His aborted apology drew a small smile from Jyn in turn. The subject was one about which she knew they could talk themselves in circles and never really get anywhere. She, at least, had had a long time to be able to think about it, and then not need to do so anymore, having settled, no longer wrecked with emotion, into an opinion. The order to kill her father was wrong, and so was the Alliance bombing that finished the job instead. But Cassian hadn't followed that order — had, in fact, risked himself to save her even after she'd outlived her usefulness to the mission, yet again. The venom of the ensuing argument was far more feeling than fact, and she thought she knew the source of it for her.
Even then, she had trusted him so quickly, so easily, and then feeling as if she'd had that trust betrayed was angry at herself as much as at him. That seemed like something that would fall into the category he'd just described, things that would make them both feel unnecessarily worse again, so she didn't. More important was knowing that that broken trust had been long, long since repaired.
"More than forgiven," she echoed with a solemn nod, not wanting to seem like she was brushing him off. Then, in an easy, fluid motion, she drew her legs up, arms spread out to her sides so she could float on the water's surface. "Now, come on, is it your turn or mine?" She'd asked the last question, but she had also offered a fact unprompted, so it was hard to say for sure. It didn't actually matter, the game their own and the rules disposable, but it seemed like a good way of steering them away from the subject of that argument for now.
Exhaling a laugh, Cassian twined his hand loosely with hers so he could pull her through the water in slow, gentle figure-eights.
He rifled through the mental file of her previous Facts he'd wanted to follow up on.
Jyn Erso isn't her legal name here. …But he could guess what it was, now, couldn't he… She'd lived in and burned down a house. …Could he guess that one, too? It felt somehow manipulative to ask. It didn't seem fair to bring up things he'd picked up while she was dreaming… He still often felt like she was holding back, but he'd decided, and promised, not to push.
It was just hard not to think that—
"Status report," he said at last. "I feel like if I could only ask the right question, I'd solve something. But I know it doesn't work like that."
This, his hand in hers as he moved them through the water, her eyes half-closed against the sunlight and limbs loose, was as much a sign of trust as anything else that had occurred between them so far. Simple as it might have been, it spoke volumes that she could be so at ease around him. Normally, any one of these things would have set her on edge — her clothes discarded on the rock where they'd been sitting, her knife with them, which left her unarmed, someone else guiding her movements, however limited the scope of them may have been. Instead, Jyn wasn't even thinking about any of that. She was aware, inasmuch as she always would be, but she didn't have to be alert. She could just be with him.
Within that, there was a fine line to walk. Knowing him, not wanting to be disingenuous and pretend that she didn't know him, also not wanting to take advantage of information she'd gained from, technically, someone else, all of it was a delicate balance to try to strike, not unlike the way she drifted on the surface of the water now. So far, at least since telling him that he'd been here before, she hadn't found it nearly as difficult as she would have expected, but the idea of it was there throughout everything, especially when he said things like that.
"I can hear you thinking," she said, gently, wryly teasing. She stayed as she was, weightless in the water, as she considered his words and how to phrase her response. "There is no right question. But there's no wrong one, either. Anything you ask, I'll answer. Might not solve anything, but it'll be out there, at least."
He had to admit it to himself: maybe he was afraid to push because he didn't want to do to Jyn what he'd felt, sometimes, Bix did to him. Now, of course, maybe he should consider he'd been unfair to her, since he was feeling in that position. Where she'd push and he'd say Why are you doing this? Well, perhaps she'd felt that whatever-it-was was just as present, maybe moreso, by not talking about it, and talking about it at least had the possibility of finishing it.
It was a strange turn. He'd never for a moment compared Jyn to Bix. Suddenly it was himself he was comparing.
"Fact, I guess," he said, mouth curving at least a bit. "I still feel sometimes like you don't say things because you don't want to ruin my day. If that's the only reason, please say them. But I also said I trust you, and I do.
