starlogs | closed ( ☄ ) the place where the sea kisses the sky is a beautiful beginning to a painful end

Were they back home, if this were a 'normal' situation, Cassian would feel some measure of guilt for not immediately going back out with Kay to help with the rescue effort. That measure would likely be deeper and more profound than the guilt he has now, in small niggling doses in the back of his mind, but it's reserved for sending poor Kay on back-to-back missions as opposed to whatever is happening on the planet's surface.

He's pretty sure if he were making a report he'd write 'shit show' just to delete it again and feel a little better.

As it is, he doesn't feel terribly guilty. He feels nauseated, due to his concussion, but when he'd pointed out to Kay that he's had plenty of those, the droid had checked out the rest of his injuries and told him to rest.

So that's what he'd been planning to do. In his room, presumably, since he was pretty sure Bodhi would want to help rescue those trapped on the planet.

But Rogue One was still there, and oddly quiet. HIs boots echoed on the ladder - he had to go carefully, couldn't look down - and he's more surprised still to hear the radio silenced, and to find Jyn holding Bodhi's goggles.

"Jyn?" He doesn't ask the obvious question. Something tells him he already knows.

She doesn't look up, but her eyes slide to the side, enough to take him in, the way he's carrying himself. He's hurt, she can tell, and her chest seizes up, remembering how she had to all but carry him down the beach, weak and faltering but at least he'd been alive and warm. She sucks in a sharp breath at the memory, closing her eyes against a shaky exhale. This is not the glittering blue skies and pale sand of Scarif or the freezing desert and craggy rocks of Jedha and yet she can still feel the pulse of the Death Star's green light. Green. Part of her mind wonders if her father did that on purpose or if it were an accidental slip.

Her eyes finally lift, mouth solemn with loss and guilt and hopelessness and instead of answering Cassian's unspoken question, because she knows, she knows what he is not asking and it makes her feel ill thinking about telling him. Instead of answering him, she poses her own question, "Why didn't you kill my father? You had the shot, I know you did."

It is a cruel question and the guilt in her eyes flares brighter even before the words are out of her mouth but she can't stop herself from asking and she can't stop herself from believing that if he had just killed her father like he was ordered to it would have made things so much easier: she would have killed Cassian before Chirrut could have dreamed of stopping her and then her ass would have been in an Alliance prison and none of them would have gone to and died on Scarif and even if they did, Jyn wouldn't have cared. She wouldn't have cared because she wouldn't have cared about them.

She wouldn't be so upset to lose Bodhi.

Again.

Cassian's eyes widen just a little at her question, because it hurts in a way that scares him. As if she were implying he should have, as if whatever happened after that would be easier to handle than this, and this is...This is Bodhi being gone, clearly, and this is Jyn feeling abandoned and this is Cassian not sure he's in the best shape to convince her that she hasn't been.

Because Bodhi is gone and Cassian wasn't here, and if that isn't abandonment then what is?

Maybe he's wrong, he thinks, sitting down on the floor so she doesn't have to look up at him (and also because he's nervous, now, his heart rate has gone up and he feels like he might be ill if he keeps standing, might pass out if he sits in the chair). Maybe she just really wants to know and now is the time to ask.

Either way, now is the time to answer.

"Draven thought your father's death would have assured the Death Star did not reach completion." Cassian pulls his knees in towards his body, rests his arms folded across the top of them. "And there may have been a point in time when that was true but it had likely been some years ago. I don't know that Draven has ever really had to consider whether or not his being alive would change the course of history but I was fairly certain your father had plenty of time to consider it. And what he did instead was desperately send one person out to the last person he trusted."

He waits a beat, still looking her in the eye. "If I had shot him, you would have shot me in return, either right then or by the time I got back to the ship, and I was okay with that idea. I was ready to die, and not for the cause, but because I was tired. But what if I didn't? Then what happens? To you, to Bodhi, to Chirrut and Baze, to your father?

I didn't take the shot because I had hope things would turn out better if I didn't. I didn't take the shot because he reminded me of you and you deserved better than what would've happened after you shot me."

