&& you wake up dead

‘i’m not tiptoeing.’ jyn sneered at his sentiment, shaking her head in disbelief. for someone who was so willing to take the blame for things, someone so willing to take the burden and to find fault in his actions, he wasn’t taking the fall for this one. no, she was the one who was tiptoeing, and in his mind, it was her alone. turning away from him, she pressed her hand flat onto the wall and dug her nails into the metal. anger was bubbling up inside of her. she wanted to snap at him, wanted to yell, but she knew that it would only make the situation worse. instead, she suppressed it. instead of punching the wall like she really wanted to, she curled her hand against the metal, trying to dig her fingers into it, and took a deep, calming breath. if she were strong enough, if she were better, she’d be able to push this down, deep inside of her and lock it in the cave of her mind. now was not the time for anger. it would only make things worse between them. she tipped her head forward, until her forehead touched the wall, and closed her eyes. “we don’t talk anymore,” she replied quietly, her voice barely a rasp, barely heard against the gentle thrum of the ship and the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. “and when we do, it’s small talk. we don’t––don’t touch each other and it feels like we’re strangers and it’s so hard.” it was so kriffing hard, but she had no idea how to act any differently, not after what had happened. the memory brought bile rising in her throat, burning and sour, and she swallowed it down before she spoke again. “it never used to be this way, and we both know why it is now, so we need to––need to stop worrying that we’re going to break each other and just have a kriffing conversation about this!” 

the last part left her chest heaving, palms slapping on the wall, and she whirled around to face him, eyes wide and wild. it took her a few seconds to calm herself down, clenching her hands into fists and fingers digging into her palms until the pain took the hurt away. when she calmed, unfurled her hands, the warm feeling of blood dripped down her hands. 

not much, but enough. enough to get her to focus, enough to drain the fight completely out of her. jyn took a step back, then another and another and another, until her back hit the wall and she slumped down against it. her legs were sprawled out in front of her, and her hands sat uselessly in her lap. force, she was tired––no, she was exhausted. mentally and physically, and, like cassian, she had no idea how they were going to fix this mess they had found themselves stuck in. “i don’t want to leave,” she mumbled, tongue heavy in her mouth. that was the truth. she really didn’t want to leave him, but if that’s what he wanted? then perhaps it was for the best. she’d realized a long time ago that she would do just about anything for him, even if that negatively impacted her own wellbeing. however, she so desperately wanted to believe that he didn’t want her to go, that his words were true. that was the first step in fixing this: she had to start trusting and believing in him again, like she had before. and if she was going to do that, then she needed to be as honest as she could with him now, even if it hurt. (which it would, force, she knew that it would, but it was something she had to do.) “i’m scared,” she admitted softly, toying with her hands in her lap and not looking at him. “i’m scared to let myself get close to you again. i know that––that what happened hurt––us, and it’s not going to get better unless we…we figure it out now. so that’s––that’s my piece. that’s what i have to say.” she was stumbling over her words, just desperate to get them out and into the air. “i’m scared to let you in again even though––even though i know you won’t leave. leave again.” at least, that was what she kept telling herself.

despite everything that they had been through, despite the cause that they had caused one another, it was evident to cassian that jyn wanted this as desperately as he did. despite the resentment that she felt toward him and the fear that he would turn his back on her yet again, she was still here. admittedly, there wasn’t anywhere for her to go, not really, but she could have stormed off to some far corner of the ship and spent the remainder of the flight secluded from him. she was still here, she was still fighting, so there was still a chance that this could work out. cassian felt his expression shift ever so slightly. there, upon his face, was that calculating look that he’d worn for the better part of his life. even before he’d had kaytoo around to calculate the odds of failure and risks, cassian had weighed his options. he took a breath, buying himself another moment before he answered. finally, cassian nodded. she was right, it was as simple as that. he couldn’t deny it, couldn’t pretend as though everything was normal, if they were to overcome this then cassian would have to speak the truth. “no,” he agreed, “we don’t talk.” they didn’t touch and they didn’t even look at one another they way that they used to. jyn was right, they were both far too careful around one another, afraid that they both might say something that would make the other run. she was right, he thought, he had been tiptoeing around her. cassian shook his head slightly, his gaze shifting away from her. “and what are we supposed to say? i left and you resent me for leaving. words can’t change anything.” ultimately, it was up to jyn to decide whether or not to trust him. “i can promise you that i won’t leave again, but you won’t believe me.” a pause, a flash of desperation. “i don’t know what to say.” he hissed at last. nothing would fix this, or so it seemed, so he kept her at a distance. at least this way, if she left, he would have already started to close himself off from her. maybe, he’d hoped, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. 