"So… question: I keep forgetting to ask. You said there were other people here who know about what happened back home. Can I meet them sometime?"
It was a fair point, one that Jyn very easily could have made herself if their positions were reversed. She was trying, determined, really, not to impose before-him on now-him, and the number of years it had been since she'd previously been with him made that much easier than it might have otherwise been. Now, though, she couldn't help the way some of their conversations in those first few months, as they were just figuring things out and retroactively getting to know each other, came to mind. More than once, she'd asked him not to shut her out when he dodged or downplayed something.
She wasn't trying to do that now, but he did have a point. There were things she hadn't said because they seemed too heavy for whatever the particular moment was, but that determination wasn't hers alone to make. Left to her own devices, chances were good she wouldn't bring up any of it. She didn't want him to have to push her, or even to feel like he was doing so, but sometimes she needed a little prompting.
"Of course," she answered. This question was easy. "The ones who're still here are all from before us, I think, but there's probably still plenty they could tell you." She breathed in deeply, her chest rising and falling with it. "And all right. It's still... It's not always easy for me to know how to say things. But I will try. I am trying. I trust you, too."
"I know." He caught her in her slow swirl, with himself at her head; cupped her face, upside-down, and kissed her forehead. "I love you for it. And everything else."
Cassian sank further into the water, making himself into an armchair for Jyn, and scoffed, "From before us? Well, forget them, then!" Though there was real heartache there. He would give so much to hear how things turned out. But that was the cost of dying in battle: never knowing. Genuinely again, "Who are they?"
For a moment, Jyn couldn't do anything but smile: at the sweet way he kissed her forehead, at the accompanying statement, at the seeming ease with which he took her at her word. Over and over again, she thought that she had never been as understood by anyone as she was by him, but it was more than that, too. There was acceptance there, taking her as she was even when there were things for her to work on. She hoped, at least, that he knew just how true that was for her in turn.
"Two Jedi, a Senator, and another rebel," she rattled off. She might have been prepared to shoot Kallus on sight when she first encountered him, newly arrived and walking off her ship, but she knew better now. Cassian, in fact, was the reason she hadn't done so. He was also the reason why she didn't describe Kallus now more bluntly as a spy, instead alluding more subtly to that particular truth. "He's used the same codename as you, actually."
He tensed a little at the mention of Jedi. It wasn't just that he didn't trust Force-users not to be charlatans; with the Jedi in particular, for the supposed champions of the downtrodden, he'd never seen them out on the Rim.
For the others—
"Which Senator?" though the chances of it being the only one he had a personal connection to were extremely slim, even without time being broken.
Same codename… the only one he shared was—"Fulcrum?"
"That's the one," Jyn replied, and with her eyes still half-closed against the sunlight, gave a soft, crooked smile. "I was seriously thinking about killing him before he said he was a Fulcrum agent. I didn't mention you, or anything—" The last, she added just a bit hastily, not wanting to risk him thinking she might have blown his cover, even in a place where that didn't really matter anymore. "—But it did get me to hear him out."
She was glad now that she had, and not just because dealing with a dead body on her ship would have been a hassle to say the least. She liked Kallus, and perhaps counterintuitively had trusted him more since figuring out that he had defected from the Empire.
"The Senator is Amidala. She was mostly before our time, too."
"Oh?" He was smiling the same way back. "What did he do to deserve death?"
Cassian slowly shook his head as he came up blank on Amidala. He probably should have paid better attention to the Senate… but it had seemed like a bad joke.
"Showed up in an ISB uniform," Jyn answered, trusting that he of all people would then understand the impulse. It wasn't just that she had been furious at the sight of an apparent Imperial, but more that she didn't want to take even the slightest chance of that hateful ideology planting a seed that might take root. Better to snuff it out at the first possibility.
"I didn't believe him that he wasn't an Imp until he gave the name and the phrase with it."
[ooc: and I decide to commit to one of the debut's multithreads!]
