fulcrum3 | The City posts

Rarely did Cassian Andor dream. As a developed response, sleeping in too many unsecured conditions, he was a light sleeper who couldn't make noises.

This time, he dreamed.

He dreamed of Luthen, Draven, and Mothma approaching him with knives, saying they'd do him the service of dissecting him themselves.
He dreamed of Galen Erso opening his chest and connecting up his veins to wires until Jyn could get there and detonate him.
He dreamed of Bix burning them both down.
He dreamed of screaming for Kaytoo not to go.

But mostly he dreamed of Jyn
of the elevator not going down but up and them stepping out into the Yavin jungle
where they walked for endless hours
until they found the perfect place and lay each other down
and it wasn't making love
it was in their eyes
hers green like an ocean, his dark like a sky
infinities finding each other
stars sieving together into each other's spaces
connecting so deeply, so endless,
it was fathomless
falling forever without vertigo
seeing the universe from being inside it, a part of it, deathless
a sleep within a sleep, something that could never be described upon

waking.

Cassian woke and couldn't sit up. Something was on his chest. He looked down and the orange ~~tooka~~ cat was lying on him, thrumming like a motor. Apparently cats were like tookas in that they purred. "Thank you," he murmured down to it. He probably owed it for some of the good sleep.

And the dreams…

Regretfully, he shifted the cat, who simply flopped over onto the bunk (very good), and Cassian sat up. He called, "Jyn?"

Edited 2025-05-07 19:29 (UTC)

Jyn had every intention of keeping her promise. She wasn't typically one to balk at the thought of dishonesty, but it was different — so much was different, had been since she first met him — with Cassian. Especially under the circumstances, knowing what he'd just been through, she didn't want to leave him alone if he didn't want to be. Neither did she want to be too far from him, needing the reassurance that he was here, that this was real. She may have been a lost and clueless mess, an emotional wreck under barely-maintained composure, but one thing she could be certain of was that she wanted him here. It was infinitely better than the alternative. He deserved this chance, probably a hell of a lot more than she did.

She also didn't want him to worry — to think she'd left, something she promised herself a long time ago she would never do to him. There was, of course, a part of her that was painfully tempted anyway just to run, start over somewhere, pretend this never happened, but it wouldn't have worked. She never could stay away from him, and there wasn't anywhere to go.

So, before leaving, she scrawled a quick note, which she left on the small table beside the bunk so he couldn't miss it: If I'm not here — I'm sorry. Had to go do some things but I'll be back as soon as I can. Make yourself (and here, a small scribble suggested that she might have started to write something else, then changed her mind) comfortable. Jyn.

By the time she got back from Spike's, she didn't think she had been gone too long, but there was no way of knowing for sure until she went inside. The trouble was actually bringing herself to do so. She needed a moment to steel herself, regain her composure; the moment turned into several. Soon, she would go in, just not quite yet.

Panic rose at the lack of response. Amazingly, it subsided as soon as he found the note. He would dread finding her dead or hurt. He knew she wouldn't go like Bix. And the idea of her simply disappearing was just—even for a man so trained by life to envision everything—unimaginable.

Start catching these thoughts. How did he "know"? He'd only known her for five days. This was infatuation. This was trauma-bonding. This was…

Except it wasn't. Take it one day, one moment, at a time. But also don't dismiss or pretend it away. That would be playing a game, too, and he wouldn't do that with Jyn. No anticipation, no manipulation, nothing but openness.

In order to keep that panic away (and make sure she wasn't somewhere here dead or hurt) (and make the most of the time once she returned) Cassian pulled himself out of the bunk one leg at a time. First giving the cat a careful scratch between the ears, which seemed to be well-received.

As soon as he opened the door, the ~~baby Wookiee~~ 'dog' leapt forward to greet him. Ingratiating himself here was a little more nerve-wracking, not because it was hard, but because he almost feared the animal would explode if he stopped scratching its cheeks. Eventually, the dog calmed down, tongue lolling, and followed Cassian around the ship.

It didn't take too long to explore the whole ship—including some of its hidden compartments. Cassian knew these YT freighters were favored among smugglers, so he was able to find a good deal of them. It was reassuring to know they had these at their disposal in the event of—

'They'? What was that about not anticipating? Calm down. —These compartments could be good, though, should… someone need to hide. Or even just a more secure place to sleep.