such hopes, however, were foolish. cassian had not forgotten the way that his heart lurched when jyn turned away from him and he could feel his reaction when she whipped around to face him. confusion transformed to his spy face, and he tried to prepare himself for whatever words jyn would hurl at him. 

“i never meant to hurt anyone,” she said, looking down at her fingers as she absentmindedly played with them. “i just thought it was the right thing to do at the time.”

there was no running from this conversation. jyn knew that. sure, she supposed that she could stalk out of the cockpit and hide out in the small room that had been dubbed their bedroom, but she would have to face cassian eventually. there wasn’t a shuttle she could take or another planet she could hop to in order to escape him––and even if there was, she didn’t think that she wanted to. despite their problems, jyn was determined to make this relationship work because she loved him, damn it. loved him more than she had ever loved someone before, more than she ever thought she could. and if it was selfish to hold on to something that perhaps wouldn’t work out in the end (but kriffing hell, she really hoped that it would. she needed it to work), then so what? wasn’t she allowed to be selfish every once in awhile? her life had taken away so much from her, and she just wanted something to call her own. in this case, it was a surviving relationship despite the odds and perhaps someone that she could trust. however, that trust had been broken between them, and she wasn’t sure that it would be able to be mended even with their best efforts. 

but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to try. 

anger flashed over his face, evident in the way he glared at her and how his jaw clenched, and jyn could feel herself begin to feel defensive. she wanted to leave, to turn on her heel in annoyance so she wouldn’t have to deal with this, but the need to figure this out overrode all of her instincts. instead of backing down, jyn took another step forward, her knees very nearly knocking into his as she dipped her head in his direction ever so slightly, getting into his space. “we need to stop tiptoeing around each other,” she snapped, leaning down to wag a finger. “this is the second time we’ve have this conversation and––” she spun away suddenly, pacing to the other side of the cockpit and using the wall for balance. her fingers itched, and she ran them through her hair for lack of anything else to do to rid herself of the nervous energy. it was a tick, a plain sign of her anxiety, that a trained spy like cassian would probably be able to see from a mile away, but she didn’t care anymore. “the last time, it clearly didn’t work, so this time something needs to be––different.” hearing him say that he was miserable jolted right through the marrow of her bones, and she had to turn away from him, face burning in shame. this was her fault. if she could have worked on her abandonment issues with more vigor than she had, none of this would have happened. her and cassian could still be blissfully in love without any of these problems that she burdened him with. the words that came out of her mouth next were choked off and short. “if you want––want me to leave,” kriffing hell, this was getting to be too much. if she didn’t harden her voices and close off her emotions, then she was going to start to cry. but she had been doing too much crying in the past couple days, and she wasn’t going to do that anymore. instead, she let anger flash over her face. her body posture mimicked that of a wounded animal, readying herself for a fight that she didn’t want to win. however, if this was what cassian wanted, then she didn’t know what else to do. “if i’m making you so––so miserable, then i’ll go. it’s fine. i want to fix this, but if being around me is difficult for you, then what’s there to fix?” she knew what his answer was going to be, but would it be a lie when he asked her to stay? maybe she had to take matters into her own hands. “maybe i should just––you know. go. just leave.”

