Archive of Our Own

“Melshi?”

It’s late enough on Home One’s artificial night to be closer to morning. The cabin lights are dimmed, but he’s fully dressed like she is: tactical pants and boots and the green shirt he and Cassian constantly steal from each other. He’s sitting on the side of the bed the three of them cobbled together, clutching a small holoprojector in both hands. Jyn’s sure it’s to keep it from shaking. She can see what looks like two women and a child, though it’s hard to tell from the doorway.

He looks gutted, like he’s in mourning. But he sucks in a breath and jerks up at his name. He shuts off the projector and turns to her, quickly wiping his eyes. “Did they hear from him?”

Jyn, standing paralyzed one step into the room, wishes badly she stayed quiet instead of intruding on his grief. “We know he succeeded,” she says. “We have access to all the comm chatter in the sector.” She so badly wishes she had something better to tell him.

Melshi nods. “That’s good,” he says quietly. But he heard what she hasn’t said and she’s forced to watch the hope fade from his eyes. He puts the projector down very carefully beside him, clasps his trembling hands. He turns more fully towards her. He looks so vulnerable. It’s terrifying. “Is he dead?”

“They’re still looking for him,” she says immediately, because any hesitation would be damning. “They think he’s gone to ground.”

All of that is true. The lie is what she left out. The Imps are actually sure their target is dead, drowned in the filthy bay water after being shot through the side. They’re looking for a body, not a fugitive. The idea Cassian might have survived, might be hurt and hiding, is a distant afterthought barely worthy of effort. If there’s no corpse it probably just drifted out to sea.

It’s the most likely possibility. Jyn won’t accept it. Not yet. She knows she’ll have to. She has hours, days at most, before her translucent, brittle hope is shattered. Agony is breathing down her neck, but she’s always been good at running.

She won’t outrun it. Grief is patient. It abides. But she’ll hold out as long as she can.

She’ll spare Melshi as long as she can. She knows how selfish that is, how she’s sparing herself as much as him. But if she doesn’t have to face Melshi’s grief, she won’t have to face her own. And Melshi is so fragile right now. For days she’s felt like he’s balanced on a cliff crumbling beneath him. If Cassian dies, he’ll fall. She’ll lose them both. She can’t stop it. All she can do is hang on until she can’t.

So she lies and hangs on and keeps running.

“Gone to ground,” Melshi murmurs. “Good. That’s good.” He lets out a breath, wipes his eyes again. His hand trembles like a frightened bird.

Mourning, she remembers. Maybe he already slipped from her grasp.

No. She won’t allow it. She goes to the bed and sits next to him. He automatically fits his arm across her back. She wraps both of hers around him. Holds tight. “I got ahold of Bodhi. He left Jedha early and he’s already on route. He’ll be back in about four hours.”

Melshi looks at her, a bare flicker of light in the shadows of his eyes. “He’s still on board, then?”

“Oh yeah,” she says with vehemence. “Him and Luke. He said the Guardians would’ve come too if they weren’t leading the migration.” She smiles but her heart’s not in it. Grief is patient. There may be no one to find.

She won’t accept it. “Bodhi wanted to make sure we had our gear ready in the hangar. Because he’s only stopping long enough to grab us and Luke.”

“I’ve got everything already.” Melshi makes a sound that might be considered a laugh. “Two unauthorized missions in four months. Draven’s gonna have a bantha.”

“Let him. I couldn’t give less of a damn.” Jyn widens her smile. “Besides, we’ll just tell him it was Bodhi’s idea. Bodhi can get away with anything.”

That gets a chuckle that sounds almost real. She relishes it. “Draven’s just a sucker for his big tooka-eyes,” Melshi says. But his smile fades, his expression going bleak in a way that convulses her heart. “What if we can’t find him?”

Jyn thinks of a drifting body, shoves it away. Makes her gaze hard and certain. “We’ll find him.” They have to.

“Jyn.” Melshi’s voice is terrifyingly calm. “What if he’s dead?”

She knows he sees her horror before she can school it. His expression shutters. “He’s not dead!” She sounds angry. She’s not, but her free hand is in a fist. She relaxes it, threads her and Melshi’s fingers. Holds on. “He’s hiding on Morlana One and we’re going to find him and bring him home.” She says it with every bit of conviction she can find, for her and Melshi both.

Melshi searches her face. She waits, resolute. “Yeah.” He swallows. Nods. “Yeah. We’ll find him.”

“Yes we will.” She gives him a quick, firm kiss, then tilts her chin at the projector still sitting beside him. This close she can see the metal is blackened, warped in places like it’s been in a fire. “What’s that you’ve got?”

She’s genuinely interested. He’s important to her so his history is too. It’s also a distraction. If Melshi guesses that, he says nothing. He just lets go of her hand to pick the projector up. “Just some old holos.” He offers it and she holds out her hand. He places the device gently in her palm. “I, uh.” He makes a curved-finger gesture near his temple, smiles wry and apologetic. “You know I’ve been…drifting. A bit. Since Cass missed his check-in.”