He was determined to familiarize himself with everything that didn't intrude on Jyn's personal effects. He wasn't surprised to find she had almost none. Again: only what you can carry. As he knew from her file, she'd spent time homeless and time incarcerated. They shared both experiences. (Technically, he'd never been homeless, but he hadn't always had the means to get back to the roof that waited for him across the Galaxy.)

The tour ended back in the kitchen. His stomach had settled and he should probably have another meal. Maybe this one, he could share with her. Given the above, he didn't expect her to keep very much more food around than she did other personal belongings; but he was able to scrounge together an assortment of frozen and shelf-stable components. By the time she returned (because she would! return) he'd have figured out what to do with them and prepared them a small feast.

Edited 2025-05-07 21:28 (UTC)

This was stupid. She was being stupid. There wasn't any other word for it. Throughout her life, she'd been in battles and prisons and a number of unsavory situations in between, and she'd typically approached them without hesitation. Now, she was trying to work up the nerve to walk into her own ship, a place she'd lived in longer than she could say of anywhere else. Jyn couldn't tell how long had passed — minutes, sure, but how many? — when she huffed out a breath, frustrated with herself, and set the ramp to open, not knowing what to expect when she stepped inside. Ideally, Cassian would still be asleep, so she stayed quiet; a quick glance into the bedroom, its door now open, proved that he wasn't. Shit. Less than a day he'd been here, and she was already screwing this up.

His absence might well have made her worry, were it not for noises she could hear coming from the kitchen as she continued around the corridor. He was here, at least. No one else would be cooking inside her ship, though the idea of him doing so was surreal too. Now she just had to hope he would forgive her for being gone longer than she intended.

"Sorry," she said without preamble as she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, heart twisting at the sight of him there. The words came out awkward and a little rushed, but entirely earnest. "I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd be out so long."

The sight of her made his heart twist, too. Something about her apology made him set down what he was working on and cross to her, gently touching her arm. He knew she intended the boot to be on the other foot, but intensely, he more wanted to reassure her. "It's okay. I'm okay." This time, he dared to squeeze, so gently.

Not letting the moment get too laden, he half-turned back to the food and said, "I made us something. Hope you don't mind, I used up a lot of what you had stored up. I'll replace it when I go to get clothes." (He'd used time while the food was defrosting to read the welcome packet. There was much he'd want confirmed by observation, and a lot by her, but basics made sense.)

Stubbornly, Jyn wanted to insist that it wasn't okay, that she'd made a promise and she should have followed through. There wouldn't have been any real point, though, and there were much more important matters at hand. That he was okay — here, alive — superseded everything else. Instead, she nodded, mouth still twisted ruefully to the side. She didn't know why it mattered so much, except, on second thought, she kind of did. Cassian, as he was standing here before her now, had only known her for a matter of days. There was trust between them, but there wasn't time, and for all she knew, he might have expected her to take off running when the first opportunity presented itself. With anyone else, she might well have. With him, that was never on the table.

At least he seemed to mean what he said. For that matter, she doubted he would be standing here cooking in her kitchen if he thought she had left or something had happened to her. It hit hard, in that same way that was nice but painful, familiar but new, causing her to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from having a seriously overblown reaction. She probably could have played it off if she did — she still wasn't used to home-cooked meals — but she didn't want to risk it. One crack in her composure was too likely to cause the whole of it to shatter, barely held together as it was.

"You don't have to do that," she said instead as she followed him into the small kitchen. She had a feeling he might insist, probably because she would have done so, never wanting to be in someone's debt, but she meant it. "Honestly, you probably did me a favor. I wouldn't have made anything half as good."

"We'll see if it's any good," he said wryly, picking up the plates to set out. He hadn't been very good, the last two years, at keeping himself fed enough, but he knew, after a big battle like Scarif, it was essential. (Ironic since it was exactly when it was hardest to stomach anything.

Melshi, Sefla, Jav, Pao, Chirrut, Bodhi, Baze…

Stop. Eat for them. Especially if he was the only one now alive who knew that list.

With Jyn across the way, it was easier.

Kay. Wouldn't eat anyway. Would say something dry about it. Like…)

"Should I have made something for Sprinkles and Beany?"

"Absolutely not," Jyn said, grateful for a subject that allowed a little levity. "Start spoiling them now, and they'll expect it all the time." It was true, but she made no secret of the fact that she spoiled the hell out of her animals. If she'd ever bothered to count, she wouldn't be surprised if the two of them had more belongings around the ship than she did. While she fed them well, though, she hadn't been lying when she said she wasn't much of a cook. She didn't want to get them too used to something she wouldn't be able to provide.

