They don't speak on the way down.
They don't acknowledge the distant shrill screams of TIE Fighters and X-Wings outside.
They don't think about how they're not going to get out in time.
Blood is soaking through his shirt and he isn't sure how much longer he'll be able to stay upright. Not that it matters. All he sees is her and nothing else matters. The end will come, that much he knows to be true. But right now, he doesn't care. Because she's here. Because he's with her. Her face is covered and sweat, blood, and grime and yet she might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
There's so much he wants to tell her. Too many things that will be left unsaid. They've only known each other for a matter of days, and yet he feels like he's been staring into those brilliant green eyes for years. And he knows that he will do anything to keep them burning bright.
As the world flashes by in the poorly lit shaft, he traces the line of her cheek with his thumb. Her breath hitches and a brief flash of panic dances across her face. In all the time he's known her and after all the things they've seen and done, this is the first time he sees genuine fear in her eyes.
She recognizes the look in his eyes. The hunger, the longing that lies just beneath the surface. She recognizes the look because she's almost positive that she's mirroring his expression. The gaze. His thumb grazes gently along her cheek. It's calloused and sweaty, but she leans against his touch all the same.
They're standing close enough that she can feel his heart hammering in time with hers. The world rushes by around them and for a moment, she thinks that he might close the distance between them. And while she's longing to do just the same, she's almost relieved when he doesn't move. If he pressed his lips against hers, that would be it. It would mean the end. It would mean their grand finale.
And even though the end is coming quick, she's just not ready for that kiss goodbye.
They make it out to the beach soon enough. There are still explosions and screams of pain going on around them, but Cassian hardly seems to notice. In a way, it's almost as if they've been put on mute. That he in Jyn are in their own little bubble, their own little pocket universe.
It's enough for him until she points out the jet of green shooting from the sky, hurtling towards them, expediting the end.
He wants to lie.
He wants to smile.
He wants to tell her that everything will be alright.
It wouldn't be the first time he lied to her. Nor would it be the second. But as he looks at her and sees her close her eyes, the thought leaves the taste of ash in his mouth. Never mind that she's too smart to fall for it anyway.
So instead, with the last bit of strength he can muster, he pulls them towards the shore. Before too long, she's the one leading him. He's weaker with every step, his breathing labored. But she gets him there, gets him to the water. It seems to go in slow motion after that; with her guiding him down when his legs eventually give out. She never lets go, either. Their hands are still clasped together, fingers tangled.
"Your father would have been proud of you, Jyn." he says with a smile.
It's not even close to all he wants to say, but in a way, it's appropriate. It's enough in that it isn't nearly enough. Although he suspects a thousand years wouldn't be enough time with Jyn Erso.
She smiles and grips his hand tighter, so much so that he's beginning to lose feeling. Again, not that it matters. The horizon is coming towards them now, rising like the sea. They've maybe got a few minutes left before it swallows them whole. So he takes a chance. With all the strength he has left, he pushes himself off the sand and wraps Jyn in an embrace. She doesn't fight him on it, if anything, she's hugging him tighter.
The sky is lighting up. Scarif is falling apart. And he pulls her as close as he can. He ignores the screaming of his probably broken ribs. He'll be dead in a few moments, why should a bit of pain stop him now? None of it matters. Because she's here. Because she's with him. And for the first time in a long time, Cassian Andor felt content.
Somehow, he thinks she understands.
Jyn wakes in the med bay four days later.
Alone.
She doesn't know who picked them up or how. She wants to ask what happened to Cassian and the others, if any of them made it out. Emphasis on "wants to." She remembers the explosions. She remembers how all the comms went silent. She remembers how hard he fell. She remembers the shallowness of his breath on the beach. But no matter how curious she may be, she doesn't ask questions. She won't ask questions when she's not prepared for the answer. Yes, rebellions may be built on hope. But at the end of the day, hope only goes so far. In this Galaxy, you have to learn to draw the line between hope and wishful thinking.
She hears the news a few hours after she wakes up. That the Death Star has been destroyed. However, another two go by until she learns that Cassian is alive.
When she's eventually given clearance to leave the med-bay a week later, she doesn't go to where they're keeping him in bacta. She knows she wouldn't want him to see her like that, and she can assume that he would feel the same about her. Instead, Jyn immediately requests to be sent back out again. Back into the fight. Back to the cause. Back to the dream.
She gets denied, of course. Not that she had been expecting anything different.
You only just got back, Mon Mothma had said.
Imperials know your face, they know you were on Scarif, you're a liability now, Draven told her later.
She thinks Draven's full of it, but holds her tongue. She's got more important things to worry about than getting yet another insubordination charge. So she forces a tight lipped smile and asks if she could procure the access code to Captain Andor's quarters. When he raises an eyebrow, she makes up an excuse about needing to return the blaster she'd borrowed.
Jyn's not entirely sure if she's convinced him, but he hands over the access code all the same.
