23A/N: I just cannot get enough of these two. There is a shoutout to Han and Leia in this - I'm sure you'll all catch it. This is another story in which Jyn and Cassian survive.
Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.
Frozen Darkness | Blackout
The hour is late as he walks with her in the direction of her room. Their evening had been partially enjoyable. A celebration of their successful mission to steal the Death Star plans the previous year. If he does not think of all of the men and women who had given their lives for the cause, of the families and homes and futures they left behind, he is able to look back on the memories of that time almost fondly. But he is terrible at forgetting the faces of those who died, and so the party, the day, has driven him wild with guilt.
Jyn must sense his silent despair. She nudges him with her elbow as they move, calling his attention away from imaginary sound bites of piercing screams. She dressed nicely for the gathering. Her usual dark and muted clothes have been swapped for a vibrant, blue dress that sets off the porcelain colour of her skin. Beautiful. She is stunning. A stain on her lips has turned them a deep berry shade, and it is too many seconds before he realises he has been staring far too long at her mouth.
He thinks the tension between them grows daily. Inch by inch, it has crept into a sentient being. Soon, it will devour them. He cannot wait, and yet he is equally terrified. There is something sweet and innocent about their dance. He does not want it to end.
"I know, Cassian," she says. She knows everything. Sometimes, most times, he swears she can read his mind.
They are nearly to her room.
"What do you know?" he prods, though he is already sure of her response.
"I know you're thinking about them. I am, too."
She is magnificent. Her ears are inside his head, listening to his every thought.
Cassian stops just outside Jyn's room. She leans against her closed door, her key dangling on her finger. She is looking up at him. Her hazel eyes are all-seeing.
Cassian longs to depart and refuse to join in this conversation, but he knows how strenuous it is for Jyn to open to him, to anyone. He supposes it is only fair if he does the same for her.
"It is difficult," he says, rifling around his brain for the right words, "to not think of them. They should be here, celebrating with us. Or we should be with them. I would not mind that."
That last part slipped from his mouth without his consent.
"Cassian, you can't mean that." Jyn's cold, urgent hand wraps around his wrist. He notices her rounded nails—they are painted a silvery, reflective colour. He can see his pained expression distorted in them.
"Why can't I?" he asks. "Why do we survive and they do not? Why are we basking in glory while they are ash scattered in the stars?"
His words are engorged with zeal.
Jyn's hand remains tight. Her thumb is pressed hard into his flesh. She must feel his heart rattling against her.
"Come inside," she insists softly.
Cassian shakes his head, eyes downturned. "No, no, I can't," he says. "I must go back to my own room."
He attempts to remove his wrist from Jyn's hand, but she only applies more strength. "Jyn," he hums, unsure of what to say.
Her eyes are blazing when he looks at her. "Stay."
And so he does. She pulls him inside her room and sits him on her sofa, a glass of water (or is it a clear kind of alcohol?) in his hand. She busies herself in her bedroom momentarily as she changes out of her dress, returning to the lounge in her regular sleep clothes.
This is the Jyn he knows. The inspiring woman who managed to completely change the course of his life. The woman for whom he first disobeyed orders.
"I have some spare clothes if you want to get out of your suit," she offers, gesturing to the black and white garments draped over his body.
Cassian stares down at the strangling outfit for which he spent all morning searching. It is so tight. "Yes," he agrees, placing the glass of liquid on Jyn's small table and standing. He goes over to her. "Where are they?"
She has bent her neck up so their eyes are locked. There is a flickering in the lights, and he watches her pupils enlarge and shrink as they adjust to the sudden change. "In my room, to the far left of the closet."
Silently, Cassian finds the clothes. They are hidden behind a row of Jyn's daily outfits. He glides an open palm over the fabrics. They are soft and sweet-scented. Eventually, he reaches the male garments, his from a time near their return from Scarif when Jyn, who feared nightmares, begged him to share her bed for the night.
They remain here, just in case.
He quickly removes his suit and slips into the crisp trousers and loose top, trying not to think of her screams from that night.
Upon his return to Jyn's lounge, he finds her sitting on the sofa. Propped against her knees is an open book he has never before seen. She is always hiding books from him. He doesn't read nearly as much as her—his stimulation comes from visuals more than words—but she still insists on hoarding her collection of novels and histories.
He thinks it is because of how close death came to capturing them on the beach in Scarif. When they returned to the Rebel base, hailed as the galaxy's saviours, he became aware of how often she would steal into corners with a book. It is one thing the Empire has not been able to take from her. One thing that is unequivocally still hers. An escape whenever those horrid nightmares get too much.
"What is that one about?"
Jyn startles at the sound of his voice and quickly closes the book. "Nothing," she says, the lights once again shuddering.
Peculiar. Cassian stares at the bulb above Jyn's head. "How can it be about nothing?" he asks absently.
"It just can."
Cassian hears the same distance in Jyn's voice. The electricity on Hoth has always been dependable. Why, then, are the lights wavering?
Just as this thought crosses his mind, a blackness spreads over them. It fills Cassian's nostrils, it seeps inside his mouth. He hears a muffled, panicked gasp and immediately reaches out for Jyn. She has stood, and her body is near him. He touches her. Her skin has risen with gooseflesh.
"Jyn," he breathes. She is shaking beneath his touch. "Jyn, are you all right?"
Again, that frightened sob meets his ears. She is most certainly not all right.
"Come here." Cassian steps in what he assumes to be Jyn's direction, holding both of his arms out for her. She is there, stepping into his grasp, resting her head against his chest. "Do you have a flashlight? Candles?"
"Yes," Jyn replies, her throat quaking. "In, um, in my bedroom there are some candles and a matchbox."