Or maybe she was speaking more for her own sake. She didn't want to let herself get too accustomed to his presence and anything that might have come with it. If this was all she got, though, then she wanted to hold onto it, to keep every detail about him that she could.

"Thanks for doing all this."

Sitting down, he shook his head. “Too early for me to have done much. Things are still sinking in. I’ll ask for your help again soon.”

With the present, for certain; maybe with the immediate past, if he’d grown enough to be so brave and so forgiving of himself—

She carried him with her, and he could tell she was trying to shield him from the dead on the beach, because they were his dead;
could he accept so much, could he ever ask

—and the future was not yet to be thought of. Not beyond get supplies, confirm facts of City.

And, looming currently as large as any dangerous mission: foreseeable living arrangements. She’d said to stay as long as he needed, but he knew what he was like after events like (no events were alike) Scarif, and counter to the usual lack of dreams, there might be some night terrors in the immediate future.

"Anytime," Jyn said as she took a seat as well, trying to find a comfortable middle ground between sounding earnest and not overly serious. Whatever help he needed, she would give him, and she wanted him to know that — to be able to trust her that much. With the emotional wringer she was currently going through, though, she didn't want to bring the mood down too much. There would no doubt be plenty of that in due time.

For now, they were alive, they were safe, they had food. In a lot of ways, Jyn had gotten used to her life here, but she still could never take those things for granted. Having him here only added to that, regardless of the conflict in her for which she knew there would be no easy resolution.

"You sleep all right?"

"Very well." Right after combat was the deep sleep. The nightmares and insomnia came after.

He set her plate before her. "I think I have Beany to thank for some of that." He told Jyn how he'd woken with Beany on his chest; then, on impulse—

(when was the last time he'd done anything impulsively? …whichever it was, it had to do with Jyn.)

—told her the Loth-cat story.

Edited 2025-05-08 10:38 (UTC)

The story was both unexpected and new. Jyn reacted without thinking, leaning forward a little with interest, mouth curled in amusement. At least in her experience — and how much could that really be relied upon now? She didn't know, couldn't try to make sense of those logistics now — details given about Cassian's life tended to come sparsely, which made her savor them all the more when she got them. Then again, with as long as it had been since she'd been around him at all, the same might well have gone for anything he had to say.

"Worse ways to spend a mission than under a pile of sleeping Loth-cats," she said, well aware that that was a massive understatement. "I didn't know you were on Lothal then. I spent a while on Garel right around the same time."

She'd left soon after that, sensing things getting too risky, always waging the internal battle between protecting herself and doing as much harm to any Imps as she could. Still, not for the first time, she wondered how many times they had been in relatively close proximity, and what might have happened if their paths had crossed sooner.

I didn't know you were on Lothal… The trained ear picked that up as odd.

People reported the deviation from their expectations, not the expected. A Human wouldn't bother describing another Human as having two legs, but they would report if they only had one. If you were speaking to someone you'd never met, over a comm, you could guess things about their species based on how they described others. If someone bothered to say that a Human had hair, they themselves were likelier to be Twi'lek or Togruta, whose normal was none. If they bothered to say a Besalisk had four arms, they were likelier to be Human who took two arms for granted.

Jyn knew next to nothing about Cassian. Why would she comment on one particular unknown?

"Should you have known?" he asked; not as if he'd caught her out, but genuinely puzzled.

Edited 2025-05-08 19:33 (UTC)

Stupid. Stupid. Jyn hoped her internal self-admonishment, which also included a long string of the most vicious swear words she knew in an assortment of languages, wasn't evident on her face. This was the problem — at least, it was one of many. She let her guard down around him too easily, got drawn into his orbit even when she knew it was the last thing she should do. Even before she'd had a life with him, that was the case; the time they'd had together only added to it. It just figured, really, that with as careful as she had tried to be thus far, it would be such a silly, thoughtless slip that gave her away.

There was probably no good way to backtrack here, or to try to play off what she'd meant. It would be too obvious. She didn't think it would be a good idea just to launch into the truth of it, though, knowing full well it would make her sound insane and probably make him want to leave. Selfishly, idiotically, she wasn't ready for that yet, even as she knew it would be the best thing for her, giving her a chance to build back up the walls that had come crashing down at the first glimpse of him.

"No," she answered simply, sheepishly, deciding that was at least true enough. Of course there was no reason for her to have known anything he hadn't told her. "Just seemed funny. Being in almost the same place at the same time."