Jyn nods, manages to keep her face neutral. Her chest aches. There is an anguished, bereft child inside of her, screaming in panic. Stay here. Please stay with me. Don’t abandon me too. She won’t voice it. It’s irrational. She refuses to add weight to his burdens. “I thought…” She takes a breath. “You said it wasn’t bad. This time.”

He shrugs. “It’s not. I haven’t…” His mouth twitches unhappily. “I know where I am. Promise.” His smile is too tragic to be comforting. “It’s just, the walls, you know? Everything’s white.” He nods at the projector. “Figured it might help to look at something else.”

Jyn immediately switches the projector back on. “How can I help?”

He turns his head to drop a kiss on her cheek. “You’re already helping.”

It’s not enough. She’s going to lose them both. She tightens the arm she has around his waist. “Let me know if you need me to remind you where you are. I don’t care if it’s every thirty seconds. Just tell me.”

“I will,” he says seriously. “But, I’m okay.” He sighs. “I’ll be better when we get Cassian back.” His smirk is an anemic thing but Jyn’s grateful to hear it. “Not sure if I want to hug him or shake him ‘til his teeth rattle.”

“Oh, I’m doing both,” she says easily, clinging to hope. She grins, grateful when Melshi smirks again.

The holo is of two women and a boy, but the projection’s fuzzy, missing details. She can’t see the women’s faces or hands. Their clothes are clearer: tunics over pants and boots. The women’s are longer, striking blue and light green with a patterned green overwrap. The boy’s tunic is shorter and a tan color that reminds her of some of Cassian’s shirts. Or Melshi’s.

“Are these your mothers? Is that you?” The little boy has a head full of messy, dark curls. His face is clear enough to see what Jyn is sure are Melshi’s big brown eyes. He’s clinging to the woman in green. She has her arms crossed, head tilted like she’s smiling down at him. Jyn imagines the woman in blue is watching them with an indulgent smile of her own. She wishes she could know for certain.

Melshi nods, gives her another of his sweet, sad smiles. “Isla and Aoife.” He points to the woman in green and then the one in blue. “Isla was my biological mother.”

Jyn nods. Aoife’s tiny, with lighter hair and a darker complexion. It’s hard to imagine Melshi sharing her genes. “They both look lovely.”

His smile widens a little. “They were, yeah. Well, Isla could be a right gundark when she was pissed. I lost more than a bit of my hide to her and Da’s belting.” Jyn nods again, hides her wince. Melshi still talks so casually about the brutal punishments he endured. “But she would’ve taken on Darth Vader himself for me or her oyshanan.” His eyes well a little, but he’s still smiling when he indicates the one in blue again. “Mam taught me to stand up for myself, but Ma taught me how to fight.” His smirk is wet. He wipes his eyes. “She also taught me how to take a punch. That’s come in handy.”

Jyn moves her free hand to the back of his head, pets his hair the way Melshi likes. “And how to take a shovel to the head,” she adds, hoping he’ll laugh.

He chuckles. It’s good enough. He pulls her a little closer. “Naw. That’s just my naturally thick skull.” He sighs. “They died when I was ten. I told you that, right?”

She leans away enough so she can look at him. Nods. “Chest rattle. Like your father.”

“Yeah,” he says on another, deeper sigh. “They were transport pilots. Not really smugglers. But they were good at getting past the Imps, yeah? We had no pain getting food or medicine. But it didn’t make a difference.” He shrugs, face bleak. “Sometimes it didn’t. There was nothing you could do.”

“I’m sorry,” Jyn says, meaning it. “You must miss them.”

“All the time,” he says softly. “Not as much as when I was little, but, yeah. All the time. Well, you know what that’s like.”

“I do.” So does Cassian. They all lost parents around the same age. What a terrible coincidence. “How did the projector get damaged?” she asks, because she doesn’t want to think about Cassian right now: how few holos they have of him. Nothing with his voice. How there may be no one on Morlana to find.

“There was a fire.” Melshi flicks to the next holo with the projector still in Jyn’s hand. This one is even more damaged. The image is of a large man in dark brown pants and sturdy boots, but it fades into loose particles above his waist. “That’s my da, not that you can tell anymore.” His smile hurts to look at. The next holo might be someone on a speeder but there’s not enough left to tell. “I don’t know when the house burned. I’d been away for a few years already before I ended up in prison. But by the time I got home everything was ashes. This was the only projector I could find that still worked.” He flicks through a few more holos, none of them more than vague, speckled shapes, until the projector circles back to him and his mothers. “This is the only image I have left. I can’t remember what they looked like anymore.”

Jyn lays her head on his shoulder. “I don’t have any holos of my parents,” she tells him. “I had to leave everything behind when the Imps came for us. Sometimes, the only way I can remember my mother is her lying facedown in the grass, dead.”

He embraces her with both arms, leans his head on hers. “Cassian doesn’t have any holos either. I don’t think his people had that kind of tech, even if he’d been able to take anything when his parents found him. And he didn’t have time to pack when he left Ferrix. And it’s too much of a risk for him to go back.”

“We should go there for him, then. Maybe someone kept his things,” Jyn says. It’s a good thought. Maybe one of them can have some of their past returned.

