Even at the bitter end, the pair of them hadn't been granted any reprieve, or any little measure of happiness. And perhaps that's how their lives were destined to end - painfully, in the midst of a hail of blaster bolts, no matter how deserved any of it was. Jyn had done terrible things, too, in the name of survival, terrible things that weighed on her conscience that she thought would always stay with her, no matter how badly she'd wanted to be able to forget.
But here, wherever here was, the only thing Jyn could concentrate on were the sudden pounding footsteps that had her stopping right in her tracks, turning around so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. And for a moment, she thought she might be hallucinating, because this wasn't possible, was it? She'd watched him die right in front of her very eyes - she'd heard him take his last breaths, seen his body go limp, and now - !
Her mind had to be playing tricks on her, the cruelest tricks imaginable, because he could not possibly be real, could not possibly be staring at her as though he was thinking the exact same things that she was, could not be hurrying toward her with an intensity that she'd never seen before. If this was a dream, Jyn could not imagine waking up. If it was a nightmare ... she'd gladly face it head on in order to have him by her side again, even within the confines of her imagination. She'd weather anything in order to have him again, in whatever capacity. Nothing mattered more than being together.
Krennic sank to his knees in front of her, immediately wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight, and Jyn's breath caught in her throat. Even in captivity, that last few desperate moments they'd had together, he hadn't dared do the same, in case of any prying eyes or ears. Here, there was no need to censor themselves. Jyn wasn't sure how she knew, but she was sure of that one thing, at least. She breathed a shaky breath, and with trembling fingers, gently carded her fingers through his mussed hair, wanting some reassurance that this wasn't simply ... a figment of an overstimulated imagination.
He was real. He was warm, and solid, and holding her so tightly that she might not ever breathe properly again. And as she felt wetness permeate the fabric of her shirt, she realized that he was crying. She couldn't hold back her own tears after that, hot droplets trailing down her cheeks, more and more and more until she felt like she'd never be able to quell them again.
It broke her heart all the further to hear him blame himself for their sudden end, and she shook her head almost violently, flinging tears here and there without any care, more concerned with getting him to understand that although he blamed himself for her all too sudden demise, she did not blame him in the slighest.
"They'd have executed me, too, and you know it. They would've ... they would've accused me of colluding with the enemy, branded me a spy, and m - made me an example for the whole Rebellion. They wouldn't have let me go, you know that."
"Don't - ", she replied, her voice softening. "Don't you do that. I wanted to be with you, no matter what. I want to be with you still. I - I don't know what any of this is, but I'm glad that we're here together. Orson, I - you know how I feel. That hasn't changed."
Breathe.
"I don't blame you for anything. But you should - you should blame me for this. If not for me ... oh, I'm sorry! If not for me, none of this would have happened."
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But here, wherever here was, the only thing Jyn could concentrate on were the sudden pounding footsteps that had her stopping right in her tracks, turning around so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. And for a moment, she thought she might be hallucinating, because this wasn't possible, was it? She'd watched him die right in front of her very eyes - she'd heard him take his last breaths, seen his body go limp, and now - !
Her mind had to be playing tricks on her, the cruelest tricks imaginable, because he could not possibly be real, could not possibly be staring at her as though he was thinking the exact same things that she was, could not be hurrying toward her with an intensity that she'd never seen before. If this was a dream, Jyn could not imagine waking up. If it was a nightmare ... she'd gladly face it head on in order to have him by her side again, even within the confines of her imagination. She'd weather anything in order to have him again, in whatever capacity. Nothing mattered more than being together.
Krennic sank to his knees in front of her, immediately wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight, and Jyn's breath caught in her throat. Even in captivity, that last few desperate moments they'd had together, he hadn't dared do the same, in case of any prying eyes or ears. Here, there was no need to censor themselves. Jyn wasn't sure how she knew, but she was sure of that one thing, at least. She breathed a shaky breath, and with trembling fingers, gently carded her fingers through his mussed hair, wanting some reassurance that this wasn't simply ... a figment of an overstimulated imagination.
He was real. He was warm, and solid, and holding her so tightly that she might not ever breathe properly again. And as she felt wetness permeate the fabric of her shirt, she realized that he was crying. She couldn't hold back her own tears after that, hot droplets trailing down her cheeks, more and more and more until she felt like she'd never be able to quell them again.
It broke her heart all the further to hear him blame himself for their sudden end, and she shook her head almost violently, flinging tears here and there without any care, more concerned with getting him to understand that although he blamed himself for her all too sudden demise, she did not blame him in the slighest.
"They'd have executed me, too, and you know it. They would've ... they would've accused me of colluding with the enemy, branded me a spy, and m - made me an example for the whole Rebellion. They wouldn't have let me go, you know that."
"Don't - ", she replied, her voice softening. "Don't you do that. I wanted to be with you, no matter what. I want to be with you still. I - I don't know what any of this is, but I'm glad that we're here together. Orson, I - you know how I feel. That hasn't changed."
Breathe.
"I don't blame you for anything. But you should - you should blame me for this. If not for me ... oh, I'm sorry! If not for me, none of this would have happened."