Cassian laughed. "I've met him. He was the one who brought me to you when I arrived. He thought I was Imperial, from the uniform, until I gave him the name and phrase. Payback."
Jyn let out a laugh of her own at that. It wasn't quite enough to disrupt her precarious balance, but it came close enough to it that she gave up on floating and ducked under the water's surface instead, reemerging a moment later on her own two feet again.
"Well, that worked out, at least," she said. "Glad I didn't wind up actually shooting him on sight."
Gentle and lingering, Jyn kissed him back, her arms twining around his neck. As was so often proving to be the case around him, her instincts were at war with each other, part of her wanting to splash him or dunk him underwater to make him laugh, part of her wanting to wrap her legs around his waist and take advantage of the seclusion here. So, for the moment, she did neither, and tried instead to stay in the moment, focusing on nothing but him.
His hands slipped down her back to wrap his arms around her. Naked or not, it didn't feel sexual as he folded her completely to him, as if trying to take the impression of her whole body onto his. It felt… romantic, it felt… fulfilling.
Though as the kiss went on, it might well start to feel other things too.
The way he drew her close effectively made her choice for her. Not that she wouldn't have felt like she could pull away or change course if she preferred, because she knew without even the tiniest shred of doubt that she could and he wouldn't take any issue with it. Having him kiss her like this, his arms steady and secure around her, just helped her shed some of her indecision from a moment earlier, things she mentally filed away for later instead.
For now, having decided which impulse to chase, she hiked her legs up around his waist as she kissed him. Even now, there was no particular intent in it, more just trying to be as close to him as she could get.
The kiss became more ravenous and he stirred against her.
Near the base of the waterfall were a collection of boulders whose flat surface rose just above the waterline. They were clear of the fall itself but within reach of the rainbow-casting mist. Cassian suddenly turned himself and Jyn and cut through the pool to hoist her up and sit her on one of these rocks. There too his feet better touched the bottom of the pool and he moved himself gently inside her full-body embrace.
There, again, was that same implicit trust: Jyn not questioning when he began moving them or looking to see what he was doing, simply trusting that he had something in mind. The reason became clear soon enough anyway, when he sat her atop a rock. She shifted her weight slightly as she settled, but stayed wrapped around him, kissing him just as intently in turn.
They were, probably, getting carried away. She couldn't bring herself to care. Her hands slid into his hair again, fingers gently tangling, a quiet cue that she was more than all right with the direction this seemed to be going.
His kiss moved from her lips to her neck, his hands from the small of her back to cup her lower. Before he started to drag against her in earnest, his head raised again so he could breathe in her ear, “This okay?”
Her head fell back and to the side as his mouth dropped to her neck, leaving her throat more fully exposed to him. She stayed like that even when he lifted his head to speak again, his voice and breath so close to her ear sending a chill through her that had nothing to do with the cool water or their lack of clothes. "Yes," she exhaled, quiet and emphatic. As if to punctuate her own statement, she rolled her hips forward against his, the motion slight but encouraging. "Very."
His smile grazed her ear before he was again kissing his way down.
…and down, and…
He slipped into the water up to his shoulders. Still holding her behind, he moved in to kiss her between her legs—his eyes alternately closed and raising to her face.
Although his intention was clear enough, Jyn couldn't hide the way her breath caught at the press of his mouth between her legs. Where they'd been wrapped around his waist moments before, she let them fall further open now, one hand leaving his hair to rest on the rock behind her. Even now that they very much were doing this, the getting part of getting carried away no longer really applicable, she almost couldn't believe it. They were alone, but that could easily change, and she had a hard enough time letting herself be so vulnerable around one person, never mind out in the open.
If she were thinking more clearly or prone to further self-analyzing, she might find that it made sense that she would feel safe enough with him to take this sort of chance.
"Still okay," she said. While she meant for the words to be teasing, they came out instead breathless with want and anticipation.
He had no thought of anyone coming upon them. As far as he was concerned, they were the only people in the world.
