[ their habit is like this: every morning, they depart from the place they're currently calling home, variable as it is with the state of their finances. they often spend their days apart, investigating kenos, the factions, their fellow shard-bearers, the war. in the evenings, they reconvene; they share a meal and talk and share notes, retire to their bed and seek some semblance of sleep. the mood varies. some days, they're more lighthearted; or one or the other is, coaxing the other into a better mood. some days are harder, for one reason or another, and there are so many reasons.
on this day,
after a long day in highstorm, after encountering a mirror with amos and everything that entailed, cassian lets himself in wordlessly. he locks the door behind him. he unbuttons his coat and hangs it up on its hook. or, he tries. once, twice, and once jyn intercedes he lets her help. he doesn't look at her until they've finished that, then breathes out so heavily he seems to lose all the air in him. if he closes his eyes, he sees nothing but a green world, a solemn expression on a small face. so he doesn't, even as he drops his face to her shoulder and makes a soft, exhausted sound. his hands, as he puts his arms around her, are still shaking. they don't often talk about their shared aspect, the same mark inked on her skin as his, but it's impossibly salient now: she can feel the full brunt of his quietly keening misery, old stitches ripped open and left to bleed.
not so long ago, this would have seemed an unfathomable display of weakness. captain andor, rebel spy through and through, is an unfailingly stalwart figure at rebel bases. he always gets the job done, no matter what it takes, with a cool head and calm nerves. he's known for it. only a handful of people ever knew there was more to him than that: draven, kay, melshi. and they kept his secret, because they too understood how important it was to the cause that he be unflappable. to the cause, to himself. he buried every flicker of unhappiness, every part of him that bled at the cost, deeper with every day. he put it all in a grave where he'd one day join all his ghosts. but the weight is so heavy some days, like today,
and this is jyn. she's seen the worst of him, and she still trusts him, and she's still here. and he trusts her like he's trusted nothing in a very long time. so in the privacy of these small rooms, with no one's eyes on him but hers, he lets her help him bear the weight. ]
you know when.
on this day,
after a long day in highstorm, after encountering a mirror with amos and everything that entailed, cassian lets himself in wordlessly. he locks the door behind him. he unbuttons his coat and hangs it up on its hook. or, he tries. once, twice, and once jyn intercedes he lets her help. he doesn't look at her until they've finished that, then breathes out so heavily he seems to lose all the air in him. if he closes his eyes, he sees nothing but a green world, a solemn expression on a small face. so he doesn't, even as he drops his face to her shoulder and makes a soft, exhausted sound. his hands, as he puts his arms around her, are still shaking. they don't often talk about their shared aspect, the same mark inked on her skin as his, but it's impossibly salient now: she can feel the full brunt of his quietly keening misery, old stitches ripped open and left to bleed.
not so long ago, this would have seemed an unfathomable display of weakness. captain andor, rebel spy through and through, is an unfailingly stalwart figure at rebel bases. he always gets the job done, no matter what it takes, with a cool head and calm nerves. he's known for it. only a handful of people ever knew there was more to him than that: draven, kay, melshi. and they kept his secret, because they too understood how important it was to the cause that he be unflappable. to the cause, to himself. he buried every flicker of unhappiness, every part of him that bled at the cost, deeper with every day. he put it all in a grave where he'd one day join all his ghosts. but the weight is so heavy some days, like today,
and this is jyn. she's seen the worst of him, and she still trusts him, and she's still here. and he trusts her like he's trusted nothing in a very long time. so in the privacy of these small rooms, with no one's eyes on him but hers, he lets her help him bear the weight. ]