It's... odd, talking about her father like he is a chess piece, talking about murdering him as a move beneficial to the Alliance. The information isn't new, he said as much when she was hurling angry words at him as some solace to losing her father. It did nothing to make her feel better but maybe screaming at him for doing a job she didn't believe in had sucked out some of the venom between them. She doesn't know.

His words don't surprise her either, neither does the fact that he knew she would have immediately retaliated. She's never been particularly adept at keeping her emotions hidden. Somewhere in the back of her mind she appreciates his honesty but it's clouded with her disdain for General Dravan in general. (And, so far back she refuses to admit it, appreciation that Draven exists as a repository for her anger and hate.)

She runs her tongue across her teeth, presses her teeth into her bottom lip.

Apologies are not part of Jyn's vocabulary and so she won't apologize for calling him a storm trooper, but she pushes out a breath like a sigh and murmurs, "We're all traitors anyway." Bodhi to the Empire, Jyn (technically) to Saw, Cassian to the Alliance in his own way. She doesn't think Chirrut and Baze betrayed anything except maybe their own consciences.

Unable to look at him any longer for fear that he'll see the regret stinging like tears in her eyes and think it's about him, her foggy gaze drifts out the window, hand lifting absently to play at the necklace that isn't around her neck. She disguises the movement by tucking her hair back. The hand clutching Bodhi's goggles falls next to her, strap slipping to her fingertips, threatening to fall right out of her hand and on to the floor. "How badly hurt are you?"

"I suppose that's true." The traitors, but. Chirrut and Baze don't count, of course, and then again Cassian doesn't know their history, doesn't know what sort of darkness lies there. His ability to recognize, much less interact with, the Force is not a strong one. Right now he's glad that he doesn't know those particulars, as much as he's worried about what's happening right now, what will happen with Bodhi gone.

The planet's surface and the fate of it's inhabitants worry him too. That he played a role in genocide worries him. He should have stayed behind.

The pair of goggles dangle from her hand and Cassian reaches for them, trying to slide his fingers between hers.

"I have a concussion. Some bruises. My left wrist isn't happy about much of anything." He shrugs. "I'll be okay."

Edited 2017-02-03 22:27 (UTC)

Jyn doesn't let him hold her hand, instead she tips the goggles into his waiting fingers as she pushes herself out of the co-pilot's seat. It's a classic signal for how little she wants to deal with anything, finding herself antsy with the desire to run away from her problems and Cassian. Not because she doesn't want to be with him but because she can't hide anything from him. She's exposed and vulnerable and every part of her screams to cut and run.

She crouches down in front of him, lifting her hand to catch his chin with her cold fingers. "Concussion and okay don't belong in the same sentiment." Her frown deepens with worry, but it looks and sounds more like irritation. Jyn's always worked better fueled by anger anyway, at least anger makes sense. Anger she can turn into productivity. Anger can push aside her grief for a little while, a calm before the storm pulls her under again.

"Did you pass out?"

Edited 2017-02-03 23:24 (UTC)

"I got the wind knocked out of me, but I didn't pass out." There'd been a moment where the idea was appealing, but that is not something he's going to tell her now. If ever.

She's so close, and her fingers are always chilled against his skin, and part of him goes if not now, when? but the rest of him shuts it down. Now is not good. Now she's angry and it feels like Kay's annoyance in it's near familiarity - they wouldn't be agitated if they didn't care - but it also feels like something he should apologize for but can't.

He could find enough things to be sorry for. Things he'd done or not done. Lives taken and lives lost. He can't be sorry she feels something, even if it is pain, even if it is suffering. What is the alternative?

"I've had concussions before." That would probably be more reassuring to someone who didn't know how brain injury works.

"That doesn't make it better," she tells him, surliness enveloping her tone like a candy wrapper. She releases him and rocks back on her heels, straightening up before she holds out her hand to help him to his feet. "Come on, you look like shit and the medkit's downstairs."

If she focuses on Cassian's injuries, she won't have to focus on Bodhi or the planet dying beneath them -- because that's what's happening. Jyn is witness to the death of a planet and this time it's not even her birthright doing the destroying. She should care more but she isn't a good enough person for that. She can't fly this ship and Cassian is more fucked than he is willing to admit so.

"Did Kay go back down?"

