I — [ but she doesn't know. what to say, what to feel. she's angry and hurt and miserable and lonely all at once, and it's difficult to know what instincts to rely on and which ones to ignore. even still, even as angry and bitter as she feels, the instinct to lean on him for support is still there. even as mad as she is at him, she wants him to hold onto her, to tell her it's going to be okay, that he'll be there with her every step of the way.
except he won't. he made that abundantly clear, drawing a line in the sand and making demands daisy never could have agreed to, and the ache of that loss feels like a chasm in her chest, a limb ripped off. it's just a ring, but even seeing her naked hand where it should be sends another wave of tears forward, a hiccuping cry that leaves her leaning forward, face burying against jyn's shoulder as she wavers in place. ]
I don't know what to do, [ is her pathetic, sad whine; the conflict too depressing to even verbalize. ]
[ jyn isn't equipped for this; she is the one that debones trout, cassian is the one with the clear head that can even make a decent point when they are screaming at each other -- she knows that he wasn't wrong on the ship after eadu. she has always known that nothing he said was wrong.
but daisy needs her and jyn feels like she is failing her friend, her first and most beloved friend, her sister, her family. arm curling tightly around daisy, trying to offer physical support even as she stumbles through emotional support. unknowingly she echoes daisy's train of thought. ]
The thing about lines in the sand is that a wave is going to come and erase it. He'll figure it out.
[ but that won't erase what happened, no waves can do that. lines like that become scars and jyn doesn't want daisy to lose herself in the familiar hurt of abandonment and the awful, broken (and wrong) realization that of course it was going to happen, it was only a matter of time... ]
[ have hope seems so obvious, so simple. but the sad truth is, daisy doesn't feel like she has any left. illya was her hope — the light at the end of the tunnel, the solid reminder that, finally, one person would stay. that her bad history of disappearances and deaths and betrayals would end in the actual happy ending that everyone said would come. if she was just patient enough, if she was just good enough, if she deserved it, she could have it.
and she had it... until she didn't anymore. ]
What if he doesn't?
[ what if it's daisy that's broken, too stubborn to give in, too damaged to love? what does she do then? ]
[ it is simple, but that doesn't make it easy. jyn has struggled to have hope her entire life and for the most part she didn't. she already told daisy the story of her cellmate, hope hasn't always come naturally to jyn. ]
He will. There's no life without you in it, not for him. He'll come around.
[ it's said with fierce determination. there is no other option. ]
If you don't believe it, I'll believe in it enough for the both of us.
[ daisy might drown in her own self-loathing, but she doesn't want to take that hope away from jyn. not when she knows all too well just how little jyn has had hope in the past, and how fiercely she is hanging on to it now. so she nods, just a slight dip of her head, and lets her suffering and her stature both sink into the other girl. ]
Okay.
[ if nothing else, daisy will have jyn. that matters too. ]
Come on, Cassian got us a room on the cheap side of town, but it has a bed fit for a Hutt. [ a beat, before an explanation follows. ] It's huge, we'll all fit.
Nah, it's fine. [ jyn waves her hand dismissively. she isn't going to make her sad friend sleep on the floor alone, even if jyn is particularly fond of her own personal space and privacy when it comes to her room. a motel doesn't count. ]
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except he won't. he made that abundantly clear, drawing a line in the sand and making demands daisy never could have agreed to, and the ache of that loss feels like a chasm in her chest, a limb ripped off. it's just a ring, but even seeing her naked hand where it should be sends another wave of tears forward, a hiccuping cry that leaves her leaning forward, face burying against jyn's shoulder as she wavers in place. ]
I don't know what to do, [ is her pathetic, sad whine; the conflict too depressing to even verbalize. ]
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but daisy needs her and jyn feels like she is failing her friend, her first and most beloved friend, her sister, her family. arm curling tightly around daisy, trying to offer physical support even as she stumbles through emotional support. unknowingly she echoes daisy's train of thought. ]
The thing about lines in the sand is that a wave is going to come and erase it. He'll figure it out.
[ but that won't erase what happened, no waves can do that. lines like that become scars and jyn doesn't want daisy to lose herself in the familiar hurt of abandonment and the awful, broken (and wrong) realization that of course it was going to happen, it was only a matter of time... ]
Have hope. That's all you can do.
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and she had it... until she didn't anymore. ]
What if he doesn't?
[ what if it's daisy that's broken, too stubborn to give in, too damaged to love? what does she do then? ]
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He will. There's no life without you in it, not for him. He'll come around.
[ it's said with fierce determination. there is no other option. ]
If you don't believe it, I'll believe in it enough for the both of us.
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Okay.
[ if nothing else, daisy will have jyn. that matters too. ]
I think I need to lie down.
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[ three little orphans in a bed ]
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[ she also has a room, technically, but it feels weird to go back there. ]
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We have food, too.
[ and off they trot. ]