cassian felt the tension rise throughout his body, tightening at the point between his shoulder blades, and at once he seemed to be prepared for battle. he was a spy, he had been an intelligence agent for the better part of his life, but beneath his training in stealth and manipulation, cassian was a soldier. he knew damn well how to fight, to wield a gun, to use words to triumph over his opponent. jyn was one of the most important person in his life, but he was still prepared to take her on. like it or not, he’d been hardwired to survive encounters like these. their knees bumped and she leaned in toward him, but cassian didn’t budge. instead, he remained rigid in place as if challenging her to come closer to him. “i’m not tiptoeing,” he argued. cassian’s voice was a mere growl. despite his outward preparedness to fight, however, there was an underlying sense of dread that threatened to eat him alive. what would he do if he lost her now? and with that thought, she turned on her heel and stalked away from him. it was all that cassian could do to keep himself in the pilot’s seat, not to go after her, and his stubbornness paid off. rather than leave, she pushed her fingers through her hair and continued to tell him precisely what was on her mind. them. they were the problem. he was the reason that she was so troubled, and he felt a pang of guilt in his gut. “different how?” he asked. despite his bravado, the soldier’s mask he wore, cassian noted the ugly plea in his words. 

yes, he wanted it to be different. he needed it to be different if he was to keep her, and kriff he couldn’t imagine going on without her anymore. doing so would be like losing a vital part of himself. she’d become a comfort. 

“ready to engage.” dully, jyn watched as calculated the jump to hyperspace, wondering if she should leave if she couldn’t be any help to him. she could barely pilot small shuttles and knew nothing about what it took to fly one of these things. she scowled, though it was more at her own uselessness than at him, and braced herself for the shift. as numb as she felt right now, she barely felt it, too focused on the way of how they were acting around each other. their conversation was stilted––purely small talk, or words she’d use with someone she didn’t particularly know that she didn’t want to upset––and she could barely stand to even sit next to him with how heavy the air felt around them; she shifted in a way to ease the tension in her body, but it did nothing for her. what had happened to them? how could they have let this happen? she closed her eyes, inhaling shakily. this was her fault. if she hadn’t asked him to leave, then none of this would have ever happened. if she hadn’t selfishly pushed him away in an attempt to ease her own mind, knowing that she would rest easier if he took care of himself––

stars, did she even care about anyone except herself? with that thought rolling around in her mind, she fell further into a pit of self-loathing, though she refused to let it show on her face. this would be a demon she faced alone.

“never been to hoth,” she remarked dryly, eyes roving over the dashboard, at all the buttons and levers, purposely not able to look at his gaze. her cheeks heated at the awkwardness of this exchange. what they were saying meant next to nothing, and she hated the lack of sincerity in each other’s tones. “can’t say i’m a fan of the cold, but if it’s for you, cass, i’ll do it.” that was mainly the reason she had avoided planets like hoth or fest. his next words, for some reason, made her angry. for a moment, she could do nothing but gape at him, wide eyed and open mouthed. why was he saying he loved her as if it was going to be his last chance to do so? no, no––she wasn’t going to let this happen. she wasn’t going to let their relationship turn into words that didn’t mean anything and tension filled conversations. angrily, she tugged at her harness until it unlocked and jumped to her feet, standing in front of him and crowding his space so she could demand all of his attention. “don’t talk like that!” she snapped at him, hands on her hips. “we’re not doing this––i love you too, but we’re not doing this!” she wouldn’t––couldn’t––pretend to be content with how things were going right now when it was clear she wasn’t. “listen if you want to––i don’t know, yell or something, just do it, but i’m tired of acting like this!” her voice broke at the end note, and her composure collapsed. her knees shook, and she gripped the arm of his chair to keep herself up.  “please, cass. i don’t want it to be like this anymore.”