“That’s a great idea.” Melshi really does sound excited. “You’re a genius.” He kisses the top of her head, then makes pfftpfft noises, plucking at the hair in his mouth.

“Ew!” She tugs lightly on his ear. “Don’t spit in my hair.”

“I’m not! You shed like a Loth-cat,” he grouses. He sounds like himself. It’s beautiful. He settles his head against hers again, rewraps her in his arms. “You know,” he says carefully, “we could go to Lah’mu too.”

Jyn’s breath stutters. She swallows. “I’ll think about it.” She wants to share her home with them, show them the last place she was truly happy before the Rebellion. But she’s terrified of what might be left, what memories might lurk in the shadows.

Melshi kisses her head again, doesn't complain about her hair. “Whenever you're ready to, we can go.”

When. Not if. He has such patience, so much faith in her. Like Cassian. She doesn’t deserve either of them. She might lose them both. She can’t bear it.

Jyn shoves it aside, makes the grief wait. She nods against Melshi’s shoulder. “Cassian could repair your projector.”

“Yeah.” Melshi shuts it off, puts it beside him again. She folds both her arms around his waist and he puts his arms over hers. "He offered. And I know he can fix it. It's just…if something goes wrong… And I know it won’t,” he adds quickly, as if she’d think otherwise. “But, if something does…I can't copy the holos. I'd never get them back."

"I understand," Jyn says.

"I’ll ask Cassian to fix it when he comes home," Melshi says, like it's a promise.

“He’ll like that.” Force, he has to be alive. “We should try to sleep before Bodhi gets here.”

She can tell by the way Melshi stiffens the idea has no appeal for him either. “Rather not, honestly. I’ve done almost nothing but sleep and talk to mind healers for the past couple of days. I’ll just wake up muzzy.” He shifts to look at her. “You should, though. You’ve barely slept at all since he left. And you’re still recovering.”

“I’m fine,” Jyn says, automatic for all that it’s almost entirely true. “I got a shitload of antivirals and a clean bill of health. And I did sleep. Some,” she amends at Melshi’s skeptical noise. “I’m worried I’ll miss something important,” she admits.

Cassian calling in; their window to leave with Bodhi; conformation Cassian’s dead.

“I’ll make sure you don’t,” Melshi says.

Jyn considers it. She’s tired, but she was really thinking of Melshi, not herself. He has weeks of insomnia to make up for. She can handle a few days on little sleep. She considers trying to convince him to get his head down, decides it’s not worth the effort. “How about we both sleep in hyperspace?”

He laughs, relieved. Gently squeezes her. “Sounds good.” He kisses her one more time, then disentangles himself and stands. He picks up the projector and walks around her to put it back in his footlocker, set in a neat row with Cassian’s and hers. He kneels and lifts the lid, rummaging. “Oh. Here. The wash just got it back.” He tosses his brown sweater onto the bed.

Jyn beams, shucks her jacket immediately to yank it on over her T-shirt. She’s standing to tug down the overly-long hem when she hears someone running outside their quarters. And then someone bangs on the door. “It’s Luke! Open up! Open up, please!”

Melshi rushes to the door. It opens to Luke and his remarkable bedhead. He’s in sleep pants and the stained T-shirt Bodhi stole from Cassian. His boots are undone like he just shoved his feet into them. He’s carrying his folded belt in one hand, lightsaber dangling from its clip. He’s so wild-eyed with concern Jyn realizes she’s expecting to hear a ship-wide alarm.

“It’s Cassian,” he says. “He’s in the hangar. And, I’ve got a bad feeling. I think something’s really wrong.”

Jyn could kill Draven.

She’s a little shocked about this, honestly. She’s been angry with Draven since she learned he ordered Cassian to murder her father. He hasn’t done much to appeal to her since. It’s fair to say she dislikes him intensely. But she didn’t hate him, and she certainly never wanted him dead. Until right now.

She’s not going to kill him. She is thinking about it. The main reason is the same one making her hand shake as she punches in the code to open the hatch of Cassian’s U-wing: Karking Draven sent him out when he was in no shape for it. Now his ship’s still shut tight and he didn’t respond to her or Melshi’s comms. He didn’t respond when they banged on the hatch and yelled. She’s only mostly sure Cassian’s not dead because Luke can sense him in the Force.

Another reason for Draven’s death she decides, seething, terrified, is how the general’s not even here to make sure his favorite meat droid is still breathing. And Draven didn’t bother to let Jyn and Melshi know Cassian had returned either; Luke did.

Yes, it’s the middle of the night. But that’s callous even for Draven. Cassian missed a check-in and never sent an all-clear. His sudden reappearance should be more important than the general’s kriffing beauty sleep.

Well, at least the man will have a good looking corpse.

The hatch slides open, nothing behind it but the empty bench, the empty main compartment except for Cassian’s duffel. Jyn scrambles inside, Melshi and Luke right behind. She looks immediately at the cockpit and for one long, awful moment Jyn’s sure Cassian’s dead. All she can see is the top of his head in the pilot seat, the vague shapes of his arms. He might be moving minutely, she can’t tell. She can’t tell if he’s breathing.