He would have told her, if Kay went the way of Bodhi. But then again, she hasn't actually told Cassian anything and she finds her heart thudding against her ribs for a droid who won't even admit that he likes her.

"He stayed on the planet. I asked him to." Kay could still help someone and by asking the droid to remain Cassian can play at pretending it is enough. That he's done enough. "He'll need repairs when he comes back."

Nothing too complicated, and nothing that Cassian can't manage, but it would have to wait. At least until his head stopped feeling like it may explode.

He takes her hand - he needs it, and he's not ashamed of that fact - and hauls up to his feet before hovering there. Ladder, again. His luck abounds.

Either realizing he doesn't want to use the ladder again or because she needs out of his personal space, Jyn goes down the ladder first, taking a couple rungs and dropping down to the floor below where their nest of a bed rests. She doesn't look at it. She steps back from the ladder, looking up, waiting for Cassian to follow her down.

While she doesn't look braced to catch him, she definitely is.

"Come on." She makes an impatient face, as if telling him to hurry up. Coddling is not something Jyn is looking to do, it always feels so patronizing.

Cassian wouldn't know what to do with coddling, as much as he hates how he feels right now; it's been so long since anyone had been inclined, after all.

He doesn't slide down the ladder but falling is a near thing; still, somehow, he manages to get to the bottom of it and on his feet in the lower level. He wonders what will happen to the bedding; he'd been planning on building some kind of platform so they weren't all just on the floor but now?

Jyn probably won't want to sleep there, and he isn't sure what he wants at all.

"Sit down," she orders, gesturing to the bank of seats on the opposite side of their bed. The bossiness is meant to disguise her concern but it doesn't work as well as she'd like. She veers off toward the supplies, rifling around for the medkit and casually avoiding Cassian. It probably feels like when they'd first met all over again.

Cassian watches this with a mix of wariness and worry, combining uneasily with how much his stomach wants to turn. Maybe it's selfishness to want her to stop and just sit with him, maybe it's something else.

Still: "Are you angry with me?"

"Why would I be angry with you?" She yanks the medkit free from the mess of canvas straps, once again annoyed with the set up of these stupid Imperial cargo ships, and turns back to face him with a sigh and a deep frown. "I'm not angry with you."

Well, she is a little bit. An irrational frisson of anger that he dare find himself injured. It's not real anger, it's just how her worry and concern manifests so she can deal with it.

She crouches down in front of him, taking his hand so she can curl her cold fingers around his injured wrist as an impromptu ice pack, gentle but firm. The other hand flips the medkit open on the floor next to her, pawing around for the appropriate bandages and fasteners. It's more avoidance, but it's still productive. "I told you not to be brave."

"For going in the first place." But she's angry, at least she's not trying to deny that, but he does relax just a bit at the contact. Her hands are always so cold, he the draw to wrap his fingers around hers is strong.

Somehow, he resists.

"I wasn't brave." A smirk. "I was rather timid, ask Kay."

She breaths out something like a scoff as she releases his wrist only to push his sleeve back and begin wrapping his wrist up as best she can. She isn't a doctor, but basic first aid was necessary with the Partisans and she was something of a reckless youth so she's about as good as a doctor. Sans all the training.

"I'm not sure timid is something you're capable of." But thank you. Thank you seems to be what she is unwilling to say. Thank you for coming back.

Edited (when you notice a typo literally the next day) 2017-02-06 06:49 (UTC)

Also, possibly, sans bedside manner but Cassian can't judge. He escapes medical facilities and is used to Kay running all the needed diagnostics, so.

Still. He grins at her, just a little. "Maybe not, but I am good at following orders. Usually." And she did tell him not to play the hero, so.

Wow, her bedside manner is... no, it sucks. This is true. Her mouth twists into a scowl at his smile, but there's no heat to the expression, eyes full of sadness like the grief has settled too far to even be properly irritated by the way her stomach still swoops at his smile.

Her fingers still against his wrist, pressing the tape firm against the bandage so it won't budge. The medkit is sparse so Jyn doesn't want to waste bacta patches on things that will heal by themselves, not when they can't refill it. This is the same reason nothing more than tape was used on her ribs after her run in with Shaw. She'd heal fine on her own, no use being wasteful, especially where there are no open wounds needing to be tended to.