sitting beside him in the co-pilot’s seat, was the person that cassian trusted most in the galaxy. he’d never trusted general draven, nor mothma, the way that he trusted her and he had proven those loyalties in blood and bodies. jyn was special, and yet they sat side by side conversing with one another as if it was painful. even in their early days, their relationship had never been like this. she’d spoken to him with hatred before (or something bordering it), but never impassivity. for the time being, cassian ignored it. he pressed a sequence of buttons on the ship’s dash, a blinking light flashed, and he pressed the throttle forward. at once, the ship lurched forward, pushing cassian backward against his seat, and he savored the feeling. it was crushing, uncomfortable, but it drew his mind away from the strain between himself and his partner. stars blinked past them, little streaks of blue light as they passed, and at last the weight of his body lessened as the ship found a steady cruising speed. there was no need to steer now, even the slightest change in course could spell utter doom, so cassian sat back in his chair and let his eyes search the stars for a few moments. even hyperspace couldn’t chase away the very real tension in the cockpit at present. kriff, kriff, when had things gotten so bad? 

there was no use ignoring the problems now, turning away from her, so he allowed himself to shift in his seat to get a better look at her. 

the silence between them was permeable; jyn felt as if she could cut it with a knife. her failed attempt of getting cassian’s attention with her carelessness barely had him batting an eye except for a pointed comment in her direction. she scowled, dropping her feet off from the dashboard and letting them thump onto the ground with an air of disappointment surrounding them. she didn’t know what she had been trying to do with that little stunt; it had gotten his attention, like she had intended, so why had she expected more? had she wanted him to yell at her, pushing her feet down? maybe. that way, they could finally shout at each other and let out the anger and guilt that had been building up inside of each other ever since they had gotten the cure on iego. she knew they would have to have a talk eventually, but both of them had been steadfast in ignoring the problem between them. while one half of her wanted to hash out their issues, the other half wanted him to pull her into his arms, to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be fine. she wanted him to put the ship into autopilot and carry her to their bunks so they could get some more much needed sleep––despite resting for the past couple of days, exhaustion was something that she couldn’t easy shake. she wanted something, anything from him other than the response he had given her. kriffing hell.

now she didn’t know what to do, if she should be the one to shout or climb into his lap. but instead of doing either of those things, she sat in sullen silence. 

instead of looking at cassian and perhaps seeing his inner turmoil that reflected her own (especially in the tense, over-practiced movements of his body as he struggled to stay calm, just like she did), she focused her eyes on space around them, gaze flickering absently from star to star. considering that she doesn’t have any skills in piloting besides the very basics, she had no choice but trust that cassian would be able to calculate the jump into hyperspace on his own. a small part of her wondered if he would prefer having kaytoo at his side instead of her, since surely a droid would be able to help him more than she was––however, he was stuck with her, whether he liked it or not. maybe when they eventually found kay again he could just replace her with him instead, but not until then. “i’ll be all right,” she reassured him, trying to find the truth in her own words. “i’ve hardly bitten off more than i can chew, cass.” going to him home planet wasn’t what scared her about this trip. she doubted that fest would be half as dangerous as some of the places she had lived, anyway. but what worried her most was the state of their relationship going in, and what it would be once they left the planet. she loved cassian too much to give up on him, but she had no say in the matter if he didn’t feel the same. “i want to go. i want to learn more about you.” but would he expect her to return the favor, to take him to lah’mu? she would if that was what it took. 

dread took hold of him again. it had been cassian’s companion through the years, but never as frequently or as viciously as it was now. he’d become rather familiar with the feeling of constriction in his chest, as if his ribcage was shrinking or his lungs didn’t quite work, and all because of her. love had done this. cassian wanted to laugh, bitterness bubbling in his too tight chest. he’d resisted love for the better part of two decades now, a desperate defense mechanism to keep himself from being hurt, and then he’d fallen for jyn and it had come back to haunt him. a few weeks of happiness and now pain. gut wrenching, heartbreaking, terrible pain. whatever came next was bound to be ugly. he couldn’t tell whether this was the end of them or if this tension would lead to some sort of horrible conversation about emotions. he’d never been good at those. cassian noted the sound of her feet against the cockpit’s floor, a dull thud, and he trained his attention on the dials before him. it was easier to be the calculating, cunning man that the rebellion had wanted of him than to be so deeply in love with someone who seemed to resent his every breath. he focused for a few moments on the dials and switches, calculating the shift into hyperspace three times before, at last, he was prepared to act. 

