over to give hers more room.

"I knew I'd dream," he said by way of answer. "It was selfish to sleep in the same room as you, knowing that. I don't usually make noise. But I really will be fine. Or, you know. As fine as we get. …We did good. Like, truly good. Not everything I've done has been so… clear. That does help. A lot."

"It wasn't selfish," Jyn replied, risking a glance over at him. She was the one who'd just lain there, frozen and useless, while he pulled himself out of whatever dream he had been in. Besides, she figured it was equally as inevitable that, after the last day, with his arrival and everything it brought back up for her, she'd have had nightmares tonight too. Even though she still hated him seeing her like this, she had settled just enough back into her own skin to know that it was probably better that she didn't wake up alone.

Her mat now on the floor, she sat on top of it, knees drawn up to her chest. She didn't have the right to ask about whatever he'd dreamed, and yet: "Was it... You called out my name."

He had laid back down; now he turned to her, propping himself up to face her fully. "I dreamed I didn't get there in time. The Man in White shot us both."

Were it not for everything else, she might have smiled at the way he used the same nomenclature she had given her mother's killer as a child. Instead, she just bit her lip and nodded slowly. Not so different from her own dream, then, or at least part of it. The similarity wasn't altogether surprising; the fact that he would be so unsettled on her account was.

Trying to force a deeper breath into her lungs, she set one hand between them, the motion hesitant, an invitation and a reassurance.

"Usually when I dream about Scarif, you fall and don't get back up," she admitted. "All this time, and I can still see it."

All this time. The divide of time between them… yet no divide at all.

Softly, Cassian reached out and took her hand. His pounding heartbeat immediately slowed and gentled at the touch. Don't let yourself rely… but oh breathing was harder without her.

It was a moment of shared openness, like they'd had before… and he abruptly hurt so badly at the thought of it passing again, into veiled eyes and aborted sentences, the words just came.

"I feel like I don't know the right questions," he said quietly. "But even if I did, maybe I shouldn't ask them. I want to know more about our… my… time here. But maybe it's none of my business. If that was someone else. Or if it was me… I shouldn't try to… recreate, without building, or earning, or… Either way, I shouldn't put it on you. But then I see you bite so much back and I wish… I miss… I just don't know."

Maybe it was the shelter of darkness, making her feel a little less exposed despite the wretchedly vulnerable state she was in. Maybe it was just the sound of his voice, or the warmth of his hand in hers, or simply that her ability to fortify the walls meant to protect her was waning. Whatever the reason, as Jyn slowly lay down, staring up at the ceiling, she tried to find some words that she wouldn't have to keep herself from saying.

This was backwards, after all, in a way that she would have struggled to articulate. What to tell him and what not to, what she could even want from him, in her mind, those ought to have been her worries, not his. Not knowing how to say that, though, she started with something she could say, that she knew to be true.

"When we were on Jedha," she murmured, her breathing at least a little easier now. "You shot one of Saw's people to protect me. He was behind me with a grenade and I hadn't seen him. I think... that was when I first knew I could trust you. And then when we were on Yavin 4 and you came to volunteer... and you showed up on top of that tower and saved my life, again..."

She knew what she was trying to say, but not how to say it. Whatever they'd had here started back there. He wasn't the same person now, without the same history between them, but he was, too, in the ways that mattered most. She'd loved him, or started to, or something like it, before she ever wound up here at all, even if she would never have known to put that word to it.

Too tired and wrung out to be properly frustrated with herself, she exhaled slowly. "I guess all I mean is... Anything you want to know, I'd tell you. I just don't want you to think that... that I'd expect anything, or ask it, or... I don't know."

In the sheltering dark, he opened his mouth to speak… then closed it again. His hand held hers close.

"I've never trusted anyone the way I trust you," he said at last. "Not just how you'll speak and behave toward me, but at all; your judgment, your actions, your… everything. It makes me not worry about you because I know you can take care of yourself. That doesn't mean I don't want to help. I do. Just because you can go it alone doesn't mean you have to. But I know you can. Instead of making me feel like I have to help, it makes me grateful to.

"I've never really had that before. I can't think of anyone I didn't spend more time worried about. My ma, my friends, my… wife… I think our relationship was more built on worry than anything else. There were good reasons, but I think, now, that worry is a kind of distrust.

"I won't ask more tonight. It's not fair of me, when we're both… well, I can't speak for you. Thank you for listening.

"I guess I'm asking… next time you don't say something because you're worried how it'll affect me… go ahead and say it? As it is now… I know it wasn't for long, but I'm missing that friendship we had, with that trust."

Edited 2025-05-15 04:55 (UTC)

Jyn hardly knew what to say to that, or, at least, where to start. Even at the best of times, putting her feelings into words was not something that came naturally to her, and right now, with her heart still racing from the dream she'd had and Cassian's presence leaving her so thoroughly confused, was not the best of times. She wanted, on some instinctive level, not to say anything at all, just to roll closer to him and curl up against his side. That wouldn't have been fair, though. Nothing was clear enough for that, even after all he'd just said.

She focused instead on his hand in hers, grateful for that one small point of contact. There was some kind of metaphor to it, that maybe she couldn't have what she'd had before, but that wouldn't make her appreciate any less what she did have. And whatever else happened, there was something here. He'd just said it himself: that friendship, with that trust.

That, at least, gave her a thought, and reminded her that they were, in a way, starting over. There were things she'd said before that she would probably have to say again, which did actually give her a place to start.

"I'm not always... good at saying what I'm thinking or feeling," she told him. There was, of course, one constant, I love you still lurking somewhere, buried deep but too true to ignore, but that wasn't hers to offer now. "Not used to it, I guess. Even now. But." She bit her lip again. "I've never trusted anyone the way I trust you, either. And that goes back before this place. I've missed that, too. Anything I haven't said... It's not because I don't trust you."

He took a moment to process that. Then he nodded. Then he remembered they were in the dark and he squeezed her hand. "Okay."

"Okay," Jyn echoed, not much more than an exhale in the dark, and squeezed his hand in turn. At least, whatever else, no matter how confusing or complicated, there was this. That wasn't just enough; it was so much more than she ever thought she would have again. In the interest of the honesty he'd asked for, that she did want to try to give, she rolled onto her side, not moving any closer, but facing him in the dark.

"I really missed you. I'm really glad you're here."

"Me, too." Darkness or not, his eyes shone to her and crinkled how much they meant it. And how good it was to hear her say it.

They lay calm and quiet, heartbeats and breathing slowing and perhaps beginning to synchronize. Cassian murmured, "I might fall asleep again."

"You should," Jyn murmured in turn, and, oh, it was harder than it had been yet not to kiss his cheek or stroke his hair or anything else just as thoughtlessly intimate. She settled instead for brushing her thumb along the back of his hand again. "Rest, if you can."

She wasn't sure if she could, but she also wasn't sure it mattered. It reminded her of something else she probably ought to say, though, this one easier than anything that had preceded it. "What you said before... It's okay if you wake me, too. Always."

His thumb moved in answer to hers, and for an instant both played against each other, then linked.

“I hope I don’t,” he murmured back, “but thank you.” He rallied enough energy to crack a lopsided grin: “I really don’t want to go to that apartment.” Too much truth to really be a joke… well, the joke was in knowing she wouldn’t kick him out for dreaming.

Jyn smiled in turn, just a little, at the joke, sensing it for what it was. She doubted he would have said that if he thought there were any actual chance of her telling him to leave just because he had a loud nightmare. It wasn't as if he was the only one of them prone to bad dreams. Even if he had been—

"No, stay," she said, and she must have been more tired than she'd realized for how easily it came out and how little thought she gave it. "Please stay."

He was beginning to drift, but he held onto her hand and the importance of this response.

“Always. As long as you want me.”

"Always," Jyn echoed, too drowsy to know if she was just repeating what he'd said or giving an answer of her own. So much time she had spent without him, and she had never once stopped wanting him here with her, even when she'd tried to convince herself otherwise. These weren't things she was supposed to say — but then, he'd just told her to say them, hadn't he?

"Thank you."

It wasn't his place now to say Welcome home. Even though that's what he felt. Welcome home to inside his chest, inside his throat, inside his mind and heart and hands. Welcome to everything he could offer and everything she would take.

With another brightening smile, he said only, "Just a Fact."

She'd always loved seeing him smile like that, the way it softened all of his features and made him look younger, less burdened. Through heavy-lidded eyes, Jyn watched him until she couldn't anymore, hand clasping his, her own words again echoing in her head, please stay please stay please stay.

The last conscious thought she had was hoping he would still be there in the morning. It had been a while since she'd really let herself hope for anything.

This time, as she slept, she didn't dream, or at least wasn't aware of doing so.

