Art, Anime, Video Games

-Jyn-

It had been five months since Cassian had left. 

Jyn’s arm had eventually recovered, able to use it almost like normal. Her forearm’s muscle had shrunk, so she had to do strength and gripping exercises to build it back up. It was permanently scarred—faint, white marks that looked like jagged slashes decorated her arm from where the laser-stitching had mended the skin. Sometimes she could still feel the heat from the blast when she was stressed, unconsciously reaching to grip her arm in reflex. Jyn wondered if that would ever fade away, or if it was a part of her forever like the scarred tissue.

To numb the pain of Cassian’s betrayal, she’d dove deep into her work on the sonic cannon. While she had been in the infirmary, the engineers had assembled the outer structure and power source components. After she had been released, it had needed to be configured for a control unit and placed in an optimal location for defense—taking months to fully complete.

When it finally reached the testing phases using the disk that she’d risked her life to obtain, a thrill of accomplishment had shot through her. She watched the invisible beam shatter a distant  ice-cap, disintegrating the snow in a thundering boom and leaving a crater behind. She grinned wide. Finally, something to make the Empire pay. 

“The bastards won’t know what’s coming for ‘em.” Kane smirked beside her, as if replying to her thoughts. Although the two had gotten off on a rocky foot before, Kane and Jyn had learned to accept each other’s presence. Jyn still thought he was a hot-headed egomaniac, but since he had been assigned to help her operate the cannon under her supervision, she swallowed her usual insults. As if in unspoken agreement, Kane had gone along with her orders, only half of the time muttering something under his breath. Having one common enemy to hate helped—his statement confirming to Jyn that he was just as excited about payback as she.

She pulled off her holographic goggles that reflected the blinding snow’s surface and folded her arms. “It’ll be enough to keep them guessing at least. They’ve probably haven’t seen anything like this since the Clone Wars.”

Kane nodded and returned his gaze to the rolling waves of snow that descended after the shock, settling at the bottom of the mountain. “I wonder if it will be enough. Wasn’t Captain Andor supposed to find out more intel about their defense weaponry? Have you heard anything?”

Jyn clicked her teeth. “I dunno,” she quickly moved to step out of the cannon’s cockpit before he noticed the tightening of her mouth. Kane shrugged as she climbed down the ladder to return to base.

Despite the best of Jyn’s abilities, she couldn’t keep thoughts of Cassian away, and it really didn’t help that everyone asked her about him like they were still in communication. Thinking about him felt like drowning in a vat of acid. She’d dodge questions or tune out the conversation.

But as much as it hurt, she couldn’t keep herself from wishing that he was safe or that he’d be returning to base soon—much to her extreme irritation. She hated that she felt that way about the man who’d abandoned her, made her feel stupid for wanting something more. To drive her feelings down, she’d conjure an image of him arriving on Hoth, eyeing her with his stupid blank spy’s mask just so she could remind herself how angry she was. 

She’d create scenarios where she tears into him, shouting things she’d been wanting to for months. Letting all her past fury unleash in a lightening storm crashing down onto him. She’d imagine them arguing about his abandonment, with her hurling perfect insults that landed every time. She’d picture his infuriated face when she would call him a coward, pointing out that he was so used to letting the Alliance control his life, that he was terrified of making choices for himself. She would have him counter with his usual blind loyalty to the cause, but his side of the argument always fell flat, unconvincing. 

Her thoughts would torment her late into the night: what would the real Cassian say if he was here? Does he regret any of it? He’d told her once that he never did, but it had been enough to make him to leave.

Jyn inhaled the sharp winter’s air as she trudged through the icy terrain, Echo Base’s command looming in the distance. She would never admit it aloud, but the reality was that she missed him. So much that it sunk deep into the marrow of her bones and ached and ached. On bad nights when she couldn’t sleep, she thought about their final conversation: the pain in his eyes, voice breaking when he’d shouted that she almost died. 

That moment had stuck itself into her brain like a parasite, keeping her from moving on like she yearned.