The City posts

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[To be linked to the game comm]

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[nextchance]

Jyn smiled, slight and wistful, at his description of the dream he'd had. "I like that," she said. "I would've liked that." Had they actually gotten off Scarif, it was hard to imagine him actually leaving the Rebellion, and hard to imagine herself leaving him. If she'd stayed, it wouldn't have been solely for him. Whatever problems she had with the Alliance, and there were many, their cause and hers were still aligned. Without Cassian, though, there was no one there she trusted, no one to stay for.

What she really would have wanted, though, was exactly what he described. The two of them, a ship to call home, and the galaxy ahead of them. At least they had the first two parts of that here, and no Empire to contend with. She wasn't for a second about to complain when this was so much more than she expected to have again. Still, it was a nice thought.

"For a while," she admitted, because he'd asked her to say things and she really was trying, "before you got here, I'd have dreams like that sometimes. Not the ship, or Scarif, but you and me. Together. Happy." She nestled just a little closer to him. "Those were always harder than any nightmare. Getting to feel that... then waking up after."

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He held her closer, adjusting to her movement, again aware of how exposed he was in terms of heartbeat. That was okay. Let her feel and know. "I understand that." Dreaming someone was alive, okay, and with him, only to wake up and they weren't could be like losing them all over again. He'd had it with Kerri, with Clem, with Maarva, with Brasso, most recently with Melshi and Kaytoo. In a way… "In a strange… maybe awful… way, I find it reassuring. That I still get those." He hoped saying that wasn't insensitive to her dreams.

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Jyn hummed in quiet understanding. It was a little bit like what she had said about frequently going out to the beach, a subconscious twin of that self-inflicted pain. Harder to bear, though, when it wasn't something that she could choose or control. For a moment, she considered her words, but there was one thought she kept coming back to. It was the kind of thing she wasn't sure if she should tell him or not, that might prove to be too much, too upsetting. Those were exactly the sorts of things he'd been trying to encourage her to say, though, so she decided to take that chance.

"Can... Can I say something about before?" she asked, gaze lifting to his face. Even without specifics, she trusted he would know what she meant. "You can say no."

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"Yes," he said at once. "Please."

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Again, Jyn gave him a tiny smile, this one an apology more than anything else. She wasn't going to say she was sorry when she hadn't actually told him anything yet, but there was no way to make these conversations any easier. Some part of her remained half-convinced that it would prove to be too much. If it did, she wouldn't be able to fault him. Probably better to find out sooner rather than later, anyway.

But, for now, she was going to say what she'd intended to — a sort of fact in its own right, albeit introduced outside the bounds of their usual fact-swapping game. She had promised she would try. This felt like trying.

"When I first got here," she said, "you know, with... him... we hadn't been to our apartments yet, and started joking about what they'd be like. I think we were nervous to see them. Or be separated. Or both. And didn't want to say it. So we listed off ridiculous things they might have. Floors made of hardwood from Endor. Countertops of Naboo marble. A view like the upper levels of Coruscant." She said all of this quiet and not outwardly emotional, much like the way she had first told him about her history with his previous self, a restrained quality in her voice, almost as if she was trying to pull the words back into herself even as they left her mouth. As she went on, though, her voice got a little quieter, a little less steady. She had never talked about this with anyone before. She would've tried not to think about it if her subconscious hadn't made that impossible.

"But then we started adding to it, when we thought of ideas. All of the little luxuries that people like us never got to have. A featherbed. A giant bathtub, with hot water that wouldn't run out. That sort of thing. Not a joke anymore, but a fantasy." Her teeth pressed hard to her lower lip. "In a lot of the dreams I'd have, later, once I was on my own, that's where we were. That... imaginary home. I guess I was wrong, earlier, when I said I'd never pictured what peace would look like. That was the first time I started to."

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His pulse remained steady. He listened intently, then cupped her face in his hand and craned his head down to kiss her for several long heartbeats.

"Thank you for telling me," he said. "It's a great dream."

Was it was one he'd have…? (Still seeking the answer: were they the same?) Well, if not for himself, then with Jyn, going back and forth. Yes, he would go there.