When, at last, she began to awaken again, it was a gradual thing, all sensation and no thought. She was warm all over — her head on a shoulder, an arm around her, curled beside another body, and, oh, she'd missed this so much. Home, the semi-aware part of her mind provided. She was finally, finally home. With a quiet, contented hum, she mindlessly shifted a little closer, not yet ready to open her eyes or be anywhere but here.

Edited 2025-05-15 17:22 (UTC)

If he dreamt, now, it was of her: holding her into a deeper, healing sleep.

He woke gently to light streaming in from the high, narrow windows.

And it wasn't a dream. Sometime in the night, Jyn had rolled in to him, curling into his arms. They lay softly together, unurgent, breathing together.

Cassian's arm had fallen asleep and he didn't care. He wouldn't disturb her for anything.

Usually, once Cassian woke up, he got up. Now, he closed his eyes back into her hair and matched his breath to hers.

They were back on the beach, but there was no sorrow now, no doom; no light coming for them; just themselves become oceanic.

If this was another dream, it was one from which she didn't want to wake. Jyn felt too good for that, safe and content there in his arms; she wanted it to last just a little while longer, enough to give her something to hold onto. Dreams like this tended to be worse than any nightmares. Those, she was used to, having had them for most of her life. The good dreams, the ones she wanted to hold onto, were the ones that left her most rattled. Even with the high likelihood that she would regret it, though, she wasn't ready to move yet, wanting just for a little while longer to remember what this felt like.

"Feels good," she mumbled into his shoulder, not wholly aware of doing so. She couldn't even be sure exactly what she was referring to. It seemed instead to encompass the entire drawn-out moment. Usually, the best — and thus worst — of her dreams weren't this detailed or vivid. Was he real? She thought he was, hoped he was. There was that word again, still inextricably bound to him.

Good. Yes. He couldn't remember the last time his body sank so into the floor, without tension or ache, without even awareness of anything else, yet with him actually present in it and… not minding… elated at the fact. When he could breathe so deeply without hollowness or strain… when he felt nothing but comfort and relief. Yes, also the electricity of attraction, but not while she was unconscious, and secondary to the feeling that… this was just right.

And more than any of that, the joy of her relaxation with him, that he might be giving any of that back.

He wouldn't pretend to be asleep if she wasn't. "Mmhmm," he agreed. For a heartbeat, his arms flexed; not enough to displace her, just enough to acknowledge. Lips half-brushing the top of her head, he murmured, "Good morning."

Edited 2025-05-15 18:56 (UTC)

Her breath caught at his words, felt more than heard with the way she was curled beside him. There was no lurch to it, no discomfort, just quiet surprise, pulling her a little further into consciousness. With that came memory — yes, he was here, yes, this was real, not dream or imagination. The nightmare she'd had, and falling asleep on the floor beside him, her hand in his. They hadn't been this close then. She must have done that in her sleep, a fact which made her face feel hot with embarrassment.

He wasn't pulling away or trying to dislodge her, though. Jyn wasn't yet nearly alert enough to decipher what that might have meant, but it did stop her from jerking back as she might otherwise have done in her self-consciousness. To do so would probably have given entirely the wrong impression anyway. She had her wits about her just enough to know that she wouldn't want him to think he'd done anything wrong here when she was the one who'd unknowingly encroached on his space.

"Morning," she echoed, her voice still rough with sleep. For just a few moments longer, she could savor this. There couldn't be any real harm in that — at least, not to anyone but herself.

It was the very faintest of tensions that ran through her; would have been imperceptible if he hadn't melted into her body so completely.

Skies, he couldn't bear it… regardless of who initiated this (while asleep, it could hardly be held accountable; he'd made the waking invitation of pushing their mats together so it was really him) the idea that she didn't want it was terrible.

But if she didn't, she didn't. He wouldn't ask yet again Are you okay? because the burden shouldn't keep being on her.

For just a moment more, he closed his eyes against her hair and breathed.

Okay. She wasn't here to staunch a wound in his chest. Let her go.

He shifted and unwrapped his arm from around her—another thing that had happened in their sleep. He still couldn't bring himself to stand, but he'd released her. Thoroughly unsure if this was decency or dishonesty.

Maybe there was more harm to be done after all.

Jyn felt her stomach drop uncomfortably when he let her go, like the swoop of unexpectedly leaving hyperspace, her face still flushed with what she realized now, to her horror, was something close to shame. She was so stupid. Sure, she hadn't rolled into his space intentionally or even consciously, but she had then stayed there, selfishly taking more of something that hadn't been offered to her. Just because they'd once shared that kind of easy intimacy didn't mean they would again. That hadn't been him, as he was now. Thank the stars she hadn't done anything more than curl up beside him, but it was still bad enough to have been nestling into his shoulder like that, soft and clingy in a way she normally would never let herself be.

She rolled to her back and looked up at the ship's ceiling for the span of one breath, then two; then, abruptly, she pulled herself to her feet, unable to bear looking at him. "I'm sorry," she said. He'd asked her last night to say what she was thinking — yes, that had really happened — and she did mean to try, but dragging these words from herself was painful. "I shouldn't have done that. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry, Cassian."

Stunned, Cassian stood with her. "I let go because I thought you didn't want…?"

Dishonesty. Being too careful. Mistrust.

Slowly, Cassian put his hand to her shoulderblade.

"I want whatever you do," he said quietly. "I don't expect anything. I'll go back to doing nothing if that's… But those last moments on the beach… holding you was… I can't imagine you doing anything I don't want.

"—But I don't want to push. Don't do anything just for me. I can't trust a 'yes' if I can't also trust a 'no'. Does that make sense?"

Edited 2025-05-15 21:47 (UTC)

Jyn let out a slow, shaky exhale as he rested his hand against her shoulderblade, trying to will some of the tension out of her limbs. It was too much — not anything he had done or was doing, but the back and forth of it all in her mind, from contentment to concern and back to confusion again, how things could feel so right and then so wrong in the span of a single breath. She had never felt so at ease with anyone as she did with him, and yet it seemed all she could do was misstep. Given the strangeness of their circumstances, it probably wasn't fair to blame herself for that entirely, but it was hard not to let that frustration well up.

She wanted to tell him everything and she wanted to tell him nothing. She wanted to rebuild what she'd lost years ago and she wanted not to risk opening herself up to that again. She didn't know what she wanted, except that all of this fraughtness and uncertainty wasn't it.

"It does," she said quietly, because the question, at least, was something simple enough to address. She knew what he meant, and she could even appreciate the reasoning behind it, despite their misreading each other a moment before. "Make sense. But I could say the same to you. I—" I love you. It was always right there, on the tip of her tongue; she couldn't allow it past her teeth, no matter what he'd said to her last night. "I don't expect anything of you. I know that, whatever happened before, that wasn't you, now. And I wouldn't ask that. Or push for it. But I also wouldn't do anything that I didn't want to do just for you."

'Push for'… 'expect'… 'whatever happened before'?

All the electricity flooded him, especially in the nerve-endings contacting her.

He wanted to know. He didn't want to know. He wanted her to say everything she needed to. He wanted to have a real chance at something just between…

them.

Who was that? It seemed more important than ever to know if that had 'really' been… him.

…It wasn't. Our experiences make us as much if not more than anything else. He didn't have them.

But she did. No wonder. He wondered if he could be jealous of this other self. No. He just mourned. That he'd missed something so precious and then hurt her so heinously.

No wonder.

"I think we agree," he said softly, about more than they'd just been saying.

Again, Jyn told herself that it made a certain kind of sense that he might feel something for her now. However things had developed here, Cassian had started from the same point, the end, and everything initially sprang from there. It diverged, of course, after. Somehow maintaining that difference in her mind was one of the easiest things about this. He was himself in the ways that counted, but he also wasn't the person she'd built a life with here, because he hadn't lived that. It shouldn't have made sense, but somehow, it did.

She couldn't say the same of anything else. Feeling like this again, ripped open and all of her deepest, darkest parts laid bare for him to see, wasn't something she thought would happen to her again, nor was it something she even wanted. For years now, she had been trying and often succeeding to convince herself that she had made a mistake before in letting herself seek and have that kind of connection. As usual, all it did was get her hurt.

Keeping those walls up was just so much harder when he was so close, all but telling her that he wanted... something.

"Do we?" she asked, equally soft, as she turned to look at him with wide eyes. This time, she tried not to hope, but he had woken up that part of her yet again, and it couldn't so easily be laid to rest.

Her eyes caught him amidships. "I thought so…" His fingers spread to feel the fabric at her back, trying to ground him, perhaps to reassure her. His other hand came up to seek hers.

Are we both waiting for each other?

Cassian looked at her and realized they were now the same age. Like he'd said, she didn't need him to look out for her. Except maybe instead of him looking to her to set the pace, she needed him to. To her, it was too tangled.

He wasn't used to speaking so much, to anybody. But to Jyn, it was worth figuring out.

