REBEL , REBEL .

despite everything that they had been through, despite the pain 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.

but there was nothing. he’d expected that wild-eyed look to come with nasty words that she’d never be able to take back, to come with a resolution to ditch him on fest, but she’d done quite the opposite. as she spoke her truth, that she didn’t want to leave, cassian felt himself relax ever so slightly. jyn’s posture had shifted entirely. she appeared exhausted now, her back to the wall behind her, and at once he found himself worrying for her. frustrated and hurt and miserable as he was, he was still worried for jyn’s wellbeing. cassian shifted forward in his seat, wanting to reach out to her or comfort her, but he thought better of it. “… you alright?” he asked quietly. this was not the time for such questions, he understood that. they were in the midst of an important discussion, but cassian needed to know that she was alright. as if she’d tell him the truth. cassian very nearly laughed aloud. her stamina wasn’t what it used to be, but he found himself wondering whether this was some resurgence of the virus or whether this was just exhaustion. even as she spoke, as she told him what she felt, his focus shifted only slightly. it was easier to deal with physical ailments, he was accustomed to dealing with illness and injury, but words were so much harder. especially when they brought pain. when jyn told him that she was scared, that she didn’t trust him to stay by her side, cassian felt hurt radiating from his chest outward. he sighed softly, trying to retrain his attention. she needed him to say something, to say the right words, but he wasn’t sure what those words were. “i won’t leave,” he murmured, but he knew those words were lost on her. “i didn’t want to leave the first time, jyn. but i…” whatever his reason, promise or not, he knew that it wouldn’t excuse him. “i’m trying to make this right, i’m bringing you back to fest, but i don’t know else what to do.” cassian confessed. "i’m trying.” but trying simply wasn’t enough. “what do you need?”

the door was right there. it was right next to her, within grabbing distance. it would be so easy for jyn to reach over, pull the handle, and let herself out of the small cockpit that seemed to be closing in on her every second. it would be so easy just to leave, to find a dark part of the ship and curl up in a ball, to try and forget about everything that had happened. it would be so damn easy to keep pushing cassian away because it’s what she always did. it’s all she knew how to do. instead of moving, however, her feet stayed cemented in the ground. her instincts screamed at her to flee, but she held her ground and looked up at him blearily. it didn’t look as if cassian was going to get up soon, and she felt as if all of her energy had been drained out of her. perhaps it was better if they maintained a distance between them, even if it hurt. but as soon as that thought entered her mind, jyn shook her head to rid herself of it. that wasn’t what she wanted. not anymore. once she regained her strength, she was going to make a move toward him once again––or, at least, convince him to come closer to her. if they were going to fix this, then there could be nothing between them any longer, literally or figuratively. when she spoke again, voice cutting through the silence that they left each other sitting in, she had to choose her words carefully. “i believe you when you say you won’t leave me,” she replied slowly, carefully, trying to maintain eye contact so he would know that she was serious about this. “it’s hard, but i––you’ve came back for me so many times and i know. . .” she let out a heavy breath, resisting the urge to scrunch up her face and give up, to let frustration get the best of her like it always seemed to do. but cassian, and maintaining her relationship, was worth far more to her than a little discomfort. if she could have him back, she’d do anything. “i know that you only left because i asked you to. and that you won’t do it again. it’s just––ah. the wound of you leaving still hurts. i just keep seeing it over and over and i. . .” she shrugged a shoulder helplessly, not knowing what else to do. she needed to be truthful if she expected the same from him. “now i know what it feels like to be left by you.” 

with anyone else, she would have left already. she hoped that he knew that, because she didn’t think she could say it out loud.

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.

it was evident that his presence didn’t have quite the same impact on jyn. instead, he’d upset her with his clumsy words and cassian found himself wishing that he’d just shut the kriff up. “i don’t,” he replied with a quick shake of his head. “i don’t want you to leave, jyn.” he’d be crushed if she left now, but if he was to be honest with himself, cassian would understand her decision. it seemed as though he’d done little but bring her harm. this was what he did. “it’s not you that’s making me unhappy. it’s us. it’s…” he hesitated, trying to let the thought form fully in his mind before he spoke the words aloud, “it’s like there’s a wall between us.” it was as though she was still inside of the quarantined ward and he was in the visitor’s section. since she’d broken free, they’d scarcely touched, and he realized that this was more hurtful than the quarantine. at least then it hadn’t been their choice not to touch each other, it had been a physical barrier imposed upon them. now, what was their excuse? his gaze turned downward, escaping her gaze and finding the tangle of his fingers in his own lap. “i shouldn’t have left,” he told her with a little shake of his head, “i know i shouldn’t have left, but i’m back. i…” he wanted to be back, didn’t that count for something? would he ever be able to make it up to her? “i don’t know what to do to make this right.” he told her, a strange mixture of disappointment and hurt in his voice. he hated what they’d become, but he hated himself more for what he’d done to them.

