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“I don’t like it.”
“I’m not asking you to like it,” Cassian said, exasperatedly.
“Good, because I don’t,” Jyn practically thundered. She stayed on his heels, even as he grumbled and stalked away, because damn it, she wasn't letting him just walk away from her like that. The only thing she had to be thankful for that morning was that K-2SO wasn't also there to needle her. She had enough problems without the droid potentially hounding her. With a pang, she realised that was the first time she’d managed to think of him without remembering he was also dead.
Jyn had honestly woken up that morning feeling quite possibly the most rested she’d felt ever since the Death Star had been destroyed. No matter what she did, she usually always felt a tension between her shoulder blades, a knot of fear, of dread, that she couldn’t get rid of, no matter how often Cassian offered to rub it or meds she took. But while every morning so far on Hoth she woke covered in sweat and shivering, today she opened her eyes feeling somewhat calm. Okay. Maybe not perfect, but … yeah, okay.
Finally, she thought she was getting somewhere.
Until she tracked down Cassian in the main hanger.
“Who the hell assigned you on this?” she demanded, still following the captain as he loaded the transport with barely a flinch. “It was Draven, wasn’t it? I’m going to kill him–!”
“Ok,” Cassian dumped his duffle in order to grab her by the shoulders and keep her from storming off in a murderous frenzy. His fingers dug in slightly too hard, but she didn't care so much. “Jyn. I’m not supposed to explain what I’m doing, but I’ll tell you it’s just a reconnaissance mission. We’re checking in on the Rebel Outposts, we’ll be in our territory the entire time. I’ll be back in a few days, and I promise not to die. All right?”
She let out a breath she’d been holding with a small whoosh. She wished his assurances could be enough for her. But the tension was starting to creep back in and after months of dealing with it, months of nightmares, months of varying meds that did nothing, months of trying to forget instead of accept, it simply wasn’t an option.
Cassian had been her only reason to carry on the last several months, which sounded fairly dramatic in her head. She would recoil from the concept if she wasn’t certain that she was the only thing that kept him alive as well. Their reluctant partnership when they'd met had turned into genuine concern for each other while under fire, only now it had morphed into what was apparently a rather unhealthy co-dependent friendship. It was ridiculous. She never used to need anyone. She could fend for herself, she was a loner by trade, but she meet Cassian’s gaze in front of her, and she was suddenly desperate for him not to leave. It might be a simple mission, it might be completely safe, but there was still a line they hadn't quite crossed yet. Feelings that hadn't exactly been addressed yet, and she would be mightily pissed if he died before they were.
“You’re still healing,” she tried a different tactic then, grabbing his hands and pulling them roughly off her shoulders. “Taking this mission when you’re not 100% better is stupid–”
“Jyn, if my leg hasn’t healed by now, we might as well face that it’s never going to,” Cassian sighed, absently reaching down and rubbing the spot on his upper thigh where he had been shot. “I’m as good as I’m ever going to get. I have to get back out there sometime, and this is it.”
“Then let me come, too,” Jyn insisted.
“If I’m not healed yet, then you definitely aren’t,” Cassian pointed out. “Jyn – you still panic if a blaster goes off.”
It was a bit of a low blow, and he knewit. Bastard, she snarled, but there was truth in his words. Physically, she had healed completely, but her mental health she knew had some holes. That cave she had managed to erect in her head for so many years, the cave that looked after her mind and her emotions, had been destroyed beyond repair. She didn’t know how to protect herself anymore. The smallest blaster shot had her breaking out in a cold sweat. Sometimes she couldn’t even listen to the x-wings taking off. Cassian still treated her with nothing but utmost respect, but she felt like her dignity had been left behind on Scarif. Left behind on that beach as they waited for death to come and take them. He had nightmares too, she knew from the nights it got bad and she would find herself crawling silently into his bunk, but at least he didn't scream when someone accidentally dropped a tool kit.