There were probably better ways to respond… he wasn't sure… they didn't want to belabor the loss or regret… Finally, he said the other thing he was thinking, quite seriously—because the notion of using it together was wonderful: "I wonder how hard it would be to convert the Falcon's shower to a bathtub…"

[nextchance]

It seemed patently unfair that it was only now, after saying all of this, that she felt a wave of emotion swell in her. She was pretty sure she had cried more in the last few weeks than in the preceding few years, and she really didn't want to do so again now. Everything was so much, though — the memories that she tried not to let herself have, the reminder of the life she'd had that he hadn't, the fact that he was thanking her for sharing what should have been too burdensome for anyone to take on. Add to that the inherent vulnerability of being unclothed, and for one horrible moment, she felt like she might break.

Instead, she ducked her head to press her face to his shoulder, using him as a shield to try to keep or regain her composure, breathing in deep the faint scent that she associated entirely with him.

"And here I've been thinking that we should probably redo the bedroom," she mumbled against his skin, aiming for wry but not quite getting there. It was true, though, something she had been thinking about even before now but just wasn't sure how to proceed with the logistics of.

A thought occurred to her, and she let herself blurt it out before she could think to do otherwise. This, at least, was easier than the story that prefaced it. "That dream, it's not like that's what I want now. Or what I was trying to get before. I think it was always about the fantasy of it. Something impossible."

Even so, when she'd bought a small house, one that was now a heap of burned-out ruins in the eastern part of the countryside, she had made sure it was one with hardwood floors and marble countertops. One tiny way of bringing that fantasy to life.

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He held her firm and close, wishing he could take some of the feelings for her, recognizing that sometimes crying was a relief and sometimes you resisted the way you resisted throwing up; all he could do was stay steady for her and be here.

The crux: be here. If he believed in the Force, he’d pray to it. There was no reason to think he’d make headway where everyone else had failed, but he privately swore again to try and find some answer, some access to the powers that be, to supplicate or demand his ability, this time, to stay.

Aloud, he said with a gentle laugh, “What… two mattresses stuck together on the floor, not the height of comfort?” He’d meant to surprise her with one large one, but he balked at having it delivered (foolish) and he couldn’t carry it all the way by himself.

Something impossible. Cassian nodded.

Again, he didn’t know what to say… but saying something seemed better than not. “Sharing a ship, somewhere quiet, in nature, with a garden, and pets, and no war, with you… I think that’s all I could have dreamed.

“But a proper bed and big bathtub do sound nice.”

[nextchance]

If you found a place in the galaxy untouched by war — a quiet life, maybe with a family — if you're happy, Jyn...

The last thing she wanted or needed in a moment like this was Galen Erso's fucking voice in her head. There was enough of a weight to everything else without bringing him or his message into it. Out of everything he'd said, though, it was that line that came back to her time and again, that cut deeply and lethally. The first time she had heard it, standing in the catacombs on Jedha before they collapsed, the bitter irony was that she had never been or known anything of the sort, and that was because of him. When she heard it again, it was worse for having had that and lost it. At least before, she hadn't known what she was missing.

And now, here Cassian was, again, offering her that kind of life, again — different, because he hadn't been here the first time around, but the same, because he was himself. The person she loved so desperately that even years apart hadn't worn it away at all, the only one who had ever come back for her. Would it matter that he had come back if she lost him again? She didn't know. She did know that letting herself even entertain the notion of having that happy, quiet life meant she was putting it at risk.

Her chest tightened, breaths becoming shallow, shaky gasps before she realized what was happening. It was her turn, apparently, for silent panic. Suddenly, having her face pressed to his shoulder wasn't enough. She turned in his arms, rolling onto her other side to face away from him, but she didn't move away; one hand curled around his wrist to keep his arm in place around her, and she leaned back into him, spine pressed to his chest.

"I need a minute," she finally said, her voice strained. "Sorry."

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There were times to speak and times to act. He showed it was okay and he understood by moulding his body to hers, legs bent into her legs, chest sealed to her back, forehead to the back of her head, and his arms around her, loose enough to give her air, firm enough to protect. He kissed her hair and just breathed, slow and deep, and held her as long as she wanted him to.

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It was almost infuriating how understanding he was, how gentle and patient. Jyn, by contrast, clutched at his arms as if that might be enough to keep him there, face turned toward the grass, her body trembling with her shaky breaths and efforts not to cry. She couldn't do this. She couldn't not do this. She'd spent the better part of who could even tell how many years without him, so she should have been fine to continue on her own, the way she had been for most of her life, should have been able just to walk away, but she couldn't and wouldn't. In her previous life with someone who was him but wasn't, she had tried that and failed miserably. Even then, she had long since told herself that she wouldn't leave him. That still held true.

