The Genesis Saga Chapter 214

The following morning found everybody apart from Jyn gathered in the living room. Ava had called them all together so that she could recount last night’s events. “I’m convinced that if I hadn’t gotten there when I did, we ‘d be having a very different discussion right now,” Ava said as she finished her story. Her hand had been bandaged by Kell and the bleeding stopped. It still throbbed sothing fierce, a feeling Ava hadn’t even known she was able to feel until she’d hurt herself.

The worry in the room was palpable and nobody was pleased that they’d unknowingly almost lost their friend. “When Jyn woke up, he seed mostly fine,” Kell said with a sigh. “We should have taken High Command’s warnings more seriously. I didn’t think he’d make an attempt on his own life so soon. Not when he appeared stable.”

“Will he try again?” Tassie fretted.

“I don’t know,” Ava replied. “My intervention was more of a band aid solution than anything else. If Jyn really wants to end his life, he’ll find a way no matter how closely we watch him.”

“He has no visible injuries,” Rann said grimly. “I find it hard to believe that what happened to him was truly that bad that his first instinct was to end his life.”

“It was,” Reya chirped, imdiately drawing everyone’s attention. “What I fail to understand is why you make light of what he experienced. High Command even explicitly stated that every single person that managed to survive their initial exposure ultimately killed themselves, regardless of the dose they were hit with. That,” she said, “should have been enough to make you understand how serious this is.”

“You and Adrian are fine!” Rann said. “You don’t go around trying to off yourselves.” When Reya and Adrian didn’t respond, Rann hesitated. “Right?” she asked. “You’re both still here.”

Adrian and Reya shared a look and the entire room could see the brief, silent conversation between them. “There have been many tis,” Adrian said carefully, “where the two of us have wanted to die.” He paused, trying to find his words so that Rann would understand. “Just the mory of it is too much. The only reason either of us are still here is because we have each other for support.”

“You an our support,” Rann said angrily, gesturing broadly, “didn’t make any difference whatsoever?”

“To ?” Adrian said. “No,” he said bluntly. “When we first t, I was your captive and prisoner. We were strangers. You didn’t try to empathize or comprehend. You were all on a mission to pry answers out of . That’s not what being supportive ans to .”

“Rann,” Reya said gently, “your presence has helped imnsely during my recovery. But you’ll never truly understand what happened to us. Just that is alienating. It creates an insurmountable distance that only Adrian and I can cross because we truly understand.”

Tears welled in Rann’s eyes. “So we were useless to you,” she said, hurt.

“Do you only hear what you want to hear?” Reya said, irritated. “You helped, but you weren’t the only help. It’s not about who helped the most. Everybody helped in their own way, and that’s what matters. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“We’ve known you for years,” Rann said, “but it took a stranger to stop you from killing yourself.”

Adrian sighed. He should have known that they wouldn’t get through to Rann. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he said, “but watch my video. The rest of the world already has, so what’s one more person at this point?”

Reya sucked in a breath. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said, vehently against the idea. “That’s personal in a way the others don’t know.”

“Then it’s ti they learn,” Adrian said. “I might not like Jyn,” he said plainly, “but I have never once wished him upon him such suffering. It doesn’t matter how we try to tell you. So why don’t you, Eimir and Beor go outside and watch the video. I know you’re all curious.” He thought for a mont. “You too, Ava.”

“Fine,” Rann huffed. “We’ll do that and then we’ll see just how serious this actually is.”

“There’s only one condition,” Adrian said. “You have to watch the whole thing. Ideally with headphones of so kind, because I don’t want to hear myself scream.”

“We’ll do it on the ship,” Rann said, exasperated by the theatrics. She collected the other three and the they left the house to finally learn the so-called terrible secret Reya had begged them not to uncover.

“Was that a wise idea?” Tassie asked once everybody was gone.

“Probably not,” Adrian admitted. “But I’m tired of dealing with Rann’s hurt feelings when Jyn is our priority. Kell, what’s the best thing we can do for Jyn.”

