[ It's been about a week since they all returned from Zerzura, and Jack's been even less of a noticeable presence than usual. Suffice to say he's got no interest in indulging in any holiday cheer. His Christmas had passed without much event.
Turns out the fighting rings aren't running on holidays. That had been a point of annoyance. ]
Get any good gifts?
[ This is his way of checking in without actually saying that he's checking in. But seeing how he'd been the one to drag Daisy out of her fake life, he does feel some obligation to make contact. ]
[ if this was anyone else, she might think they were actually curious about how daisy fared in the more commercial aspects of the yule season. she might be motivated to tell him what she got, too.
but this is jack, and he doesn't give a shit about who gave what presents or whether or not daisy got the fancy virtual reality video game she'd been considering. she knows that. ]
i did, in fact. santa was very generous. you trying to pull an 'old man doesn't want to ask how are you' on me?
[ she realizes, after she sends the message, that rey won't get the reference. she's not sure that explaining it would make the meaning any clearer, though. ]
i think zerzura leveled me up somehow. it's gotten a lot easier, anyway.
[ he hates what he's about to do. but, ever since that tense conversation with strange over the network, it's all he's been able to think about. every single waking moment has been spent contemplating the fact that daisy is about to walk into what is most likely a death trap and he has the one thing that might stop her.
but, it's going to make her hate him and he knows it. in the end, it's a risk he's willing to take because at least she'll be alive to hate him. at least she'll still be breathing and able to glare at him and hit him and ignore him.
he's never been one to deserve good things and he's had her for awhile now. he'll be able to live in those memories for the rest of his life.
he has to do this because he knows that if she dies, a part of him is going to die with her. he's going to be alive but it won't be any kind of existence.
so, he waits till she's back in the hotel room and settled down and then he smiles at her (one last time) and gestures her closer to him. ]
[ it's been rough. a stressful couple of days, tensions high between the displaced. fear, nerves, rage; they all swirl together, twisted until daisy's spine has been tight with the weight of it all. she does her best to keep herself busy, to keep spirits up amongst the displaced on the train, but when night comes, she lets illya pull her into the room cassius put under her name, lets him encourage her to sit down and breathe.
and, apparently, into a conversation. well, one of what's been many since the day she told him what she was about to do. why should this one be any different? ]
Okay. [ even amidst the stress of the day, there's a casual affection in the rest of her hand on his knee, her shoulders sagging in exhale as she leans up against him. ] What's up?
[ change of scenery doesn't change jyn's habit of running -- only new tokyo had, but fuck that place entirely, if they ever get the chance to go back, jyn would not -- she runs even more when she is stressed, longer and harder and more punishing until her brain clears and she can think. cassian is on stand-by, a text every kilometer or so, far more frequently than usual.
she's beginning to slow when she spots familiar dark waves. ]
[ it's the middle of the night, and daisy's entire Vibe has been so strongly Do Not Fuck With Me that no one has yet to bother her in the last hour. she's just been stalking the streets of new beijing, summoning pieces of neon tubing and light fixtures, breaking off metal posts from fencing, generally being a complete piece of shit to the city as a whole because Who Gives A Shit?
not daisy. not tonight.
but the voice that's calling her name isn't a stranger. it's not some jackass who wants to tell her to cheer up, buttercup. it's not someone well-meaning asking if she needs something to carry all her... things...
it's jyn. and so, while daisy doesn't smile when she turns around, she does at least bother to do it. ]
[ jyn is no stranger to loss. her mother, her father, maia, saw, hadder, akshaya, rogue one, herself. she had lost her family and found new ones only to lose them in turn. some losses repeated, as if her life were simply a cosmic experiment to see how much one person could lose before they broke entirely. unfortunately for the universe, jyn was simply too obstinate to give in. ever.
even now.
jyn knows daisy is gone, but there is still a chance and where there is a chance, jyn will hold on to whatever sliver of hope remains. she keeps daisy's the tracker on the kitchen counter, even if it remains blank. nothing to track. illya doesn't even look at it and he hasn't been home in days so jyn has taken to watering the plants in their room when she is alone. cassian has gone to work already and jyn has a late start today, so jyn slips through the door and into the room with her watering can.
the watering can that falls out of her hands and onto the floor when she sees a familiar tangle of dark hair. ]
Daisy. [ it's a breath before she lurches across the floor and simply clambers across the bed to sink down next to her best friend, reaching out to haul her into a hug. ]
[ in the last moments of consciousness, daisy remembers pain. the ache in her bones, her back screaming out, likely broken in at least one place; she remembers her limbs trembling as she sunk into the concrete, and gasping for air as her body caught up to the wave of adrenaline that had been pushing her forwards.
she expects, somehow, to wake in the same place. if not in the ground, on the zephyr, strapped into one of jemma's patient tables, being wheeled out of surgery or coaxed out of anesthesia, squinting into bright lights to be able to see the faces of people still left on her team.
her first thoughts, then, are muddled, confused. what's underneath her is much softer than concrete, more comfortable than the cold steel tables in the medical bay. it's — plush? and as her body gingerly moves against it, she realizes it's adjusting with her. she's halfway to understanding when she's jostled again, body hauled into a tight embrace that smells like — is that tea? and earth? and the soft scent of rain, too.
jyn, her brain screams, and daisy jolts in awareness, eyes opening wide to take in the surroundings of a room that is simultaneously unexpected and reassuringly familiar. and then, two seconds later, her body catches up again, and daisy lets out a panicked, ] Ow!