"Whatever happens to me next," he said, "I want to involve you. I can't go back to who I was before I knew you. I don't want to. If you don't want me, I'll walk away glad you're in the universe. But… if we can be together, in any way, that's what I want.

"What 'together' looks like… Like I said. I can't imagine anything with you I don't want. But I also know… I—this version of me—just got here. Like we said before… I haven't even met you outside of war." He gave a lopsided smile. "I'm pretty sure we're gonna get along. But I think it's worth building that foundation before… getting too far.

"I'm saying this 'cause… it seems like we're both waiting for each other to set the pace? If I'm wrong, hit me over the head with something. If I'm right… here's my pace. I would love to spend tonight the way we spent last night. And every foreseeable night holding you. But I'm not gonna rush into anything else. Let's know each other a few more days, at least.

"If we need more time, more space, well, they gave me an apartment. We can check it out. …Hell, we can go there together and just spend time in separate rooms. We can do whatever we need to.

"Just know… I wanna figure it out together."

There was so, so much that Jyn didn't know, couldn't know, couldn't begin to make sense of. In all he said, though — and she tried, truly, to listen, to take in every word — one thing jumped out at her, a small certainty she could cling to. Maybe that was the best she could do for now. Rather than trying to make sense of everything at once, take the smallest pieces and try to build the rest around them. She thought he might, in a way, have been trying to say the same sort of thing, that they didn't need to know all of it yet.

What she did know was that, hearing him say if you don't want me, she was sure nothing could have been further from the truth. She wanted so, so much that she was dizzy with it. She didn't want to want so much, but she'd fought this battle with herself the first time, too, and lost pitifully. Apparently even the years she'd been without him, in any incarnation, weren't enough to fortify her resolve.

"I don't want to be without you," she said. It wasn't quite what she'd intended to say, but then, he had told her not to hold things back on his account. She would've preferred, though, if she could have kept her voice from wavering while she said them. Since she first met him, she'd never wanted to be without him, and she'd come to have every reason to believe that she would be for the rest of time.

She took a breath, willed herself to keep going. Difficult as this was for her, he was worth the effort. "There's... a lot I don't know, right now. What to say. What this means. What I want. But I do know that. So. Yes. To what you said."

The smile that broke on his face was many things at once, not least relieved. And only briefly visible, before he moved a little forward and pressed his lips so lightly to her hair.

Jyn held her breath as he leaned in, the gesture slotting into that same category of familiar-but-new that so many things had in the last day. He was himself, but they were starting over. She'd spent so damn long here, and so much had changed, but he — wanting him, missing him, loving him — had been a constant throughout, even in his absence.

For a moment, she stayed still, then figured to hell with it. They'd just decided this was going to be something. She didn't have to keep herself so contained. Stepping forward, she slipped her arms around him, half to apologize for having pulled away so abruptly before, half just because she wanted to.

At once, his arms were around her, too. Without putting his weight on her, he was resting with her, melting together with gladness.

Several long, wonderful minutes later, without breaking the hug one bit, Cassian murmured into the top of her head, "So… leftovers for breakfast?"

"Yes," Jyn agreed decisively, a bit of brightness creeping into her voice that she didn't think had been there in all of the last day. She wouldn't say that she missed his cooking, because there was still so much, too much, to sort out, and she didn't want to put too much of the past on him in the present. Not expecting or asking anything, like she'd said. But the fact remained that cooking was a skill that he possessed and she mostly didn't, and having a home-cooked meal still felt like a rare gift, something she hadn't experienced much of since childhood before this place.

"Definitely. And I can put caf on. Probably both need it."

Another kiss seemed too much, so he just pressed his cheek momentarily to her temple before stepping away. "I'll use the lav and get dressed. Do you have a spare groomer, or a toothbrush?" The former could serve as both.

"I might?" Jyn answered, brow furrowing as she looked up at him. She didn't often have company, and even if she had, she still probably wouldn't have been much of a host. Just keeping things stocked for herself was a relatively new possibility in her life; getting extra supplies in case of guests was practically insane.

As she had told him earlier, though, the Falcon had a lot of owners before it wound up in her possession, and she was often finding things she didn't know were there. "If I do, it'd be in there somewhere. Check the cabinet, anything you can find is yours."

He did, in essence, live here now. She still sort of felt that that must be insane of her, but she wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Okay."

He hadn't smiled so much in a while. He couldn't help another at her, as if they were sharing a secret. …A strange comparison because secrets, in his life, were not pleasant things. But now, with her, everything was new.

Cassian brought his clothes with him into the lav. They would mostly still do from yesterday. Onto the pile, he set his own underwear that he'd washed and were now dried. The inherited ones he'd worn overnight, he hand-washed and set to dry. Not strictly necessary, but when you're lucky to have amenities, use them.

He searched the cabinet and came up with an analog toothbrush and what looked like dedicated tooth-cleaning paste. They were stored together, at least. The alphabet on them… it was the same as the secondary writing on his welcome packet, under the Aurebesh. He decided not to risk it but to check it with Jyn later. For now, he brushed dry and rinsed with a dilution of the 'fresher soap.

Again, taking advantage of what you have when you have it, he took a lightning-quick rinse in the 'fresher and blasted dry, then changed into the hand-me-down clothes. They really were a pretty good fit, but he looked forward to getting some things of his own. He assumed the money he'd been given would be good for it.

Some might find it strange, that he was dead set against using an apartment given to him by an unknown source, yet had no problem using money given by the same source. Well, he didn't believe hard (and untraceable) currency need bind you the way a stationary location did. Call it compensation for unwitting relocation.

He was again barefoot. He'd, of course, told Jyn the truth: it did make his eyes dart and heart pound harder, especially on a metallic floor. …But the sun shone in white, not red; and, most important, he was with her. Anyway, he wasn't going to put on those damn boots until he had to.

So Cassian emerged with his night clothes neatly folded, dressed for the day. He went to the cabin to put his (or their) mat(s) back onto the bunks, then his folded clothes onto the mat. Then he turned for the kitchen to turn yesterday's motley meal into today's motley breakfast.

For a moment, when he left, Jyn just stood in the cabin, trying to understand even a little bit of what had just happened. She knew, but at the same time, everything was utterly dizzying. The whole last day was, even sleep not doing much to let it sink in, given the nightmares it had involved and the sweeter interruption in between. She could still hardly even believe he was real. But she was warm where his arms had just been wrapped around her, the ghost of his touch lingering, and soon after, noise from the lav proved that, yes, there was someone else here. It wasn't in her head.

Her imagination had never been that good anyway.

Finally, taking advantage of privacy that didn't involve awkwardly navigating around each other, she changed out of her sleep clothes into regular ones, then ventured out into the ship's corridor, where it didn't take long before she was accosted by the beasts, as she had come to affectionately refer to her pets. "Yes, yes, I know, neither of you have ever been fed ever in your life," she said with an exaggerated sigh, well aware that they didn't understand her and that that was very much not true. The fact that she had spent so much of her life hungry made the joke that much funnier to her. "Come on, breakfast."

This was routine, and a relief in being so. Each animal had food put in their dish, and once they were both too distracted by eating to pay her much mind, she headed to the kitchen to put on caf as promised. She really did need it, exhausted less from lack of sleep and more from the emotional turbulence of the last day. When Cassian came in, she was leaning against the counter waiting for it to finish brewing, and she gave him a small smile. "Anything I can do to help?"

"You just did," he said, smiling at the caf maker. "Otherwise… not really, just going to reheat some things." He said as if he was going to put them into the microwave, not fire up the stovetop and start to toss and stir things in pans. Which he did with a casual fluency that didn't really leave room for assistance—and spoke of someone not bound by recipes or worried about getting singed.

In quick order, he'd slid the results onto plates and the plates onto the table and turned off the stove. He'd also found juice somewhere, reconstituted but he'd done something so it tasted almost real, with ice cubes he must have set last night.

"I think you and I have very different ideas of what reheating means," Jyn replied wryly, giving him a look over her shoulder. At least getting mugs out and pouring caf gave her something to do, however much more simple. Instinctively, she almost started to prepare both of their cups, realizing just in time that that would have been too weird. Better just to leave it. She didn't want to be dishonest, but neither did she want to act on information that he hadn't given her.

"There's cream and sugar, if you want either," she said instead. "All of a day you've been here and you must already know this kitchen better than I do."

Like amenities, take luxuries when you can. Self-denial to toughen you up was for training. Otherwise, it was better to remember what you fought for. He took cream, no sugar, and slid into the seat opposite her.

"'Know your own ground'," he said, taking a swig of juice. "I explored a bit when you were out. Do you know how many hidden compartments this ship has? I found six."

