[Jyn promised to listen, and listen she would, no matter how long it took Cassian to find the words that he wanted her to hear. She almost wanted to insist that he didn't need to tell her anything, but it was clearly important to him, so who was she to deny him the opportunity to lighten some of what was weighing him down.
Still, she thought - don't I know you? Didn't we look at each other and see parts of ourselves reflected back? Isn't that why it hurt so much just to be in each other's presence, or was that just me? Don't I know you? Don't you know me? Don't we ...
I want to know you.
She knew exactly what it was to be a child fighting an adult's war, and while they might have found themselves on opposite sides, it hadn't been of their own accord. They hadn't been enemies, they had been victims.
And then Cassian continued, and her heart ached for him, what he had lost and what he had had to give up and what he would never have. She mourned for all the things he had had to do in the name of the cause - a particular pain that she knew very well herself.
Jyn didn't take her eyes away from Cassian, even as she inhaled sharply, desperately wondering why he felt it necessary to tell her something so incredibly personal - so incredibly traumatic.
The guilt washed off of him like waves, and soon, the air felt thick with it. But she wasn't so surprised to hear that some of it centered on Kay, and how the droid hadn't really been given the choice to work with Cassian - nor to be loyal to him, how Cassian wanted to be worthy of it. Most others wouldn't even give it a second thought, to be honest, Jyn included
But the statement that struck her the most - aside from perceived suicidal ideations - was the fact that Cassian hadn't wanted an organic partner. But last night, he'd intimated that he wanted to work with her, so why ...
She could only imagine how heartbreaking it was to leave those children behind. They were Imperial, yes, but they hadn't asked to be born into the lives they had. She hoped that somehow, those lucky children knew how much they had been loved, and took something from their time with Cassian, at least learned how to ask questions and make their own decisions and hopefully, eventually, would come to do the right thing.
And his own family ... not only the losses, but not knowing for so long what had even happened ... it reminded her so much of the way she'd been torn from her own parents, the long years of never knowing what had happened to her father short of rumor and speculation.
It was only when he mentioned her father that Jyn ducked her head and tried to hold on to what was left of her composure. Hot tears prickled the inside of her eyelids, and she silently told herself do not cry, do not cry, do not cry. Her chest heaved and her shoulders shook and she wanted to ask why didn't you shoot, why did you spare him only for me to lose him nonetheless and what's so special about my kriffing eyes ...
But when she finally glanced up again - met his eyes again - it was with nothing but a deep sadness in her own, maybe not a complete understanding but enough of one to be able to empathize with him, to share in some of the hurt and pain he'd clearly been holding into for so long.]
We've all done things we regret ... [she answered, her voice raw, her tone slow and measured] and you're not alone in the pain and guilt you feel. For the cause, we tell ourselves as we try to move on and sometimes ... those ghosts continue to haunt.
Do you really think I'd hate you after hearing these things? Do you really think that I'm innocent?
And why - why do you think I even deserve to know?
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first of all how dare you. i was heartbroken at work ALL DAY.
Date: 2019-06-28 03:01 am (UTC)Still, she thought - don't I know you? Didn't we look at each other and see parts of ourselves reflected back? Isn't that why it hurt so much just to be in each other's presence, or was that just me? Don't I know you? Don't you know me? Don't we ...
I want to know you.
She knew exactly what it was to be a child fighting an adult's war, and while they might have found themselves on opposite sides, it hadn't been of their own accord. They hadn't been enemies, they had been victims.
And then Cassian continued, and her heart ached for him, what he had lost and what he had had to give up and what he would never have. She mourned for all the things he had had to do in the name of the cause - a particular pain that she knew very well herself.
Jyn didn't take her eyes away from Cassian, even as she inhaled sharply, desperately wondering why he felt it necessary to tell her something so incredibly personal - so incredibly traumatic.
The guilt washed off of him like waves, and soon, the air felt thick with it. But she wasn't so surprised to hear that some of it centered on Kay, and how the droid hadn't really been given the choice to work with Cassian - nor to be loyal to him, how Cassian wanted to be worthy of it. Most others wouldn't even give it a second thought, to be honest, Jyn included
But the statement that struck her the most - aside from perceived suicidal ideations - was the fact that Cassian hadn't wanted an organic partner. But last night, he'd intimated that he wanted to work with her, so why ...
She could only imagine how heartbreaking it was to leave those children behind. They were Imperial, yes, but they hadn't asked to be born into the lives they had. She hoped that somehow, those lucky children knew how much they had been loved, and took something from their time with Cassian, at least learned how to ask questions and make their own decisions and hopefully, eventually, would come to do the right thing.
And his own family ... not only the losses, but not knowing for so long what had even happened ... it reminded her so much of the way she'd been torn from her own parents, the long years of never knowing what had happened to her father short of rumor and speculation.
It was only when he mentioned her father that Jyn ducked her head and tried to hold on to what was left of her composure. Hot tears prickled the inside of her eyelids, and she silently told herself do not cry, do not cry, do not cry. Her chest heaved and her shoulders shook and she wanted to ask why didn't you shoot, why did you spare him only for me to lose him nonetheless and what's so special about my kriffing eyes ...
But when she finally glanced up again - met his eyes again - it was with nothing but a deep sadness in her own, maybe not a complete understanding but enough of one to be able to empathize with him, to share in some of the hurt and pain he'd clearly been holding into for so long.]
We've all done things we regret ... [she answered, her voice raw, her tone slow and measured] and you're not alone in the pain and guilt you feel. For the cause, we tell ourselves as we try to move on and sometimes ... those ghosts continue to haunt.
Do you really think I'd hate you after hearing these things? Do you really think that I'm innocent?
And why - why do you think I even deserve to know?