Medics take him out of stasis almost three weeks after the events on Scarif. As it turns out, six broken ribs, a punctured lung, a ruptured spleen, internal bleeding, and a five story fall make for a rough recovery. The new blaster scars pretty much go without saying, but the medics make a point to tell him that he'll always have a bit of pain in his back. Bacta tanks can be life saving, but they can't make miracles.
Cassian Andor was lucky to be alive, simple as that. And while he listens to their requests that he take it easy and refrain from strenuous activity, he doesn't make any promises. This was a rebellion, after all. Freedom comes with a cost. Close bouts with death are just part of the collateral.
He asks after Jyn almost every day.
Sometimes the medical droids give him an answer, sometimes they don't. She's alive, that much he's gathered. He hasn't seen her since the beach. He also knows that she hasn't come to see him, the droids can tell him that much. And while that hurts, he understands. He knows why she's staying away. They're similar that way.
He gets clearance to leave the med bay nearly ten days later. He hates that he's been out of commission for almost a month. Hates feeling useless. Yes, the Death Star is gone but the war has only just begun. The Empire took a hit but they won't be down long. They're just biding their time.
He gathers his things and makes his way to his quarters. He'd argued with Mon Mothma when she insisted he get his own private room. Perks of being a captain, she'd said. He still thinks a bit ridiculous, but at the same time he can't deny that it would be nice to finally decompress on his own.
However, when he punches in the access code and the automatic door slides open with a gasp, he's startled to find that there's someone already in his bed.
She hasn't seen him in almost a month and all of a sudden, there he his, standing in the doorway. And Jyn doesn't say anything. What could she say? What excuse could she possibly have for sitting on his bed, in his private quarters? How could she tell him that she's been coming in here for weeks? That this is how she missed him. And even if she did tell him all that, who's to say he'd understand? But at the same time, it's him. He's Captain Cassian Andor and he's proven time and time again to understand her more than almost anyone else.
Ever.
They spend a great deal of time just staring at each other, maybe trying to determine that this is real. That they're actually here, together. Eventually he steps inside and she stands up. And like before, neither of them say anything. They just stare, taking each other in.
Somehow, he looks thinner than he had before. His already hardened face gaunt. She supposes that it shouldn't really be all that surprising. He'd been restricted to the med bay for weeks, his recovery wouldn't have needed to be so long if not for good reason. Of course it would show.
He walks towards her then and her heart starts to race. He's got that look in his eyes again. The one that makes her breath quicken and her legs shake. She's scared, there's no denying that. He might know and he might not. Not that it particularly matters in the end. Although this time it's different.
You see, this time, they didn't just risk it all for Empire schematics. This time, they didn't just lose their friends. This time, they're not minutes away from near certain death. This time, they're right here, in this little room. This is uncharted territory. This is the brave new world. This is their life now.
So yes, Jyn is terrified.
It's awkward.
He's not really sure where to go from here. The idea of Jyn Erso in his quarters was something he couldn't say he actively entertained. Key word being actively. He has yet reconcile the reason he sees her every night in his sleep. But now that she's here, now that he's with her, the thoughts are becoming increasingly difficult.
"You're okay," she says after a minute. There's an officialness to her voice, as if they were in a debrief and not in his private quarters.
"More or less," he says, matching her tone.
"Good,"
"Good,"
It's stilted. It's strained. But it's where they are. Sure, they've almost died together more times than one, but force be damned if they're able to get through an actual conversation.
"Well-um…" she says, nervously rubbing her hands on her trousers. "Here," she hands over a scuffed up blaster.
He raises an eyebrow in confusion before it dawns on him what she's holding. The blaster. His blaster. He figured she'd lost it or that it had been left behind on Scarif. All things considered, it seems a bit silly that, after everything, she's giving it back now.
"Jyn-"
"It's yours, I can always get another,"
"Steal another, you mean," he means for it to come out as a joke, but his voice is gruff and he winces. However, she hardly seems to notice and lets out the smallest smile.
"Something like that," she says and tries to hand him the blaster once again. They're close now, perhaps only a foot apart. He grasps it lightly and when he does, his calloused fingers brush against hers. It's barely more than a whisper of touch, and yet both of them are paralyzed. He expected her to flinch and though that he'd be the one to pull away. But, as a surprise to them both, neither of them move. Instead, he runs the tips of his fingers gently atop hers. Her breath hitches and she moves to step closer.
The blaster clatters to the floor and just like that, they're chest to chest. She's so close that he can smell the soot and oil in her hair and on her skin. It's a harsh combination and oddly comforting. He lets go of her hands in favor of resting them on the swell of her hips. Her hands go to the lapel of his jacket and he's positive that she can feel how hard his heart is beating right now. And just like that, it's almost as if they're in the elevator all over again.
"When was the last time you used a refresher?" she asks suddenly.
The question is so simple and yet it throws him completely for a whirl. It's such a mundane concern that combined with their current situation there's an absurdity to it. One that Cassian welcomes. He supposes that bacta baths and basic hygiene protocols from the med bay don't count, so he shrugs.