“I hate you,” she said.
But Cassian just chuckled slightly, moving forward. She tried to protest, but he had already wrapped his arms around her and she grumbled into his shirt. For a long time after Scarif, she'd rejected any kind of physical contact from him at all. Of course, that clashed horribly with the irrational desire she had to also be as close to him as physically possible, but being in his strong embrace had initially only reminded her of the beach. She had always been forced herself to pull away before her throat could closed over and she lost the ability to breathe. Thankfully the months had been kind to her in that regard. Now, she was ok with reaching out and winding her arms around his waist, holding on tightly. Don’t leave, she pleaded.
“Hey,” he murmured against her hair, as if he'd heard her anyway. “I’ll come back. I promised you a drink sometime, didn’t I?”
Her heart may have just stopped. “Don’t joke.”
“I’m not. Soon as I’m back, I’m taking you out. That … ok?” The slight hitch in his voice said a lot.
She thumped his chest lightly, glancing up. “I’m holding you to it.”
He smiled. “So you’re going to let me go, now?”
No. If she had her way, she’d never let go. But life went on, whether you like it or not, and if you didn't keep up, it would leave you behind.
She couldn't stay clinging to the past.
Three transports left Hoth base.
Only one came back.
“What do you mean he went back for the droid?!” She was getting hysterical, but she didn't give a damn at that point. Mon Mothma had to be more than used to her crashing the main control room by this point. The poor intelligence solider facing them all was practically shaking, face completely pale, though they all knew it wasn’t due to the snow outside.
“We – we ran into some trouble–” he stammered.
“On this completely safe reconnaissance mission?” Jyn growled.
“The outpost had been taken over by Imperials, but we didn’t realise until it was too late,” The solider trembled. “They said it was clear to land, but the moment we opened the doors, we were attacked. Harrison – Harrison covered us. He–”
It became clear what had happened to Harrison just from the look on the soldier’s face. “And the captain?” Mothma asked. Her voice betrayed absolutely nothing.
“We were away, we had a clear shot, but he – he noticed the Imperial droids and–”
“K-2,” Jyn turned away from the table. She'd heard enough. Of course the idiot went back for a droid. If he could get a droid, he had a chance to upload the back-up of K-2’s memory that had been saved on a datachip before she’d even been dragged into this entire mess. She could kill the man.
Mothma apparently wasn't above using her distraction to get Jyn forcibly removed from the control room, but she let her this time. This was one of those moments when life just carried on around her. The war didn't care that Cassian was either dead, captured, shot down or injured somewhere near a former rebel outpost.
The war didn't care that she spent the next several days practically haunting the main hanger.
On that beach she had imagined a thousand different lives. What if no one had ever come looking for Papa? What if they had managed to stay hidden all those years? She would have grown up loved and cherished like any child should. Maybe she would have eventually joined the rebellion herself, when she was old enough to make her own choices, rather than being forced into it against her will. What if Saw had never found her? She might have died long before she could get to that point. What if she and Cassian were given a reprieve? What if they survived this and they were able to grow close like they clearly both wanted to? Because she felt it. She knew they both did.
Only that was the life they were inexplicably given and suddenly, they hadn’t known how to handle it. What do you do when you wish for nothing more than to survive, only to find out it’s not all that cracked up to be? It was her fault. She let herself get to this point, where she refused to leave the main hanger at all, even for food, where she had to fight her brain for control. The Jyn Erso she’d been before all of this wouldn’t have ever dared let someone get in.
That Jyn Erso was gone.
She did notice during her vigil, however, that food periodically turned up around her. She barely noticed anyone, but she assumed that the soldiers must be silently taking care of her, taking turns to deliver food. Apparently, they liked her more than she'd realised.
“They stare at me,” she remembered muttering to Cassian one night. “Like I’m a ghost who’s come back to life.”
“We’re war heroes,” Cassian had whispered back into her hair, as if that provided all the explanation she'd needed.
