[he doesn't believe her. and it's not as if she'd really been expecting him to, through the memory loss or whatever this is — it's something that would be hard to believe without having the experience of being there — but a kneejerk reaction doesn't know that. a sting of hurt moves through her again, and her still remaining grip on the wheel tightens, just so it has somewhere to release.

there's a defense sitting on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to be flung his way. if you're not going to believe me anyway, then why would i bother telling you? it's a weapon that wouldn't be hard to use; she's done it hundreds of times, more, in her life.

it's a weapon that wouldn't be hard to use — against anyone else. against someone she doesn't owe something to.

as it stands, jyn forces herself to swallow it down. it doesn't go down easily, but it goes down all the same. she's trying; she's really trying.

finally,]

We were there to steal plans for a weapon. [after a pause, she elaborates:] On Scarif, where there's an Imperial archive.

[the name leaving her mouth, the first time she's spoken it out loud since waking up, has her hands, even still gripped, shaking visibly. her breath shakes, too.

in her mind, she counts to five. then:]

You helped me transmit the plans to the Rebel fleet, at the end of it.