As Jyn slowly continues to make her way through the people strewn about the Falcon, person by person, the floor space gradually clears. With each person she meets who is not someone she's familiar with, she's both grateful and increasingly worried.

When she sends out what feels like the hundredth person, she hears a call from behind her.

"Erso!"

Turning, she sees Han Solo standing in the doorway. His usual suave, confident air and smirk are gone, replaced by a look of grim fatigue with just a hint of satisfaction, an expression that Jyn imagines mirrors her own. His normally white shirt is stained and smudged, which is not entirely unusual—given his ship's tendency to require extensive maintenance—but the nature of the stains are red, not the usual black from smeared oil and various other ship fluids. She wonders if he's injured, or if the blood is someone else's. Given how easily he appears to move, she surmises the latter.

Meeting her gaze, he jerks a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards the cockpit, one of the few places she hasn't gotten to yet, too occupied with the people in the halls and living quarters. "Andor's in there, in case you wanted to know. I thought you probably hadn't seen him," he informs her, trying to keep his voice gruff in order to hide the kindness and concern that's creeping in, things that do not suit his image of a tough ex-smuggler. He's only moderately successful, but Jyn doesn't call him out on it.

At his words, her heart immediately feels lighter, the fatigue that had set deep in her bones is now gone. Thank the Force. She's been so afraid that he hadn't made it, that he'd pulled some stupid sacrificial act that had gotten himself killed. His selflessness is one of the many reasons she loves him, but she knows it's also what puts him in the most danger.

Solo's eyes shutter halfway and he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly uncharacteristically unsure, then continues, "It wasn't pretty. Yeah we got a hell of a lot of people out, including some that wouldn't have made it if Andor, Ȋmwe and Malbus weren't so damn stubborn… but it wasn't pretty," he repeats.

She can hear what he leaves unspoken: it was bad. We didn't get everyone. There will be scars. Perhaps not as bad as Scarif, but perhaps not dissimilar. The tapestry of wounds and fear she's encountered since entering the Falcon told her that already, but she does not say it aloud, understanding that Solo is merely processing the events.

She clears her throat and asks instead, "And Baze and Chirrut, are they…?"

"Oh," he frowns in confusion. "You haven't seen them yet? They're around here somewhere, though I think they've been helping pull people out of the freight area, I guess that's why you haven't crossed paths."

And the rest of her worry vanishes. For years she'd done everything possible to keep everyone out. To keep everyone at arms-length and to stand on her own. Relying on others had been a weakness. In fact, a year ago she would have laughed if someone told her that soon she would have not only one friend whom she couldn't live without, but five. But that's exactly what happened. And the number continues to grow. It's hard to imagine how bleak her life was before K2 and Team Bravo plucked her from the prison camp on Wobani. So lonely and desolate. At the time, it suited her just fine. But now, she couldn't imagine her life without the two former guardians watching out for Bodhi, K2, Cassian and her. Her world would be so much darker without the two's playful bickering and habit of constantly mystifying her with their knowledge and strength.

"Anyway," Solo mutters awkwardly, "I thought you'd want to know." And then he's gone.

Jyn finishes clearing the living quarters and hallways, leaving no person without care, before finally, finally she makes her way to the cockpit.

The ship is almost entirely empty now. There's no one in the hallway leading to the cockpit, and at first she thinks no one is in the cockpit itself. The chairs are empty and stepping through the doorway into the room doesn't immediately reveal anyone. That is, until she looks down and to the right, and her eyes at last fall on Cassian.

He sits only a few feet away, leaning against the wall, apparently unaware of her presence. His legs splay out in front of him and his hands rest limply in his lap. Head bowed, he stares at them.

"Cassian?" she calls quietly.

His head rises and looks up to meet her gaze, his face breaking into a terribly tired, but beautiful smile. "I kept my promise."

She returns his smile with one of her own, knees almost buckling in relief, grateful that yes, he'd made it back to her. That after all of the carnage she'd just waded through, after all the waiting and not knowing if he was still alive, he's here now. He's home.