“Be around him at all tis unless he asks for so privacy,” Kell said. “We’ll have to set up a proper night watch so that there isn’t a repeat of last night. Find ways to distract him. Music worked for you and Reya. Would you be willing to spend ti with Jyn showing him your instrunts?”

“That was already the plan,” Reya said. “We’ll make sure to keep him occupied, but we won’t be able to spend the entire day discussing the topic. He might not even be that interested.”

“He seed willing yesterday,” Adrian said. “That’s a good sign. Once he wakes up, we’ll put so food in him and bring him into the music room for a couple of hours. The rest of you will also have to help.”

“We’ll need to keep up patrols,” Tassie said, “so we won’t all be there at once, but I’m sure we can think of sothing.”

Adrian nodded and the four of them lapsed into an uncomfortable discussion on how best to deal with Jyn’s recovery. They kept the topic centered on Jyn and things he enjoyed. Much to his surprise, Adrian learned more about the man in that one sitting than he had since he’d t him.

An hour later, the others returned to the house and joined them. Adrian noted that they all had a pallid complexion, with Rann looking particularly pale and queasy. Rann sat down on the couch and woodenly turned towards him and Reya.

“That was real?” Rann forced herself to ask. Adrian nodded, and she paled further. “And it also happened to you, Reya?”

“Yes,” Reya replied.

Rann ran her hand through her hair. “I get it now,” she said. “I kept thinking it wasn’t that bad, but it was. Fucking hells, how are the two of you still sane?” she asked.

“Probably because the gru’ul modified our brains,” Adrian said. Rann looked at him strangely, to which he shrugged. “Just a guess,” he said nonchalantly. “That’s not to say we haven’t had our own monts of weakness.” He looked warmly over to Reya. “We have each other to lean on. That makes all the difference.”

Much of Reya and Adrian’s past behaviour suddenly made sense to Rann. Their shared suffering was what broke the ice between two strangers of different species and from different cultures when they’d first t and allowed them to understand one another. No matter how much she wished she could, Rann knew there would never be any way to give the kind of support to Reya that Adrian did on a daily basis. And by her dead gods did she hope to never be able to.

That level of pain would never be her purview, and she was secretly glad for it.

Rann saw Adrian differently after having seen the experint. She stared at him. “They hurt you,” she said. She’d seen his scars. They were grisly and horrific in their own right, but now Rann knew there had been suffering that was invisible to her. She’d had no way of knowing. Not until now.

“They did,” Adrian acknowledged with a slow nod. “My scars only tell part of the story. They did far worse than that single video shows. It didn’t happen the one ti.” Rann sucked in a breath at Adrian’s words and her gut churned. “I was who they refined the chemicals on. It happened to ti and again. So much so that I’ve lost count.”

“They did that to you more than once?” Beor asked, speaking up. He was green and didn’t look well at all. The thought of sobody being exposed to the purple chemical left him feeling sick, for no sane person could witness such suffering and be unaffected.

“They did,” Adrian said sadly. “And that’s not a story I’m willing to tell. Not yet,” he said. “Maybe never.”

Beor teared up. “All this ti, none of us ever knew.” He looked between Reya and Adrian. “I’m sorry. We treated you like crap when all you wanted was a place to heal.”

“Thank you,” Adrian said. Reya reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Hopefully now my reluctance to talk about what happened makes more sense.”

“Absolutely,” Beor said. “Please,” he said in an uncharacteristically serious tone, “tell if ever there’s sothing I can do to help.”

“Be there for Jyn,” Adrian said. “He needs you all now more than ever. I’ll do my best, but at the end of the day it’s the rest of you that will make a difference for him. Give him your love and support. Show him you care. Allow him to heal in all the ways I was denied.”

Adrian’s words stung everybody present while twisting the knife in their hearts for good asure. They knew they would never be able to change the past. But each and every one of them vowed to help change the future.

One that would include Jyn.

***

Jyn woke up feeling like utter shit. His head throbbed sothing fierce and he was parched beyond compare. He had no recollection as to how he’d ended back in his room at the safe house. The previous night’s events slowly trickled to the forefront of his thoughts, and he groaned.