"Six? Guess you'll have to keep looking, then," Jyn said, smiling at him over the rim of her cup as she sipped her caf (both cream and sugar in hers). In truth, she didn't have an exact number, and suspected there were some even she hadn't found yet. That was no reason not to have a little fun with it. Some levity was welcome, anyway, after everything in the last day had felt so emotionally fraught and almost certainly would again before very long.

"Not bad for a day's work, though."

"You mean Beany hasn't found them all?" He finished the juice and took some food before switching to caf. "And how's Sprinkles? I was thinking I should spend some time with her, since…"

"Beany, you will learn quickly, is not the brightest," Jyn replied, all wry fondness. She'd tried so hard, the day she first found a scraggly, palm-sized cat under a shrub, not to let herself get attached to the animal, unsure at the time if it would even survive. As if a recurring theme, though, she hadn't been able to help it. Now there was no hiding the fact that she adored both pets she'd come to care for.

"Sprinkles... She'd probably like that, but don't feel like you have to." No expectations, she'd said. No asking him to pick up where he, in a different lifetime, had left off. "She's a little terror."

This, too, was said with nothing but affection.

"I guess we'll take it as it goes." To his surprise, Cassian's plate was already nearly empty. There hadn't been so much food to play around with. He didn't mind; he hoped Jyn would be satisfied. If not—"I'm determined to actually make it into the city today. You'll still come with me?"

"Of course," Jyn said easily, between bites of food. She was far from a picky eater anyway, even with as long as she had now been consistently well-fed here, but there was a big difference between whatever she could easily throw together for herself or order for takeout and something home-cooked. Given the sparseness of her groceries, it was a wonder that he'd managed to put together something that could make not one but two meals and tasted this good.

"I'll show you around some, and we'll get you some clothes that weren't left here by persons unknown."

Cassian threw her another lopsided smile. "Sounds great."

Hard to believe how little he'd smiled the first days of their acquaintance. What a difference it made, toward the end of it all, when he began. Now for real, again, was the possibility of him that had nearly been killed by war: the person he should have been if he'd been born in peace. Warm, funny, loving. The remnants of that person always lived under the apparently cold, downcast soldier, which was what made him a commander people followed, even to a suicide mission.

Now, he swept up his empty plate, took a final swig of caf, and impulsively pressed a lightning-fast kiss to the top of her head before turning to bring the dishes to the sink. How many of his fellow soldiers or spies ever got to see him like this?

The person he'd been forced to be would descend again, of course; not just in sleep but in waking nightmares and ingrained behaviors. But right now, for a beautiful moment, with her, he got to be that peaceful self.

Edited 2025-05-16 07:38 (UTC)

Jyn watched him. It was becoming a habit, her doing so, and one she was powerless to stop. In part, it was disbelief at his being here at all, needing to see him to convince herself that he was here and this was real. Beyond that, though, it was so good to see him at ease like this, especially here in this space that had become her own. She was trying, for her own sake as much as his, not to contrast the past and the present. All of that was so long ago for her now anyway. But the occasional thought still slipped through, and this one didn't seem too unfair: that she'd always gone to him before, letting herself into his apartment, crawling into his bed. For him to be here now, slotting neatly into the life she'd cobbled back together for herself—

Well. It was nice, was all, to see him relaxed and content. It would have been regardless of the circumstances.

"You can leave the dishes, I'll take care of them later," she said. "Least I can do, since you cooked. Thanks for that."

Agreeably, he left the dishes.

It was time to get going. Cassian slipped on the Imperial boots, pulling the hand-me-down trousers over them rather than tucking them in, and found he was steeling himself. He was preparing to scope out the city, gather information and compare to what was in the welcome packet; but oh was he hoping it checked out. He was hoping so hard that this really could be a place to just… retire? with Jyn.

Gotta put hope aside, though, and be objective. Compare your own observations to what was said, and to hers. Mainly, he was going to be looking for people who didn't fit into the life he'd been given. He expected the packet to be accurate to his situation, but maybe at others' expense. The Empire didn't fundamentally effect the upper-class citizens of Coruscant, after all.

Ready to go, Cassian fell into place with Jyn. "Okay."

Jyn pulled on her own boots, well-worn and mud-stained from years of consistent use. She would keep using them until she couldn't anymore, not inclined to discard anything useful, something she suspected they had in common. Hell, the fact that she even had a second pair of shoes here — running sneakers — was something previously unheard of for her. For the most part, though, while the circumstances of her life had changed, the way she lived it didn't. She would keep only what she could bring with her, buy food only as she would be able to eat it. She was accustomed to living here, but she didn't think she would ever be truly, fully settled.

Whether that was inherent to her or something instilled in her earlier than she could even know was impossible to tell. She had adapted well — a crucial element in surviving — but whether by nature or nurture or both, she was who she'd always been. She sort of wanted to tell him that, that things had changed so immeasurably but she was still the person he'd known for those last days, but she couldn't find the words. Anyway, she didn't want to get them sidetracked again before venturing out.

"Okay," she echoed, lowering the ramp to let them out of the ship. "And we're actually going to make it into the city this time."

They did. They got Cassian several changes of clothes and a pair of sturdy boots. Seeing Cassian's distaste for his old pair, the shopkeeper offered to throw them away, but Cassian opted to keep them. Never waste a pair of good shoes. "We'll give them away to someone the Empire would hate," he murmured to Jyn. He kept an eye out for the rest of the day, but didn't see anyone unhoused. Which he found… either highly suspect (were they wrangled and kept off the streets?) or hopeful (was everyone actually taken care of here?). All right. He'd keep the boots as a reminder to himself, unless/until someone like another new arrival might need them.

They went food shopping and Cassian convinced Jyn to actually get perishable items, because he promised to use them.

In between clothes and food, they explored the city at large. There did seem to be some divide between the 'locals' and the 'imports', but no real animosity, and by and large, the welcome packet held up. It was hard for Cassian to shake his wariness… but he wasn't finding anything to hang it on; anything that rang any bells.

Their only specific stop was, as had been on his ~~intake~~ ~~paperwork~~ welcome packet, Candlewood Apartments, number 10C. The door lock was thoroughly analog, which raised Cassian's hackles: having to actually turn a key and knob kept your hands occupied as it opened, thus vulnerable to ambush. Of course, he didn't have a blaster anyway… still, old habits.

He opened the door.

Jyn wasn't sure if it was easier, being out and keeping busy, discussing simpler facts of the city itself, or more difficult, with more time left in her own head. There was so much still to think about, so much she couldn't begin to make sense of yet. She tried to focus just on the tasks at hand to keep herself from getting too bogged down by it all — the clothes, useful, the shoes, even more so, the food, ingredients she was trusting him to be able to use. The first gave her a chance, too, to make a purchase of her own while he was occupied, written off as supplies for the animals, but really something she would give to him later. All of this was... well, normal, or something like it, and normal was good.

The apartment was in a building she wasn't as familiar with as some of the others. That seemed like a good thing, too, even if she hoped neither of them would need to come back here. It would still be for the best for him to see it and decide what he wanted to do with it.

Inside was fairly nondescript, much like other apartments she had seen before they were thoroughly lived in here, and like her own had been the entire time she'd had (and never really used) it. She followed him in, surveying the space more carefully than she might have if she were with anyone else. "Well, here it is."

He mirrored her, making a quick but thorough sweep. It wasn’t wholly unlike Luthen’s safehouse—which didn’t bear thinking about.

Coming back into the same room, he said lightly, "We'll keep it in case Beany decides he needs his own place."

(Veiled meaning: in case Jyn did. Barring that, Cassian intended not to come back.)

Edited 2025-05-16 22:09 (UTC)

"After all I've done for him, he better not," Jyn quipped, shooting Cassian a wry smile. Knowing that he couldn't have actually meant it for the cat's sake, she did wonder if the out was more for himself or for her, but for the time being, she decided it didn't matter. It was the sensible option, anyway. She had been telling herself for the last day that distance was a good thing.

No matter how hard she tried, though, she couldn't quite convince herself that she wanted any.

"You know, if you'd rather be here than out in an old YT freighter, I won't hold it against you," she added. She didn't actually think he would, mostly because, even having examined the place, he didn't seem likely enough to trust it enough to stay there, but it seemed worth offering regardless. "View's probably a lot better."

“I like the freighter,” said Cassian. “Reminds me how I never slept better than in hyperspace.” The only place one’s really safe. “And. Until you tell me otherwise: I go where you go.”

Edited 2025-05-17 04:05 (UTC)

"Well, all right, then," Jyn replied, her smile now small but deeply felt, the sort that suggested his words meant more than her own response conveyed. What she'd said earlier held true: that she didn't want to be without him. She didn't think that would ever change.

"I like it, too. It feels... less stifling than somewhere like this." The ship wasn't going to go anywhere, she knew that, but being on it at least felt like there was a possibility of it -- that she could be anywhere, go anywhere. Of course, with Cassian here, she didn't want to be anywhere else. His statement was one she could just as easily have made herself. Where he went, so would she, for as long as he would let her or until she could convince herself otherwise.