Jyn goes still, pinned with terror. Melshi dodges around her, grabs her arm and drags her with him.

There’s enough room, barely, for the two of them to fit between the pilots’ chairs. She hoists herself up on the step bar, grabs the back of the seat for balance. Cassian’s eyes are open, glassy, fixed somewhere out the cockpit screen. He’s still wearing the grey Imp uniform he took for the mission, under a dark yellow coat she doesn’t recognize. He’s flushed and breathing too fast like he’s hot, except he’s shivering, hugging himself. Nothing about this is right.

But he’s alive. He’s alive. Melshi exhales in relief Jyn feels in her soul. “Thank kark,” he breathes, then cups Cassian’s face. “Kassa? It’s Jyn and Melshi. Can you hear us?”

Cassian weakly bats his hand away. He turns his head towards them, blinks a few times before he seems to recognize them. “You’re here?”

Jyn leans closer and smiles, trying to hide how scared she is. His face reminds her of the trip back from Scarif; his distant, dulling eyes. “We’re right here. We’re so glad to see you, Kassa. You really had us worried.” She cards her fingers through his hair. It’s filthy, damp with sweat. His scalp is too hot, and he makes a tiny, unconscious noise of pain, jerks his head. She yanks her hand back.

“You’re here.” Cassian’s eyes widen in a kind of terrible hope. He blinks again, looks around worriedly. “Did I make it?” His voice is breathy with his panting. “Is this home? I don’t…”

“Yeah. You made it. You’re on Home One. You’re safe, Kassa,” Melshi tells him, then shares a look with her. His face is eloquent with alarm. “He’s too hot.”

“I’m cold,” Cassian says.

“I know,” Melshi says, grim. He puts his palm on Cassian’s cheek, then his forehead.

Cassian grimaces, turns his head. “Don’t. It hurts.”

Melshi pulls his hand back into a fist. “I’m sorry. It hurts cause you’ve got a fever, love.” He looks over his shoulder. “Luke, comm the medbay. Tell them Cassian has a fever and he’s showing signs of confusion.”

“On it!” Luke says from somewhere behind them.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian says, panting. “I tried. I tried so hard to come back.” He swallows. “I don’t feel very good. My side hurts.”

“You did come back, Kassa,” Jyn says. “You’re right here.”

“We’re going to take care of you,” Melshi says. “Which side is hurting?”

“Left. But.” He blinks. “I had mednog. I…I was fine.”

“I’m sure you were,” Jyn mutters. Cassian was in filthy water with an open wound, for long enough to make the Imps think he drowned. No mednog in the galaxy could prevent an infection after that.

“I’m just going to look at your side, okay?” Melshi says. “I’ll try not to touch your skin.” Cassian nods dully. Melshi hesitates, then grimaces and carefully folds back the coat. His hands are trembling so badly he nearly drops it. Jyn helps him so he doesn’t.

The Imp Army tunic is burned away in a thick streak below where the uniform belt should be, stained with dried blood. The pants are too dark to show the red, but the left side is slightly darker from his waist to his knee. “Oh, kriff me,” Melshi whispers.

“Jyn.” Cassian rolls his bleary gaze to her. He’s still shivering, sweat rolling down his face. “Your necklace. In the pocket. I’ll clean it.”

She could not give less of a kriff about the necklace. “We’ll worry about it later,” she says, tries to smile again. She wants to touch him but it’ll hurt. It’s like after Scarif. She can’t bear it.

He’s not dying. He’s sick, that’s all. He’ll be fine, just like he was after Scarif. He survived; he’ll keep surviving. He’ll be fine.

“He got shot?” Luke, startling her. He’s leaning around her to peer at Cassian. Jyn didn’t hear him coming closer. “Um. A med team’s on their way.”

“I’m going to pull up your shirts,” Melshi says. Cassian nods, panting. Melshi tries to pick up the cloth. He’s shaking too hard. Jyn does it for him, folds the hem back as gently as she can. It sticks, comes away all at once. Cassian cries out. There’s a thick rime of pus soaked through the cloth. It smells terrible. The bacta patch underneath is diluted pink, leaking fluid. The skin around it is puffy and red, red streaking up Cassian’s body. “Kriffing hell, Cassian.” Melshi sounds stricken. “Why didn’t you comm for help?”

Cassian licks his chapped lips. “I lost it in the water.”

“The water?” Melshi’s eyes go huge with dismay. He reaches for Cassian, yanks his hand back. “Force save us. No wonder you’re sick.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassian says. “I tried to get back.”

“You did,” Jyn says immediately. “You did, Cassian. You’re here.” It’s like he can’t hear it.

“Why didn’t you use the comms in the ship?” Luke asks, still hovering.

Jyn shushes him—the question’s useless; Cassian barely has the strength to answer—but Cassian turns his head, eyes searching for Luke. “I…I don’t know. I just. I couldn’t move. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s okay,” Jyn says.

Cassian doesn’t answer. He fumbles a handhold of Melshi’s shirt, finds his face with effort. “Melshi.”

Melshi puts his hand on Cassian’s wrist, barely touching. “I’m here.”