A myriad of emotions swirled around in his chest, creating an uncomfortable knot that he was afraid to undo. The stark realization of what he’d almost done crashed into him, sending shivers down his spine. He’d been so close to ending it all.

So close to escaping what haunted him so.

Though he’d been in a haze, the sentint still made sense to him. Living would only bring more pain, and he didn’t know how to make peace with what had been done to him. He probably never would.

The bleak thought filled him with despair. He desperately wanted to know Adrian and Reya’s secret to overcoming such pain. Would they even help him, after all that he’d done? They’d made promises yesterday, but Jyn still didn’t understand how plucking away at so strings could truly help him.

Jyn glanced at the door. There were no hushed murmurs or whispered voices filtering through. He heaved a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure how he would face the others yet. Ava had surely spoken to them about what had happened.

Sha and guilt filled him.

The others would see him for what he truly was — a coward. He wanted the easy way out, and it was Ava of all people who’d helped him. He recalled with crystal clarity their conversation. It wasn’t one he’d ever forget.

Jyn brought his knees to his chest and curled into a ball. He wept silently so that the others wouldn’t see how broken he’d beco. Or hear, even. He was supposed to be the leader, the strong one. Yet, he was nothing more than a weak man ready to throw away the people that ant the most to him.

Ava’s opinion that the others still wanted him around wasn’t one he still fully believed. Nobody could want the broken failure he’d beco.

He didn’t even want the person he’d beco.

Nestled deep within his pain, a small hope flared to life. What if Ava was right? Jyn clung to it, for it was the one guiding light in the depths of his despair that would help him find his way out. He raised his head and stared at the door once more, mustering up the courage to leave the room and face the others’ disappointnt.

Jyn hauled himself out of bed and walked towards the door. He placed his hand on the handle and paused, contemplating whether he was ready. Several long monts passed before he turned it and opened the door.

He made his way down the stairs with reluctant steps and rounded the corner into the kitchen. A breath of relief left him when he saw that only Reya and Adrian were at the table silently waiting for him. Nobody else appeared to be present in the house.

The two of them exchanged a look before getting up out of their chairs.

Jyn’s heart sank as he waited for their rejection. “I don’t know what you heard—” he started, only to be cut off as the both of them wordlessly collected him into a hug. Jyn stiffened from the shock and sudden contact. Before he knew it, the mont was over and they released him.

“It was hard, wasn’t it?” Reya said gently.

Jyn nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

“You feel broken beyond repair, don’t you?” Adrian asked.

Jyn nodded, his tears spilling over.

“We understand,” both of them said together.

There was no judgent in their voices nor the rejection Jyn had feared. The pair of them let their carefully guarded masks slip and their pain truly surface for the first ti in front of him. They laid their souls bare for him to see. In that mont, Jyn finally understood that he wasn’t alone.

Reya and Adrian were the first ones to pick up one of his pieces and help put him back together. But rather than try to force him to be who he once was, they instead offered acceptance for whoever Jyn chose to beco once he put himself back together.

“It doesn’t get any easier,” Reya said. “What happened to us changed us. You feel it, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jyn said, his voice cracking. “There’s no going back. Not after that.”

“So days will be harder than others,” Adrian spoke up. “When you need soone to talk to, we’ll be here for you. It doesn’t matter when, we’ll be there.”

“Why would you go so far for ?” Jyn couldn’t help but ask. “I treated you horribly and refused to accept your feelings for one another. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“The only thing you don’t deserve is what happened to you,” Adrian said. “No matter how you treated , your fate should have been different. I’m the reason you got shot. I’m the one who should be begging for your forgiveness, not the other way around. If it weren’t for , you would have never known such agony.”

“I can’t forgive you yet,” Jyn said honestly. “There’s still a part of that blas you for everything that happened. I know it’s not fair to you.”

Adrian raised his hand to stop Jyn from speaking. “That’s alright,” he said. “I completely understand. You don’t ever have to forgive . Now, co join us in the music room before the others get back. Reya and I have a few things we want to show you.”

Jyn was puzzled by the entire exchange but followed along silently as Adrian led the three of them to his place of refuge. He entered and Adrian closed the door behind him. For the first ti, Jyn truly looked at what was in the room.

