candor1 | Open RP Post

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.

He rolled to his (…ha) side of the bed. Didn't try to get under the covers with her. But turned to face her, and, barely breathing, put his arm out along the pillowline. Where, with very little travel, she could choose to put it under her body or neck; to move into his embrace.

Jyn carefully considered her options. Cassian had asked if they could rest, but it was pretty obvious that neither had gotten much of it the one night they had spent apart. So it wasn't going to help matters much if there was still this distance between them, even if it was self-imposed.

...

Besides that, every inch of her craved the contact they had been missing. So, another breath, and wide uncertain eyes and she slid forward a little, and then a little more, and a little more after that as she took steps toward shortening that distance.

He lay still and silent, letting her be the one to choose. As with the rest of all this: he didn't know if that was him respecting her or burdening her; being penitent or abdicating his fair share.

His ceiling-side arm had lain, still, patient if awkward, over his own side. As she moved ever closer to his mattress-side arm, the ceiling-side moved; and his ceiling-facing hand, so lightly, tentative, found and traced a nonsense glyph on her wrist.

All movement ceased.

Not because she didn't want or enjoy the gentle touch, but because he wasn't moving otherwise, and Jyn was suddenly unsure of whether or not he even wanted her closer to begin with.

Maybe she was taking advantage now, and despite whatever circumstances surrounded them right now, Jyn did not want that.

"... Is this alright? Do you want me closer or no?"

"Jyn." It was either her name, an outrush of breath, or something like a sob. Whatever it was, he was tired of words. Insufficient, misleading, terrible words.

His hand slipped under her, coming to rest in the small of her back. The arm attached curved around her, and so doing pulled their bodies flush together. His other arm folded over and around her, closing any last distance between them. His chest to hers so he couldn't tell whose heart that was, thudding away. His hand gently cupped her face. Before he could quite think otherwise, he'd leaned in to kiss her.

(…Her forehead. Not her mouth. He couldn't. Couldn't bear the idea of certain intimacies with her done under false pretense. He wanted them too badly—but only if they were real. If that could never happen, at least it wouldn't be eclipsed by doing them while lying. The idea, at least, could remain unstained.)

She just couldn't stand the thought that she was doing something that was unwanted - some stupid, strictly performative gesture that was ... empty and meant nothing at all.

And then, before she knew it, she was being gathered back into his arms and sighed heavily as she found them chest to chest, and she carefully curled her arm around his middle, fingertips gently tracing a random pattern where they rested.

There was no time to say anything, and she wasn't even sure what would escape her lips if she tried. She felt the press of fingertips to cheek, lips to forehead, and all she could do in return was shut her eyes tight and try to reign in the tears that quickly formed.

She hoped with everything that she was that this wasn't a goodbye - but a large part of her felt like it could be.

She held him, back. He could feel it. He closed his eyes, unable to cry, but as close as he'd come since Jenoport. He kept his face in her hair. Even as he hugged her closer in his chest.

He couldn't say it as Sward. That would be manipulation. Another lie.

Okay. Then. Not as Sward. (Who, let's face it, already had coloring and an accent that labeled him as an unusual one to rise through Imperial ranks, no matter what he did. And he'd lapsed once already. So, what the hell.)

He whispered into her hair, "Nunca he amado a nadie, como te quiero. Ojalá nos hubiéramos conocido de otra manera. Por favor. Perdóname."

She didn't want to have to let go. Unfortunately, Jyn didn't see any other outcome. Unless ... she found a way to hint that she knew he wasn't who he said he was - that Krennic's suspicions were correct and that she was a sympathizer.

...

That she might want to defect if there was a real chance of making an escape.

But she didn't. She inhaled sharply and buried her face against his chest a little more, and wished that this moment in time could last forever. She didn't know what he said, couldn't recognize the language, but if she was sure about anything, it was that it was important.

Jyn didn't ask for an explanation. "I'm sorry", she breathed, words muffled by fabric too close to her mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

For everything.

"No. Jyn. No. You are the only person in this who has nothing to apologize for."

He pressed her close, kissed her hair, let her feel the thudding of his heart, maybe even some trembling.

Just rest had been what he asked, and what he knew she had given… but giving in to what he wanted to say was proving superior, so far, to trying to play the game, even in the name of kindness or respect.

He said quietly, "Is it okay if this is it? We may… never go farther… go closer, than this? Is that… something you'd be okay to live with?" (For however long?)

But she did. For eavesdropping. For willfully keeping that fact from him and for purely selfish reasons ... because she couldn't yet give this up, or let him go, even though she now knew that was most likely best for the both of them.

Jyn knew what was expected of them as a married couple - but knowing he wasn't who he said he was, was that marriage even valid at this point? She wasn't going to force him to do anything he couldn't stomach doing just for the sake of keeping up appearances.

How cruel would she be to do that? She ached for him, every bit of her, but she could not be complicit in hurting him even worse than he already seemed to be.

"... I'll take you however I can have you. Nobody else needs to know what we do in the privacy of our own home."

How cruel was he being—trying both to have her and not have her, according to his own constructs of boundaries?

However I can have you. …our own home. Oh gods. Oh skies oh Force oh god.

His hand found her cheek again. Stayed there as he suddenly leaned back, craning back his neck, so he could look into her eyes.

"Whatever happens," he said softly. "However things go. It isn't your fault. You deserve so much better. And I do love you."

Don't tell me that, she thought, suddenly breathing harshly, like she was about to lose all sense of self-control, like she could no longer hold back the tears prickling the insides of her eyelids. It'll just make things harder when it ends, when you leave, when I'm all alone again.

It was only when he pulled away that she opened her eyes, unable to school her expression before giving him a good look at all the emotions she was feeling - the conflict, the guilt and sadness, the understanding and regret.

The love.

"You're going to leave me", he replied, and it was a statement, not a question, and there was no blame or anger in her voice, just a heartbroken acceptance. "But I'll be alright - "

A lie.

"And ... I hope you'll remember that I love you, too."

Why do you think I'm going to—?

There were so many questions she wasn't asking him; only fair for him not to ask this one of her. In any case. There were any number of reasons, including what he'd just said. And he couldn't argue against it. Not now.

His hand slipped from her face to the nape of her neck, under her hair. By that, he gently pulled her in to him again; tucked her head under his chin, against his heartbeat, and folded her so tightly in his arms as if that could shield them both from whatever was to come.

And just breathed.

* * *

How on Hoth could the next day still have such innocuous, mundane fillings? Breakfast. Duties. Errands. One such had them meeting each other again out in the city, in one of the further-flung areas.

There, the day belatedly caught up to the previous day's prep for intensity. Jyn and Cassian found themselves being backed into a blind alley by a cordon of Coruscanti underworlders.

The fight didn't last long. The six underworlders were severely outmatched by their two targets. Once, though, Cassian seemed like he could forget to fight back, himself, as he stared instead, captivated in a way he hadn't anticipated and couldn't explain, at Jyn's exquisite skills.

He pulled his attention back to where it was needed in time. Except right about the time Jyn's final assailant fell, Cassian was still fighting his remaining one and didn't appear to see a fallen other creep back to their feet and pull a knife.

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(as plotted!)