A remarkable thing for him to think or feel: someone whose danger sense was so hair-trigger. But it was true. This felt protected.
He let his motions be guided by her hand in his hair, whether she realized she was moving him or not. And her voice hardened him fully under the water, so his body concaved, bowing him deeper to her, to his task. He loved the movement of her hips in his hands, against and around his face; he loved every texture and taste; he loved feeling her pulse and breath; he loved.
Gradually, her breathing grew shallower, less even. It was probably ridiculous how quickly he could get under her skin, how they could barely keep their hands off each other, the two of them as bad as lovesick teenagers in the kind of stupid holo she was never interested in watching. But then, she reminded herself, it was new for both of them. Before had no bearing here. It was just them: two people still learning each other, and the way he made her feel so utterly undone.
With the hand in his hair, she was careful not to push or pull forcefully, touching him more for the sake of it than anything else; her legs, where they'd been spread wide, now hooked over his shoulders. It wasn't, she realized, the physical sensations of it that made her chest ache and her body taut, at least not primarily. The way he touched her, worked his mouth against her, somehow made her feel loved. She'd known so little of that, and she'd thought she never would again.
"Cassian," she panted, a plea and an encouragement and a dozen other things rolled into one. More than anything, though, it was just that she liked being able to say his name.
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Even then, she had trusted him so quickly, so easily, and then feeling as if she'd had that trust betrayed was angry at herself as much as at him. That seemed like something that would fall into the category he'd just described, things that would make them both feel unnecessarily worse again, so she didn't. More important was knowing that that broken trust had been long, long since repaired.
"More than forgiven," she echoed with a solemn nod, not wanting to seem like she was brushing him off. Then, in an easy, fluid motion, she drew her legs up, arms spread out to her sides so she could float on the water's surface. "Now, come on, is it your turn or mine?" She'd asked the last question, but she had also offered a fact unprompted, so it was hard to say for sure. It didn't actually matter, the game their own and the rules disposable, but it seemed like a good way of steering them away from the subject of that argument for now.
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He rifled through the mental file of her previous Facts he'd wanted to follow up on.
Jyn Erso isn't her legal name here. …But he could guess what it was, now, couldn't he…
She'd lived in and burned down a house. …Could he guess that one, too? It felt somehow manipulative to ask.
It didn't seem fair to bring up things he'd picked up while she was dreaming…
He still often felt like she was holding back, but he'd decided, and promised, not to push.
It was just hard not to think that—
"Status report," he said at last. "I feel like if I could only ask the right question, I'd solve something. But I know it doesn't work like that."
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Within that, there was a fine line to walk. Knowing him, not wanting to be disingenuous and pretend that she didn't know him, also not wanting to take advantage of information she'd gained from, technically, someone else, all of it was a delicate balance to try to strike, not unlike the way she drifted on the surface of the water now. So far, at least since telling him that he'd been here before, she hadn't found it nearly as difficult as she would have expected, but the idea of it was there throughout everything, especially when he said things like that.
"I can hear you thinking," she said, gently, wryly teasing. She stayed as she was, weightless in the water, as she considered his words and how to phrase her response. "There is no right question. But there's no wrong one, either. Anything you ask, I'll answer. Might not solve anything, but it'll be out there, at least."
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It was a strange turn. He'd never for a moment compared Jyn to Bix. Suddenly it was himself he was comparing.
"Fact, I guess," he said, mouth curving at least a bit. "I still feel sometimes like you don't say things because you don't want to ruin my day. If that's the only reason, please say them. But I also said I trust you, and I do.
"So… question: I keep forgetting to ask. You said there were other people here who know about what happened back home. Can I meet them sometime?"
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She wasn't trying to do that now, but he did have a point. There were things she hadn't said because they seemed too heavy for whatever the particular moment was, but that determination wasn't hers alone to make. Left to her own devices, chances were good she wouldn't bring up any of it. She didn't want him to have to push her, or even to feel like he was doing so, but sometimes she needed a little prompting.