‘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. 

orion crossed her arms over her chest in amusement. “which is why he’ll say yes to you easier than to me!” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “he’ll be too scared to say no.”

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.

anger flashed across her face. cassian blinked. he recognized the wide eyed look and at once he felt himself reeling. what had he said that could have possibly made her angry? that he loved her? that he was glad that she still wanted to know him? his mind spun with possibilities, with a sudden wave of realization that she could leave. as if she’d read his mind, jyn tore off her restraint and stood, and cassian felt himself flinch in response to her movement. he prepared himself to be alone, to see her storming off and bolting the moment that they made it to fest, but instead she planted her feet in front of him and faced him head on. what the hell was this? his eyes narrowed to slits, his jaw set, and at once he was ready for an argument. just like that. “like what?” he growled, shaking his head in annoyance and confusion. “doing–?” but she went off again. the words were all wrong in his mind, seemingly a jumbled mess of ideas, and he couldn’t make sense of any of what she was getting at until she’d spoken the sentiment aloud. oh. he’d been so prepared for the fight, for the end, that he hadn’t prepared himself for this outcome. she wanted to make this work. the sound of her voice breaking caused his expression to gentle slightly, but he hadn’t let his guard down yet. not entirely. “i can’t yell.” he told her with a shake of his head, his gaze turning downward. “i’m…” angry? hurt? heartbroken? none of those words seemed quite right. “i’m miserable, but i don’t have any right to yell at you. i’m the one who left.” self loathing threatened to eat him alive. “i don’t know how to make this right.” he wanted to, he desperately wanted to, but how to go about it was beyond him.

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. 

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.

dread fought with hatred now, warring with one another. this was his fault, came the angry reminder. he’d done this to them, if he’d just stayed as he’d always promised before, they wouldn’t be in this situation. but then, he wondered, would the cure have been found? he’d tried his damnedest to keep the team on track, to make damn sure that they remained focused even when exhaustion got the better of them. ultimately, however, he knew that he’d do it again. if it meant keeping her alive, he’d leave a thousand times over. better to have her alive and hating him than dead and still in love, though he couldn’t say that he particularly liked either option. “you haven’t been to fest yet,” he remarked, a faint smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “makes kriffing hoth look like a resort planet.” hoth wasn’t much, but it was leagues better than fest. fest was little more than tundra and a few, scattered imperial bases. there was a little town here and there, filled with people who bitched and moaned about the cold, and no one ever bothered to stick around. he’d have left one way or another, cassian thought, whether or not his father had died. despite everything, he thought it rather promising that she still wanted to know about him. cassian dared to glance at her. “i love you, you know?” he asked quietly. “it means a lot that you wanna… that you still want to get to know me.” she could have easily turned her back on him, but jyn wasn’t built like that and neither was he. they’d make this work, if only because they were both so damn stubborn.

“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.

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?

kriff, he hoped not. dark eyes studied the controls carefully, paying a bit too much attention to the little gauges and dials on the dashboard in front of him. he listened carefully as she spoke, taking her words in. cassian trusted her. despite everything, he believed jyn when she said that she wanted to travel to his home planet alongside him, but it was difficult now. before, they’d had a good relationship. hell, their relationship was one of the strongest he’d ever sustained, but it had changed ever since he’d turned his back on her. there was a new tension between them now, an air of uncertainty, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be too much. to face fest wasn’t particularly horrible, he’d dealt with worse, but to do so when things between them were so strained? it was as though every painful part of his life, of his past and present, had been drawn out and forced onto one little planet. "i want to bring you,” he told her softly. cassian had avoided the little planet because he didn’t want to go himself, but he wanted jyn to see, to understand, provided she still wanted to be around him. cassian frowned. their relationship had never been so turbulent before and he hated it. “i know i haven’t told you much about me… i think it might help you understand,” he told her quietly. “but it’s a lot to face all at once.”

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. 

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.