He recognized that smile. He was so glad to see it. It drew an answering one from him, from all the way inside his chest.

It made him think of something to buy, if he could find one on the rest of their trip.

"Let's finish up, then," he said. It was too early to say aloud, but he thought it: and go home.

"Let's," Jyn agreed, trying and failing to staunch some of the warmth she felt when he looked at her like that. This, she already felt certain, was going to become a recurring problem in her life. She'd forgotten the effect that just a look or a smile from him could have on her. Or maybe it wasn't even that, maybe it was something entirely new, the time apart and his willingness to see what could happen here, a chance she never thought she would have again and still didn't entirely know what to do with.

"Anything else you want to see here? Or bring back with us?"

He went through the mental list. He had the clothes and a rucksack to put them in. He also had a messenger bag with the welcome packet, surplus credits, and old boots. Getting toiletries had been a comic experience, needing Jyn to read all the English writing to him. Soldier-etc Cassian was also used to bare minimums, so it could have been much worse. Still, he needed to learn that alphabet, and fast. (He also had a primer book in the bag.)

The ~~comm~~ "cellphone" that had come with the welcome packet, he had in his bag as well. He'd "exchanged numbers" with Jyn but, unless/until they got separated, he was leaving it turned off. Only because she kept hers on her person, was he not destroying his or leaving it somewhere like this empty apartment. He didn't know who might track him with it, but the fact that it was possible was enough for distrust of the device.

The idea he'd just had, he thought he'd make his own trip to try to find, to surprise her.

Likewise… maybe, on another trip, sheets and blankets big enough for two. It felt too early to suggest.

"If there's any place you think I should see?" he said. "Otherwise, I think just food, then home."

—And realized he'd just said the word after all.

Edited (editspaaaaam, sorry!) 2025-05-17 19:20 (UTC)

Home. Anything Jyn might have said was briefly stalled by his use of that word, such a loaded one for her. She hadn't ever even used it in reference to the ship. It was hers, and where she lived, but home? Home was him, and had been since Yavin 4. She lost that when she lost him, and came to believe that it was a mistake to have ever let herself have it in the first place.

She still wasn't sure she was wrong on that front, but it was a fact that was currently secondary to the way it felt to hear him say that now. Maybe, maybe--

"Sounds good to me," she agreed, that same small, tremulously hopeful smile in place. "D'you want to pick up something on the way back? I don't want to ask you to cook again."

He saw the effect of the word, as if he’d dropped a stone into water… and it wasn’t bad.

He switched tracks with her seamlessly—he would always follow her—“I really don’t mind. But, sure, give me a taste of local cuisine.”

—but then he touched and squeezed her arm with a look more meaningful than anything to do with food. Yeah. I want to be your home.

He looked at her, and she looked back, everything she couldn't manage to put into words there in her eyes. How much she wanted that, how much she was afraid to want it, how much that one simple concept meant to her... This was neither the time nor the place, but she rested her hand over his, hoping that would be enough for now. It wasn't as if she could tell him anything she hadn't yet worked out for herself, anyway.

"You've got it," she said. Local cuisine was an incredibly broad statement here, but she figured they could just see what they passed on the way back. "Shall we?"

It could be dangerous, to assume you could read someone. Of course, Cassian was literally an expert in nonverbal expression, and deliberate communication as often, deliberately or not, lied. And who in the Galaxy—galaxies?—got to prove themselves to each other as thoroughly as Jyn and Cassian?

Still true that he didn't know her outside of combat. And didn't know the new her, after all the years she'd spent here—and all the private communications she'd built up with… him… that he had now fallen behind.

Given all that; he thought he understood. He spread out his fingers so that hers sank between them and they intertwined. Then he lowered their joined hands so they stayed holding together at their sides.

"Yes," he said, eyes shining back to her. With a crinkle at their edges, he added, "Don't forget anything here. I don't plan to come back anytime soon."

Edited 2025-05-17 23:11 (UTC)

"What is there to forget?" Jyn asked with a shrug, her fingers lacing through his. There was, of course, a part of her tempted to wholly raid this place for supplies, but that was an instinct that she could at least curb. The apartment was sparsely filled, not yet lived in; she doubted there was anything it would have that the Falcon needed. It was part of what made living there so convenient for her. She hadn't needed to do much of anything to settle in, just start spending her time and her nights there.

Without pulling her hand away, she started toward the door. If he didn't want to stay any longer, then neither did she.

"Come on, let's go."

They finished their shopping and got back to the Falcon at golden hour. They'd forgotten to eat lunch (and doubtless each had a mental voice of someone scolding them for it), but of course both had gone much longer without food.

The takeaway meal made up for it. Cassian couldn't even finish his share. Despite, again, the precepts of Finish everything when you don't know where your next meal will come from and Take what you want but eat what you take. Now, he did have an idea where his next meal was coming from: their own shared conservator in their own shared living space. Their home.

After dinner, he set about putting his own mark on it by going into the closet area and rearranging until he'd made a space for himself. He stowed his new belongings at perfect regulation angles. Finally being in there himself, he saw Jyn had not been kidding: there was an entire wall of capes. Cassian had absolutely no temptation to try any of them on. But maybe sometime Jyn needed cheering up.

Reemerging, Cassian nearly tripped over Sprinkles, who barked around his ankles. He knelt to massage her ears and get drooled on, and called to Jyn, "Hey. Will you show me how to play with her?"

Still, all of this was so surreal. Time passed almost in a haze, with Jyn intermittently trying to retain every detail and getting lost in her own thoughts. She ate, always hungry, and put away the few things she'd picked up for around the ship, but all the while she was thinking about him and what this meant and what might happen next. She didn't know any of it; all she did know was it wasn't something she would be able to figure out anytime soon.

That wasn't nothing, though. She hadn't pretended otherwise, either, or at least she hoped she hadn't. Anyway, he was here, and that was the most important thing. Everything else could follow that, if they had time. More and more, she hoped they had time.

As she had promised earlier, she was washing the dishes from earlier when she heard him call to her. Drying her hands, she came around to the bedroom, smiling at the sight that greeted her. Like so much else, it was the kind of good that made her chest ache and prompted an expression that was earnest rather than wry.

"Of course," she offered, taking a seat, cross-legged, on the floor. "Although, really, she'll probably be happy with any attention."

Edited 2025-05-18 02:43 (UTC)

By then, Cassian had discovered the metaphorical switch behind Sprinkles's ear that had her flopped over for belly rubs, legs and tongue lolling. "So it seems," he said, eyes flashing to Jyn. He was also now seated across from her. It came to him that he could never have imagined this with her just a few days ago.

…Maybe it could have. Once over Scarif, in the shuttle, when she grabbed his arm, and they looked at each other, startled, because all of a sudden, invading each other's space felt completely different than it had every time before. They hadn't been able to afford the feeling, then…

And then, of course, on the beach. What hadn't he imagined with her…

In the present, he forgot to ask questions: all of this was going through his eyes.

There was such weight to that gaze. Jyn would never in a million years have described herself as shy, but it was difficult not to feel something along those lines when he looked at her like that, her chin ducking slightly with it. Then again, since the first moment she saw him outside the ship, it had felt like the air was charged with electricity, just as dangerous and liable to shock her as to revive some part of her that had been dormant since she lost him, that she'd had every intention of keeping that way. This was just another element of the same sort of thing.

She wanted in equal measure to chase that feeling and to run from it. To climb into his lap and kiss him, and to keep her distance to protect herself. To tell him everything she hadn't yet, and to never again mention the history that was no longer his.

There was, she was already certain, absolutely no way she was getting through this emotionally unscathed.

"See? You don't really need me to show you."

Cassian blinked, looked down, and realized that Sprinkles had painlessly taken his hand in her little jaws and was growling and tossing her head in her joy. He returned the grip just enough to play, carefully of the tiny skull, before disengaging and resuming the scratches.

"This seems too easy," he said. "Is it because dogs like everything? Or because… she thinks… I'm…?"

Either he should never bring up the subject of his other self, or they would have to stop dodging around it. He wasn't sure which of them needed to take the lead on that. His impulse was to let Jyn, but the last time he felt that, it turned out she needed him to.

"I don't know," Jyn answered, feeling she owed him honesty on that front. On all fronts, really — she was a convincing enough liar except when it came to him — but especially as pertained to his former life here. She couldn't help wishing that weren't the case, or even that she hadn't said anything about it at all, but it wouldn't have been fair not to. He had the right to know, and she would never be able to just pretend it all away. "She definitely doesn't like everything, or everyone. But... I don't think it would just be because of that, either. Not after so long."

Or maybe she was really just talking about herself. What she felt for him wasn't, couldn't have been, just because of what she'd had before with someone who was him but also not. She'd been without him longer than she had ever known him. (So had Sprinkles.) There was no way it was just the result of memory.