"It wasn't an order," she corrects, pulling a stim-shot from the kit and looking it over, twisting it between her fingers. She could wait to use it until after Cassian's had time to rest or she could use it right now so he won't give in to the urge to sleep because his body will think he's been well rested and fed or she could ask him his opinion on the matter since it's his body. She presses the shot to his thigh and depresses the button to stab the pneumatic needle into his leg and disperse the medicine. "It was a request."

"Fuck," Cassian mutters, because truth be told he hates stims, hates that his body can be fooled into a false sense of security through nothing other than chemical reactions. Yet he let her do this, so. Also: "I was looking forward to a nap."

But, hey, since here is where they are he can just roll with it. Right? Right.

He wants to ask if she has any other requests, but what come out instead is: "You're welcome. Have you eaten?"

"I didn't say thank you." How dare he know her well enough to catch what she leaves unsaid. Jyn bristles automatically even if she isn't actually upset by it, she's just keeping up the armor of being angry.

She snaps the needle between her middle and index fingers, dropping it and the spent stim into the medkit's biowaste container. "You don't get to sleep until you can go up and down the ladder without looking like you're going to fall." She knows sleep is good for a concussion, but not if he is still wobbly on his feet and she saw him go down the ladder, he's not steady.

Pushing back to her feet, she presses a couple tablets for pain into his hand, ignoring his question about her eating habits as she closes the medkit to put it away.

"Was I supposed to wait until you did?" He figures he'd go more grey than he has already by the time that happened, so hopefully not.

At her orders for his health he rolls his eyes, but she has a point. Doesn't mean he has to like it.

"I can't take these on an empty stomach." Unless she wants him throwing up on her shoes. "Let's eat something?"

"I'm not--" She sighs, rubbing her knuckles across her forehead before her arms fold over her chest. She's not hungry, but she has a feeling he knows that. Like he knows she meant to say thank you. He knows a lot of things she leaves unsaid, it's part of how easily they work together.

She tries to say I'm not hungry but instead, softly, she finally admits: "Cassian, he's gone."

Again. Bodhi is gone again. He'd arrived before she'd even had time to properly mourn him in the first place and now he's gone again and the grief is just compounded, with interest. Food tastes like the ashes of Scarif.

Cassian looks down at his hands, uncertain of what to say next. I'm sorry doesn't begin to cut it; Bodhi was (is? how is he supposed to differentiate, now?) a living connection between Jyn and her father. That's not something that Cassian can hope to replace through any means.

His face twists, a bit of the mask slipping, but it's always slipped around her hasn't it?

"I am sorry though I know...that's not enough. I wish I knew what to do."

"I--" She seems unable to finish that sentence, as if she has no idea where she was even going in the first place. She what? She's also sorry because Cassian deserved Bodhi, he was better than the both of them. Instead he gets Jyn who can't finish a sentence and won't admit how she feels about him even though they both know.

Her eyes slide to their bed of the own accord and Jyn's heart collapses, taking a jerky step back and toward the open cargo door.

"I can't.. do this." There is no note of finality to the fragile tone of her voice, brittle as a sheet of ice, and any apology she should speak is painted across her expression, a chiaroscuro of fear and loss. She doesn't mean forever, she doesn't even mean them, but she can't handle looking at Cassian and knowing he wanted to come back to the both of them and all he got instead was her because then her sorrow will be debilitating.

She takes another step back, holding up a pleading hand. "Go eat, I'll find you later."

The broken look in her eyes is the same hollow sadness that followed her from leaving Saw in Jedha and leaving her father on Eadu. No one saw her weep for her fathers, no one will see her weep for Bodhi, even Cassian who has already seen her break down.

"Please."

Cassian swallows and nods, makes no move to get up from where he's sitting. "Okay." Should he tell her he'll wait? He suspects it's a given, though he will worry about her, automatically.

Later, when he can't sleep, he'll sit in front of her room and wish things were different - not for the first time and probably not for the last.

"Okay," he repeats again, more than at a loss.

Edited 2017-02-07 17:47 (UTC)

"Okay."