Cassian lolls his head towards her. “Jyn?”

She leans in as close as she can without toppling. “I’m right here.”

Cassian nods, grips Melshi’s shirt. “Listen. You have to listen.”

“We’re listening, Kassa,” Jyn says.

Cassian swallows. “My sister’s dead. Kerri’s dead. Everyone. They’re gone.” His eyes go liquid. “The People are dead. My people. There’s no one left.”

“I hear you,” Melshi says.

“There’s no one.” Cassian shakes his head. “You don’t…” He pants, blinks tears. “Kitty… They never found anyone. Kassa...Kassa’s dead too. I’m. I’m dead. There’s nobody.”

Jyn gasps, can’t help it. It’s like Scarif. She can’t do this again. “Don’t say that!”

“That’s not good,” Luke murmurs behind her.

Melshi shoots them both a glare, widens his eyes fractionally in warning before turning back to Cassian. “We hear you,” he says to him.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian says, horribly earnest. “I tried to come back. I tried so hard. I didn’t want to leave. Please. Please forgive me.”

“You’re not dead, Cassian!” Jyn says. She puts her hand on the side of his face. He lets her, though his mouth twitches in discomfort. “Cassian. You’re sick. You’re not dead. You’re back. You came back! You’re going to be fine. I swear it. You’re going to be fine.”

“You’re not dead, Kass—uh, Cassian,” Luke says. His big, worried eyes remind Jyn of Bodhi’s when she glances at him. “I can feel you in the Force. I wouldn’t be able to feel you if you were dead.”

Cassian just shakes his head. “There’s no one. No Kassa.” He blinks more tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey. Hey,” Melshi says. Cassian’s gaze shifts hazily to him. “We forgive you. We were angry you left without us, but we understood. We forgive you. Can you hear me, Cassian?” he asks, gentle and adamant. “We forgive you.”

“Yeah, we do. We forgive you,” Jyn says, nodding fervently.

Cassian’s mouth curves in a tiny, grateful smile.

Jyn is so sick of the medbay patient rooms.

She exhales quietly, rubs her gritty eyes. Considers checking her chrono but decides she’s too tired to care. The only light comes from the muted vital signs monitor remotely connected to Cassian, bathing everything in eerie, bloody red. It gleams dark and oily from the walls, reflects like blasterfire in Melshi’s and Cassian’s hair. Paints ghastly wounds over their skin.

Jyn doesn’t need the reminder. Cassian’s wound was ghastly enough. But they were lucky. Cassian wasn’t quite sick enough to need transport to the Redemption, avoided bacta immersion by the skin of his teeth. And nobody argued when Jyn and Melshi insisted on staying with him. Lucky for the medics. She’s emotionally and physically exhausted. And angry enough to be almost disappointed she wasn’t given an excuse to rip off someone’s head.

Figuratively. Except maybe for Draven.

She’s also more terrified than she can remember being, except once. She’s in this clean, safe, well-monitored patient room. Melshi and Cassian are right here. Cassian’s recovering, he’ll be fine. Melshi’s physically fine. And there are thousands of other rebels on Home One. Some of them are her friends. Bodhi’s here too, currently lying to Draven about why he came back early.

Jyn knows she’s not alone. She wasn’t abandoned. But this feels like the bunker. Like she’s just watched her mother die and her father leave. Like she’s all alone in the dark.

She hugs herself. Melshi’s sweater is thick and warm, a little scratchy on her bare skin. Her necklace is a familiar weight around her neck. She wishes Cassian were still wearing it. She wishes she had a necklace for both him and Melshi.

She wishes so terribly she were less afraid.

Melshi’s lying on his back. Cassian is mostly sprawled on top of him with his head under Melshi’s chin. An IV patch full of antibiotics, antivirals and—Force help him—antiparasitics is sealed to his left arm. Melshi has his arm thrown across Cassian’s back.

Jyn wants very badly to crawl in between them. They’ve made it work with that little room. Cassian was in no shape to ask but Melshi wanted her to. She can’t make herself do it. She’s too afraid something will happen. She brought her batons from their quarters, just in case. It’s irrational. It still makes her feel a little better. Except she’s horribly lonely, watching them sleep. Their bodies are with her but their minds aren’t.

She insisted on attaching the beds together with no rail between them, glared down the medics until they complied. She can’t ease either of her lovers’ burdens, but she could make sure they weren’t kept apart. Melshi and Cassian were both on their separate beds when she raced to their shared quarters to clean and restring her pendant. She was gone all of twelve minutes and came back to this. It’s adorable, incredibly sweet. Jyn snapped a couple holos for later. Except she keeps thinking of the holos Melshi showed her. How broken images are all he has left of his family. It feels like holos are all she’ll have left of Melshi and Cassian too.

It’s irrational. They’re both right next to her, alive. Melshi’s not even hurt, just tired. He’s here so Cassian won’t wake up alone. Cassian will be fine. They’ll both be fine.

She can’t make herself believe it. It feels like the bunker: like she’s eight years old and bereft and terrified and her little light’s going out. Like her lovers will abandon her the way her parents did. Not willingly, not like Saw, but it’ll happen all the same. She’ll lose them both, no matter how desperately she holds on.

