A/N - This is my first foray into the Star Wars fandom, but I've been listening to the Rogue One score constantly over the last few weeks and felt inspired to write. I loved the movie and its characters, especially Jyn, so hopefully I haven't completely messed up here.
I hope you enjoy this!
"I have so much to tell you."
Her father's final words haunted her on their silent flight away from Eadu. For many years, she had found comfort in the idea that he was dead; it had been easier to assume that than face the prospect of him being yet another pawn of the omnipresent Empire. Jyn hadn't let herself acknowledge the pain of missing him for so long that seeing his face on the hologram had felt like a long-awaited punch in the gut, but that was nothing compared to the emptiness she felt now.
She had been so close. Her father had been alive and whole when they'd landed on the planet; she had started to imagine the possibility of taking him away so that they could fight those who had destroyed their lives together, and such thoughts had made her feel a warmth she'd forgotten long ago.
Such hopes had been cruelly dashed in a matter of seconds by a bomb fired from a rebel ship, and the knowledge that she couldn't truly trust anyone on either side of the fight left her feeling cold.
She could still feel the weight in her arms from when she'd held him. She could feel the stinging in her eyes and the denial coursing through her mind as she ignored the extent of his injuries and focused on those kind eyes she'd missed so much. She could hear her own cries as those eyes closed but the sound was muffled, as if someone else was experiencing her pain while she looked numbly on.
She remembered Cassian tugging her away, trying to get her to safety. Cassian, who'd only agreed to come to the planet so that he could kill her father; Cassian who'd decided at the last moment to ignore his orders, not that it'd made the slightest difference. She didn't know how to feel about him anymore, so she settled for feeling nothing at all. Such tactics had kept her alive in the past after all.
At some point during the flight, she noticed that Chirrut had settled down beside her and clutched her shaking hands in his own. Instinct told her to pull away, but his gentle grip was strangely comforting. She wondered how much of her pain he could feel; whether the force was thick with her loss and Cassian's anger and Bodhi's exhaustion in spite of the silence that surrounded her. It must be a terrible thing, she thought, to feel the force so strongly when no matter where one went, the air must be heavy with fear and pain and defeat. That Chirrut was a good man seemed so unlikely, and yet here he was providing comfort to a woman who had seen precious little of it in her life.
Though she imagined he would know that she was grateful, she gave his hands a light squeeze anyway and closed her eyes.
She was exhausted, but she knew sleep would not help. Her weariness settled heavy in her bones, and the grief that she was struggling to keep at bay threatened to boil over at any moment. She knew now that there was no way she could sail through life keeping her head down and trying to ignore the Empire's presence looming over the galaxy. They were the reason she'd spent so many years running without direction; they were the reason behind her father's suffering and her mother's death; they were the reason that wherever she went she was constantly surrounded by war.
She was not their only victim on this ship either; she thought of Cassian having to learn to fight at the tender age of six, and Bodhi who was now a fugitive for daring to do what was right on behalf of her father, and of the Guardians of the Whills who had remained close to the shattered ruins of their temple even though there was nothing left to protect.
She thought of her father and how, even while trapped in the Empire's clutches, he had worked tirelessly on creating a means to defeat his oppressors.
She knew now that she could not keep running away from the Empire. If her father's work was to mean anything, she would have to take the fight to them and watch them burn, no matter the cost.
At this conviction, she opened her eyes and looked around at her crewmates, and as she took in Chirrut's face she saw that he was smiling.
Her work was done.
That was the only coherent thought running through her head as she and Cassian finally collapsed, exhausted, onto the sand and watched the world be set alight before them. She was tired and hurting, and more scared of her approaching death than she'd like to admit, but the relief at the knowledge that both her and her father's work was complete overshadowed it all. There was no more to be done - the hope of the rebellion lay in someone else's hands now – and it felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest.
She looked over to Cassian, the man she'd tried to hate yet mercifully failed to, and found him looking at her with soft, kind eyes that hid the pain of his wounds. In spite of their circumstances, he was smiling fondly at her, and she found it easier than expected to return the gesture.
"Your father would've been proud of you, Jyn."
It was a nice thing to believe. Despite the fierce blast racing towards them, she found only comfort in the knowledge that she'd finally been a part of something that mattered.
She took one last look out at the burning horizon before edging closer to Cassian and wrapping her arms around him. Underneath his shirt, she could feel his heart pounding in his chest - betraying a fear that both of them had been trying to hide - and she clutched him tightly as a reminder that they would not face this alone.
As the roar of the blast edged closer towards them she took a steady breath, closed her eyes, and waited.
"My Stardust. My brave, brave girl."
The sound of that voice roused her from a heavy blackness and she opened her eyes to a bright, all-encompassing light and her father's face, so much younger than when she'd seen him last and more peaceful than she could ever remember him being. Without having to think she leapt up and grabbed him in a smothering embrace, burying her face in his chest in an attempt to keep from breaking. In her arms, her father felt whole and alive, and when she looked behind his shoulder she could see a face that had tears pricking her eyes.
"Hello, my darling," her mother said, a sad smile crossing her beautiful face, and Jyn reached out to include her in their embrace. She could feel her father laugh softly as they were all crushed together, but all she could focus on was the fact that she hadn't been able to hold her parents like this since she was a child.
It was then that she remembered Scarif and the beach, and yet the knowledge that she must be dead conjured up only a tired acceptance. Without realising it, she found herself saying "Cassian?" and her mother's voice responded.
"He's with the others. We'll take you to him."
The others. Jyn felt a short stab of regret at the fact that at least some, if not all, of her friends had fallen as a result of a mission she'd led. She could only hope that it had been worth it; any influence in the fight was beyond her now.
She pulled away and wiped at the tears that were threatening to slip from her eyes with a stifled laugh. One look at her parents told her she needn't have bothered, as both had tears streaming down their faces despite their warm smiles.
"I missed you," she said, her voice cracking as she finally admitted something she'd kept locked up for so many years in order to hide her pain. "I missed you so much."
"We missed you too," her father said, before gently resting a palm on her cheek and wiping away a stray tear. "Though we wish you didn't have to be here so soon, it is wonderful to see how you've grown."
She smiled softly, feeling any trace of fear and pain melt away. The light that surrounded her felt calming, and she took comfort in the fact that there was nothing left that could hurt her.
Eventually, her father took her mother's hand and they rose to their feet, before he extended a hand to Jyn. She didn't have to think twice before accepting it.
"Come, Stardust. We have so much to tell you, and only an eternity to tell it."