"Of course," she answered. This question was easy. "The ones who're still here are all from before us, I think, but there's probably still plenty they could tell you." She breathed in deeply, her chest rising and falling with it. "And all right. It's still... It's not always easy for me to know how to say things. But I will try. I am trying. I trust you, too."
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Cassian sank further into the water, making himself into an armchair for Jyn, and scoffed, "From before us? Well, forget them, then!" Though there was real heartache there. He would give so much to hear how things turned out. But that was the cost of dying in battle: never knowing. Genuinely again, "Who are they?"
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"Two Jedi, a Senator, and another rebel," she rattled off. She might have been prepared to shoot Kallus on sight when she first encountered him, newly arrived and walking off her ship, but she knew better now. Cassian, in fact, was the reason she hadn't done so. He was also the reason why she didn't describe Kallus now more bluntly as a spy, instead alluding more subtly to that particular truth. "He's used the same codename as you, actually."
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For the others—
"Which Senator?" though the chances of it being the only one he had a personal connection to were extremely slim, even without time being broken.
Same codename… the only one he shared was—"Fulcrum?"
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She was glad now that she had, and not just because dealing with a dead body on her ship would have been a hassle to say the least. She liked Kallus, and perhaps counterintuitively had trusted him more since figuring out that he had defected from the Empire.
"The Senator is Amidala. She was mostly before our time, too."
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Cassian slowly shook his head as he came up blank on Amidala. He probably should have paid better attention to the Senate… but it had seemed like a bad joke.
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"I didn't believe him that he wasn't an Imp until he gave the name and the phrase with it."
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Cassian laughed. "I've met him. He was the one who brought me to you when I arrived. He thought I was Imperial, from the uniform, until I gave him the name and phrase. Payback."
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"Well, that worked out, at least," she said. "Glad I didn't wind up actually shooting him on sight."
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Though as the kiss went on, it might well start to feel other things too.
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For now, having decided which impulse to chase, she hiked her legs up around his waist as she kissed him. Even now, there was no particular intent in it, more just trying to be as close to him as she could get.
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Near the base of the waterfall were a collection of boulders whose flat surface rose just above the waterline. They were clear of the fall itself but within reach of the rainbow-casting mist. Cassian suddenly turned himself and Jyn and cut through the pool to hoist her up and sit her on one of these rocks. There too his feet better touched the bottom of the pool and he moved himself gently inside her full-body embrace.
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They were, probably, getting carried away. She couldn't bring herself to care. Her hands slid into his hair again, fingers gently tangling, a quiet cue that she was more than all right with the direction this seemed to be going.
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…and down, and…
He slipped into the water up to his shoulders. Still holding her behind, he moved in to kiss her between her legs—his eyes alternately closed and raising to her face.
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If she were thinking more clearly or prone to further self-analyzing, she might find that it made sense that she would feel safe enough with him to take this sort of chance.
"Still okay," she said. While she meant for the words to be teasing, they came out instead breathless with want and anticipation.
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A remarkable thing for him to think or feel: someone whose danger sense was so hair-trigger. But it was true. This felt protected.
He let his motions be guided by her hand in his hair, whether she realized she was moving him or not. And her voice hardened him fully under the water, so his body concaved, bowing him deeper to her, to his task. He loved the movement of her hips in his hands, against and around his face; he loved every texture and taste; he loved feeling her pulse and breath; he loved.
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With the hand in his hair, she was careful not to push or pull forcefully, touching him more for the sake of it than anything else; her legs, where they'd been spread wide, now hooked over his shoulders. It wasn't, she realized, the physical sensations of it that made her chest ache and her body taut, at least not primarily. The way he touched her, worked his mouth against her, somehow made her feel loved. She'd known so little of that, and she'd thought she never would again.
"Cassian," she panted, a plea and an encouragement and a dozen other things rolled into one. More than anything, though, it was just that she liked being able to say his name.