Bedroom. The trouble with their base is there is no natural light in their living quarters. Cassian is blind. Searching for Jyn's room in the total darkness will be a task. His eyes have not adjusted in the slightest.
"Okay, you stay here and I will find them."
"No." Jyn removes her head from his chest. "I'm coming too. We can set the candles up in my room."
Cassian says no more and they set off, bumping into many things before they reach Jyn's bedroom. She is holding on to him as they hunt for the bookshelf upon which lies the candles. All the while, Cassian wonders how long Jyn has been terrified of the dark.
Eventually, they are able to locate the shelf. Jyn strikes a match and lights each of the five candles. As the room illuminates, Cassian watches the tremor in her hands dissipate. Once the candles are lit, Jyn moves them one by one to the dresser in front of her bed.
There is no question as to whether or not he will remain with her. They settle underneath the heavy duvet on Jyn's queen-sized bed, shivering with the lack of heat.
"Do you think it's an attack?" she asks. Her skin glows a pale orange.
"They would have told us somehow. It's been ten minutes and nobody is screaming. I think it is just a power outage."
Jyn accepts his response. She moves gradually closer to him until their legs are touching. She is warm against him, a welcome opposition to the bitter cold that is settling in the room. They stay like this for some time as the room fills with the scent of fir trees and sea water, their eyes locked and breaths matched.
Since their return from Scarif, bloodied and worn, they have steadily found themselves growing closer. It has been a painful process. They have so many wounds, both on the surface and hidden beneath their skin. But they are the same wounds.
Like him, she was raised to fight. To rebel. Her parents are lost to her, just as his are to him. They bond over these things. It pulls them towards each other, as if their shared hardships are magnetised.
After all, this is not the first night he has found himself in her bed.
"It started when I was six," Jyn says, disturbing the silence. Cassian opens his ears. "After my mum died. I was hidden in this underground chamber waiting for Gerrera. At the time, I wasn't scared. I was sad more than anything. But after Gerrera came and took me, I couldn't stand the darkness. It petrifies me." Anger and shame ride upon her words.
"Everybody is afraid of the dark," he says. "At one time or another, we all hesitate when we turn out the lights."
She looks into his eyes earnestly. Frigid air washes over them, causing their bodies to absently move closer.
"But I shouldn't be scared."
Cassian clicks his tongue. "Why shouldn't you be scared?"
"Because I am a soldier. A fighter. I'm the one who managed to get the Death Star plans and send them up. They were celebrating us tonight, Cassian. Our bravery and strength. And the dark isn't just scary—it's suffocating. I feel like I can't breathe, like I'll never breathe again."
Cassian shifts slightly onto his side. He carefully reaches out and cups his icy hand over Jyn's cheek. "Fear is what makes us human. You are still strong, Jyn. Nothing will ever change that."
"Cassian," Jyn breathes, his name billowing out of her lungs in a cloud of smoke. "What are we afraid of?"
Confusion sweeps through him. His eyebrows fuse. "What do you mean?" he asks, moving his eyes briefly to the two of candles stuttering on the dresser. Still, he keeps his hand against her cheek.
"I mean"—she pauses, visibly searching for her next words. "I mean, why are we avoiding this? What's stopping us?"
Within his mind, it clicks as to what she is referring. He drops his hand. "I . . . I do not have an answer."
It's a lie. He has an answer. He has many. She is right to ask what they are afraid of, because fear is what drives them apart even when they are so close. It is a hidden type of fear, one she perhaps has not dwelled on. They are too aware of how things end to put aside their inhibitions. Death is what stops them, and it is a powerful repellent.
Still, he imagines their joyful union at times. But it's always only pretend.
Besides, why should they be together when so many are not? It is hardly fair.
"I don't want to be afraid anymore." Jyn's confession pulls him from his mind. She is so very near to him now.
The chill in the air burns his skin.
"Jyn"—he starts, but words fail him. What can he say to this?
"No, don't pull away from me," she begs. Hurriedly, she lays her hands on his shoulders, sliding them until they are clasped behind his neck. Automatically, his arms move around her. "I'm done feeling like I don't deserve to be happy. We do, Cassian." She whispers the last bit, but her mouth is hovering over his ear and it sounds as though she has shouted.
Cassian does not say anything. He doesn't wish to ruin the moment with his shivering voice. Instead of speaking, he tilts his head and inches it steadily forward until their noses brush. There is a sharp inhale of breath. He closes his eyes, cancelling out the dim glow from the candles, and finds the softness of Jyn's lips with his own.
He is done, too.
The kiss is long. It is drawn out—a consequence of the months of accumulated tension. Cassian thinks it is the sweetest moment of his life. A hunger awakens inside of him as their mouths dance. His hold on Jyn grows firmer, and she responds to his grip with a heavy, open-mouthed pant.
Lungs burning, pleading for oxygen, Cassian pulls away. He rests his forehead against Jyn's, an incredulous laugh on his lips. He can feel his pulse everywhere.
"We're mad," she tells him. Her orange eyes meet his. "How long?"
Cassian flits briefly through his memories of their early time together. "Oh, probably from the moment I met you. But we were on a mission, you were a scoundrel . . . it would have never worked. And you?"
"Much later than that," she says, the words topped with sarcasm.
As Cassian laughs, his body no longer feeling the biting cold, the room is suddenly bathed in light. The pair jump, knocking their foreheads together.
"Ouch," Jyn mewls, straightening. She rubs the space between her eyebrows. "Nice timing."
Cassian goes to blow out the candles. He watches the grey smoke swirl and with it carry the gorgeous scent of burning oceans and firewood. He hears Jyn slide from the bed and he turns around, leaning against the dresser.
"You'll stay?" she asks.
His lips pull up in a half-smile. There is no question. "Of course."