“There has never been ‘permanent peace’ in human history. But, there have been plenty of ages with decades of peace. In short, my hope is, haughtily enough, for a few decades of peace in the future.”– Legend of Galactic Heroes
2 ABY, Felucian Jungle
When they started, they tried to be smart about this. They reasoned that if they had to be walking through the night, their best bet was to pace themselves, stay alert for rancors and gelagrubs and troopers, and reach the tiny port by daylight before the last transport off planet for months. With the imperial presence on Felucia what it was, the Alliance couldn’t risk sending in another ship for them.
Of course, they originally meant to make the journey during the day, but after a scuffle and hasty retreat from their last place of residence (involving a bartender with an eye for bad credit lines, the head of an amateur militia, and a very angry tee-muss), they were delayed and had no choice but to walk through the night.
Jyn supposes the one advantage is that it’s much cooler at night, and she feels somewhat more energized without the humidity of the day closing in around her.
But that’s the only advantage. Hiking through the jungle in the dead of night is mostly just miserable, their headlamps bobbing ahead at the never-ending path to the spaceport, always too many klicks away.
The plan at first is to rest every two hours, but the trail turns steep ten minutes in and they find themselves stopped after one, breathing heavily and swatting at flies.
“How’re your ribs?” she said. She turned her head so her lamp is on Cassian’s face, hoping he won’t lie if she can see him. She’s right, or maybe he decides it’s not worth it at this point.
“They hurt.” He shrugs and his hand creeps up to rub the right side of his chest, where the tee-muss clipped him in the village. “But I don’t think they’re broken.”
“Good.” Jyn nods and turns away, hoping he won’t ask–
“Your shoulder?”
“Nothing’s broken.” Not a lie, but she definitely pulled something, or several somethings. It throbs with every step and doubts she’ll make it through the night without any sort of painkiller, but she won’t admit that yet.
Cassian accepts her answer and settles his gaze on the trail ahead. “Ready to continue?”
Jyn re-adjusts her pack. “Whenever you are.”
When they stop at hour two, Cassian actually puts down his pack and leans against a tree, adjusting the clothes sticking to his skin.
Jyn bounces on her heels with impatience. “Ugh, don’t do that. Then I’ll put down my pack and sit down and then I’ll fall asleep.”
He looks up. “You’re tired?”
“No more than you are.” She glares. It’s the middle of the night and they’re walking through the woods. Of course she’s exhausted. “Come on, let’s just keep going.”
“If we don’t pace ourselves, we won’t make it in time.” He takes measured sips of water from his canteen and makes no move to pick up his pack.
“Fine.” She lets her pack slide to the ground, grunting as the strap slides off her bad shoulder.
Of course, Cassian notices. “Are you sure you don’t need something for that?”
“I’m sure.”
“Jyn.”
“I’ll need it more later,” she snaps.
Cassian’s lips press together in a thin, disapproving line, but he doesn’t say anything.
They stand in silence for the next few minutes, taking small sips of water and catching their breath.
nb: still haven’t read/seen anything related to Rogue One except for the actual film. i also haven’t seen the Original Trilogy in years. headcanons are subject to change.
I’ve read around some people’s headcanons/stories/excited blabbering about (if they had survived) Jyn and Cassian having to deal with jealousy of other people – eg Cassian regarding Jyn+Han or Lando, Jyn regarding Cassian+Leia.
And I am getting on this train because this trope is MY JAM.
Firstly, we can all agree (and if not: you ain’t changing my heart and soul) that Jyn and Cassian have basically tunnel-visioned their entire sexuality into each other post-Scarif (aka Jynsexual, Cassiansexual) (new dating website: find your soulmate through mutual goals, trauma, rescues, orbiting bodies, and heart-eyes!) and that if they notice other people, it’s purely from an aesthetic point of view. AND that they are in an entirely, absolutely, unhealthily-from-95%-of-people’s-perspectives codependent relationship where they feel their skin begin to crawl the moment they haven’t heard from each other in three hours.
And yet! And yet! Despite their whole-hearted, titanium-strength trust in each other, alas their little hearts can be such soft things that expect pain. Between Cassian still fighting with the idea of having something after having given up everything he had for decades and Jyn re-developing her sense of self-esteem (she was abandoned multiple times by incredibly important people in her life; as if she feels good about herself), well… feelings of romantic inadequacy is in the air, my friends.
oh god, i agree, nonny. he’s absolutely fascinated by her and has to remind himself to actually say something. it’s a cute little moment — not just for them staring at each other, but him having her back and supporting her through her entire speech. i love it. ♥
y’all are liking this because you want to write a fic for this, right? because i‘d wholeheartedly support this idea.
it wouldn’t be on their way to scarif, of course, or at least it would be that version of scarif where everyone lives. but someone will write this, right? just a sweet little cassian introspection — where he can’t take his eyes off her and her lips and has to keep his composure in front of the crew.
someone write this, please. ❤️
At first he told himself he was watching her, just as he did any other asset or mark.
He pretended he did not file away the set of her jaw in determination, the shade her eyes took in the greens of the command room. Pretended they were just little things. Trivial, meaningless little things, which he didn’t have time for.