“These,” Adrian said, gesturing to the various alien instrunts, “are not simply tools to make pretty sounds with. They are a way to express yourself where words fail you. There isn’t a word strong enough in any language to describe what we went through. So instead of trying to invent one, Reya and I want to help you do so without it.”

Jyn frowned. “You believe you can translate feelings into sound through these?” he asked. “I’ve seen your demonstrations. Each instrunt only has a predefined set of notes you can produce. I hardly believe that’s enough.”

Adrian smiled, knowing he’d already won. “Then let show you,” he said.

Reya and Adrian brought out various instrunts and showed Jyn what each one could do. Reya contributed her knowledge of the bass while Adrian truly shone with his ability to make each instrunt sing in ways Reya admired imnsely.

Jyn reluctantly tried each one at their insistence. He still wasn’t convinced that there was truly any point to him trying to play anything when he’d never learned how, but he humored them. The distraction helped keep his mind off of what had happened last night, but Jyn knew that the thoughts were still there, patiently waiting to poison whatever peace he’d find.

It wasn’t long before Jyn realized that he had no care for wind instrunts nor the drums. They were all beautiful instrunts, but they didn’t spark anything in him. Reya’s enthusiasm for her bass, while contagious, didn’t make him want to learn that instrunt either. That was her special thing, and Jyn wanted to leave her that.

What did interest him was the cello and the piano, much to Adrian’s surprise.

“What’s so special about those and not the others?” Adrian asked.

Jyn thought for a mont, trying to put his feelings into words. “The cello,” he said, “is beautiful and rich. It reverberated within when I heard you play it, and I like the way it felt when I tried playing it.”

Adrian nodded. “And the piano?”

“The sheer multitude of notes you can play is astounding,” Jyn replied simply. “Unlike the other instrunts, the piano can combine many notes into one sound.” He frowned. “But both of them are almost too beautiful. They create chords and harmonies,” he said, using the terminology Adrian and Reya had just taught him, “and feel whole. Complete. I am broken, and none of the sounds you showed today express that.”

Reya and Adrian were struck silent by Jyn’s remarkably detailed insight into how he perceived music. While the entire show at first had served mostly as a distraction, they were both pleased that they’d managed to make such an impact on Jyn.

“Not every chord harmonizes and not every note is perfect,” Adrian replied. He thought for a mont. “There’s a concept in music called dissonance, where beauty can be found in imperfection.”

Jyn frowned. “That makes no sense,” he said.

“We showed you sounds that we like hearing,” Reya said. “We didn’t realize those wouldn’t be what you were looking for.”

“I had no idea what to expect until you started playing all the instrunts,” Jyn admitted. “Frankly, I still find this pointless. I can’t play anything. I can’t express myself through a musical language.”

Adrian went over to the piano and took a seat. He looked back at Jyn and said, “Is this how you view others?” He then played a series of chords where every note worked in tandem to produce a stunning harmony. “Whole, complete, resonant,” he said.

“I guess?” Jyn replied, unsure where Adrian was going with this.

“And is this how you view yourself, compared to them?” Adrian asked as he played the sa chords once more, only this ti changing a single note to create a dissonant sound. “Broken. Wrong. Lesser.”

Electricity coursed through Jyn as he sucked in a breath. Those were exactly the sounds he was looking for. It expressed the imperfections he saw in himself compared to who he’d been before. “How did you do that?” he asked.

“Dissonance is also a musical technique,” Adrian said. “Not everybody appreciates it and most prefer harmonic music. But artists around the world on Earth were srized by it and created many songs featuring it. And they were all beautiful.”

Jyn ca closer to Adrian. “Show how I can do that,” he asked. He wanted — no, needed — the essence he felt he could capture through such a technique. Jyn was under no illusion that he’d master it overnight, but he could start sowhere. And maybe, just maybe, one day he could play sothing that perfectly encapsulated his shattered identity and warped worldview after experiencing the orange chemical.

Adrian smiled fully for the first ti that day. “I would love to,” he said.