She feels helpless to fix her own mistakes and so instead of trying to suss out her own emotions enough to explain herself to Cassian she just turns and walks out of the cargo ship. Fight is usually her go to, but her flight response is impeccable.

It's only after Victor and Yuuri both contact her (out of concern, which is foreign) that Jyn finds her way back to Cassian. It's a full day later, in the middle of his work day when she knows he is working (because she broke a lock on an empty room solely so he would have to fix it), but eventually she finds herself back in his room.

Their room, really. She finds herself idly grateful still that he changed the lock so her dogtags unlock it as well.

She doesn't text him or call him or contact him in anyway, she simply drops her clothes by the bathroom and drags her blanket with her as she curls up under the covers that smell so familiar and welcoming. She hasn't slept well at all and this rest is no different, but at least she is comfortable for once. She stays curled up in the scent of him even after she hears the door slide open signaling his homecoming.

If Cassian weren't a paranoid person perhaps he would have just brushed off a broken lock to an empty room as someone playing hooligan - but hooligans of that nature tend to be bored children, of which there aren't that many on board as far as he knows, so of course it takes him longer than normal to fix the lock.

He wants to know if the room is trapped, for one thing, and it isn't. Just empty.

Then he wanders a while because he doesn't know what else to do with himself. Going to the gym is appealing but he can just imagine what Kay would have to say if he managed to get knocked in the head again. Of course, wandering is only useful for a little while, and then Cassian is exhausted again (his favorite part of post-concussive syndrome - not at all) so he makes his way back to his room.

The first thing he notices are the clothes, because he did not put them there, and then the bundle of a person in his bed and something in his chest manages to loosen a bit. "Hey." Quietly. In case she wants to pretend she's sleeping for longer.

Her eyes open and peer out wide and rimmed with a layer of smudged eyeliner that always seems to be there even if no one ever sees her apply it. Where do you get the eyeliner, Jyn? Where.

Her study of him is careful and not brief, eyes flickering from injuries she knows used to be there from Scarif, injuries she imagines remain from Oros, injuries she is fully aware of. Her keen eyes linger on his expression, trying to decide if his worry is about her or if she's going to run away again. She wonders if he knows that expression is semi-permanent when it comes to her. She does give him a lot to worry about, even when that is the opposite of her intention.

"Hey." She doesn't budge from her comfortable and warm spot, but that comfortable and warm spot already pressed up against the wall so there is plenty of room for Cassian. Her chin tips up from the pile of blankets, hair haloed out on the pillow. "Did you fix the lock?"

Edited 2017-02-07 21:37 (UTC)

"I did." He expression tries to settle into something more fond and relaxed; it gets about halfway (he manages fond, at least) there before he gives up on it, shaking his head and peeling out of his work clothes. There's plenty of bruising for her to look at anyway, as he finds a softer shirt than the one he works in to pull on over his head.

He could question what she's doing here - or better yet, what she was doing while she was gone, locked away in her room only sending him the occasional reminders to eat or sleep which he may have only done half the time - but he's pretty sure she ran because talking hurt too much anyway.

So maybe, he thinks, climbing into bed next to her, it's better not to ask. The last thing he wants is for her to decide to leave again.

"I have something that belongs to you," he says instead, glancing at her.

"My grey blanket, yes, I know." She also knows that isn't what he means. There hasn't been a second since he went down to the sandy planet's surface that Jyn hasn't been completely aware of what Cassian has. She finds herself reaching for it more often than she would have expected and she feels naked without it, exposed.

Trust is hard for her, even trusting in the Force.

Threads of nervousness shoot through her eyes, even if she doesn't truly feel any anxiety at all. "Are you going to keep it?"

There is minimal wincing as he gets himself settled into the bedding; despite the fact that Jyn Eros appears to be some sort of living heat sink (he suspects it might have something to do with Jyn not eating enough) he missed her presence, her physical weight while sleeping.

They've never slept well, at least not while piled in a bed together, but it's nothing compared to the shit sleep he got on Oros and immediately after.

"Do you want me to?" He turns his entire body so that he's facing her. "I don't have anything I could give you in return."

