#rebelsouled

‘ DON’T  BE  SO  PESSIMISTIC . It'll affect team morale .  ‘

To put it lightly, that had been one of the worst dates she had had in a few months. Top five, easily. Almost as bad as the night she had woken up in the hospital… but, she wasn't thinking about that. Lydia wasn't thinking about any of that as she climbed out of the Uber she had taken across town, literally, from the Upper East Side over the river, into the industrial district. She half stumbled, making sure to grab her sweater, half torn from her great escape. It didn't matter how much that asshole had in stocks and investments - Lydia could do better.

At least she knew she was safe here, safer here in what her mother would call the slums, wearing a dress that showed off all the goods, than back where she had come from. Lydia knew, if anyone tried to touch her, even glance her way, given how underdressed she was, Cassian would deck them… and then throw them out on their ass. If only he could do that too the asshole she had just left…

Lydia pulled her sweater on over her slip, a lace edged silk thing she had had on under her dress. Her dress was abandoned, back in the penthouse of the same guy that left the bruises on her wrists. The sweater covered them, though, and she ran her thumbs under her eyes, trying to wipe away the mascara that had been smudged. Her knuckle checked her lips, thankful she was wearing a nude, and then she grabbed the door, stepping into the bar.

Confidence in times of trouble was all about faking it until everyone believed it, and Lydia was the Queen of faking it, whether it was an orgasm or that everything was okay. A smile spread over her lips, and she waved her hand at the regulars - who only gave her a passing glance, regardless of her disheveled look. Everyone knew better at this point.

Better to be smiling than sobbing her eyes out, sitting in her shower and letting the water wash away everything other than the marks.

“Hey, Jyn,” she says with a nod to the other bartender. She's busy counting out her drawer, a sign that it's later than normal, and doesn't even get a glance. Cassian looks at her, though, and she can already feel the worry.

 The beeping sounds of the many devices monitoring him as he laid unconscious became Jyn’s only sense of time,  beep after beep she realised time went on although nothing seemed to change.  He ought to wake up any time soon,  they’d been saying for days.  And every day, for as long as the staff of the medical facility allowed Jyn to, she sat there by his side.  Patiently awaiting.  The lack of conversation was alright with her,  she never was good with words anyway.  Knowing he was still breathing and the promise he would recover was enough to keep her going.  Strong and hopeful  —— the injuries she’d sustained weren’t deathly,  but losing Cassian might be.  

Not after what they went through,  she could not go back to the loneliness of the underground hide in her mind.  Part of her had stayed down in the bunker the day her mother was shot and her father was taken, waiting just like she was now. The cold and the eerie sound of the rain still vivid in her memory even after all these years.  The rebel captain had helped bringing her out of that place,  though she wouldn’t admit out loud.  He would come back to her all the same.  Professionals’ promises of recovery aside,  Jyn just knew —— could feel it in her very heart,  in the Force perhaps.  Not that she had the sensibility to know for sure,  but she could feel things.  Everyone could,  her mother used to say.  They were a team,  he would come back. 

The flight had gone well, and he’d stayed in contact with his sister for the entirety of it, all but bribing her to stay with some friends to grant both her and Cassian some peace away from one another. Arriving back in London, exhausted as he was, made everything settle into place. Only one cab ride home and Bodhi knew who’d be waiting for him.

Their frantic kisses aside Bodhi have been given time to think, time to reflect on the reality of their situation. He was elated, but couldn’t drive the doubt from his mind as he made his way up the steps to his flat. Would Cassian change his mind? Or worse yet feel trapped by Bodhi’s pleading. He didn’t know.

With no keys Bodhi simply knocked on the door, feeling like a bizarre guest. An overnight bag slung over his shoulder and regular clothes on his body he looked almost nothing like the shining image that Cassian had seen disappearing behind a service door, but as the door to the flat opened Bodhi couldn’t help but smile.