On Jedha he tried watching out for her, for them, in a city that felt like its streets were not veins pumping with life, but rather ducts charged with firepower. He told her as much and then felt his silent words bite him in return when he watched her save a child, disable ‘troopers with the sheer force of her body, look valiantly into the eyes of Saw’s men and declare things she had been hiding for a long time, eyes blown wide and dark, cheeks flushed, saving them. Saving him.
Cassian saw no alternative other than saving her in turn, when Jedha turned into dust, when the Alliance showered bombs on a Force-forsaken planet and killed her father. Her eyes were dark again, the color of the angry storm outside, her nose red, her chin wobbling, and angry, so angry. And that was when he found himself having to admit that he was no longer watching anymore. He was looking. He was angry as well, but he couldn’t not look.
There was the moment, later, when he noticed that she was looking, too, eyes almost turquoise in the hangar, a little bit wet and bright, staring up at him as he leaned over and said words that he had never said to anyone – he had never had anyone to welcome anywhere, after all. They were all going to die, probably, and he didn’t care, because there were her eyes and down below an open shield gate, and then her hand on his arm.
That was when he had started admitting that he was staring. At dark hair the color of the murky ground on Yavin IV curling around pale skin, at her mouth, forcing out words that made men like Melshi look up, sit a bit straighter. He had to tear himself away, remind himself there was no time, but yes, when he fell down and it took him strength he didn’t have to get back up and go to her, every time he thought of the plans, something treacherously whispered in his head that he was really doing this so he could look at her again. That was the sum of his moment of self-indulgence when they went down that turbolift.
Force knew if they were getting out of that planet, but Cassian was content just to stand next to her and learn her ways: watch her dance (well, not quite dance – his mind scoffed, as he remembered white armor crunching under her truncheons), look into green-grey eyes (or were they hazel?), stare at chapped lips (what did they taste like?).
Cassian was content.
(His vision was dimming when he heard her – a sudden laugh and “Force, Bodhi! Help me – he’s really hurt!”
And his chest did a funny thing. He told himself it was hope.)
He comes down off the ship, jacket still snug around his body, when he sees Bodhi. It’s normally Jyn that greets him, always Jyn, except when she’s on a mission, which isn’t that surprising, given that the Pathfinders seem to always be on the go. He had wanted to see her, of course, had missed her, but Jyn being away… he had waited a month to see her. He could wait a few more days until she returned.
Bodhi’s face, though, it says something else. A bubble of fear settles into the pit of Cassian’s stomach, and he realizes he might be waiting a bit longer than that.
He wants to turn and run, return to his ship, because on his ship, Jyn had been waiting for him just outside, and he was going to once again try to work up the courage to tell her how he felt, and now… now everything is in turmoil.
“Bodhi…” he says, and the pilot doesn’t even look at him, just down at his hands, where he’s pulling on a rag, one he had just been using.
“Cassian, it’s Jyn, she-”
The way that Bodhi’s shoulders are shifted forward, how his face is scrunched up, how he’s unable to talk… it says it all. Others in the hanger, they’re looking at him, looking at him with pity, with sorrow, with…
Internal Cassian:Oh no. A hot girl. It’s okay, Cassian. You just need to not come off grouchy and bitter. Turn up the charm. Ask her about something she likes… like her family.
External Cassian: When was the last time you were in contact with your father?
Jyn: 15 years ago.
Internal Cassian:Oh shit. They’re not close. This is awkward. Just be casual about it.
External Cassian: Any idea where he’s been all that time?
Jyn: I like to think he’s dead, makes things easier.
Internal Cassian:Okay. Maybe you should drop this subject. No. Then she’ll think you’re cold and uncaring. Maybe ask her about it? Let her get her feelings out?
External Cassian: Easier than what? That he’s been a tool of the Imperial war machine?
Jyn: *evidently pissed*
Internal Cassian:Okay. Maybe family isn’t a good subject. Try asking about her social life. Maybe she likes to talk about her friends?
External Cassian: When was your last contact with Saw Gerrera?
Jyn: *still evidently pissed* It’s been a long time.
Internal Cassian:I feel like this is not how flirting is supposed to work.
This is the last of the prompts and the one I struggled the most with, because I wanted to keep these in universe, so decided to write vaguely around it. Here you go anon and thanks.
55. “I buy my own things, I pay my own bills!”
–
It wasn’t easy, this being together. They had seamlessly fallen into step with each other since Jedha, really, but that was something that she couldn’t really explain and about which Chirrut usually smiled at her in a way that made her want to punch him (well, not actually punch him). The fact that they almost died together accounted, of course, for the terror that clawed at her chest for an entire fortnight as she lay in the medbay, for the unexplainable need to put her palm to his heart and feel it beating or tuck herself into his side when she was well enough to leave her bed. She knew it was the same for him, because the med droids all spoke of how he woke up screaming for her and her alone and she noticed how his hands usually stopped shaking whenever she laced her fingers through his clammy ones.
It didn’t mean that Jyn and Cassian would one day recover and walk out of the medward on Yavin IV hand in hand, ready to face the Empire.
It definitely didn’t. And it started showing even before they attempted to.
Rebellions are built on hope 