"No!" That came out too fast, almost callously so. She tries to course correct, shaking her head against the pillow, it's not that the idea of him having it upsets her it's just... "No. It was--"

Her mouth settles into its natural frown, memories of rain drenched grass and the crackle of blaster fire in the mist making it feel like something is squeezing her heart in a vice. "My mother gave it to me before she-- It was hers."

Edited (you too can have two tenses in one sentence! act now!) 2017-02-08 07:14 (UTC)

He had figured that it was connected to her parents in some way, but hearing even half the story puts things in stark lighting for him. He has nothing like that, nothing from his parents; no mementos, barely any memories, and unlike her, no one in the room could be blamed for his parent's death.

She shouldn't have given it to him. She did, and he's...grateful. Honored. But undeserving.

"You should have it back," he says softly, and reaches behind him to untie the knot near his neck

Jyn isn't going to stop him from giving it back, but she isn't going to help or rush him either. She fidgets under the blankets, wanting to pull him down completely so she can curl her arms around him and feel his heartbeat under her hand, but she doesn't do that either.

"There was a plan," she starts softly. "All three of us were supposed to hide until Saw came for us. But Krennic... my father must have known he wouldn't leave without him and he told us to go." Darkness clouds her eyes, the memory of her chubby arms around her father's neck warring with the memory of his broken body in her arms. "Mama and I ran but she. She stopped and gave me her crystal and made me promise to keep going on my own."

The words come out slow and unsure, as if she's never told anyone the full story and doesn't know how to tell it. "I tried to be good and listen to her but I've never been very good at following directions--" That draws a wry, brittle smile. "--and so I followed her. I hid in the grass and watched as Papa tried to talk Krennic out of taking them. Krennic's Death Troopers killed her." And tiny Jyn saw it, clutching her brand new hand-me-down necklace and her beloved handmade Storm Trooper doll. "Krennic sent them to look for me, that's when I ran."

Ran and left her doll behind.

Cassian frowns softly as he listens to her story, fingers catching and sliding on the knot he can't see. As she finishes he manages the last slip of cord, and the necklace comes free, sliding down an inch or so from where it rests against his chest.

His hands are warm as he brushes her cheek, and sets to fastening it around her neck himself.

He wonders what her mother had been thinking, why she had turned back instead of staying with her child. Could he have done that? Could he have left his own flesh and blood behind, young and inexperienced and unarmed, just to be shot by Death Troopers?

A handful of months ago, before Jyn, before the Death Star and all it wrought, he thinks he knows what his answer would have been. It would have depended on the mission. His odds. If the child would be safe on their own.

The latter would have been the last consideration.

But now, watching her expression, he hopes he never has to make that choice, because he would have about an equal chance leaving Jyn behind and historically that hasn't happened yet.

"My father died protesting at the Carida Academy." Cassian shakes his head, slowly. "If the Resistance hadn't had a record of it, I probably would have long since forgotten. My mother, my sisters, they died in a riot back home on Fest."

Jyn wonders, briefly and without condemnation, how he could ever forget. Her last day on Lah'mu were seared into her mind; even if she'd want to forget it would be impossible and she had tried over the years, pushing it down and out of sight where she pretended it couldn't hurt her while it was corroding her from the inside out like acid bubbling through metal.

It sounds as if he heard second hand, which she finds herself oddly grateful for, hand reaching up on it's own accord to press her fingers to the familiar crystal. She doesn't relax once it's back around her neck so much as she settles.

"I didn't know you had sisters." She's noticed, before, that she doesn't actually know much about him at all, reminded that there wasn't time or inclination once and then there simply wasn't time. They have time now, but it had been lost trying to orient themselves and grasp every second they had all together, just existing. Time feels... discouraging now. A taunt in the face of losing Bodhi.

And yet still she pushes away from the wall to press her lips against his cheek, cold and ephemeral. Gratitude is hard for her so she simply doesn't say thank you at all.

"Most people don't." Most people don't know anything about him, really, about who he is and where he came from. About what he wanted and dreamed before he lost the ability to reasonably expect that they'd ever come to pass. And here, now, that's beginning to bother him. It come through his voice, regret and hesitation dripping from the corners of his mouth.

He closes his eyes and she kisses his cheek, and he's grateful and sad all at the same time.

Cassian's fingers touch her cheek again. "What would you like to know?"

