Cassian.

The original intent of her words does find purchase, and he does illicit something of an amused smile at the thought.

Then, a hand extended to scratch at his shoulder, thoughtfully.  She’d been very quick to cut herself off, to assure she meant it as a joke, which honestly made him more aware of the situation he found himself in.  He was used to life-threatening situations and the black humor that came from them, but for someone to assure that they didn’t mean a joke… that was overwhelming in a way that he didn’t quite understand.

“I’m the same.”  Cassian agreed honestly.  “This sort of work.. it does not offer you the luxury of friendships.  Very new.”  He replied, giving a weak grin.  “Scarier than taking fire from a Stormtrooper swarm.”

Cassian had never been one to trust, and that wasn’t his choice.  Kill those that got close, do anything to keep the dream alive… he’d lost his morals along the way.  And that had made his actions on Yavin IV and the subsequent actions on Scarif all the more baffling from the outside, considering his history of staying in line.

Perhaps it was a moral realization.  Perhaps it was guilt.  More likely, it was the inspiration of a woman so like him, and yet filled with hope.

“They have no intention of letting us be.”  Cassian replied at her realization.  His eyes quietly scanned the area, and immediately picked up at least one passerby that was trying their hardest to not to show that they were watching.  Simply with his yes, Cassian motioned in the individual’s direction.

“But I doubt they will stop us.  And… I’d like that.”

it is a hideous feeling to be under constant suverlliance.  it feels sticky and uncomfortable like being covered in grime and gore,  soaked in shame and fear under people’s judging sight.  and jyn had spent much of her life not just running away but making herself small and invisible in order to go unnoticed from such dispariging eyes.  

rent the smallest and cheapest room,  do the lowest profile jobs,  find a conspicious ride to the farthest planet and repeat the cycle all over again.   she got so close to the outer rim back then,  before being taken to wobani prison,  only to be dragged all the way back to the eye of the storm that was the war against the empire.  

❛ they can try and fight me. ❜    she mumbles only for cassian to hear,  her nose scrunching in annoyance but the bitterness soon dissipates from her face and it’s replaced with an amicable smile instead.  even jyn herself is surprised with the softness of her response.

❛ let me show you— ❜    jyn hastily reaches out for cassian grabbing him by the wrist as she walks off the medical wing,  leading the way to the elevator.  

it is also a hideous feeling of temptation harbouring in her chest when she entertains the idea of holding cassian’s hand again,  of intertwining their fingers and feeling the warmth of his hand against her skin.  the thought alone is comforting. 

she’s less concerned with the possibility of strangers seeing such a scene and more so mortified of what cassian might think.   because however dumb and lonely he could think she is for longing home and finding it in their conntection…  he would be right.  that’s the worst part,   she knows he would be right.

The hardest part was this, though.  Them watching him here.  The place he’d fought hardest to protect.  The place he’d barely survived for.  The embodiment of hope.  

A weak smile crossed his lips at her mumbled words.  He didn’t reply, of course.  But it was nice to know a near-death experience hadn’t changed her.  Which made it altogether more surprising when he felt her grab his wrist and pull him forward.  At first, he was entirely taken off guard.  It wasn’t that long ago that she might’ve thrown him out an airlock.  Yet here, there was a strange comfort in the feeling of her skin.  Tempered from a hard life, yet still soft to the touch.

As they reached the elevator, he found himself looking at her, in thought.  It wasn’t that long ago they had been in this situation, either.  Despite how dark the elevator was, he could still see the yellow tint against her skin from the catastrophic event that had nearly taken both their lives.  

What had it taken for her to hold him, in that moment?  To put aside the lies he’d told her, and comfort him in the face of oblivion itself?  For someone who was so deadset on giving off a hard exterior, she was kind.  Kinder than anyone he had ever known.  And as he reflected on it, and thought of her face bathed in yellow, he was proud that he had thrown everything aside to be at her side.

“Strangely?”  He replied, looking into her eyes.  “Green.”