Cassian looked down at Sprinkles, who was again wrestling his hand as if it were a bone. Something about that image made him set his jaw and look up at Jyn.

"I'm starting to see when it hurts you not to say things. Is there anything you just… want to? That will only get harder as time goes on? We could just go ahead. Get it out of the way." The faintest smile. "There are no rules."

Of course, Jyn thought. Of course he could see when there was something more on her mind; he'd always been able to read her uncomfortably well. She wished it were as simple as what he was saying. The things it hurt to hold back, it might hurt even more to give voice to. She didn't know what she wanted (him, just him, always him) in nearly every aspect of this, her heart and mind in total opposition. And, whatever he was saying, however patient he was with her and graciously willing to wade into chaos left in another lifetime's wake, she didn't think it would be fair just to lay it all on him, potentially unburdening herself by burdening him.

He was asking, though. Her memory of last night was hazy, but he'd asked something similar then too. The least she could do was try to say a little of what she was thinking.

"I don't know," she said again, apologetic as she looked up at him. "I can't tell if talking about it would help, or be harder. For either of us. If I should tell you about things that happened here, or if that wouldn't be fair." She bit her lip for a moment, hoping that he would at least see that she was trying. "What do you think?"

Looking into her face, her stardust eyes, he nodded slowly. She made sense. Of course she did. He trusted her judgment, sometimes more than his own. Cassian pet Sprinkles more calmingly in order to think. He wanted to answer as openly as he was asking of her.

"I think you're worried about what's fair on me," he said. "I worry what's getting lost is what's fair for you.

"What if we both thought of… him, as being someone else? If you needed to talk about them, I'd hate if you couldn't do that with me.

"If I'm wrong, and you really don't want to, then I'll stop second-guessing. I just really want you to be able to."

He kept talking so much. The phrase early negotiations sprang to mind. He wasn't sure that was a bad thing. He just hoped Jyn didn't get sick of it.

Edited 2025-05-18 04:37 (UTC)

Jyn might have laughed, if the subject were a different one or if she were talking with anyone else. At least from her perspective, what was fair for her stopped being part of the picture a long time ago, and that was hardly unexpected when nothing in her life had ever fit that description anyway. It wasn't fair that she'd built a life with someone and had it ripped away from her. It wasn't fair that he didn't remember any of it, though through no fault of his own. If that unfairness was already a given, and it was, then it seemed like the least she could do was try to make things a little fairer for him.

But, more and more, it seemed like her reticence wasn't fair in its own right. None of that was because of him, specifically. Even now, with his acquaintance with her having lasted about a week, she felt as if he knew her better than just about anyone; there was no one she would have been so willingly vulnerable with. Everything about this was just so unclear, a situation that ought to have been impossible and that she didn't know what to do with.

Keeping it in was apparently not the answer. And maybe she should have expected as much. Years ago, with him but not him, she had asked him more than once not to shut her out. To tell her things. However good her reasoning and understandable her uncertainty, it probably wasn't all that helpful for her to hold so much back.

"It's not that I don't want to," she offered. "And... as strange as it is, that's the one thing that does make sense to me. That you're... you... but also not the person who was here before. I can't really explain it. It just does. And that was all so long ago now, I think if you had been him, and shown up remembering all of it, this would be just as strange in a different way." She had no idea if any of what she was saying was at all comprehensible. Hopefully, though, the fact that she was making an effort would count for something. "I've been without you for longer than I ever knew you. Or him. Either way."

It was comprehensible. It did count. The look on his face hopefully showed both.

"I'll stop pushing," he said quietly. He slid his hand from the dog over to Jyn's. "The invitation's open."

Jyn took his hand and squeezed it gently, appreciative, the same apologetic look on her face. This wasn't what she wanted, she thought — but then, the one constant, or at least the one constant that wasn't Cassian, about all of this was that she didn't know what she wanted. That still held true now. She had a feeling it wouldn't be changing anytime soon. All of this was too complicated, too impossible.

"Thank you," she said, just as quietly. "And I don't... want you to have to, but... I think sometimes it helps. You reminding me that it's all right to say things."

He squeezed her hand back, then gave a crooked smile. “Well, you know I can handle sensitive information.”

"Really? I never would've guessed," Jyn deadpanned, grateful for something that provided a little levity. Still, she didn't want to leave it just at that, either. With her hand still in his, she gave him the tiniest of smiles. "I trust you, you know. There's no one I'd sooner tell... well, anything."

Their smiles met, of perfectly the same substance. Cassian’s thumb ran over her hand… then he lifted her hand and kissed it. “I believe you. Thank you.”

Jyn's own smile grew just a little at that, warmth spreading through her hand where his lips met it and along her cheeks. It was a rare unguarded moment for her, and she didn't even mind that much, absurd as it might have been for such a slight gesture to have such an effect on her. But then, they were starting over, in some capacity, which meant this was new. So maybe not that absurd after all.

"I think I'm going to shower," she decided. She didn't want to be away from him, but she probably could use the chance to try to clear her head a bit. "Would you mind making sure there's water in the animals' dishes? They're out by the dejarik table."

"Of course."

By the time she got out of the shower, the water bowls would be filled, and Cassian would be sitting at the dejarik table studying the English alphabet primer—working to keep Beany in his lap rather than on the book.

Jyn didn't intend to linger. It would felt been unfair to, as things were, and again, she thought that something was going to have to give if they were going to effectively be roommates. Of course, there was every chance that it was just in her head, given the context that she had and he didn't. Were he anyone else, it wouldn't have fazed her in the slightest, changing clothes and otherwise existing in the same space. She had grown up a soldier, with little in the way of privacy; she would always take what she could get in that regard, but she wasn't prone to excessive modesty.

It was different with him, feeling about him the way she did, wondering how he felt about her, not wanting to seem at all presumptuous. Better just to keep some distance there and dodge any awkwardness. So, as quickly as she could, she grabbed clean sleep clothes and a fresh towel. Before heading to the lav, she did what she had initially asked him to leave the room for: she set on his bunk the pair of house shoes she'd bought earlier.

In the shower, she spent as little time as possible, scrubbing herself down under the hot water. She dried and dressed in the steam-filled room after, and emerged again in short order, wet hair hanging loose around her shoulders. "He's not giving you too much trouble, is he?" she asked with a crooked smile, taking a seat across the table from Cassian. "He doesn't really understand the idea of personal space."

He looked up to the sight of her with hair loose and wet, and somehow this squeezed his heart as much as anything else that day. It felt unguarded, and he felt so grateful.

'He' what? …Oh, right. "No, no trouble. He's helping me study." Cassian scratched under Beany's chin and was rewarded with a purr. Cats made more sense to him than dogs. He couldn't help wondering if this was a difference between him and former-him, or if this had still been true but Sprinkles had chosen him regardless.

"Good," Jyn replied, unconcealed fondness in the way she took in the sight in front of her. It was just nice, seeing Cassian begin to fit into the life she'd rebuilt in his absence, sitting on her ship, bonding with her pets. Beany tended to be affectionate anyway, so it was no surprise that he'd quickly taken to Cassian, but she was still glad for it. The littlest things like that were the ones that let her think that this — whatever it was going to be — might actually work.

"How is the studying going?"

Giving Beany an affirming scritch with one hand, Cassian used the other to flip to a blank page. He picked up the ~~stylus~~ pencil and wrote out, in a column, the Aurebesh alphabet, then beside each letter, its corresponding English letter, and slid the page to her. “How’d I do?”

"Looks good to me," Jyn said, giving him an approving nod as she looked over his written alphabets. "You're a quick study. I'm sure you'll have the hang of it in no time." She wasn't surprised by that. Given his previous line of work, it seemed to make sense that he would pick such things up without much trouble. She had different context for that now, too, idly thinking back to something he'd said yesterday — about his first time on a new planet, not knowing the language or having anyone who knew his. She wanted to ask more about it now; she wasn't sure if she should broach the subject.

Instead, she went back to something else from yesterday, leading with a fact rather than a question. "I started learning different languages pretty early. I don't know if it was the people I was around, or too much time with just a datapad, or both. But I always liked that." Languages made sense to her. Using words in any language to express herself was far more difficult.

"Thanks." He took the book back, sliding it beside another book he'd picked up. Next he'd try reading from that. (Perhaps aloud, with Jyn?) "Not having to do it in a stone hut all in one night is nice." And it wasn't a different language, essentially just a textual code.

(The fact that this supposedly different Galaxy still spoke Galactic Basic Standard was another question he was storing up for some other time. For now, he was just grateful to be with Jyn.)

The image of little Jyn with a datapad was both a sweet and bittersweet one. He knew her family had moved often and been solitary, so maybe she hadn't had a chance— "Did you have friends your age?"