It had.
She wasn't quite sure how many days it had been. Three? Four? However many it was, she accidentally glanced up when a tray was practically pushed under her nose. She found herself looking into the face of Luke Skywalker.
The young pilot faltered slightly at her look, but still held out the tray of food he’d apparently brought her. “For you!” he said.
Jyn wasn't quite sure what to say in response. Everyone knew Skywalker, of course. He was the pilot who had flown the trench, made the impossible shot. Without the combined work of both of them, the Death Star would still be out there committing genocide. She knew he was younger than her by only a couple of years or so, yet she felt decades older.
Still, he was talking to her. She better try.
She attempted something like a smile and said, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“No word from the captain still, huh?”
She stared, the tray now in her hands and not quite knowing what to do with it. “No.”
“Aw, I’m sorry,” Skywalker kicked at the hanger floor. “Has anyone sent out a mission to try and retrieve him?”
She had all but insisted on it. “Mothma’s worried that the solider who returned might have been followed. They’ve suspended any flights in or out until they can determine the Empire still don’t know where exactly we are.”
Skywalker made a noise like he was sympathetic, but still didn't quite know what to say. She didn't mind. No one ever really knew what to say about her, these days. “Why are you here?” she almost demanded.
If Skywalker was offended by her tone, he didn't show it. Instead, he just shrugged and answered, “I’ve lost people too.”
Jyn immediately wanted to argue, but that was the part of her Cassian often had to hold back. Calm down, you’re not the only one. But Skywalker didn't look like he was struggling or fighting to get out of bed every day. Sure, she barely knew him, but she was certain she could tell just by looking into someone’s eyes. The eyes told everything. One look told her that Skywalker was tired, yes, but not yet defeated. It wasn't fair.
“How do you do it?”
She didn't explain any further, but Skywalker seemed to understand regardless. How do you carry on each day? After losing everyone, after the things you’ve seen, how do you do it? Skywalker tilted his head as he thought a moment. Then,
“Time. But everyone deals in their own way. Personally, I like talking to the other pilots, my friends … it reminds me I’m not alone.”
She considered that. Who were her friends? While they weren’t friends at that point, those from Rogue One might have been, given time. She hadn’t spoken one-on-one to many of them, but Bodhi had had a determination to succeed, a raw hunger to right his wrongs and do his best. That was courage she could admire. Baze and Chirrut had had a love that was powerful, a bond that protected each other even in the worst battles, even when it might not have been enough in the end. She could only hope to love someone that much. And K-2 …
The ridiculous droid she’d grown fond of. Given time, she might have eventually grown to appreciate his quips too.
Cassian was all she had left, really.
Jyn glanced back up at Skywalker, who was patiently still standing in front of her. Maybe he had a point. Maybe she could at least try reaching out to someone else. It wouldn’t be forgetting anyone she left behind, it wouldn’t be replacing the comrades she had made within Rogue One … but it might help her make sense of everything that had happened.
“I …” she glanced down at her tray of food helplessly.
Skywalker seemed to get it. “Hey! You wanna come eat with us? There’s a whole bunch of–”
She couldn't bring herself to say yes, so she just stoof. She and Skywalker walked to the mess hall together in companionable silence.
She still haunted the hanger, but now she had company.
Skywalker – Luke, she’d started calling him Luke – checked in every now and then. That smuggler he'd brought with him, that Han Solo, he and Jyn had accidentally found that they had a mutual taste in blasters, so he occasionally dropped in to talk shop with her. Often, the princess wasn't far behind, although Jyn tried to stay out of those conversations. The smuggler and the princess seemed to have their own issues.
Other pilots didn't ignore her anymore, or just stare at her from behind their x-wings, whispering to each other. She tried to answer back whenever someone called out hey, or attempted at including her in something. She didn't always, but she honestly tried. One time, Han got her to unload a shipment of shuttle parts he’d smuggled in from a neighbouring system. She helped out another pilot with a mechanical repair. Most days she forced herself to go and eat with the others in the mess hall; mostly she just listened to the babble of talk, but she’d discovered it was nicer than the silence that rang through the hanger when everyone was gone. It wasn't a perfect life, but it was ok for now.