It was right about that time that Cassian became acutely aware of just how long he’d been looking at it.  With a cough he turned his head away, regarding the door in front of them.  Stupid.  He thought to himself, repeating the word a few times over in his mind.  He was letting his own thoughts get away from him.  Go into flights of fancy.  He was better than that.  An hour back on his feet and he’d already made a fool out of himself, in front of the one person he actually cared enough to not want to do so in front of.

It had taken more time in that bacta tank for Cassian to recover than he would’ve liked.

Of course, any time recovering was too much for Cassian Andor.  For as long as he could remember, he moved forward at a reckless speed.  It was what kept him moving, what kept him on his feet… what kept his mind busy.

Cassian had always been a tool.  Sharpened for the kill, ready to be pointed at whatever was an issue.  A problem-solver… and that came with a certain amount of risk.  

Guilt.

Much like the woman he’d found himself opposite on the sands of the Scarif, that meant he didn’t form connections.  Any of them could have been a danger to the cause, and thus would have to be cut out like a cancer if that proved true.

None were above scrutiny.  The Rebellion came first.

And yet…  and yet.

He had spent a lot of time in that bacta tank… he wasn’t sure if he should’ve been able to walk away from it.  He didn’t think he could’ve, in the past.  

He had always suspected he would die for the cause.  Always knew it, if he was honest with himself.  He’d never had reason to fight for his own life outside of the current goal, and that goal had been accomplished, even if he didn’t have visual confirmation.

…and yet.

The door slid open, and, to his surprise… those green eyes awaited him.  A familiar form, one that had brought so much hope to the cause.  The one that he’d hated only a day before, the one he’d seen as a danger to the cause… the one he’d nearly lost to said cause.

The one who stayed at his side.

The one who convinced him to take ‘the cause’ into his own hands.

The one who assured that hope survived.

Heavily bandaged though he was, he gave a bit of a shrug, hand, palm forward, raising to silence her concerns.  “Never been better in my life.”

the  nonchalant  and  dismissive  gesture  appears  to  lift  tangible  weight  off  jyn's  shoulders,  both  coming  down  with  an  almost  inaudible  sigh  escaping  her  mouth  as  the  tension  in  the  air  seemed  to  dissolve. 

❛ oh.  okay,  good.   i  thought  i  would  have  to  befriend  another  pilot  to  ask  for  a  ride  when  i'm  allowed  to  leave. ❜   she  says  with  humorous  intent,  although  she  feels  the  need  to  clarify  a  immediately  after.  ❛ and  i'm  not  very  good  at  that.  making  friends,  i  mean.  you've  probably  noticed  that. ❜   and  with  that  her  lips  curl  up  into  an  amused  smile  at  her  own  self  deprecating  joke.

she  finds  she  doesn't  mind  showing  that  side  of  herself  to  cassian  even  though  she  has  always  kept  people  at  arms  length  distance.  and  it  all  truth,  it  feels  like  he's  capable  of  reading  through  her  anyways.  perhaps,  she  considers,  it  is  in  the  crudeness  and  grittiness  of  their  pasts  that  they  inevitably  see  themselves  in  the  each  other.

jyn  distinctively  remembers  befriending  hader  during  her  year  long  hiding  in  skuhl.  he  was  a  nice  kid,  a  kind  boy  who  didn't  deserve  his  life  to  be  taken  by  the  empire  (and  the  memory  itself  still  stings  painfully  deep).  she  had  felt  welcomed  as  a  guest  in  his  home,   because  he  was  kind  and  nice,   but  never  understood  or  truly  safe.  he  would've  never  understood  why  she  was  a  runaway  from  the  empire,  and  the  price  of  his  ignorance  towards  the  empire  cost  him  his  life  —  maybe  that  is  why  people  like  jyn  and  cassian  remain  alive.   

it's  not  fair,  she  knows  it's  not.  

The original intent of her words does find purchase, and he does illicit something of an amused smile at the thought.