Maybe Jyn's childhood had only been populated with adults, as opposed to Cassian's childhood which had been utterly devoid of them.

"Never," Jyn answered, shaking her head. Of all the myriad, probably objectively sad facts about her early life, this one didn't particularly bother her. Maybe it was just that she didn't know what she was missing, or that by the time it would have mattered to her, she had already effectively closed herself off. Letting people in was too dangerous. Before that, when she was younger, it would just have been one more loss after her life was uprooted. With a wry slant to her mouth, she added, "I never really had friends, full stop. That didn't change until I wound up here."

It still was something that didn't come easily to her, too, an underdeveloped muscle from a skill she'd never had a chance to learn. She cared about people fiercely and intensely, even when she tried not to, but showing it — being actively engaged in friendship — remained an adjustment.

Tucking a stray, damp strand of hair behind her ear, she shrugged. "Did you? After you left your home planet?"

"Yes," he said, with new appreciation for how amazing that was—and how "They somehow stuck with me despite my… absences. Every time I ran away, sometimes for years, they greeted me when I came home. Wil, Brasso, and Bix."

He didn't mean for his expression to change at all, but the fact that it went a little blanker on each of them was probably telling.

Jyn wanted to ask about them, rendered more curious by the shifts in his expression. That was the same reason she didn't. There was clearly some kind of a story there, and she hoped he knew he could tell her anything, but it wouldn't have felt right to press at something too sensitive.

"Was that something that happened a lot?" she asked instead, equal parts gentle and interested. "You running away?"

His expression cleared—kinda ridiculous since this was, in its way, a worse subject. But one he had more successfully dealt with.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "My first years with my parents… the adopted ones… I hadn't figured out if they'd saved me from my homeworld or kidnapped me. Not speaking the same language at first… I didn't know there was a Republic corsair coming down that would have killed me if they'd left me there. I did know I left my sister and others behind without telling them goodbye. I know now, it probably killed them. It was complicated. So I kept running away and joining different groups, to fight the Republic, then the Empire. Or winding up in jail. But my parents kept finding me or saving me… or just taking me back. That meant everything."

It was a horrible, ugly thing, the way Jyn felt something like jealousy well up inside her. Of course, she had no intention of saying so, or resenting him for it in the slightest. There were different ways to struggle, and the circumstances were far from enviable. Still, there was some small part of her, the little girl still sitting in a dark cave, that ached at the thought of these people who'd chosen him, cared for him, loved him coming back over and over again.

He deserved that. She was so relieved that, if he'd had to lose so much else, he had people like that in his life. It just never stopped hurting, the way she'd been so easily cast aside by anyone who cared about her.

"Makes sense," she said quietly. "And I'm sure it still is complicated. But... It sounds like they were good people. I'm glad you had that."

Whether he read it on her now, in her file, or throughout their time together, Cassian said softly, "I'm sorry you didn't. …I'm sorry I took it for granted. I wasted so much time with them, until they both were gone."

Jyn shrugged again, although the gesture was more forced this time, an old defense mechanism. She didn't want it to matter that she hadn't had anyone like that in her life, but it did — always had and always would, a wound she'd learned to live with but that never fully healed. For a moment, she wondered if she should say more about it, then decided against it. Between what he might have already read about her and figured out on his own, there probably wasn't much need.

It would just have circled back to the fact that she'd ultimately even lost him, too, and that was ground she didn't want to tread.

"I'm sorry you didn't have more time with them," she offered instead. That that tended to be the way of everything didn't make it less painful. That he'd at least been loved for a while didn't either. "You told me what happened to your father... Can I ask what happened to your mother? You can say no."

He felt a fresh pang of guilt for…

“Just age,” he said. “The kind of death we fight for everyone to have, really. I just should have been with her. And our last words to each other shouldn’t have been a fight.” This guilt wasn’t a pang but an everlasting ache. Brasso’s recounting of Maarva’s message to him both soothed and deepened that. “I told her I was coming back but I didn’t make it.”

…the pang returned and he had to say, “I know we said not to, but I’m sorry, again, for what I said to you over Eadu. There’s no comparing.”

Jyn shook her head, expression softening a little. "It's all right," she said. Given how wholly meant her own apology for that fight had been, she didn't want to tell him again not to be sorry. She appreciated that he was. It just wasn't something she felt she needed to hear. She'd known it, in some respect, since he came to her on Yavin 4, and it was impossibly long ago for her now anyway, nothing she held against him in the slightest. She had to remind herself that it was still fresh for him in a way it wasn't for her, and that maybe he needed to say it for himself, too.

"I think... Maybe we both weren't entirely fair to each other. And we both had our reasons. We were just coming at it from opposite sides of things."

She didn't want to ignore the rest of what he said, especially having been the one to ask. After a moment, she added, "I'm sorry about your mother. That you couldn't be there."

“Thank you.” For both things—for everything—she’d just said.

Cassian tried to remember how they’d gotten onto this subject. His hand ran onto the primer book and he glanced down at it. “So which languages do you know? In case we ever need to communicate in secret.”

Jyn gave a slight nod in response to his thanks, and didn't press the subject anymore. They'd both said what they needed to, she thought. It wasn't something that required dwelling on for the moment. There were enough other subjects to move onto. After all, they were — something else she had to remind herself of — still just getting to know each other, even if she was doing so for the second time.

"Twi'leki, at least the verbal parts, since, obviously—" She gestured toward her head and the very obvious lack of lekku present there. "Bocce, Rodian, Alarin. I can understand some Shyriiwook and Tognath. Bits of Lasat, but mostly just cursing."

“The curses are all I remember of my childhood language,” agreed Cassian with a faint smile. If he’d known it was use it or lose it he would have tried to keep speaking. But without anyone to speak it to…

To Jyn, Cassian said in Alarin, “We have this one in common.”

—On the other hand, it had been a surprising comfort that Alarin had similarities to Kenari. It was a strange universe.

Edited 2025-05-19 01:19 (UTC)

"Good to know," Jyn replied, giving him a little smile again, like they were sharing a secret. It wasn't altogether surprising, the subject having come up before, but in the interest of maintaining that distinction in her head, she didn't want to let those conversations guide this one. It seemed better, more comfortable, to learn things from him, not fall back on what she knew of former-him.

Anyway, it was good to have another language in common. Switching back to Basic, she added by means of explanation, "I mostly picked up what I heard from Saw's people. There was a Lasat with us for a long time. Tended to curse in his language. So it stuck with me."

He loved her little smiles. People tended to think that the bigger the smile, the more sincere; Cassian knew it could be the opposite.

“That’s a trick I used undercover,” he said. “If I was supposed to be from a particular place, I’d learn the local swear words. Nothing gives a stronger impression of being from a place than what you say like it’s involuntary.”

Speaking of which, Cassian again shifted the contents of the table to bring forward the welcome packet. He’d also been matching words in both texts from it. “This doesn’t talk much about the people of this place, just about us imports. Do they have their own language?”

"Not really," Jyn answered, shaking her head. How language worked here was one of those things that seemed perpetually mysterious, and that she'd long since given up on trying to comprehend. She had a feeling it might be more of a sticking point for him, at least at first.

"Apparently it's English — the language — but that's really just the same as Basic. You'll probably hear bits and pieces of others that are familiar, too. For such a different world, there's a lot that seems to overlap."

Not for the first time, he wondered how this could be another galaxy… and why stop at language? The class-M planet, there being mostly Humans, the architecture, having all his information, having people in common. Too many commonalities started to make it more fantastical, not less. And whoever was behind it so powerful that since they hadn’t already taken over everything… or maybe this was an experiment in advance of that…

For a moment, Cassian just put his head in his hands. “Sorry,” he muttered. And exhaled one of those Kenari cursewords.

Jyn was hardly about to assume that she knew what he was thinking, but she suspected she at least had the basic idea. Given that, she couldn't tell what might be helpful, curbing the instincts both to reach for him and to offer some kind of reassurance. There wasn't really any way to make sense of any of it. She certainly couldn't ask him to trust it, when he had no reason to do so and every reason to be suspicious.

All she could really do was hope that he trusted her enough to balance some of that suspicion.

"Don't be," she replied. Watching him for another moment, she asked, "Tell me what you're thinking?"

He did trust her. More than anyone. He raised his head slowly but without hesitation.

"Part of me thinks I owe it to… someone… to figure this place out," he said. "And part of me just wants to accept the gift."

Edited 2025-05-19 02:30 (UTC)

"Could you do both?" Jyn suggested, the question an earnest one. "Take the chance for what it is, but try to figure out what you can? If you do want to, I'll do whatever I can to help you."

She doubted that would be very much, but she would try, for him. Again, she hoped — not that he knew her well enough, because he'd only known her now for a matter of days, but that he trusted her enough to believe that she wouldn't have just gone complacent and taken all of this in stride. If there were answers to be found, she thought she would have done so long ago, but she wouldn't try to dissuade him from trying and would assist in whatever way she could.

