candor1 | Open RP Post

Jyn knew she shouldn't follow - that she had no real right to, but as she kept a reasonable distance behind Joreth and tried to use other pedestrians as a way to obscure herself, she convinced herself that what she was doing was the right thing.

The crowd thinned considerably once they passed the red light district, and Jyn kept to the shadows as she carefully continued forward into more unincorporated areas and further from the city proper. She ducked down behind a pair of rusted crates and watched as the boarding ramp descended ... and a huge KX droid greeted her husband familiarly.

...

Hadn't he told her that he'd had one when he was a child, that a KX droid was his friend?

Jyn slowly crept forward toward the opened ship, curious to find out what was being said inside.

She couldn't keep track of her emotions as she listened in on a conversation that was probably meant to be kept private.

'Jyn's not my family' nearly brought her to tears. She balled her fists at her side and tried to focus on the biting pain of her fingernails pressing into her palms.

The conversation about lying, though, left her head spinning and her stomach churning. What did they mean about taking advantage and Joreth had been lying his entire life, that it was his job? Was everything she thought they had been building together truly nothing more than empty words and faked emotions?

But he wanted it to be different ...

How could it be when the droid called him Cassian, and Jyn had the horrible feeling that not only had she never known Joreth at all, but that she - that the Admiral and his family and Krennic, too, had been deceived, and that could be dangerous for them all.

Kriff, Jyn wanted it to be real, too.

Hot tears - angry and hurt and frightened - cascaded down her cheeks as the conversation continued and the realization hit - he was Rebellion. A part of her yearned for the escape that he outlined ... but another part of her, a large part, was conflicted. For all intents and purposes, no matter her leanings, she had married the enemy. And he had done so with ulterior motives. What was his mission? And what part did she have to play in it?

Jyn's footing slipped as Joreth - no, no, Cassian began to admit that he might love her and all too suddenly, all noise ceased.

But when Cassian and Kay investigated the source of the noise, all they would find was a flock of scavenger birds settling back down after having been disturbed by an unknown source.

Jyn was long gone.

Just birds. Blameless, disinterested birds. Though Cassian couldn't shake the feeling of someone walking over his grave.

Whatever the case, the moment had passed, and nothing—not even Kaytoo—could bring the confession so close to his lips again.

Cassian spent the night on the shuttle. It was his first night without her since the wedding. When he jerked and screamed, it was Kay's hands that woke him, pinning him down so he didn't hurt himself. He couldn't fall asleep in the cot again. Instead he sat with Kay in the cockpit, listening to comm nonsense chatter. When his head began to sag, and Kay put a metal arm around his flesh and bone shoulders, Cassian let himself lean over, close his eyes, and press his flushed forehead to Kay's cool chestplate.

When he woke again, there was sunlight, and Kay had kept Cassian propped against him all night.

He didn't want to go back. He wondered if that thing had happened to him that he and Draven had discussed before, about others… whether training or recruiting or evaluating or just… conversing. Had he hit his breaking point? He didn't want to go back and lie again. He felt so tired of lying.

But let's be honest. Be specific. He didn't mind lying to Grendreef, kind as the man had been to him. He didn't really mind lying to the household or children. They couldn't care much less. He didn't want to lie more to Jyn.

"I don't know if I can do this, Kay," muttered Cassian.

Kay was straightening Cassian's rumpled clothes; a level of caretaking Kay would never have performed for anyone else and Cassian rarely allowed for himself.

"If you think you've broke," said Kay, recognizing what Cassian meant immediately, "then you shouldn't go back. We should leave, right now."

That thought was still less bearable. Cassian wouldn't go into the fresher to dry heave or weep. He wouldn't curl in on himself and wait and see. He wouldn't sacrifice himself in a meaningless lasers-blazing assault. (Nor would he do that to this enemy he'd grown—not just Jyn but Grendreef's children—to love.)

Lying more, it was.

He closed his fingers around Kaytoo's to gently guide the droid's hand away. (Not move it: Cassian would never be strong enough to move any part of Kay, but he could give signals for Kay to follow; and, for Cassian alone, Kay always would.)

