Chapter Text
The second time Jyn speaks to Leia Organa she's dressed nearly the same as the first time they'd met, white gown and fancy hair.
Jyn ignores her approach, leaning back against the temple wall, watching the remaining dust of the Death Star waterfall over the horozon. She threads her last knife through her fingers absently, the rest embedded in a tree a couple of meters away. She can't be bothered to drag her body off the ground to retrieve them.
"You're shorter than I remember," the Princess says by way of greeting, sinking down to the earth beside Jyn with little regard for her outfit. She clutches a box in one hand and a nearly empty bottle in another.
"Did Cassian tell you where I was?"
"Chirrut Imwe, actually."
"I don't recall telling him."
"He mentioned that, called it an old man's intuition," she says, pulling two flimsy cups from the pockets of her dress. Jyn snorts.
"Sounds about right."
"You didn't come to the ceremony," Organa says, cutting straight to the chase. Jyn turns to look at her. Still a straight talker then, she could appreciate that.
"Seemed crass for Galen Erso's daughter to attend. The rest of Rogue One didn't attend either, for what it's worth."
The Princess's look could quell a stampede of banthas. "We're not our fathers, adopted or otherwise. And, for what it's worth," she says, tone now this side of mocking "Bodhi Rook was there and seemed terribly uncomfortable. Chirrut and Cassian are bedridden so they get a pass. Which leaves you and Baze."
"And you've chosen to bother me?"
"Of course, Baze is large and terrifying. We've already established you're short."
"And not terrifying?" Jyn asks, slightly annoyed. Organa huffs a laugh.
"You weren't as scary as you thought at 10. You were a bleeding heart then and you're still one now."
"So you're here to cement that bleeding heart to your cause?"
"Don't be cute, I know you've already joined. I'm here to give you the medal you've earned in sevice to the Alliance to Restore the Republic," she says, voice deeping into formality at the end. Jyn frowns.
"I don't want any medals."
"Yeah, Cassian said you wouldn't," she says, tossing aside the box. "He'd didn't accept it either although he did try to salute me, the idiot."
"So you did talk to Cassian."
"Never said I didn't, just that he didn't give away your location."
"Always the politician."
The princess shrugs and adjusts the collar of her dress. The white fabric matches Jyn's memory from thirteen years ago but woman in it now seems much more uncomfortable wearing it than the girl had then.
"I'm sorry, about your father. He seemed like a good man."
"He was. It didn't help him much, he still died," she says frowning. Her eyes begin to water and Jyn looks away, uncomfortable.
The Princess tilts her head back, willing the tears away and shaking her head. "Is Yavin the way you remember it?" she asks.
"The humidity is the same," Jyn says. It prompts a laugh from the other woman.
"It's terrible," she agrees. She draws her legs up until their crossed and hikes her long dress over her knees. Jyn, momentarily and stupidly envies her. Jyn's right leg remained stubbornly stiff, laid out in front of her and locked at the knee.
"Remember the first time we met? The night before my father and Saw got in a shouting match in high command?" Organa asks, uncorking the bottle she brought and pouring the remained of the dirt brown liquid into the pair of cups. "The stayed up late, drinking and exchanging war stories. Well I've had enough of war stories for now but I thought we could share a drink. You already turned down my medal, you can at least accept this."
Jyn takes the cup and the smells hits her strong. "Where did you get this?"
"Solo."
"I can't believe Han Solo joined the rebellion, the prick. So props to you on that," Jyn says raising her glass.
"The nerf-herder claims he hasn't joined. But getting a scoundrel to join the cause is no more impressive than getting the cause to go rogue," she responds pointedly.
"A rogue mission that backed his beliefs, it's not much of a stretch."
"In the years I've known him, Cassian Andor has been a good solider--"
"Aren't you all," Jyn interrupts. The Princess ignores her.
"--a good soldier who's always followed orders. He blantly disobeyed them on your word, that's not nothing."
Jyn narrows her eyes, "How long were you talking with Chirrut?"
Organa smirks. "Long enough," she says lightly, climbing to her feet with her empty glass and dusting herself off.
"We're happy you're staying, Jyn," the princess says, before heading back toward the main temple. The dull roar of celebrations floats through the jungle.
Jyn forces herself to a standing position and yanks her knives out of the tree, tucking them in their various homes around her body. She walks away from the noise of partying toward the medical wing.
"Hello Jyn Erso," Chirrut's voice greets her as she opens the door. Baze is leaning on his bed and Chirrut is using the larger man's arm as a pillow. Bodhi is sprawled on a chair in the middle, passing around drinks that seem to be the same color as the swill the princess had brought earlier. Cassian greets her with a smile, moving slightly on his bed.
Jyn hesitates but sits in the space Cassian cleared for her, propping her bad leg on edge of Bodhi's chair. Cassian gently runs a thumb over the top of her hand. She lets herself relax, listening to her team chatter around her.
She's happy she's staying too.