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jynrso · 2 months ago

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if we're still alive at the end

Cassian scrubs a hand over his face. His mouth twists in a self-deprecating smile as he tells her, “There was a time that I wanted to leave the Rebellion. To go somewhere quiet and just. . .forget about it all. Save myself the pain.” Jyn blinks. “You — what?” “It was. . .a long time ago,” he clarifies, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Before I met you, before. . .everything. I was scared – it was right after Ghorman and I had already lost so much, I didn’t think I could do it anymore.” “And now?” With the way her heart constricts in her chest and her face blanches, it’s a miracle that her voice remains steady. “Do you still want that?” “Now. . .” he trails off, then licks his lips. “. . .I don’t know. We have to survive the coming days, first.” -- How the conversation at the end of Andor s2, ep9 becomes relevant in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Endor.

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It’s over.

The second Death Star has been blown to pieces, and the Alliance has pushed back the Empire’s final assault. Yet hours later, even after the rest of the fighting’s been concluded and the rebels’ victory decisive, Jyn finds herself reluctant to join the celebration happening below her. Instead, she haunts the balcony of one of the Ewok’s treehouses, leaning over the railing and looking down as her friends and comrades all the while wondering why her fucking chest feels so damned tight.

When she’d reported to the medbay after the battle (correction: after Cassian had strong-armed her into going after seeing the bruising on her ribs), the medic had confirmed that nothing was broken and there wasn’t any internal bleeding. By all accounts, she should be able to breathe easily; the lump that’s lodged in her throat, then, isn’t due to any physical ailment. Despite that, her grip has turned white knuckled, her shoulders drawn tight to combat the sensation.

When she hears someone coming, she doesn’t bother to turn her head to see who it is. There’s only a handful of people who’d be looking for her, and even fewer still with footsteps as soft as his. Usually so silent, Cassian makes sure that she hears him so that she doesn’t startle when he arrives at her side.

For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, just mirrors her position, leaning over the railing. His hands clasp together, elbows resting on the wooden bannister. Hunched down like this, he’s nearly at her eye level; despite that, she doesn’t look at him.

“I was looking for you,” he says finally. His voice is barely audible over the sound of music and cheering. Her throat tightens at the easy admission, how he’d come all this way just to find her and has no problem saying it.

“Needed a break,” she admits, shrugging a shoulder.

He hums in response but says nothing else, perhaps sensing that there’s more churning underneath her skin. As always, he’s right – as always, he’s still able to read her better than anyone else.

A humid breeze pushes her bangs off of her sticky face and she pushes them out of her eyes with perhaps more force than necessary. Her voice is tenser than she intends it to be, but she’s never been good at hiding her emotions around him. “What happens now?”

“The Empire’s still out there,” Cassian replies. “The fight’s not over.”

In the distance, someone whoops loudly amidst raucous laughter. The war may not be over but this is the beginning of the end – and it appears that everyone else in the Rebellion is celebrating it, except for her.

She should feel – happy.

“After that,” she clarifies. “After we take care of the Empire. What then?”

He shifts, shoulder brushing against hers. Someone has started a bonfire – a lone bit of light starting in the growing darkness; she can see his face in more detail now, the line between his brows, the firm line of his mouth. “The galaxy needs new leadership. We have to start fresh, completely undo what’s been – “

“What will you do?” she cuts him off, sick of dancing around the issue that’s bothering her most. She tries to keep her voice casual but it sounds strained to her ears – and if she can hear it, then he certainly can, too. “When all of that is done – what are your plans?”

He pauses, tilts his head slightly as he considers her question. It’s a minute or two before he speaks, low and gravelly, “I didn’t think I’d survive this long.”

“I don’t think we were supposed to survive Scarif,” she responds, voice hoarse. It’s a thought she’s voiced to him before, in the quiet, private moments in the middle of the night, but it feels so much more real now – almost visceral.

They’d lived. What now?

He murmurs as if talking to himself, not looking at her, “Sometimes, I’m not sure that we did.”

“Is it wrong,” she asks suddenly, “that I’m not – I should be happy, but – “

He laughs, raw and lacking humor. “But what the hell are we supposed to do now?” He finishes.

“I’m glad it’s over,” she tries again, “But all I know how to do is fight. I don’t . . . know what comes next. For me.”

For us , she adds silently.

Jyn blinks. “You — what?”

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it does. Her own past is under close lock and key, even if she’s shared more with him than anyone else alive. There are things he still doesn’t know about her and vice versa, but she’d thought she’d had this part of him figured out – the straight-laced rebel captain who’d given up his life for the rebellion and the rebellion alone.

(He’d certainly said as much on the shuttle ride back from Eadu.)

It brings forth another sharp, startling realization: does she really even know him? Would he even want. . .

“It was. . .a long time ago,” he clarifies, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Before I met you, before. . . everything . I was scared – it was right after Ghorman and I had already lost so much, I didn’t think I could do it anymore.”

“And now?” With the way her heart constricts in her chest and her face blanches, it’s a miracle that her voice remains steady. “Do you still want that?”

“Now. . .” he trails off, then licks his lips. “. . .I don’t know. We have to survive the coming days, first.”