[ her body. it hurts. but she missed jyn with a fervency she wasn't even aware of, a part of her soul left behind, so she doesn't pull away. ]
[ It's not a message he really wants to send, not when they've just had the conversation they have. But it's necessary. He's calm enough that it doesn't have to end badly. ]
Has Cassius promised you surgery?
[ He just needs to know. Just so he can prepare. ]
( it feels like it's been awhile since he's done something as simple as cooking. between cassius, disappearances and now...well, what's coming up, it feels like life has simply been too busy to do something like cook.
but, that's what he's doing right now. cooking. he's going to cook dinner despite the bruise on his face that continues to ache (jyn does have a nasty right hook) and the worry in his head.
when was the last time he didn't feel worried about something or other? it used to be that he enjoyed life at a fast pace. but now, he wishes it would slow down so he could catch his breath.
eventually, he plates the food and brings one out to daisy on the couch, handing it to her and then taking a seat of his own, sighing and trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say.
last time he talked, he'd blown it big time. )
It is a new recipe. We can order something if it is no good.
[ she's — not nervous, not really. aware of what's to come might be more accurate, but there's a thread of anxiety about the whole thing, not quite regret but solemn acknowledgement that strange might well be right after all, that she might be careening headfirst into a horrible mistake. that her own pride and stubbornness might be her undoing here, quite literally.
but she's come this far. she's lived through enough. she has to see this through, no matter what, because she can't see any other way to get the answers she's looking for. no other way but to test the hypothesis, and no better guinea pig than herself.
she knows she can survive a surgery like this, because she already has. can she say the same for anyone else?
by the time illya brings her food and sits beside her, daisy is quiet, her work long-since abandoned in favor of curling up under a blanket, her hands splayed out over her lap. she picks at the food for a few moments, scratching the tines of the fork against the plate, but there's no eagerness in biting down.
not because of the food, though. at his words, her head lifts with a gentle shake, fondness softening her expression. ]
There's nothing wrong with the recipe. It's good.
[ she's just too in her own head to appreciate it. ]
I'm just ... it's hard to eat, before something like this.
[ she wonders if he ever felt anxiety before a mission, back when the mission was all he knew. ]
[ her head is aching, a hundred swarms of bees, but she stumbles out all the same when the hovercar comes to a gentle stop outside of the apartment. the sun has just dipped completely below the horizon, the sky a milky dark blue running into black, the lights of the city blurry speckles in her vision as she blinks hard, trying to bring the building in front of her into focus.
the doorman frowns, but daisy waves a hand. she's fine. she can do this. she can — trip over the curb of the sidewalk, apparently, and fall to her hands and knees, a muddled groan slipping from her lips as she makes contact with the concrete.
[ sam is a good man, but his intervention is disrupted when cassian simply bursts into a run when he sees daisy fall. he's on his way out, but his reasons are more or less abandoned at the sight of her. it doesn't matter the state of her hair, any disjointed movements from whatever she's been through, cassian still recognizes her. the entire apartment has been beside themselves for days, whatever errand it was can be finished later. ]
[ he's at her side quickly, taking hold of her arm and waist, the motions slow enough for her to recognize as help to get her back upright. ]
Daisy. You are fine, it's Cassian. [ voice gentle, he says it almost simultaneously with the touch, because her attention drawn downward, and he assumes at the very least she'll have voice recognition too. ] Let's get you up.
[ It shouldn't be surprising, but with new arrivals and some of the slightly older arrivals from the last batch still mixing around together, gossip spreads like a sickness in the confined walls of the safehouse – Tim hears certain names tossed about, attached to the words brain surgery, and it unsettles him enough that he can't stop thinking about it for a good while. He wants to offer help, but he's extremely cognizant that he doesn't want anyone to think he's mollycoddling. When people mollycoddle him, he shuts down. He just has to be a little more tactful about it. ]
Hey it's Tim I'm going to do some of my own laundry so I can swing by wherever and pick up some of your shit if you still want a butler
i'm slapping this down as like feb 22 for my own brain reasons
[ maybe a day and a half after daisy makes it back from brainland, she'll find a little message with a small audio file embedded in it, from one (1) mo xuanyu/wei-guy/what-the-heck-is-his-name-again ]
Hello miss Daisy, I'm sure you had quite the experience from what I was hearing... I spent some time looking up musical pieces to play at my job and I found one I wanted to play special for you. I hope you feel better soon.
[ she hasn't slept well since, for reasons that surprise probably no one. but after she listens to the short clip, daisy finds she manages to slide into a nap that's better rest than she's had in a while. ]
thank you i think your bicycle tune knocked me out
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