“ready to engage,” he murmured, daring to glance at her. was this what they’d come to? a few stiff words? they’d never been like this with each other even after they’d left yavin four for the first time. 

jyn listened to his warning with little concern, humming in response and resisting the urge to wave off his words completely. her feet were nowhere near the controls, and even if the ship veered suddenly to one direction and caught her off balance, she had enough dexterity and mobility (even when recovering) to make sure she didn’t launch them into the orbit of another planet. ”they’re fine,” she said with her usual lack of care for details like this. the position she was in––slouching down in her seat with her legs stretched out in front of her––also managed to stretch out some her sore muscles. she had already started “training” to build her strength back up, but the materials at her disposal weren’t good enough to do much except make her sore. of course, if cassian found out she was doing potentially unsafe shit like this in an attempt to get back into the shape she was before the virus, he’d kill her. so as far as both of them were concerned, she was going to keep this quiet for as long as she could. 

(it wasn’t lying so much as––as omission.)

a few hours––that wasn’t that long. she could do this. a couple weeks ago, spending a long amount of time with only cassian in a shuttle would have been a dream––and it still was, don’t get her wrong––but it was different now. things were tense between them, strained, awkward––but she was going to do her damndest to keep them together despite all of that. “of course i want to,” she replied gently, looking at him with uncertain eyes. was he having uncertain thoughts about this? about her? about being in the same room as her for so long? she struggled to keep her emotions off of her face, not wanting him to be swayed by what she was feeling. “do you not want to go anymore? we don’t have to.” the whole purpose of this trip was for him to face his birth planet again and for her to get more insight into his past, but that would all be nullified if this was the last thing he wanted to do right now. she reached over to him, resting a hand gently over his arm, almost barely touching him. “up to you, cass. we can go somewhere else.”

jyn managed a sort of nonchalance that cassian had never managed. whether it was a result of his training or his personality, cassian had always been attentive to the little things and was reluctant to leave anything up to chance. alike as they were, as much as cassian saw himself in jyn, there were moments like these in which he found that he faced his opposite. it was good for him, he thought. perhaps this was the force’s way of telling him to lighten the kriff up. he shook his head faintly, letting a low sigh slip through his lips. he didn’t approve of her attitude, not exactly, but he trusted jyn not to accidentally slip and end their lives. she'd survived for so long because she was keenly aware of her body. cassian leaned forward, tending to the controls and making sure that everything was well in place before he launched the ship into hyperspace. despite the obvious tension, he tried to make his actions seem easy, as if he was relaxed, but kaytoo’s words echoed in his mind. he wasn’t as good a pilot when he was stressed. 

did she know him well enough to see it? 

already, jyn could feel her knees begin to shake. she’d only been standing for a few minutes now, but her strength was beginning to fade. despite her protests that she was feeling much stronger (which, she was), she was nowhere near in her best shape, and that was obvious by the way she was standing. even with her reservations about getting too close to cassian after what had happened, she almost collasped in the seat when he told her that she could sit. “thanks,” she murmured in response, propping her feet up on the dashboard and leaning back in what was definitely going against the regulations in any pilot’s handbook.

but this was what she did, wasn’t it? rebelled.

at the mention of going into hyperspace, she reached behind to the top of the seat and pulled the harness over herself, not wanting to get whiplash when they made the shift. “how long ‘til we get to fest?” she asked softly, mirroring his tone of voice from earlier as she stared out into space. the only sounds that she could hear were those of their breathing and the hum of the ship underneath them. normally, she would find the atmosphere relaxing: not too quiet where she could hear her thoughts, but enough where she wouldn’t have to worry about getting a headache from the noise. now, however, she had to fight to keep her leg from bouncing––an old habit that had been trained out of her in her time with the partisans––jittery with nerves. “couple of hours, right?” kriffing hell, was she resorted to small talk? force, what had happened to them?