Then, a hand extended to scratch at his shoulder, thoughtfully.  She’d been very quick to cut herself off, to assure she meant it as a joke, which honestly made him more aware of the situation he found himself in.  He was used to life-threatening situations and the black humor that came from them, but for someone to assure that they didn’t mean a joke... that was overwhelming in a way that he didn’t quite understand.

“I’m the same.”  Cassian agreed honestly.  “This sort of work.. it does not offer you the luxury of friendships.  Very new.”  He replied, giving a weak grin.  “Scarier than taking fire from a Stormtrooper swarm.”

Cassian had never been one to trust, and that wasn’t his choice.  Kill those that got close, do anything to keep the dream alive... he’d lost his morals along the way.  And that had made his actions on Yavin IV and the subsequent actions on Scarif all the more baffling from the outside, considering his history of staying in line.

Perhaps it was a moral realization.  Perhaps it was guilt.  More likely, it was the inspiration of a woman so like him, and yet filled with hope.

“They have no intention of letting us be.”  Cassian replied at her realization.  His eyes quietly scanned the area, and immediately picked up at least one passerby that was trying their hardest to not to show that they were watching.  Simply with his yes, Cassian motioned in the individual's direction.

the  wait  for  cassian's  medical  check-up  is  filled  with  pacing  around  the  hallway  and  anxious  fidgeting  with  her  own  fingers.  they're  cold,  they've  always  been  cold  jyn  knew  they  were  but  never  was  as  aware  of  the  fact  as  she'd  been  when  her  fingers  laced  with  cassian's  back  on  the  shore  of  scarif.  she  thought  that  would  be  one  of  her  last  thoughts  too.  

it  would've  been  a  nice  final  thought,  she  reckons  —  how  warm  cassian's  hands  felt,  rough  and  scarred  much  alike  her  own.  what  it  feels  like  in  her  chest  when  she  recalls  the  memory  is  something  she's  uncomfortable  with.  attachment,  that  is.  she'd  longed  for  it  for  as  long  as  she'd  been  taken  away  from  her  parents;  attachment  to  people  or  a  place,  a  sense  of  belonging.  and  now  that  she  has  it  she's  unsure  what  to  do  with  it.  so  she  just  waits.  

and  if  people  pass  by  and  stare  and  find  it  odd  for  her  to  wait  for  the  captain  then  so  be  it.  jyn  erso  has  faced  judgement  much  worse  before.

her  pacing  then  comes  to  a  halt  when  the  door  of  the  office  slides  open,  her  doe  green  eyes  expectantly  waiting  to  see  cassian  —  see  if  he's  okay,  which  is  an  irrational  thing  to  do,  jyn realises.  he  might  be  still  healing  but  he  did  survive  scarif.  he'll  survive  a  visit  to  the  doctor  just  fine.

Of course, any time recovering was too much for Cassian Andor.  For as long as he could remember, he moved forward at a reckless speed.  It was what kept him moving, what kept him on his feet... what kept his mind busy.

Cassian had always been a tool.  Sharpened for the kill, ready to be pointed at whatever was an issue.  A problem-solver... and that came with a certain amount of risk.  

Guilt.

Much like the woman he’d found himself opposite on the sands of the Scarif, that meant he didn’t form connections.  Any of them could have been a danger to the cause, and thus would have to be cut out like a cancer if that proved true.

None were above scrutiny.  The Rebellion came first.

And yet...  and yet.

He had spent a lot of time in that bacta tank... he wasn’t sure if he should’ve been able to walk away from it.  He didn’t think he could’ve, in the past.  

He had always suspected he would die for the cause.  Always knew it, if he was honest with himself.  He’d never had reason to fight for his own life outside of the current goal, and that goal had been accomplished, even if he didn’t have visual confirmation.

...and yet.

The door slid open, and, to his surprise... those green eyes awaited him.  A familiar form, one that had brought so much hope to the cause.  The one that he’d hated only a day before, the one he’d seen as a danger to the cause... the one he’d nearly lost to said cause.

The one who stayed at his side.

The one who convinced him to take ‘the cause’ into his own hands.

The one who assured that hope survived.