"I figured as much," Jyn says, and with that she pulls away. A part of him mourns her absence and he almost reaches out to pull her back into his arms until he sees her vest drop to the floor.
"Jyn? What are you-" he starts to protest.
"Shhh," she interrupts, placing her fingers to his lips. There's a quite humor in her eyes. One that he believes would disappear as quick as a blink. Yet there's no mischief in them, no hidden joke. Rather, there is a sense of tranquil melancholy. Sad yet content.
"Come with me?" she asks quietly.
He can only nod.
The shedding of their clothes isn't a sensual affair. Nor is it provocative or uncomfortable. It's methodical and cathartic, as if they're shifting into a new skin. Jyn figures that she should feel anxious with the fact that she's about to see Cassian naked and he her. And yet, she's fine. Of course, there are lingering looks. Of course, there is some awkwardness. But above all else, she feels warmth. She feels peace.
Next goes her shirt, then her shoes. Little by little, Cassian joins her. Slowly removing his jacket and unlacing his boots. This isn't the fist time they've changed in front of each other. But, just like everything else with them, it's different this time. He stills when her hands pull on his shirt. For half a second, she thinks he might stop her. That he might say that they're going too far. But he doesn't. And when his shirt is discarded on the floor, his hands go to her belt. She hopes he doesn't notice how bad she's shaking, though she knows he can feel her.
Before too long, the remainder of their clothes end up on the floor. Though it's technically his space, she grasps his hand and wordlessly leads him to the refresher.
It's small and cramped, clearly built for one person at a time. But they make do. He reaches around her and turns on the water. It's lukewarm at best but it feels almost heavenly. She trails her eyes over the planes of his shoulders and chest as they stand under the stream washing over them. Her eyes catch the new blaster scar, the one on his left side. It's pink and jagged at the edges, fresh. The bruises are still there, some more yellow than others. But they're there all the same. Bacta can do a lot, but it won't fix everything. Unable to help herself, Jyn's fingers goes to the new scar, caressing it. It's big enough that her hand almost doesn't cover it all. She shutters when she remembers where it came from. The man in white took so much from her. He may not have taken Cassian, but he tried. He almost succeeded. And though she's sure he's dead, a small part of her will always be afraid that he'll come back. That he'll try to take Cassian again. The cave starts closing in again.
"Hey," Cassian whispers, pulling her back to the light. His hand is on her cheek, guiding her eyes to his.
"I'm okay," he says. "We're still here,"
She doesn't say anything back. Rather, she nods and tries her best attempt at a smile. Whether or not she succeeds is a mystery to her, but Cassian seems to accept it none the less. She makes a grab for the soap, but he beats her to it, pouring a little in his palm and threading it through her hair. It's tangled and rough, but he works through the strands with methodical precision until it's smooth. Soon enough, it's her turn and he has to lean down for her to reach him. He holds her steady at the waist as she stands on her tip toes. They can't help but chuckle a little at that.
Cassian thinks this is the first time he's actually registered how much taller than her he actually is. It's funny and absurd in that Jyn Erso is a walking hurricane, one that barely comes over his shoulders. The laughter they share dies down, however, when she reaches for the body wash. Then her hands are on him, and it's hard to breathe.
He works with her, scrubbing and washing away all the dust. All the pain. He does his best to ignore that he can feel her trembling or that he's almost panting. Her breathing wavers when his palm brushes against the curve of her breast. Part of him wants to just say crew it and kiss her, but he doesn't. Just like the elevator, it's not the right time. He goes on with scrubbing her clean and her him.
They're chest to chest again, the water washing over them. His arms go around her waist and hers go up his back, griping each other tight. His face is buried in her wet hair and hers is resting on his shoulder. They don't speak. They don't cry. They stay grounded together. Holding and supporting each other in every sense of the word.
Eventually, the water runs cold but they don't move until Jyn's teeth start to chatter. Even then, they're reluctant to let go. When they can't take it anymore, Cassian shuts the water off and grabs a large towel. They dry off as best they can and Cassian shakes the cloth through Jyn's hair. It's the first time he's seen it down. It's a shorter cut than he's seen on other women; just barely going past her clavicle, the ends curling slightly. He thinks it's beautiful. He thinks she's beautiful. A diamond in the rough.
They don't dress. This time, it's him leading her to his bed. He doesn't comment on the fact that the sheets look slept in or that his pillow smells like her. He leans back and tugs her with him until they're laying together. She pulls the covers up and he wraps his arm around her back, pressing her into him. He can feel her bare breasts against his chest, just as he's sure she can feel him against her thigh. Their respective bodies respond to the touch, but neither of them acknowledge it.
Not now anyway.
They've both got things to do, orders to receive, and debriefings to attend. There's still much they need to talk about. A lot that was left unsaid on Scarif. But for now, they'll lay here. Together.
There would be time for all that later.
A/N: So I know I have a million and one other thing that I need to update, but I just needed to get this out. A big part of this fic was inspired by the song "Transatlanticism" by Death Cab for Cutie. Thank you so much for reading and be sure to tell me what you thought! Thanks!