Jyn wasn't so far gone that she didn't hear Cassian's voice as it penetrated the fog surrounding her. He pulled her right back to herself, as a matter of fact, even when she couldn't say anything in return, couldn't reassure him that despite being battered to within an inch of her life, she was still there, and had every intention of staying with him.
She thought she had murmured as much, but perhaps the words hadn't been clear, and perhaps he'd taken what little noise she could make as groans of pain rather than what they were meant to be. But then, she was practically incoherent, her body working overtime to keep her alive, wracked with fever and chills at the same time. It truly was a miracle that she'd held on so long.
She'd need another one to ensure that she made it to Hoth. Maybe hearing his voice helped her hold on just a little bit more firmly, when her entire body was screaming for her to let go. Please don't leave me, he'd said and she tried to answer never, never, I promise, but she couldn't be sure that he'd heard ... or that she'd even said anything at all.
Jyn wanted so much more than the time they'd been granted with each other thus far, too. And so, even in her delirium, she tried to hold onto things that hadn't yet come to pass. She imagined a time in which they wouldn't have to hide what they meant to each other. She imagined a home much like the one she'd shared with her mother and father, on the edge of the black sand beaches of Lah'mu. She imagined more laughter than sadness filling that home, and maybe - maybe, if they were incredibly lucky ... maybe someday having a family, too.
She held on.
She didn't regain consciousness when the medical team ripped her away from Cassian and rushed her to medbay in order to assess and try to treat her grievous injuries, the doctors murmuring to themselves that it was amazing that she'd lasted so long already with only basic medical care holding her together. For a full day after her return, nobody got any word as to her condition - no word at all other than the fact that she was taking her turn in the bacta tank, and they'd know more after her treatment was done.
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She thought she had murmured as much, but perhaps the words hadn't been clear, and perhaps he'd taken what little noise she could make as groans of pain rather than what they were meant to be. But then, she was practically incoherent, her body working overtime to keep her alive, wracked with fever and chills at the same time. It truly was a miracle that she'd held on so long.
She'd need another one to ensure that she made it to Hoth. Maybe hearing his voice helped her hold on just a little bit more firmly, when her entire body was screaming for her to let go. Please don't leave me, he'd said and she tried to answer never, never, I promise, but she couldn't be sure that he'd heard ... or that she'd even said anything at all.
Jyn wanted so much more than the time they'd been granted with each other thus far, too. And so, even in her delirium, she tried to hold onto things that hadn't yet come to pass. She imagined a time in which they wouldn't have to hide what they meant to each other. She imagined a home much like the one she'd shared with her mother and father, on the edge of the black sand beaches of Lah'mu. She imagined more laughter than sadness filling that home, and maybe - maybe, if they were incredibly lucky ... maybe someday having a family, too.
She held on.
She didn't regain consciousness when the medical team ripped her away from Cassian and rushed her to medbay in order to assess and try to treat her grievous injuries, the doctors murmuring to themselves that it was amazing that she'd lasted so long already with only basic medical care holding her together. For a full day after her return, nobody got any word as to her condition - no word at all other than the fact that she was taking her turn in the bacta tank, and they'd know more after her treatment was done.
But at least she was still alive.