Grief is patient. It abides. And there are so many ways to lose someone.

The door slides open, spilling in the brighter light from outside and making her squint. Her hands go to her batons. Bodhi and Luke come in and she relaxes.

Luke nods in greeting, uncharacteristically somber and quiet. Bodhi gives her a little wave.

Jyn goes to Bodhi and hugs him, burying her face against his shoulder. He’s wearing Luke’s yellow jacket again. It smells faintly of engine grease. She must be holding him tight enough to hurt. Bodhi just keeps his arms across her back until she pulls away.

She hugs Luke next. He’s surprised, but returns it enthusiastically enough. “Thank you,” she says, voice hushed but fervent. “You saved him.”

Luke lets her go so he can speak softly into her ear. He leaves his hand on her shoulder. “You’re welcome. But, it was the Force. Kassa—Cassian‘s kind of loud.”

Jyn’s laugh is a miserable, wet squeak. It’s too loud and she freezes, waits. Melshi’s still asleep, Cassian’s buried under painkillers. She exhales.

“You okay?” Luke asks.

She shakes her head, too weary and heartsick to find a lie. “I’m worried.”

Luke nods. “Me too,” he says with gentle honesty. He squeezes her shoulder before stepping back.

Bodhi pulls something from his jacket pocket, holds it out. “Here.”

It’s the Kay doll she helped Melshi make for Cassian. Cassian loves it, but lets Bodhi have it all the time. And now Bodhi’s offering it to her.

She takes it carefully, tries to smile through the sudden painful clench in her throat. She smacks her hand over her mouth before any sounds escape. She clutches the doll, tries to steady her breathing. Her eyes are wet.

She can’t stay here. If she starts bawling she’ll wake Melshi for sure, maybe even Cassian. She stalks out the door then just stands there idiotically, holding the doll and squinting in the light with her hand over her mouth. A Mon-Cal medic sees her and her eyes go even wider in alarm.

“Jyn?”

She whirls, drops her hand from her mouth to slap a baton sheathe. But it’s Bodhi, just Bodhi. She’s all right.

She steps back, embarrassed. “I’m okay,” she says quickly, wiping her eyes with her balled-up sleeve. “I’m just…” Terrified. She’s terrified. A sob breaks through her wobbling control, Force-damn her.

Bodhi wraps his hand carefully around her arm. “Is there, um, a room we could use for a few minutes?” he asks the medic. Jyn didn’t hear her approach. Her situational awareness has gone to hell. Saw would be so disappointed. No wonder he abandoned her.

Jyn heaves another wreck of a sob and then she can’t stop. She lets Bodhi lead her, crying so hard she can’t see. A door opens and closes and this must be another patient room because of the bed.

“Do you want to sit down?” He’s so kind. All the men she knows are kind. Except Draven. She hates him.

She sits, clutches the Kay doll to her chest and weeps like she hasn’t since the holo of her father. That was just four months ago. Barely more than four months. She can’t remember crying before that. Not even in the bunker.

Twice in four months. This is what love does. This wretched, awful thing.

Love brought her here. She wouldn’t change anything. She just wants Melshi and Cassian back.

“Can I hug you?” Bodhi asks.

Jyn wants to tell him how kind he is. She just nods because she can’t speak. She angles herself so she can lean into him, hangs on for dear life. She still has Kay in one fist. Bodhi rubs her back.

“One of my first memories is getting lost in the Walled City,” Bodhi says. “I think I was three or four. I don’t remember actually being lost. I wasn’t scared or anything. I really just remember this very, very tall person in bright red who took my hand and brought me back to my mother. I don’t know if there was a…a lost child place everyone knew about, or if it was the Force or what. But, we walked for a while and then there she was.

“The thing is, my mother was fine. I mean, she was worried. I could tell she was worried, but she was fine until she picked me up. And then she started crying really, really hard. And it took me years to figure out that sometimes it works like that. Like, we’re fine until we don’t have to be. And then we kind of give ourselves permission to fall apart.”

Barely four months ago she would have shoved him away, snarled that she never falls apart. But that was before she saw her father’s face and collapsed to her knees. Before a spy said, welcome home and she wanted to believe him. Before a soldier she’d greeted with a blow to the face found her to make sure she was all right.

She ended up crying then too, come to think of it. Three times in four months. Saw would be so disappointed.

Kriff him, she thinks. Love is wretched and awful but she wouldn’t change anything. And she never wants to shove a friend away again. So she sniffles, gulps, finds enough breath to speak. And croaks: “Never gave myself permission.”

Bodhi chuckles. “Maybe that was a bad choice of words. But I mean, it’s okay. Cassian might’ve died, if you hadn’t found him. And Melshi got hypothermia on Morlana One, right?” She nods. “So, yeah. And they both almost died a couple of times already before that, and you kept it together really, really well.” She snorts; he ignores it. “But then this happened. And if now’s when your body finally decides it just wants to cry until you puke, that’s okay.”