"I'll check in again," Cassian murmured. "Mon Cal blink code tonight, to confirm the mission is continuing. If I fail to… you're to evacuate."

"Cassian."

"Kay. One of us has to make it back."

A long silence. Cassian put his hand on Kay's chassis and again touched his forehead to him.

Finally, Kay said, "Then you'd best go now." And Cassian rapped Kay's chestplate in confirmation before leaving the shuttle, possibly for good.

* * *
He reached their door—his and Jyn's—rather: Joreth's and Jyn's—and rested his forehead against it for a moment, as he had against Kaytoo. In all the ways he'd imagined his own death or destruction, this hadn't been one of them. Taken down so gently. So tenderly. By someone who hadn't meant to bring him down at all.

It wasn't Jyn's fault. Of all of them, she might have been the only one not at all at fault.

Why couldn't they have met some other way. Some other time or place. The Force was cruel after all.

He indulged the thoughts for a handful of heartbeats. Then he struck himself together and opened the door.

Jyn found little rest during the course of the night.

She had spent a large part of it in a daze as she tried to put the pieces together and process all the things she had overheard. She sat in the corner of the shower and cried, her tears mingling with the hot, hot water that cascaded over her.

This wasn't exactly something that she could discuss with anyone - it wasn't as though she had friends that she could trust. Her mother was dead. Her father ... hadn't even come to the wedding as it was. The only person she had was Joreth - and he wasn't even real.

Cassian.

Stranger. Enemy. And perhaps the worst part of all was hearing him say that he thought he might love her ... because for a moment, Jyn was almost certain that she had been falling in love with him, too.

But that - all of it - had been real. She was just a means to an end in whatever mission he had been sent here to complete, a pawn for both sides, little more than collateral damage when all was said and done.

The bed felt so cold and lonely without him there with her. Jyn couldn't find a way to get comfortable no matter what she tried, and even Argi laid with her, purring like an engine, but she found little comfort in it, even as she petted him gently in thanks.

I don't know how I'm supposed to go back to the way things were before.

But if Cassian were a smart man, and if he was as compromised as he said he felt, his best course of action would be to go and never return.

Jyn caught little snatches of a sleep, minutes at a time, but always awoke to an empty bed and a heavy heart. The sun rose, and Jyn got up with it, haunting the apartment like a ghost as she took a personal day from her duties - she couldn't afford anyone seeing her like this, and she knew she'd never be able to pay attention to the tasks she'd have to attend to. She'd alert the wrong people, and now especially, the last thing they needed - if there was a they anymore - were suspicious eyes on them.

She went through the motions as she fed Argi and fixed breakfast, laughing a joyless laugh when she realized she'd fixed two plates. She left one at the table, and sat in the corner of the couch to try to get something in her stomach even though she was certain she'd be sick if she did.

When the door opened, Jyn didn't flinch or even look up. She couldn't. She was too afraid of what he'd see in her expression or her eyes if she did. Why did he come back? He shouldn't have come back.

Edited 2019-08-20 17:00 (UTC)

When Cassian was eight, he'd been caught in an explosion. It left him shrapnel-torn and temporarily deaf. One of his strongest memories of Khryw, the Separatist who'd saved him from the Caridan riot and brought him to the CIS, was of her holding his hand and pushing his sweat-soaked hair out of his face as, unanaesthetised, they dug the shrapnel out of his shoulder and back. But bad as that procedure had been, physically scarred as it left him (he still had that dusting of shrapnel marks—among the many scars that were the reason he kept a shirt on whenever he could and Jyn had kindly not asked him about when he couldn't), he'd found the deafness worse. Unable to communicate with those right there; physically close but insurmountably apart.

Jyn looked as hollowed-out as he felt. And Cassian felt that loneliness that, isolated as his life had been, he hadn't felt quite this way since he was eight.

His eyes flickered, taking in the whole room in a reflexive instant (as he did when he entered any space). He saw the plate she'd made for him and wanted to cross the room in one stride and take her in his arms and press his face to her skin and plead for forgiveness.

Instead, he stood just inside the doorway, letting the door click closed behind him, and didn't try to come in further. Just said, very softly, "Hi."