But Force help her, it was agonizing to open herself up to this, to want something so much. She would have given up all the rest of it, the ship and the garden and the pets and the quiet and the lack of war, if it meant keeping him with her and alive. She would have slept on concrete under a bridge in a combat zone if that was what it took to have him at her side.

Being in love was a horrible thing.

She repeated his words from earlier in her head, I won't lose you to fear of losing you, until her breathing began to level out again. Her face was uncomfortably sticky from tears, but at least there were no gulping sobs, just some accompanying sniffles. "That's all I want now," she admitted, feeling small and helpless in his arms. The little girl in the cave again, waiting for someone to come find her. "That life. What you said. Bed and bathtub would just be a nice bonus."

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Breathing with her, Cassian didn’t want to confine but couldn’t help hugging her tighter.

Sometimes when there was no answer, the answer was hope. He wouldn’t say that to her, who’d already lived the horror. For himself, though, he’d work with it.

“I’m going to keep looking for an answer.” He breathed into her hair. “I love you.”

[nextchance]

Jyn let him pull her closer — savored it, really, leaning back against him, her hands still clutching his arm. Even this felt pathetically weak, but it was far too late to do anything about it. He'd seen her like this and worse already, and had shown the same kind of vulnerability as well. However angry and aggressive she may have been, there was something to be said, one of her first lessons with the Partisans, for choosing one's battles. She couldn't fight this.

She couldn't fight the way she felt about him, either. If she was going to choose her battles, then she would choose trying to have a future with him. Stupid, reckless, dangerous, but doing otherwise would have been that much more so.

"I love you," she echoed, letting her eyes fall closed for a moment as she exhaled heavily. "Tell me a fact? Please?"

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There were too many things beyond his control to make almost any promises, so he gave the only oath he could. I love you. Which he did with everything he was.

A fact. He thought hard about this one. It had to be something… right…

His nose brushed her hair and he got it.

"If you've ever wondered why my nose is so slanted off to the side. It happened when I was twelve and I was trying to climb up a wall I shouldn't have been climbing. My best friend Brasso was there telling me to come down. Of course, I fell, and he caught me, he was always so much bigger than me; but we accidentally headbutted so hard, he broke my nose. I always told people it happened in combat."

[nextchance]

It was exactly the kind of fact she wanted.

In that moment, muddled as her own thoughts were, Jyn couldn't find the words to thank him for it. She wasn't sure she should lead with that anyway. They'd shared much deeper truths already, after all, and she at least wanted this to become normal for them. Wanted to know him, wanted to be known, which was still... maybe not the most terrifying thing about this, but somewhere in the top five for sure. It seemed better, then, something like progress, to let a fact be a fact rather than something exceptional, and to show her appreciation in other ways.

Finally, she rotated back toward him again. She still felt too vulnerable, and probably looked horrendous, but she wanted to touch him, fingertip tracing the crooked bridge of his nose as she summoned up a smile. "I like your nose," she said. He really was beautiful — not in spite of a once-broken nose and a hard lifetime's collection of scars, but because of those and other such features. "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone how it really happened."

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He eased his hold for her to turn in his arms. His breath caught at how the redness of her eyes only made the green that much more brilliant; and caught again as she touched his face so lightly.

Sometimes, for no particular reasons and all of them, he was struck speechless by this woman, all the more glorious for not being a general or a myth, rebellion or absolution, no more or less than this stunning human who'd been through so much and now lay curled with him here.

All he could think of, at last, was to smile and kiss the tip of her nose. And murmur breathlessly, "Thanks."

[nextchance]

"This is going to sound stupid," Jyn said abruptly, a little sheepish. At least this time, though, it was with quiet amusement in her voice rather than the threat of or actual tears, and that made it an impulse worth following through on. Besides, it was one of those things it seemed right for him to know. Given that their relationship had developed to include being an enthusiastically sexual one, it probably wasn't or shouldn't have been a surprise how she felt about him from a physical standpoint, but saying it wouldn't hurt anything except maybe her pride. Even then, it couldn't be worse than the million other ways she'd already damaged that.

"But I thought it a while ago. That... even if I hadn't loved you, I would still have been attracted to you. And even if I wasn't attracted to you, I would still have loved you." She shook her head a little, rolling her bleary eyes at herself. "Not a bad deal for me, getting both."