It should be comforting that he doesn’t have it figured out, either. The future is vast and full of possibilities; now that the war is over, she finally has a chance to learn how to be something other than a soldier. The amount of choices she has is almost overwhelming – she doesn’t know what she wants to do or where she wants to go first.

But she does know this: there is no part of her that wants to settle down somewhere quiet and – what? Get a job as a bantha farmer? Start a fucking family?

It might be nice – at first – but she’s tried it before. Eventually, an itch will settle underneath her skin and she’ll have to move again, to uproot her life and find a fresh start – and likely leave Cassian behind as she does. If this is the future that he still wants, then she can’t see herself being a part of it.

“We’ve stayed alive this long,” she retorts instead of voicing her true thoughts, a ghost of a smile on her lips. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “I think we can make it a bit longer, yeah?”

He snorts. “Here’s hoping.”

There’s a silence between them that teeters on the edge of being too long. Cassian is the one who breaks it, nudging her with his shoulder. His voice is tentative. “Whatever happens next, I want you at my side. You know that, right?”

Hearing it out loud is different than assuming it’s the case. In her eyes, her place is at his side – she’s made her peace with that long ago. He’s told her this before, many times over, but she hadn’t realized how much she’d needed him to say it now until it’s in the air between them.

And stars, she so desperately wants to stay with Cassian. And if that means she follows him to the edge of the galaxy to live in the middle of fucking nowhere then so be it. It’s a small sacrifice. (It’s the rest of her life.)

But she loves him.

She tries to sound nonchalant, like his words hadn’t affected her as much as they have. “‘Course.”

“Jyn. . .”

“Cassian.” Two can play that game.

He shifts so he’s facing her, his side pressing up against the railing. The laughter down below them once again draws her attention and she follows it with her gaze, peering out into the darkness, only for Cassian to gently redirect her back to him with a light touch on her jaw. “Tell me you knew that.”

“I did!” She protests and, really, she did – some part of her had, at least. “I just. . .”

He waits for her to finish with a patience she doesn’t truly feel like she deserves. The next words feel like they’re being pulled from her throat with pliers, even though she knows she needs to get them out.

Her shoulders straighten, chin raising. A soldier standing down a battlefield . . . except it’s just Cassian, the man that she loves. “If you want to live somewhere quiet for the rest of your life – I can’t. I . . . don’t want that.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Then we don’t. After everything’s settled, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

“But if it’s what you wanted – what you want – ”

“I didn’t know what I wanted back then,” he interrupts smoothly, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I was scared and I wanted to be able to control some part of my life. If Bix had taken me up on it, I wouldn’t have lasted very long. I know that now.”

He cups her face gently with his palms. His calloused skin is rough against her cheeks but it’s still one of the softest things she’s ever felt. “Whatever happens next, I want you there with me. That’s all I need.”

Her lips break out in a tremulous smile. “I . . . want that, too.”

“Yeah?” There’s a hopeful look in his eyes that makes her think that maybe he’d needed to hear her say it out loud, too.

“So long as you’re with me, I think I’ll manage.” She glances up at him uncertainly, worrying her bottom lip between her lips. “But – you’ll tell me, if that changes? If you want quiet? Or – something else?”

“Only if you promise to do the same.”

She’s still learning how to be in a relationship. Before meeting Cassian, anything more than a quick fuck in a dark alleyway had been a mystery to her. But if this is what it takes to keep him at her side, then a bit of vulnerability is a small price to pay.

“Deal.”

Cassian smiles, soft and secret – just for her. He bows his head to rest his forehead against hers, a mirror of their positions in the elevator on Scarif all those years ago. Then, instead of speaking, he catches her lips with his own and pours all of his emotions into his kiss.

When they break for air, she laughs, loud and bright and unburdened. There’s a warm feeling in her chest that hadn’t been there before, a weight lifted off of her shoulders. She reaches for him, snags his wrist in her grip and tugs him forward, away from the railing.

Even if her sudden movement had taken him off guard, he remains steady on his feet. “Ay, Jyn – “

“I stashed a bottle of Kowakian rum underneath the floorboards of Bodhi’s shuttle a few weeks ago,” she says, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “You think he’s found it?”

Cassian opens his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by another round of loud cheering nearby; her head snaps to the side and her eyes narrow in suspicion – the sound is too close to where she remembers Bodhi parking his ship.

Her murderous expression makes him laugh properly for the first time they’ve been speaking and she stops, her lips twitching at the sound of it. It’s easy to share in his joy, bottle of rum be damned. Her body aches from the day’s fighting and the dense Endorian heat is oppressive, but with the light of the fires below them illuminating the broad strokes of his features and the amusement on his face, he looks as beautiful as she’s ever seen him, and Jyn –

It’s the first time in a while since Jyn has felt so . . . settled. At ease. The lump in her chest has been smoothed out and replaced with something else – something lighter. Even if the future is uncertain, she wants nothing more than a lifetime full of moments like this one.

#rogue one fic #cassian andor/jyn erso #rebelcaptain fic #rebelcaptain fanfiction #rebelcaptain fanfic #rogue one fanfiction #rebelcaptain #my writing

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