He's offering her answers. Or at least an open forum to ask questions.

He doesn't know what else to offer.

Everything.

Her hand curls around the crystal, thumb tracing the etchings on the side as she tries to think of a question to start with. "Were you the oldest?"

It's a simple question, innocuous, and an easy question to start with. She suspects the answer is yes, because Cassian is so good at taking care of people that it has to be something natural as well as learned. Did tiny Cassian change wet nappies and tuck his sisters down for naps? Were they babies when they...

She finds suddenly that she doesn't want to know the answer.

Edited (okay or i could finish the tag first) 2017-02-10 00:00 (UTC)

"Mmhmm." He nods, shifts so that his arm is propping up his head. "There were four of us. I don't remember their names."

Six is young and they were just 'his sisters' until they weren't. Until there was nothing but fire, rubble, and the Occupation by the Empire.

"The entire neighborhood was gone when I got back. Leveled, really." He shrugs with his eyebrows. What can you do? Theirs are lives of loss and loss compounded.

Jyn was right, she didn't want to know that. Idly Victor's words tumble through her mind: Life isn't about hearing only the answer you want to hear. It still makes her a little annoyed to think about, but that's probably the guilt of not wanting to find out what happens to the people who go missing.

Now it's guilt over not wanting to hear about Cassian's dead sisters with names lost to the war.

"What happened to you?" He was six, how did he survive that? He'd lost his entire family and had nothing left, not even his home. If Jyn hadn't had Saw she would have just stayed in her little cave and died clutching her lamp.

"I lived on the streets for a while. There were a lot of us; we looked out for each other because we had no other choice. Fest is an ice planet; I can't tell you the numbers that starved or froze that winter.

You can't kill neighborhoods wholesale and expect that there won't be resistance. That people won't try to fight back.

It started small. Watch the soldiers, see where they go. Throw rocks at them, sometimes." He smiles a little. "I was good at seeming older than I was. Better still at getting into small spaces and listening to conversations, putting things together."

"I can imagine." She can, tiny little Cassian, all long and lanky probably, learning to be a spy all on his own before Draven turned him into something... more.

Jyn also differs on her opinion. You can definitely kill entire neighborhoods and expect there won't be resistance. The Empire was built on that premise, they'd counted on it. The Alliance and the rebels fought back, but it wasn't enough, clearly. Especially not following the Clone Wars.

"You were a spy before you even knew what the word meant, weren't you?"

"I knew it meant listening and keeping quiet until you could tell the right person." But the rest of it? That came with time, and training that was less about teaching him how to be and more about learning how not to get caught or die.

"I got older and I learned more. Learned how to take what I saw watching people when they didn't know someone was there and combine it with how they acted when presented with an audience. I got better at tactics. Better at taking the little parts of myself that seemed too fragile for war and putting them away.

It would have been worse, without Kay, I think."

She hums a noise of acknowledgment, mouth turned down in a familiar frown, but doesn't respond right away. Their lives are almost eerily similar: orphaned as children, raised into a rebellion they had no right being in by men who should have allowed them to be children, entire lives lost to the cause before they quite literally died for it.

Cassian stayed with the rebellion while Jyn was abandoned by it and in turn abandoned it, but she already knows he's a better person than she is.

Eventually, she murmurs quietly: "Kay's a good friend."

"Better than I've deserved."

Cassian sighs, closing his eyes. "I would have killed myself long before I met you if not for the fact that I wasn't sure anyone would make sure he was okay."

Things he's never said aloud before: that.

Cassian.

Jyn would have more of a reaction if it weren't for the depressing fact that she's heard it before. From Saw's rebels, from people just too exhausted from trying to survive the Empire, from her own quiet thoughts. She was always too bitter, too spiteful to give in. Cassian's reasons were so much more selfless, but she's not surprised.

Instead of letting herself get upset over it, she flattens her hand against his chest, nudging him to roll over. She'll keep nudging until he's facing away from her and she can curl her arm around his waist from behind, pressing her forehead to the back of his neck.

"I won't, so you don't have an out." She would, of course, but she won't.

closed ( ☄ ) the place where the sea kisses the sky is a beautiful beginning to a painful end

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