Jyn’s laugh is watery and full of snot, but it gets out of her throat without another ocean of tears coming with it. She finally lifts her head, uses her sleeves to swipe at her eyes. Her right hand is aching from holding the doll. “I think I got snot in your hair.”

Bodhi runs the hair near his ear through his pinched fingers. “It’s just water. You’re fine. Wait.” He jumps up, pats his pockets and fishes out a pack of flimsi tissues. “Your sleeves are wet.”

“Thanks.” She sniffles, gives him a smile that probably isn’t too horrible. She puts Kay on the bed, flexes her fingers. She wipes her face, takes a breath that still shudders. “I’m not just…” She grimaces. “It’s not my body. I’m scared.”

Bodhi sits down right next to her, picks up the doll. “I think you have a lot to be scared about.”

“Yeah.” Jyn swallows. “Well, no.” She blinks a few times, wipes her eyes again. Bodhi holds Kay quietly, listening. “It’s not rational. I…” She stops, crumpling the tissues. “It’s stupid,” she says finally, soft.

“It’s probably not,” Bodhi says. “But even if it is, it’s still upsetting you.”

She nods. Takes another breath. He’s so kind. His body is warm where they’re touching. “Melshi didn’t just have hypothermia. Something happened and it put him in a really bad place. Like you after what Saw did.” She feels Bodhi go still. “He’s trying to get out. But it…it’s hard. It’s hard for him. I can see it. And I’m scared—” Her voice breaks. She stops, breathes. “I’m scared he won’t. Especially after Cassian got hurt again. And Cassian…” She rubs her eyes. She’s so tired. “I know Cassian was delirious. The medics said he was like a walking petri dish. They were amazed he was able to land the U-wing. But he was talking about being dead, Bodhi. About Kassa being dead. And.” Her throat hurts. She grits her teeth, refuses to let more tears come. “And,” she starts again, slowly and deliberately, “I am very, very worried something else happened to Cassian on Morlana. Something like what happened to Melshi. And I am karking terrified they both will…” She swallows and it aches.

Bodhi wraps his hand around hers. She grips it tight. “You’re scared you won’t be able to help them.”

She is. She is. But it’s so much worse than that. “I’m scared I’m going to lose them, Bodhi,” she says, gripping his hand. “I’m so scared this…darkness that has them won’t let them go. And they’ll abandon me like my parents did. They won’t want to,” she adds, because it’s important he knows that. “But, I’m scared they will.”

“Oh,” Bodhi says softly. “I didn’t know that. Thank you for telling me.”

She shrugs, lets go his hand to take another tissue. The pack’s running out. “I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not, though.” Bodhi says it with such gentle conviction Jyn leans away so she can look at him. “You’ve lost a lot of people you loved. And you love Melshi and Cassian. And right now they’re going through something you don’t know how to help them with. Why wouldn’t you be scared? That’s really scary. I mean, Luke was scared when he told me about Cassian. And they’re just friends.”

“Luke told you?” Jyn closes her eyes, shakes her head. “Never mind. Of course he did.” She rubs her forehead. If she had a problem with Bodhi knowing about Cassian she wouldn’t have told him. But. “Your boyfriend has a mouth like a meteor. Has he ever kept a secret in his life?”

Bodhi’s cheeks are a little pink when Jyn looks at him again. “He just, uh, gets really excited and forgets sometimes. And he was worried.”

Luke’s kind too. And she would never fault him for caring about the same people she does. She sighs, relents. “As long as he doesn’t tell anyone else.”

Bodhi shakes his head hard enough to make his hair sway. “He won’t. I promise.”

“Good.” She drops her gaze, fiddles with the wadded tissue in her lap. “I don’t know what to do, Bodhi. It’s almost morning. They’re going to wake up soon. And what if Melshi’s worse? What if Cassian still thinks he’s dead? What do I do then?”

“You tell the medics, and they get people to help them.” He shrugs when she frowns at him, his eyes big and guileless. “That’s what the mind healers are for, right? And then you’ll do what you do already: be there for them. Even if you don’t know what to say. Even if you’re as scared as they are. Even if all you can do is hold them while they come apart.” He smiles, tinged with melancholy. “As someone who knows a bit ab-about darkness and bad places, having all of you really, really helped.”

Jyn tries to smile back, can’t quite manage it. “What if being there isn’t enough?”

“You’re not alone, Jyn,” Bodhi says. “Neither are they. You don’t have to do this all by yourself. There are people who can help you. People who will want to help.”

Jyn blinks, stares at him. Melshi told her almost exactly that, months ago. For almost the same reason. “I know,” she says, because she does—she has the other Rebels, she has her friends—but she also doesn’t.

She keeps forgetting to ask for help, keeps forgetting she can. That people would want her to.

She wants to remember it. She’s working on remembering it. So she says, “You’re right. I can get help.” It even sounds like it could be true.

Bodhi nods. “You can. You’re not alone,” he repeats. “You have us. And I promise, Melshi and Cassian are going to be all right.”

She swallows. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can. Because I know they will,” he says seriously. “I got better, didn’t I?” She nods. Of course he did. “Yeah, so. The can too.” He grimaces a little. “It might take a while. But, they will. They’ll be okay.”