Cassian always weighed heavily in her mind, but at least the thought wasn't crushing her anymore.
The new routine was interrupted by a pilot crashing into the mess hall one night.
“JYN! Where’s Jyn?” the man cried, and the hall went silent as all heads turned to her. She wanted to shrink against the attention, but she recognised the pilot as the one she'd helped a few days ago, and she gestured to him with a hand.
The pilot dashed over, a disbelieving grin on his face. “You won’t believe it! Jyn, come, come – it’s the captain!”
She nearly fell over her seat in her haste to run after him.
She didn't have any context. The pilot hadn't explained anything, he could be dead for all she knew, but she didn't care. She heard footsteps behind her, boots slamming the floor as several people apparently ran after them. The pilot lead her all the way to the main hanger, where for some reason, the doors hadn't been put into lock-down yet. Stars twinkled in the vast space above them and nothing looked amiss … except for the battered u-wing transport that sat in the middle of the space in front of them.
“It finally entered our airspace asking to land!” the pilot next to her said, excitedly. “He announced himself through the comlink, it’s–”
“It’s him,” Jyn said at once.
The transport ramp was trying to lower, although it had been so badly damaged in places that it was having difficulty. Someone behind it kicked it, and the door scraped past, hitting the hanger floor with a loud clang, and suddenly he was there, it was him. Cassian, looking bashed up and exhausted, but upright and utterly alive. The hanger burst into cheers, pilots applauding and whooping as he grinned sheepishly.
She honestly thought she was going to kill him, but apparently her feet decided to take control and pushed her forward. The crowd noticed and hastily got out of her way as Jyn ran. Cassian saw her about a split second before she was throwing herself into his arms.
Damn, this felt like home.
“Jyn …” She could hear him whispering her name, like a prayer, into her hair. Her arms were tight around his neck and she’d been lifted clean off the floor, legs curling around his calves. She might have clamped onto him tighter, but she was aware of the others in the background and could hear them whistling. She muttered his name back, clung tighter.
Then abruptly, she slammed a fist into Cassian’s shoulder.
“Yowch!” he complained.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she thundered.
“I’m sorry – Jyn, I really am–” He didn't let her go, so she didn't either. “I went back for the K-2SO droid – I know I shouldn’t have, but I did – and we were badly damaged getting away, several parts needed replacing, it’s why it took us so long–”
“I don’t care! Do you have ANY idea how–” She suddenly leaned back. “Wait. We?”
“Of course, ‘we’,” a slightly more mechanical (and significantly dryer) voice exclaimed from behind them. “Cassian wouldn’t take such a risk if he hadn’t been 97% certain that I could be obtained in the process.”
The Imperial droid lumbered out of the transport like absolutely nothing was amiss. Jyn missed the comfort of his arms straight away, but she’ was forced to pull back from Cassian so that she could kick the blasted droid in the gut. “K-2, you don’t know how lucky you are.”
“Is this who you were talking about?” K-2 gestured vaguely to her.
Cassian ducked his head. “The back-up we had was from before he met you,” he explained to Jyn. “but I mentioned who you were.”
“Mentioned! Cassian wouldn’t stop–”
“That’s enough,” he hissed, hastily.
But there was a smile on her face for the first time in months. Jyn silently reached out and found Cassian’s hand, the two of them grasping fingers much like they had done on the beach. Another first, remembering the beach wasn't terrifying her. She took a breath and realised that she had started to breathe properly again the moment Luke Skywalker and the other rebels had reached out to her. Now, having Cassian back felt like getting clean air.
She tugged on his hand and he turned to face her. A warmth raced down her spine.
“Welcome home,” she murmured.