There was something here. He looked silently a long moment. Then he nodded and let it lie. If she didn’t want to talk about it, they wouldn’t.

That tether between them, though, couldn’t let it go completely. Cassian wouldn’t push her… so instead, he pushed himself. He set down his food and laid out his hand, palm up, near hers.

“I know about Garel. …I know a lot about your life. I’m sure we missed a lot, but I know everything Rebel Intelligence knew, which includes everything the Empire knew. I read your file before we met. I wish to hell I hadn’t. I wish now I could just learn what you wanted to share. I’m sorry.

“Of course, a data point on a page is nothing to hearing you talk. Whatever you might choose to share, I’m greedy for it. I just wanted to warn you.”

Jyn felt immediate relief that he didn't push it, and then guilt for feeling that relief at all. As she told herself, though, it wasn't like she meant to keep it a secret. That would be both impossible and too unfair. She would tell him, just not right now, not in this moment. She would work up to it, sooner rather than later, and just hope he wouldn't hate her for the delay. Until then, she'd just have to be careful not to slip up like that again.

Even that task was one easier said than done in the face of what he said next. He was patient with her in a way that took her by surprise, although she wouldn't have expected otherwise from him if she'd stopped to think about it. Knowing something and actually being on the receiving end of it were different, and there had never, not before and not since, been anyone in her life like him.

Resting her hand, feather-light, over his, she nodded slowly as she took that in. "Sort of figured you lot had done your homework," she replied, quietly wry. For a while, after the Alliance had first hauled her in, effectively just transferring her from one prison to another, she'd been furious about that. Being known was what she'd spent the majority of her life avoiding, and despite all her caution, they'd somehow managed to connect all the dots and hurl her identity back in her face. None of that was Cassian's fault, though, no matter how vulnerable it left her. "I don't mind. That you know... whatever you know. Can't say the same about your Alliance bosses, but—" She gave a little shrug, as if to say, what can you do? "It's been a long time since then for me anyway."

Edited 2025-05-08 21:45 (UTC)

His fingers curled to hers. Not claiming or confining. Just brushing.

"I'll have to get used to that," he said. "The 'long time' of it for you. I can't imagine. I could hardly stand an hour here not knowing—" where you were… No, don't swallow it, say it: "—where you were. Or anyone."

He tried to let that stand alone, but he couldn't. He had to ask: "I know what the welcome packet says. But have you been able to find out anything from home?" If they heard us? If they won?

Jyn couldn't imagine it either. Strange, probably, after spending so long without him, but it would have been different if she'd shown up here alone. She didn't want to consider where she might be now, what her life would be like.

"The first thing I did was look for you," she admitted, glancing down at where their fingers were curled together. She didn't need to add — not now, not yet — that she'd soon found him. For now, this truth would be enough, and it was true. The first words out of her mouth were asking after him. Not anyone. Just him.

Finding out anything else had come much later. Complicated and fucked up as all of this may have been, at least he wouldn't have to wait to have some of that weight lifted off his shoulders. "I have. The way people show up here... like you did, like I did, out of nowhere... There's not always order to it." She could use this, maybe, but there were more pressing things first. "There are a few people here from before us, and there've been a few from after us." Bright-eyed, she gave him a tremulous smile, an expression not altogether unlike the way she'd looked at him as they sent the transmission. "It worked. They got the message."

For a moment, he stared at her, frozen.

Then he exhaled into an incredulous, sun-blinding, world-moving smile.

Then his fingers closed with hers, he put his face into their joined hands, and wrackingly wept.

"Oh, hey," Jyn breathed, concerned even though the reaction was damn well warranted. It still made her heart ache, made her want to pull her hands away so she could go hold him instead, terrible idea though it might have been. Just watching him made it that much harder for her to maintain her careful composure, and she had a feeling that if she started crying now, she might not stop. The jumbled mess that was her current mental and emotional state needed some sort of outlet, threatening to burst out of her at any moment, that all it would have taken was the slightest provocation.

She couldn't do that now. This moment was his, earned so, so many times over in ways she'd only ever garnered bits and pieces of. So, instead, she clutched his hands tightly, what she hoped in her own awkward way would be reassuring. "I know. I know."