Where Jyn couldn't bear to look, Argi poked his head up instead, carefully observing Cassian (she could no longer think of him as Joreth - Joreth had never existed, and it caused her heart to constrict painfully to think, again, that none of what they had was real), his head tilted to the side. The cat grumbled a judgmental little noise, and Jyn quietly shushed him.

The distance between them was relatively small, but it might as well have been light years keeping them apart.

She gathered enough composure - enough courage - to glance at him, and didn't know if it made her feel better or worse to see him look as wrecked as she felt. Despite everything she had overheard, and how hurt and angry and conflicted she felt about it all ...

She still wanted nothing more than to bridge that gap, carefully curl her arms around him, and reiterate that for better or worse, he was the man that she had married.

But she didn't. She couldn't.

"Hi."

Wasn't sure you were gonna come back.

He had come back. But he didn't have a plan beyond that fact.

What now? Surrender to what he wanted—what she'd made clear they both wanted—and appease them both in the moment, but make the inevitability of their situation all the worse? Solidify this state of unhappy equilibrium, no longer even enjoying the illusion of trust and closeness? Break up the marriage in character, forfeit its benefits but stop endangering the mission over it?

All he wanted to do was hold her and sleep. Really sleep, as he hadn't all night—as, it seemed, he couldn't outside her arms. Wrapped up in her and her in him, as they had only last night.

"Is my being here okay?" Not a challenge, not a dare, not passive aggressive, not even an act: simple, earnest, sad-eyed and soft-voiced wondering if any of this was salvageable—if she could ever possibly be glad to see him again.

Edited 2019-08-20 21:36 (UTC)

Well. Neither did Jyn, so at least they were both standing in a similar place.

Logically speaking, where could they go from this point? She knew too much about him, who he was, why he was here to ever go back to the place that they had been before.

She couldn't ignore it. And there was no taking back the decision to follow, no matter how much she wished she would have just gone the opposite way altogether.

Why are you here? Why are you doing this?

Jyn hadn't had much of an appetite anyway, but now, it had disappeared completely, and she set her half-empty bowl on the table in front of her, suddenly queasy at the thought of trying to finish it.

"It's where you live, isn't it?", she asked, and it wasn't a challenge, wasn't a dar, wasn't passive-agressive, and wasn't put on in any way, shape, or form. It was tremulous and uncertain, the voice of a young woman who felt small and scared and didn't know if she had just lost everything she had ever cared about.

Her words and tone of voice hit him like a rancor riding a gundark. He didn't know if it was the right or fair or kind decision, but it was the only one he was capable of. He crossed the space between them and went down on his knee in front of her. He looked up into her face. "Jyn… I'm so, so sorry. I made you think I didn't want you. That's not it. That's not it at all."

Oh, this was bad. This was going to lead to disaster. She should have admitted that she had followed him the evening before, that she'd heard him speak to his droid companion, that she knew who he was and who he worked for and why he was even here, but ...

The words wouldn't come.

"You ... don't have to explain - anything", she tried, even though Force knew, she wanted to know.

This was never going to work - them - and she should just admit it here and now, make as quick and easy a break as possible so that neither of them were led to ruin because they wanted each other.

This was never going to work. It was built on a foundation of lies. He needed to go before he got caught.

But the words wouldn't come.

I do. In fact. I do. But he couldn't.

His looked at her hands. Tentatively reached out with his own—stopped shy of touching her. "Listen… I didn't get much sleep. I'm going to take the day off. We could…" He didn't know what. But if she did, whatever it was, he was open to it.

Jyn almost - almost stretched her fingers out just enough to complete the circuit. But she was afraid of what might happen if she did. "I didn't sleep much either", she murmured, shrugging. "And I already took a personal day. So ... "

So they could sleep. Or not. Or talk. Or not. Or ... just let things be strained and strange.

He looked down at her hand again, as if he could see the unfulfilled motion. His fingers flexed a little, as if reaching back.

The thought of lying down with her, in (their?) bed, whether to talk or sleep or…

"Ilargi behave through the night?" he asked quietly. Something innocuous, but on which they were still of one mind.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It was a dangerous game to play, to tempt fate, but Jyn wanted to be selfish just this once. This wasn't meant to last, and Cassian could disappear at any moment, and she just wanted ...