cassian watched jyn out of the corner of his eye, studying the way that she sat beside him, and he felt a strange pang of sadness. he wanted jyn beside him, of course, but he missed the droid that belonged in his co-pilot seat. where the kriff had kay gotten off to? maybe it was for the best, he’d likely only make matters worse between jyn and cassian. that droid never knew when to keep his voice box muted. cassian had just started to make the final corrections, shoving thoughts of his oldest companion to the back of his mind, when he heard the thump of jyn’s boots against the dash. “easy,” he warned, “kick us into hyperspace too early and we’ll be flying into asar.” despite his words, however, he just let the faintest of smirks pull at the corners of his lips. 

it was a few days after the two of them had made their break from the hospital, and jyn had finally convinced cassian that she was healthy enough to get the hell off of iego. her body wasn’t fully recovered from the virus––her muscles were still weak and she had a tough time doing, well, anything for an extended amount of time––things between them were tense, uncertain, strained even; both of them were trying too hard to keep things intact between them, so their actions had become forced and awkward. still, she was determined to make things right in their relationship, and even more determined not to talk about the issues that were plaguing them. 

“hey,” she said softly, approaching the cockpit where cassian was piloting, standing gingerly behind the copilot’s chair, uncertain as to whether or not to sit next to him or remain standing. she’s supposed to be resting, but doesn’t know how much he would enjoy her company right now. “how’s everything going up here?”

his eyes were set on the stars, seemingly studying the little pinpricks of far away suns, but he wasn’t looking at them. not really. cassian’s mind was churning with possibility, with confusion and the overwhelming feeling of despair. it wasn’t like him to be so lost in thought, he’d been trained to stay alert, but he was safe here. there was no one in their proximity, and as far as he knew jyn was resting somewhere in the cabin. good, he’d thought, she needed it. 

“there has to be. the force’s never brought back the dead before. if it’s doing that now, then it has to mean something” brynn explained. she had been raised to believe in the power of the force. she didn’t structure her life around it, but she looked to it for hope. to her, it seemed as if the force was doing the best it could to strike balance in a galaxy where people so often misused it. “makes sense. i’ve never known you to be anything less than a fighter.” as for herself, she was unsure. “maybe not, i don’t have the connections for that anymore.” she sighed. though her allegiance was to the rebels, there was a part of brynn that missed the freedom of her smuggling days, where the only person she would have to answer to was her. “but i’ve got my good looks back, and i’m pretty sure a wild night and a bottle of corellian wine could trick any fool into giving away his pretty ship. i wanna fly again.” but to where (or under which orders), she wasn’t sure.

To say violence was a weak point for Noah would be a lie. They spent years on their home world of Corellia, fighting other kids on the street. When they were taken to the temple, they were taught control and to let go of emotions– but also to fight with a lightsaber. Which they did not have. Some cruel twist of fate, resurrecting them without the weapon they were most familiar with. 

“I know, I’ll see what I can do,” Noah murmured. There wasn’t much else Noah could do. They couldn’t sit around waiting for someone to get them. They couldn’t very well escape without being noticed, and while they were an okay pilot ; they weren’t that great and flying and shooting at the same time. 

“Yeah– my choice weapon didn’t come back with me, but I still remember how to punch.” And surprisingly, Noah was quick. 

“you’re going to have to make your own luck,” cassian replied plainly. it was unfortunate that they’d been brought back from the dead without a weapon, but cassian had been in equally shitty positions. it took grit, determination, but he felt confident that j could pull through if only they put their mind to it. 

cassian paused for a long moment to consider, squinting slightly at the far off stars. “if you can take a suit off of a stormtrooper, they’re bound to be armed.” at the very least, the troopers would have a blaster on them. cassian was under the impression that they were never unarmed. “might not be your blaster, but it’s better than nothing.” 

there. that would have to do. 