“yeah, a few hours…” he shrugged a shoulder. cassian could feel the smirk disappear almost immediately at the mention of his home planet and a faint frown line formed between his brows. home. it had been decades since he’d been back, and he wasn’t certain now exactly how he was supposed to face it. it had happy memories, some of the happiest of his life, but some of the most miserable and lonely too. given the current state of their relationship, cassian couldn’t help but wonder how jyn might react if his oldest demons came back to haunt him. “you’re sure you want to see?” he asked quietly. although cassian was worried about his reaction to seeing his home and facing those old memories, he wasn’t sure whether jyn was strong enough now to handle to cold of his home planet. it was the sort of chill that crept into one’s bones and never left. perhaps that was what had happened to him. “fest isn’t exactly… temperate.” or forgiving or even manageable. why anyone had ever settled on the little ice ball was entirely beyond him.

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.)

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.

the sound of her voice caused him to straighten. he wasn’t startled, not exactly, but he certainly hadn’t been expecting company. cassian glanced over his shoulder and found jyn’s gaze easily. more tension. it was as though she didn’t want to get too close. he turned his attention back to the space beyond, eyes dancing from one star to the next, and again he wished that he was skilled enough with words to fix this mess. “we’re about to make the jump into hyperspace,” he replied calmly, “we just have to navigate the gravitational pull of iego’s moon.” cassian dared to glance back at her again. “you can sit. i could use a distraction,” he admitted quietly.

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.

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. 

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.”

as soon as jyn was safely in his arms, cassian realized just how much he’d missed having her close like this. despite the illness ravaging her body, he found that he didn’t particularly care. he wanted to be near her, he’d missed this sort of closeness. and did he care if she infected him? cassian tried to push the desperate, ugly thought aside. he felt a surge of relief once they’d made it aboard the ship, they were closer to the cure now, much closer, and then she mentioned orion and gael. cassian paused. “for force sake,” he growled through his teeth, more to himself than to her. she was right, and he knew it. he couldn’t leave his friend and her significant loser other behind. “you stay, i’ll…” but he couldn’t leave her. he knew damn well that she wouldn’t trust him to come back. but to take her with him meant putting additional strain on her. “i can go get them myself or you can come with me.” there, it was her choice. though, kriff, he hoped that gael was mobile. he couldn’t carry the both of them.

jyn hadn’t told cassian much about herself, and even though he knew more about her than most people––even without the information that he had gathered on her, it was still a considerable amount––he didn’t know everything. she knew, realistically, that she couldn’t blame cassian for not understanding why her abandonment issues were so prevalent without teling him everything that had happened in her past, but she couldn’t help the resentment bubbling up in her throat, threatening to spill out through her lips. he didn’t understand, and yet he was judging her for her reactions, as if they weren’t predictable for someone who had gone through what she had. kriff, if he had been anyone else, someone she didn’t love, someone she could hate, she would have pushed herself up off of this wall, virus be damned, and walked away, this time for good. walk away and never look back, except––

except she’d never walk away from cassian. she couldn’t. she couldn’t walk away from someone she loved so much, even if she knew that he was going to walk away from her first. kriff––kriffing hell, she was so stupid, so foolish, to stick around, and yet––

and yet. 

“i want you. . .you t’understand,” she stressed. this wasn’t something where she wanted him left in the dark on purpose, and even though she struggled with telling him the more painful details about her past, she woudl do what he needed her to do so he could better figure out why she acted in this way. “anythin’ you need t’understand. . .i’ll do it. please––i wanna. . .wanna help you, don’t want you. . .feelin’ like you. . .” feeling like this was a problem with him, when that was the farthest from the truth. this was something that she had to get over herself––or at least try to. she couldn’t force him to stick around while she figured her own issues, but kriff, did she hope that he would. at his next words, however, she could feel herself begin to close off even more, but not before she flinched away violently. “fuck, cass–-why would you––” she clenched her jaw, looking in the opposite direction as tears pricked her eyes. that was uncharacteristically cruel of him to say, even though it was absolutely true. would she ever be able to trust him fully? would she ever be able to heal all of the wounds inflicted on her in order to give her entire self to him? “what if i can’t?” she challenged, emotion choking her words because she was unable to keep it out. “what then, cass? are you. . .goin’ t’leave? finally. . .figure out that  m’not. . .worth it?” she shook her head, reached up to press her the heel of her palm against her eyes, resisting the urge to tell him to leave for good.

she will never, ever tell him to leave her again, no matter how much they fought or argued or spat cruel things at each other. never again.