"Yeah. Tried to help me sleep, I think. But - um ... it wasn't the same, so."

Was he thinking clearly? …Was he thinking? Were his abilities to read, profile, anticipate, working extremely well, or working at all?

Was he (the same question again and again and again) being sincere through the lies, or being the worst asshole manipulator in the galaxy?

All he knew was he was kneeling, looking up into her face. Then, in the space of a heartbeat, he'd taken both of her hands with both of his, and doubled forward, pressing his closed eyes to their joint fists.

As he hadn't in years, as he shouldn't as Sward, but he did anyway, he fell into Caridan. "Lo siento. Lo siento. I'm so sorry."

Maybe she was just too exhausted - emotionally and physically - to think as critically as she would have wanted. Because Jyn didn't question the apology, didn't pull her hands away and put some distance (more distance) between them, didn't wonder if he was being sincere or if this was just another lie.

He'd been lying for his whole life.

She took a long, shaky breath, but made no move away. Maybe it was a mistake on her part, but in the moment, Jyn couldn't find it within herself enough to care.

"Oh, no, no, you don't have to - "

"Yes. I do." He turned his face and pressed a kiss to her hand. Then sat back on his heels, shaking his head. "…I have no right to ask you this. But can we… just… rest, Jyn? A little while?"

Jyn shut her eyes, her brow furrowing gently, her brain screaming about how terrible an idea lying down together would be, her heart trying just as desperately to persuade her how right.

One heartbeat passed. Another, then another -

"Yes", she hoarsely whispered. "We can - we do that."

He shut his eyes still tighter. That… there… might just have been an actual tear that tracked down his cheek. He nodded. Opened his eyes. Looked up at her with abject, wretched gratitude. He stood and offered her his hand.

He couldn't fake that. He couldn't fake that. But maybe, if he were a practiced liar ... he could. Jyn didn't know what to think, but her heart ached in a way that made her gasp.

But she accepted the offered hand and curled her trembling fingers around his, a moment's hesitation in order to find her strength before she stood, too.

(He could. He had. But he wasn't.)

His fingers curled around hers, back. Their pressure light, tentative, but enough to forestall letting go. He shifted the angle of their clasped hands, matching her as she stood, to keep them joined as he led the way into the bedroom.

Jyn didn't want to let go. But her grip was loose, just in case Cassian did. It was strange to think of him in terms of a name she didn't know - a man that was a stranger - but she couldn't allow herself to think of him as anyone or anything else. She'd get lost in fantasy if she did that.

She followed along easily, no doubt or second-guessing every step they took, Argi following along as though he didn't want to be left alone.

Regretfully, Jyn let go once they entered the bedroom, if only so she could sit at the edge of the bed and try to calm her nerves, her erratic heartbeats.

Cassian released her immediately. And stood for a few moments where she left him, rifling through possibilities—what to do.

At last, without trying to touch her, he sat silently at her side.

This time, it was Jyn that tentatively sought contact - just the gentle brush of fingertips to fingertips, but more than enough to feed the guilt gnawing in the pit of her belly.

"Don't you want to change?", she murmured. "You should be comfortable."

Yes. I want to change. So much—you have no idea.

He looked down, yet again, at their hands; his fingers crooking, tips returning the contact of hers. Their hands seemed to be communicating, expressing themselves, better than the rest of them.

He removed his hand only enough to unfasten and pull off his jacket. He loosened the collar of his shirt but didn't open it further. He bent double to remove his shoes. He sat up straight again, eyes glancing to her face, waiting for the next cue.

It was difficult to find the words to say, but Jyn still found herself hoping that the touch of her hand, however slight, was enough to say I want this or please don't go or any number of other things she couldn't say.

She sat still, watching and waiting. He didn't say anything once he removed some items of clothing and loosened others, and it took a long, quiet moment before she realized that he was waiting for her to make the next move.

Jyn nodded gently and took a breath before she scooted back to rest against her pillows, pulling the covers up over her lap, her turn to wait for him to join her.

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