A/N1: Final chapter that wasn't supposed to ever happen, and yet it's ready, and in (relatively) short time too. After a discussion over at AO3 with NewLeeland, I kind of felt obliged to write for once a "moderately happy ending", so at least you know who to thank for this try at fluff. Please enjoy :)
This time, I thought it's finally over, once and for all. That I have no more reasons to keep myself alive. And yet, something has happened, a lot has happened, and - as certain someone would say - all is now as Force wills it, maybe.
As usual, I was waiting impatiently for Cassian's return from his latest solo assignment. I didn't expect it'd be such a nightmare. He pretty much crash-landed at the base, and was barely giving any life signs when dragged out of the mangled vessel. It looked like a bit of Force work in itself that he was able to pilot that junk while heavily beaten, bleeding internally and with limbs burnt with blaster shots, no faithful droid to help around anymore.
It's not like I can recall much more of that day. Pretending for so long in front of Cassian that my barriers are still in place, even though he has destroyed them completely, I again forgot how to express pain. And yet, in medbay I simply went hysterical, flood gates broken. I had to be sedated so that people and droids were able to take care of Cassian at all. I was sure he wouldn't make it anyway, that the last member of my short-lived Rogue One family would be gone as well. The thought of being again left alone, within strangers, made me welcome drug-induced coma as a blessing.
I woke up almost a whole day later to beeping equipment and silently hovering droids. Some merciful soul has put me on a bed right beside Cassian's. He was apparently already after at least one bacta treatment, his fringe over closed eyes still sticky with the substance, and he was looking wonderfully alive. In fact, he was looking more alive than after many of his solo and our joined missions even when there were no actual wounds involved. I think I was more relieved with this beautiful view than when learning about Death Star destruction, and I'm not ashamed of that. I rolled on my side and watching Cassian's deep even breathing, I fell into natural calm sleep rather than chemical one. Curiously, no medical staff seemed to mind my longer stay, no-one came to discharge me.
I woke up again in the middle of the night, slightly panicked due to strange sensation of pressure on my hands. Soft, muted lights showed me that Cassian has left his bed only to slump in painfully looking position on a chair by my bed. Sleeping deeply, he was holding my hands in his own palms. By Force, what was he doing, that kriffing idiot? Not only he was preventing his body from healing up properly, but also he was hurting me as well. I used to tell him over and over again that I hate holding hands, I hate such delicate touch but secretly I loved this feeling. It's a much more powerful symbol of closeness or love than sex may ever be, so such gestures used to hurt me a lot when I was still pretty sure I'm the only one who has any feelings in this relationship. This whole weird situation overloaded my strained nerves and made me cry again, and of course my muffled sobs just had to wake Cassian up.
He was looking at me from above our joined hands with those dark eyes and again I saw something in that look, something different than what I taught myself to take for desire, a kind of regret maybe? Still keeping my hands in his, he whispered a question in Festian and then started to cry too, freaking me out completely. Confused, stressed out and absolutely clueless on what to do with my crying lover, I just asked him to crawl up the bed. We shared it until the morning, a narrow uncomfortable medbay thing. It wasn't about our bodies this time though, so we couldn't care less - we were finally taking care of our minds, something that bacta can't repair.
Turned out we both had quite a lot of explanations to make, our grieves and fears piled up from way behind our first intimate night, past Scarif even, and so we've talked the whole night through. We were talking and talking, cuddled in tiny bed, swallowing tears, wiping them from each other's faces just to see them appearing again with more of sorrowful words. We were talking and talking, laughing at our blindness, discovering that we both were trying to raise defenses instead of simply admitting how fragile we are against each other. Maybe it should've been me deciphering Cassian's intense looks more correctly, maybe it should've been him seeing through my seemingly detached hunt for pleasure. Maybe. That's not important anymore.
Now we're in this truly together, all the way, in body and mind, an eternal bond forged in fire and blood. No matter if we're in the same place or separated by missions, at the base or on horrifying assignments, we have each other. Yes, we do have a share of near-death experiences, close-calls that could end what we have in a blink of an eye. It doesn't really matter, now I understand that in a world of war our feelings are important here and now, because you can never tell what future brings, or takes away. I wish my hope for future was as strong as Cassian's, but hope was stolen from me so many times that I find it hard to think about anything serious in terms of hope. But, I may be broken beyond repair, and Cassian may be too, both children soldiers without families, yet we love and are loved in return. This is my something-more, a miracle I had no hopes for, so maybe I don't need my hope back after all?
A/N2: This is not a re-write of any of my old works, this chapter is entirely new thing. Hope it fits anyway. An interesting experience, though an exhausting one too - how do other people write Rogue One fluff so easily? :D