cassian was angry with her, but that hadn’t been jyn’s intention when she had told him the truth of what she was feeling. he didn’t understand, and she had half a mind to tell him as much. when had he ever been abandoned? when had someone he loved ever left him for no good reason, leaving a mess of invisible scars in their wake? he had to understand that this was hard for her, that she couldn’t just forget all of her traumas because cassian told her that he wouldn’t leave her (a phrase that she had heard time and time again, but had never meant anything), couldn’t just forget everything because she––she loved him––because, force, she’d love her parents and saw and everyone that had came after, and yes, this was kriffing different but it was also the same. love meant nothing in regards to what had happened to her, so love meant nothing now. his words, his affection, his promises meant nothing, no matter how much she wanted them to meant something.

how much both of them wanted them to mean something.

“you don’t––don’t get it,” she rasped, trying and failing to push herself up off of the ground in an attempt to look him in the eye. her hands scrabbled against the pavement, but she ultimately didn’t have enough strength to get onto her feet, slumping back down with a coughing fit that she was unable to shake as quickly as she would have liked. “i do trust you.” i did trust you, “but you don’t…know what i’ve been through…and how hard it is…to believe that you want t’stick…around me…because everyone else…they all fucking leave!” at that, she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head with a choked off laugh. she hadn’t meant to get this emotional or angry with him, but cassian managed to bring down her walls time and time again. she couldn’t help herself. “doesn’t matter if i…trust you or love you…or how long i’ve known you…because all i know is…people leaving!” it had taken saw eight years, but even he had left her behind eventually. “s’all i know…no one sticks around, cass. no one.” though she wanted him to be the first. she really, really kriffing did, even if all other signs were pointing to no.

quick as the outburst had slipped out of her mouth, she sagged immediately against cassian’s arms, all of the fight leaving her in a matter of seconds. it wasn’t just the virus that was sapping her strength now; seeing cassian had brought an exhaustion upon her that she hadn’t even realized she had been feeling. now, it was in the forefront of her mind. “love you,” she mumbled, turning her head so she could press her (still clothed, with the mask and the scarf) face against his chest, wishing that she could touch him like she used to, skin to skin. but everything was different now, and she knew that wasn’t a possibility for her anymore. not after what she had done. “hurt so bad. don’t…want that…t’happen again.” she’d play her part in not asking him to leave, though she couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t leave independently despite that. “i’d like that…wanna do everythin’…everythin’ with you. take you nice places…s’what you deserve.” if he’d let her, that was.

thankfully, cassian didn’t say anything at her request. the words sounded strange in her mouth, asking for help after she had yelled at him, but she had no other choice. there wasn’t any way that she could walk up the ramp on her own two feet, so when cassian swept her into his arms swiftly after she had asked him, she let out a sigh of relief, happy to be off of her aching legs. she tucked her face into his chest, eyes fluttering open and shut as she struggled to stay awake. if she passed out now, it was unlikely she’d wake up again, just like––kriff, they couldn’t leave orion and gael behind. “cass,” she whispered. “orion an’ gael. gotta…gotta get ‘em.” he would have to be the one to do that, however. 

warfare was his life’s work. it had shaped cassian from the time that he was a tiny child and he’d developed into a hardened soldier throughout the years. as soon as jyn snapped back at him, cassian’s expression became stony. this wasn’t his spy face, not exactly. this look wasn’t one that he’d been taught, it was the look of a man in the midst of a battle, one who’d taken fire and who’d begun to brace himself for the worst. he listened carefully, attention trained carefully upon his partner, and he tried his damnedest to hear her out. in a sense, she was right. cassian knew quite a bit about jyn, who she had trained under and how she’d ended up on wobani, but he didn’t entirely understand her. not matter how he tried, he wasn’t sure that he would ever truly understand her experience. and what did she know of him? likely even less. 