But even as the relief courses through her, she frowns mentally; she doesn't like the look of him. His skin is entirely too pale for her taste; the usual color and warmth in his face and eyes appear drained away by a large gash visible on his right shoulder. Though it doesn't seem like it would be enough to cause that much blood loss, she worries. But then again, despite what she just spent the last half hour doing, she's not a medic. And her worry eases when she takes a closer look and sees that the gash has stopped bleeding for the moment, and therefore he's not in imminent danger. She also notices something off with his left shoulder, and it takes her a moment to realize that its abnormal misshapen form indicates a dislocation. Other than that, physically he appears fine. No matter how much she wants to, if she were to assess him as she had every other patient thus far, she would not send him to med bay for critical care.

Assessment complete, she crouches down in front of him, but before she can say anything, a frown crosses his face and a look of urgency lights his eyes. "Jyn, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She panics for a moment, thinking he must be worse than she thought if he's confused and delusional enough to think that she is the injured one, but then she remembers the woman's arterial blood spraying across her face and body. Now that she thinks about it, she can feel it sticking to her.

He shifts, clearly trying to reach out to touch her face, to reassure himself that she's alright, but when his arms twitch he can't suppress a grimace. Immediately, she reaches out and places a hand over his. "Don't," she orders, sounding a little more cross than she'd intended. She's not angry at him; she's furious that the Empire deemed the people of Andelm IV insignificant and targeted them out of sheer malice. And because Cassian is Cassian and he doesn't leave innocent people in harms-way if he can help it, that put him in the path of destruction. So no, she is not mad at him, but the rage burning within her bleeds out into her voice no matter how hard she tries to stop it. Worried he'll take it the wrong way—because in the past she has expressed her (justifiable) anger at him when he's been hurt, and that's not how she feels this time—she switches her grip so that she clasps his hand and softens her voice. "Don't, you'll hurt yourself."

With the hand that is not holding Cassian's, she reaches up and wipes her sleeve across her face. It probably only smears the blood more and makes it look worse than before, but her assurance of, "It's not mine," clears Cassian's frown.

"Good," he rasps, tension leaving his body.

He doesn't appear to be in critical condition—thank the Force, she whispers silently—and he gives no indication that he's anxious to go anywhere, which is fortunate since it will be some time before any medical personnel can see him. The halls of Echo Base reverberate with noise and energy as rebels charge in every direction in order to organize and aid people. The hum and buzz from the hundreds of civilians that had been on the ship is gone now, replaced with a comforting quiet. She decides waiting here is as good a place as any.

Decision made, she slides to the wall and sits next to him, still holding his right hand. Her personal experience with dislocated joints tells her that any movement—no matter how slight—is excruciating, therefore she avoids touching his left arm. Though his right shoulder is not uninjured, he makes no move to pull his hand from hers and instead tightens his grip.

He's first to break the silence. "I'm sorry."

Jyn raises an eyebrow. "Cassian, what in the galaxy could you possibly be sorry for right now? And if you say, 'for worrying you,' then I am going to punch you, injuries be damned. This is our job; there are always going to be missions or crises that cause us to worry for each other."

He gives her a wry smile, glancing at her sidelong, and doesn't say anything for a minute, leading Jyn to believe that that was exactly what he'd been about to apologize for—bloody idiot, she grumbles good naturedly.

But then he continues. Drawing in a breath, he starts, "When we got to Andelm IV, most everyone was congregated in the base—which was nothing more than a single warehouse the civilians gave us to use—but there was a group that got trapped across town. And of course, Chirrut and Baze had gone to get them, but hadn't returned. I ran to try to help them, but they ended up saving me. Pulled me out of the path of a crashing TIE Fighter." Cassian pauses and chuckles halfheartedly, shaking his head ruefully.

Jyn can't figure out if he's just rambling and telling her what happened, or if he is going somewhere and this is tied to his earlier apology, but she lets him talk without interruption.