He'd never let go like this with Bix. He'd rarely done so with Maarva. But what was "this" when no such thing had ever happened before… or with someone like this beside him…

Okay. Okay. He let it run its course. Better now than twist eternally or explode. And though it wasn't a thought he'd fully conceived, not a determination he'd consciously made, he was going to try, with Jyn, to say things, not swallow them. That had started over Eadu, and he'd never stop making up for that; and led to something far more critical on Yavin, and then an unprecedented level of interreliance and seamless interreaction on Scarif… He didn't want to sabotage that now that he knew they could have it. And find out if they could have it in peace, not just in war.

So, as his breathing slowed from swallowed gasps, she might be able to make out the words in it:

"Melshi. Sefla. Jav. Arro. Calfor. Casrich. Farsin. Pao. Rostok. Stordan. Baze. Chirrut. Bodhi." And the clearest, tremoring through his body, "Kay."

He used the names to school his breath and finally raise his head. Tears stopped but his eyes still shone with them as he met hers and squeezed her hands. The look in his eyes was… something… From a life fractured, this look was just a quick spark of… whole.

(People weren't so quickly unfractured, but they'd found good help in one another to remember or imagine an alternative)

He knew he kept saying it, but it was the only possible thing. He murmured, "Thank you."

Edited 2025-05-09 02:34 (UTC)

It didn't take Jyn long, just a few names into the list, for her to realize what he was doing. A good deal of her childhood and adolescence had been spent in the company of soldiers, and even the members of Saw's weathered, battle-hardened company took the time to remember their dead. At first, she hadn't quite understood that, her own losses too great at too early an age to wrap her head around the idea of commemorating longer and longer lists of people who'd known what they were getting themselves into. Later, she'd come to close herself off so much that it didn't matter, because she didn't have people to remember. Eventually, perhaps cynically, she'd landed on it making sense for others, just not for her.

In so many ways, though, Scarif was different. Most of the people Cassian named were his dead, not hers, and yet she felt some of that weight all the same — them, and any others who'd died on Scarif's beaches or in its skies. The people in Jedha City, and on Alderaan, something she couldn't bear to tell him about yet. Everyone who'd followed her into battle, or been killed by her father's weapon, the brutal legacy she'd spent most of her life trying to outrun.

By the time he got to the ones she did know — Baze, who'd called her little sister, Chirrut, who'd called out for her across a crowded Jedha square like they were old friends, Bodhi, who'd been here and gone and become her kriffing family, Kay, who'd sacrificed himself for them and the mission in the end too — her own breathing had gone shaky and shallow, her eyes glassy despite her best efforts. Most days, she could hold it all at a distance, having grown as accustomed to living with and being the only survivor of it as anyone could. With Cassian here, though, freshly arrived from the beach where they'd died together, it was all too close to the surface again, as was so much else.

"You don't have to thank me," she said, grateful that her voice wavered only a little. "I get it. And I'm here."

Again, the impulse to kiss her hands; again, he touched his forehead to them instead. Then stayed there a moment too long and exhaled a laugh. "Kriff. I could go back to bed."

With a will, he squeezed her hands and sat back up. He'd barely touched his food. He should get down a little more. After that— "I don't know where to start. I want to hear everything about it. I also would like to hear your take on—" He nodded to the welcome packet still lying open nearby "—all this. I'm not going to just take their word for it. And I should probably go out and get supplies—more clothes, more food. Check out this apartment they've given me. Which there's no way I'm staying at." He caught himself. "I don't mean I have to stay here forever if that's… not… best. I just… you know."

[ooc: Handwave whatever exposition you want?]

In that moment, given everything, Jyn didn't trust herself to know what was best. Or, maybe more accurately, she was of two minds about it. Best was giving herself distance and time, a chance to get her head on straight and reinforce her crumbling walls. Best was having him here with her, as close as she could get. It was impossible to make sense of, and she had a feeling that if she tried to play it off again by reminding him that he could stay as long as he needed, he might, rightly, point out that that wasn't what he'd said.

"Don't want to stay in a place that some unknown magical city entity assigned to you, because that has trap written all over it," she finished for him instead, guessing that that was at least part of it. Was she also part? Reason suggested that she must have been, and yet it felt too hard to believe, too selfish to want when she didn't know what she wanted. "There is plenty of room here. Plus—" She gestured to the food, which she had resumed eating. Not only was it quite good, considering what little he'd had to work with, but she could always eat, regardless of any emotional turmoil. "—You cook a hell of a lot better than I do."

As for the rest, she shrugged. "I don't really know where to start either, except, I guess, with... It is pretty much all exactly what it looks like. Weird, but safe."

we are the next time 'round (for Jyn)

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