cassian’s gaze remained trained on hers, as if trying to anticipate an attack, but he didn’t waver in his resolve. he wouldn’t run. this was what he wanted, she was what he wanted, and he’d be damned if he let an argument get in the way of a future beside her. “no,” he confessed, “i don’t.” but how was he supposed to understand? she hadn’t shared much about his past, and he’d shared even less. they loved each other, had even trusted in one another, but it struck him now that their pasts were entirely a mystery to one another. “but i--” he argued. cassian wanted desperately to tell her that he wouldn’t leave, that he would never leave her behind, but that promise had already been shattered. if she hadn’t believed that he would stay before, why would she believe him now? he had left, upon her request, but he knew how little that mattered. the sting of his betrayal was too fresh in her mind to see this logically. he set his jaw, the corners flaring outward in frustration. cassian hadn’t the slightest idea what he ought to say to her. words wouldn’t make any difference at this point. “no matter how long we’re together,” he murmured, “you’ll never believe that i'll stay.” it wasn’t a question, more of a statement of fact. if she didn’t believe that he would stay, how could jyn ever truly commit to him? 

hurt and anger and something ugly and unnamed warred in his mind, tearing at his chest, and at once it felt harder to breathe. cassian pressed his eyes closed, his expression remained tense as he considered, but her words of love broke through. despite it all, despite his knowledge that this relationship could never really grow if she couldn’t trust him, cassian did love her. “i love you too,” he murmured softly. it would have been easier if he didn’t. hell, if he could walk away from her at this point without imposing self-inflicted wounds, he would have done so the moment they’d touched down on earth, but it was not so easy. loyalty, and now love, bound him to her. cassian loved jyn far too much to give up on their relationship even with this newly discovered knowledge. you didn’t have to trust someone to love them, they could be mutually exclusive. “i don’t either,” he confessed, “leaving was...” in truth, he didn’t want to talk about it. walking away from her had been horrible. every instinct and emotion told him to go back, to stay, but he was bound by his own foolish words. he was not so foolish as to think that she’d forgive him, even though she had asked him to leave. “i don’t, but i want to come with you.” kriff, he was a mess. “you just have to hang on a little bit longer, jyn.” 

“maybe once this whole thing is over, we can start figuring out that reason, whatever it is.” brynn turned her head slightly to look out the nearest window. the speck that had been iego had become exponentially larger while she had been talking to her friend. they were close, now. she could almost taste life again. she had fallen ill so soon after her resurrection that she’d hardly gotten a chance to live again. but here she was, getting a second chance at her second chance. there were more than a few things she wanted to do this time around, and she wondered if cassian felt the same way. she leaned back to the comms system and spoke. “speaking of being brought back for a reason, what are you going to do after this whole plague mess is dealt with?”

Noah hissed in a breath. To do that, they would have to remain on the ship for some time and gather information. They did not know where the ship was heading– they didn’t know anyone on the ship. Noah closed their eyes, rubbing at their temple as they thought to figure out a plan. Something to help them survive on a First Order ship. 

“I can try to find out,” Noah affirmed. “I’ve never…” They’ve never been a spy. They’ve never been undercover. The last thing the kid remembered was training with Luke to become a jedi. They weren’t a great liar, they were halfway decent at being hidden, and they didn’t know how bad the First Order had become since their death. 

Their voice was a bit hoarse when they spoke again. Noah was not meant for war. They had not been touched by it yet– until now. “I’ll see if I can disguise myself and get some information.” Surely there was a spare stormtrooper uniform somewhere.

espionage wasn’t innate. it wasn’t a skill that all sentients were capable of, only a select few, but the speaker didn’t have much choice. the only other option was to hide out aboard the ship and hope that the resistance could intercept them at some point along the way. perhaps he should have given the stranger the option, but cassian didn’t care to help anyone that refused to help themselves.

“you don’t have much choice,” cassian spoke plainly, “if i don’t know where the ship is going, i can’t send anyone to help you.” and besides, cassian wanted to know what the first order was up to. sure, he was intelligence gathering, but he was trying to help the poor soul that had been trapped aboard the ship. it didn’t pay to be cowardly. to hide away and hope, could only work for so long. eventually, the first order would realize that something was amiss, especially if the stranger continued to make radio calls.