despite the anger and sadness burning a hole through her chest, she couldn’t help but falter as he told her again that he loved her. no matter what their issues were or how out of control said issues got, she knew that they would still love each other, no matter what happened. even as he carried her through the halls of the freighter, tension humming through both of their bodies, she knew that he loved her and he him. “don’t wanna stay here,” she insisted, for two reasons. the first and more important one was that she didn’t want him to leave her alone and not come back, even though the only reason they were even on this damn ship was because of her. why would he bring her here and leave, which was a more difficult task than leaving her in quarantine? and secondly, she wasn’t sure that she would be able to stay awake without someone at her side and ensuring that she didn’t fall unconscious. there was too big of a chance that she wouldn’t wake up from whatever kind of sleep that she ended up in. “m’comin’ with.” 

however, the logistics of this rescue mission were going to be a bit. . .out of the box. gael was still trapped in quarantine, she had no idea where orion currently was, and jyn knew that she didn’t have much time left––and gael didn’t either. but this was something she knew they had to do. they had to go back for their friends and give them a chance to be saved as well. “can walk,” she mumbled against his chest, lying blatantly. they both knew there was no chance of that, yet she protested it anyway, knowing it would be easier for him to get gael and orion if he wasn’t burdened by her weight. “don’t need. . .t’carry me.” 

jyn had been abandoned time and time again. cassian didn’t know the specifics, not why saw had left her behind nor how she’d been separated from her family, but he’d seen the impact those old wounds had on her life. each time he promised to stay, or reminded her how deeply he loved her, cassian could practically feel the doubt radiating off of her. why would he be any different? in truth, cassian had tried to answer that question himself and he hadn’t found a way to explain what he felt. he wouldn’t leave because he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, it simply wasn’t in cassian’s nature to leave anything or anyone valuable behind. like kaytoo, she didn’t have any information that would further the rebellion’s cause, but she was important to him for a hundred other reasons. jyn was a dear friend, a brilliant partner, a keeper of his innermost secrets, and he loved her more than he’d known he was capable of loving.

kriff he loved her.

despite his promise to remain by her side, jyn had expected him to leave. although she hadn’t said the word aloud, cassian understood what she’d meant. jyn had wanted to push him away, to control the situation, to ease her pain when he undoubtedly left. cassian’s jaw tightened, unable to keep the resentment from his features. “i wouldn’t have ever left if you hadn’t asked me to,” he replied with a low growl. jyn’s fears wouldn’t have ever come to fruition if only she’d given him a chance to prove his loyalty. instead, she had been so afraid that he would leave that she made a preemptive strike. cassian shook his head slightly, feeling the hurt beginning to take root in his chest. “you said you trusted me.” it felt like ages ago now. she’d told him on that day they’d spent the lakes region that she trusted him, that she thought he would stay, that she believed him. he couldn’t understand what had made her change her mind. or, perhaps, she’d never really fully trusted him. the thought stung, but it seemed likely now. she wouldn’t have sent him away if she’d trusted him. but he wasn’t to be trusted. he’d left, after all.

the frustration he felt didn’t last long. when jyn spoke of how deeply she felt for him, how much she loved him, cassian felt his expression weaken. he knew precisely how she felt. in truth, cassian hadn’t known that he was capable of such deep adoration until he’d fallen in love with her. cassian nodded faintly. “i didn’t either,” he confessed softly. cassian hated to speak of his feelings in public, especially in a place as public as this one, but if it meant keeping her around or losing her forever? the choice was an easy one. “i love you, jyn. leaving you was… it hurt.” it had hurt far more than he’d ever expected. love, he’d realized, was immensely dangerous. he could be wounded just as deeply with a knife or a blaster as he could by a broken heart. only one wouldn’t kill him, it would just make him wish for death. at last, he understood why people were so kriffing easy to manipulate whenever he brought their loved ones into it. as they walked, he tightened his arm around her, not hard, but enough to make certain that she stayed upright. “we will,” cassian nodded, “just as soon as we get the cure.”

jyn’s plea was strange. he wasn’t certain that he’d ever heard such need in her voice. the blue shadow virus must be a terror if it was fearsome enough to make jyn ask for help. cassian lowered himself slightly maneuvering carefully so that he wouldn’t hurt her as he lifted her into his arms. cassian wrapped an arm around her hip and another around her back, and he tried to lift her gently into his arms. with that, he closed the gap to the ship and boarded. they were one step closer to the cure, now if only he could start the kriffing thing…

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.

“Wh–” Noah’s voice cut for a second, startled by the other’s tone. That wasn’t the kind of reaction they had thought they’d receive. “N–No?? No?” That was the opposite of what they were doing. “I just came back from being killed, I’d rather not again…” Noah muttered into the comm. Funnily enough, that was exactly what happened. Noah was completely green, not experienced in undercover missions. They were more handy with a saber than they were sneaking around. They were managing alright, but for who knows how long. “This is my only way to communicate, I don’t have anything.”