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

[realists]

WHO: Jyn & Cassian
WHERE: Casa de Rogue One
WHEN: February 1 & February 5
WHAT: Cassian returns from Oros to some bad news
WARNINGS: Rogue One spoilers fo' sho'

--

The hangar is full of noise and hustle as the Oros mission teams return and the Captain calls any and all pilots to arms to rescue the natives of the planet below. All available pilots willing to brave bombs and certain death. Jyn knows of one pilot who would be willing to undertake a(nother) suicide mission, a pilot who is brave and good and would care about the citizens below who need to be protected, who would want to follow his heart and make right by himself.

The Rogue One cargo ship stays docked in the hangar and Jyn stays curled up in the co-pilot's seat while so many people around her rush to do good and help, radio crackling with ships requesting to depart the hangar. There's no point for her to move.

She doesn't have a pilot.

The sound of Cassian's boots on the ladder into the cockpit makes her stir, barely. She aches to bury her sorrow in his arms, but she doesn't move more than flicking the radio off and leaving them in a heavy silence that Jyn is going to keep wrapped around her like a blanket until Cassian breaks it, worrying the elastic band of Bodhi's goggles between her fingers.

Comments

[realists]

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.

[ouzel]

"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.

[realists]

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.

[ouzel]

"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."

[realists]

"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?"

[ouzel]

"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."

[realists]

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."

[ouzel]

"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.

[realists]

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.