That hadn't been meant as a test, but he realized that if she'd answered any other way, he would have wondered if she were really Jyn Erso. That answer was right. Take the chance… and the next. But no, not complacent.

"I'm not exactly starting from an objective place," he said softly. "I really want this to be…" He sought for the word. At last, he reached for her hand and said, "…rest."

Easily, gratefully, she let her hand curl around his. The contact was becoming familiar again, second-nature, and she both dreaded and savored that. She didn't want to feel about him the way she did, or to find such a simple gesture so meaningful. Once taken hold, though, the effect he had on her was a difficult thing to turn off.

It was also entirely irrelevant at the moment. This wasn't about her — or, if it was, only to the extent that she had been thinking a moment before, him trusting what she had to say about all of it. If he did, just that alone would be something she appreciated more than she could say.

"It can be," she told him, her voice matching his in softness. "You should get to have that." He'd given his life to the Rebellion and then for the Rebellion. If anyone deserved a chance to rest, she believed it was him. "But I know believing that isn't so easy."

Maybe the word was 'believing'… maybe the time would come when they could walk through the city and he wouldn't keep seeing Luthen's store in every fresh window, or pass a radio and not expect it to start emitting pulse code at him. Maybe he'd stop looking for every point of ingress and egress, every possible shelter and every weaponizable object, in every fresh room; maybe he'd stop gauging every person in his view, snap-profiling those who caught his attention, and looking hardest for those unseen; maybe he'd stop seeing the dead in his periphery.

(He knew better on that last.)

Maybe the word wasn't 'should get' but 'could get'. Was he still capable?

Looking at Jyn, he sure hoped so. Because he felt the same way about her. She deserved it.

He squeezed her hand in gratitude and that same wish

I wish you peace
I wish you to live
I wish you the universe

then let go so he could sweep his study materials into a pile. "I think I'll get ready for bed."

Jyn gave him a small smile again as she got to her feet. Having just said herself that it wasn't so easy, she knew this was probably the best kind of response she could hope for right now. It was a process. Force knew she'd resisted it as often as not over the last few years. Accepting all of it was simpler at first, when she'd had him — former-him — with her. In his absence, she'd grown as restless and stubborn as ever. Still, she knew enough to know that things generally were what they seemed, without any sinister forces at play behind the scenes.

Mostly, she didn't know what to do with that. Having spent her whole life around war, peace wasn't something that came naturally to her. She appreciated it more now in Cassian's presence again, wanting him to get to have that chance.

"All right," she agreed. "I'm going to get something to drink, I'll be in in a few minutes."

It really was easier to smile with her. He returned hers and stayed until she’d gone before he went to the lav to clean up.

He had his own sleepwear now: a plain shirt and trousers, both of thin, soft fabric for the warmth of the ship. He left his socks on for the walk to the cabin, even though he planned to take them off there and it was a bit foolish. But there, on his bunk, was Jyn’s surprise: a pair of light slippers—but with rubber soles. (Shock absorbent.)

As she appeared, he turned and held them up. “These are perfect. Thank you.”

As she returned to the cabin, a glass of water in her hand, Jyn found herself suddenly self-conscious about the purchase she'd made earlier. Maybe it was something she should have suggested or just shown him instead. In the moment, it had felt right to do that one small thing for him. They were just slippers, but at the same time, they were meant to say what she couldn't — that she wanted him to be comfortable here and to feel safe.

Strange, when she didn't consider the ship her own home for her to want him to be able to see it as one, but she did. She wanted him to find that with her, no matter where they were living.

"Thought you could use something to wear around here," she replied with a shrug, attempting to downplay any of the significance of it. "I'm glad you like them."

A full grin started on his face. With sudden inspiration, he set the slippers on the floor to try them on. They fit perfectly.

“Thank you,” he repeated, fitting into the words all the significance the gift held, of his past that she’d shown this care for. “I do.” He touched her shoulder, with the feeling of an embrace.

On that note… he gestured to his mattress and said, “I was going to move it to the floor again… if that’s…?”

Edited 2025-05-19 04:19 (UTC)

"Of course," Jyn said, and let out a quiet breath of a laugh. "You don't need to ask permission. I want you to..." With her free hand, she gave a helpless little gesture. Maybe she was going to have to try to say some of what she'd just been thinking after all. "Be comfortable here." To make yourself at home, she thought, as she had nearly written in the note she left him the day he arrived and corrected herself just in time.

In truth, anyone she trusted enough to allow into her space like this, she also would have wanted to settle in, whatever that entailed. She was no kind of a host, and she definitely didn't want anyone to stand on ceremony and act like a stilted house guest, all uncertain and ill at ease. That just applied twofold to Cassian, whom she wanted to stay here, to feel like it was his as much as it was hers.

Setting her water glass down, she pulled her hair, now dry, back into a ponytail with an elastic from around her wrist. "I could move mine again too?"

He could only nod, the words I was hoping you would catching in his throat. Even though they’d talked about it, the reality still seemed too delicate, too easily startled or pressured.

She’d said she wouldn’t do anything just for him. He said he trusted her… and he did. It was always harder to trust things he wanted than things he didn’t. But this was Jyn.

Cassian laid out the bedroll on the floor, moving it flush with Jyn’s when hers came down. He moved his pillow to the seam and spread the light blanket to share, keeping alert to her for any sign he should do otherwise. Trying not to have visions of future nights reading together (he would try to read aloud from the book in English and she could correct him) or talking or… It was more than enough, right now, to put out his arm and hold his breath to see what she did.

Jyn tried not to let herself be relieved at his agreement, or nervous about what might come next. It didn't matter — at least, so she told herself. He was here, and maybe after a day less emotionally fraught, they would both be able to sleep a little better than they had the night before. Maybe starting off closer would help, too. She didn't particularly want that to be the case for herself, but there was something to be said for the comfort and security just of feeling another body nearby, a gentle warmth and breath that could signify safety.

More than that wasn't anything she could let herself hope for. He'd said this morning that he wanted to go to sleep like they'd woken up, but in her addled state at the time, she hadn't quite let those words sink in. Now, as she pulled her own mattress down to the floor beside his, shifting it over to keep them as well-aligned as possible, she bit her lip through a smile as she saw him settle around the middle of the makeshift double bed, arm held out like he was waiting for her.

There was still so much she didn't know, couldn't know, but this was easy. She put her pillow beside his, her blanket overlapping, and settled beside him in the space he'd been implicitly offering as she lay down.

On her side, head tipped up to look at him, she asked, "Is this okay?"

“Yes,” he breathed, not hiding the emotion there. (Mostly relief, and gladness.) “…Is this?” His outer arm came up and tentatively touched then draped over her ribs. “I understand if it’s too…”

"No, it is," Jyn said on a rush of an exhale. She appreciated his asking, but the last thing she wanted was a misunderstanding like they'd had this morning. It felt too good to be this close, having his arms around her, and on purpose this time, not something done in their sleep. "It's very okay."

She half wanted to echo his words to her from earlier and tell him that she didn't see there being anything he could do that she wouldn't be okay with, but it seemed better just to take things as they came. More than anything, she just liked being near him.

Edited 2025-05-19 07:04 (UTC)

He breathed out with her, so abjectly glad. If she'd said no to all this… he'd cope—wait 'til she was sleeping and take a nighttime walk around the ship, spend some time staring out of the cockpit—but oh was this wonderful.

Fitting himself to her spaces, Cassian touched his face to her hair and felt his eyes close. The eternal ache behind them… wasn't there. It was like he'd never been able to rest before, but he could now, melting into her.

…Once again, he recoiled at such thoughts, because Jyn was so much more than how she affected him, not limited to how she made him feel; she was Jyn, in of herself, out in the universe, doing and being and impacting so much.

And given all that, she was choosing, right now, to be with him, here, in his arms. His head spun at that reality, and he breathed into it, finding the rhythm of hers.

"Good night, Jyn," he murmured, beginning to drift. "Wake me if you need to."

"I will," Jyn promised, her voice soft and breathing beginning to steady. This was, really, exactly the sort of thing she should have been trying to avoid, but in the moment, it didn't matter. Being so close to him was enough to temporarily quiet the nonstop torrent of thoughts she'd been contending with since she first caught sight of him. Even though it would surely return, and even though it was probably dangerous to be letting her guard down with him like this, she could deal with that later. Right now, this was enough. "And you, too."

All entwined with each other, it would likely be inevitable for one to wake along with the other anyway, but that wasn't the point. It was all right if it happened, and she wanted him to know that. She would rather be awake and be able to try to help than have him feel like he had to deal with it on his own.

She let her eyes close, not sleepy so much as simply at ease, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "Good night, Cassian."

crash sites keep me up at night

two for the price of one

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