"There was a group of ten civilians that we had to get back to the base," he continues quietly. "I thought most of them could make it—unless of course they got hit by stray fire or a downed ship—except for one. The odds were stacked against her. She knew it. I knew it. Her partner knew it. We tried anyway… but the odds won and she got hit by a blaster bolt from ground troops." He leans his head back against the wall. "They landed ground troops in a town they were about to bomb, for the Force knows what reason," he murmurs, marveling at the senselessness of it.

He stops there for a long moment, catching his breath, gathering his wits. "She died quickly," he told her, voice soft, "but I'd be lying if I said she didn't suffer. She'd been suffering for a long time."

Jyn squeezes his hand in sympathy, reminding him that she's here. She'll always be here for him.

"I watched a couple who were each other's worlds get ripped apart," he whispers hoarsely. "I watched a partnership that was so strong I could see their love and devotion within seconds, die. Snuffed out, just like that. Destroyed by the Empire."

Jyn swallows hard, fear rising in her. Fear that this is the moment he's been building towards for the past two months, ever since Ord Mantell. That this is when he'll sever all ties between them so that neither of them can hurt each other with their loss. So that he won't be hurt if he loses her to the Empire. She thinks that now's the time that he's finally going to walk away from her and never come back, as so many others in her life have. That he'll leave her behind as he never has before. He's always come back. On Jedha, on Eadu, on Yavin 4, on Scarif, on Ord Mantell, and so many other times in between. He'd even come back from Andelm IV, but what was the point if he turns his back on her now?

He turns to look at her and murmurs, "I'm sorry."

Her heart plummets and she opens her mouth to say something, anything to knock some sense into him, but she stops when she finally meets his gaze and registers what she's seeing. His eyes are not withdrawn or shuttered as she'd expected them to be. There are no walls up right now; he's letting everything through. His love, his concern, his caring, he's laying it bear for her to see as he never has before, even in the months just after Scarif. He'd always held himself back ever so slightly. But not now. Now he holds nothing as he offers it all to her.

"I'm sorry," he says again, "for fraying our partnership and nearly severing it while we both still live, while we have the chance to be together. I've been pulling away since I was reminded so forcefully that I could lose you, that you could lose me, that I might again feel that agonizing desolation that is loss… all because of the Empire. But it's not the Empire who's been hurting us these past two months, it's been me. I've been hurting you."

He squeezes her hand. There's not much strength to his grip, but enough.

"Yes, just as you said, our occupations are dangerous," he agrees. "There's always the threat of death hanging over our heads, the risk is always present, and the thought of you getting ripped away, of either of us leaving the other and dying…" he trails off, then clears his throat determinedly. "But you make my living worthwhile. You sit with me in my shadows, you stay with me in the darkness, you follow me to the brink and don't let go. I don't know what I've done in my life to deserve you, and I know I'm not the same person I was before I met you. Perhaps it's selfish of me, but I don't want to go back to the person I was. Maybe," he hesitates, "maybe I will lose you tomorrow—though I pray to the Force that I won't—but at some point… at some point losing you is a certainty because immortality doesn't exist for people like you and me… but I don't want to lose the time I have with you while we are both still here. Losing that would be all on me and that would be my greatest regret," he finishes solemnly, eyes fixed on hers. "So for whatever it's worth… I'm yours. All that I am… the good and the bad, I give to you, if you'll still have me."

Jyn has no words to respond. She's filled with soul-deep relief that her fear these last months as they grew apart was for naught, and overwhelming love for the imperfect person sitting beside her; it's his imperfections that make him perfect to her.

Instead of replying with words, she leans towards him—careful of his shoulder. When he, too, leans forward, she rests her forehead against his, eyes closed. They sit like that for several moments, soaking in each other's presence and love, taking comfort in their unspoken promise that they will always, always, be there for each other.

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A.N. Yay! They are reunited! Cassian is not out of the woods yet, but I gave him this brief respite to give him and Jyn this much deserved and much needed moment. Unfortunately it will cost him...