Jyn nods again, wipes her eyes with her sleeve. She wishes she could share his certainty. “I want to murder Draven.” For the reasons she already had. And because she doubts he’ll care if Cassian’s okay before he sends him out alone again. He didn’t care this time.

Bodhi takes the tangent in stride. “I was thinking about that. Not murdering Draven!” he amends hastily when her eyebrows leap up. “About how you should ask Draven for leave. For all three of you.” She frowns. “No, really. You should. You’ve been through a lot, since before Scarif, even. And, I got a rest already. To-to get my head sorted out. But you didn’t. And I think you need one. I really think it would help.”

A rest. Jyn blinks, sniggers. She can’t help it. When is the last time she rested? Does recovering from her injuries after Scarif count? Does this? “Sorry,” she says, sobering, because Bodhi’s looking confused and a little hurt. “It’s just that I can’t even imagine it.”

She tries to. She’s so tired. It would be so nice to rest. To not have to worry about anything for a while. “Melshi wanted to go to Lah’mu,” she says. “I lived there for a few years when I was very young.” She doesn’t know how restful that would be for her, to go back to where she lost her home and her parents. When she thinks about it, all she can see is the bunker, her mother’s corpse. She rips her mind back to the present. “I don’t know if we can leave.” She rubs her forehead. “I don’t know if Melshi and Cassian will be able to.”

“They will,” Bodhi says, quiet but still certain. “Maybe not tomorrow or anything, but they will.”

When did he get this kind of confidence? When did she lose her own?

Well, that’s an easy answer. To love is to fear. She hasn’t been this afraid in a very long time. “I feel like I’ve run out of chances,” she says.

“They’re still alive, Jyn. And…” Bodhi licks his lips. “And I know you’re afraid. I mean, you said so. And, I’d be out of my mind if it were Luke. What’s left of it anyway.” He smirks, then goes on earnestly, “But I think they deserve more faith than you’re giving them. Whatever they’re going through, it’s not going to destroy them. They’ll heal.”

She nods. He’s right. Of course he’s right. She so badly wants to believe him. She smiles, sure it’s miserable and thin. “If I heard anyone else talking like this about them I’d probably kick in their teeth.”

“Probably.” Bodhi nods, but his smile is sympathetic. He puts his hand on her arm. “It’s hard to be rational when you’re scared and exhausted. Especially when you’re exhausted. Why don’t you sleep for a bit? Luke and I will stay with them.”

Jyn rubs her forehead again. It’s tempting. She knows Luke and Bodhi will keep them safe. And she’s so tired. “I promised I’d be there when they woke up.”

“You could go back to their room and sleep there, then,” Bodhi offers.

She would love it, to snuggle herself warm and cozy between them. She shakes her head. “I don’t want to disturb them.” And it’d be harder to protect them if something happens.

“Okay,” Bodhi says easily. “So, you stay here and we’ll wake you up as soon as they do.” He smiles, nudges her a bit with his leg. “You’re not alone, remember? Let us help.”

He’s so kind. Him and Luke. She nods, sighs in resignation and surprising relief. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Great!” He grins like she just gave him a present. He hops off the bed, holds out the little doll. “Do you want Kay?”

She smiles, shakes her head. “You keep him. For luck.”

Bodhi grins even wider, tucks Kay back into his pocket. “He can help keep watch. I’ll let the medics know you’re staying here for a while.”

Jyn nods again, stretches out. She still has her boots on and her belt with batons in their sheaths. It’s not comfortable but she’s slept with worse. It’s more important to be ready, just in case she’s needed.

It’s strange. Now she agreed to sleep it feels like she can barely keep her eyes open. Giving herself permission to fall apart. Or keep herself together, maybe?

Maybe. She’s too tired for metaphors.

She watches Bodhi walk to the door, gathers her waning energy. “Bodhi?”

He stops, turns around. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Bodhi’s smile is soft and warm. “You’d do the same for me.” He laughs. “Just don’t murder Draven and we’ll call it even.”

Her smirk is a weary huff of air. “Can’t request leave if he’s dead,” she murmurs. “But after that, no promises.”

Bodhi laughs again. “Good enough. Sleep well, Jyn.”

“See you soon,” she answers, just as a reminder.

“As soon as they wake up,” he says, a reminder of his own.

Jyn gives him a thumbs-up, and he gives her one more grin and nod. He turns to leave, then stops, looks back at her. “Lights on or off?” he asks, because he’s kind. And well-acquainted with the monsters that lurk in the dark.

“On,” she says immediately. “Thank you.”

He leaves the lights on and steps out of the room. The door slides shut behind him.

Jyn closes her eyes, thinks about how wounded Bodhi was when she met him. How brave he was, how well he held himself together until after the evacuation. And then how spectacularly he shattered when he gave himself permission to fall apart.

But he got better. He defeated most of his monsters, learned to live with the few he couldn’t. He came back out of the dark.

He came back. He healed. And if he did, Melshi and Cassian can too. Maybe she won’t have to lose them.

Jyn holds on to that as hard as she can, carries it with her into sleep.

END