Something had gone very, very wrong.
Whispers hit the Echo One hangar almost as soon as the call had come through. How it had been spread, no one could say – I was told by some guy in data analysis, I think Solo mentioned it in the mess, I don’t know everyone’s talking about it – but either way, the whispers soon became shouts.
The transport was coming in.
“This is transport 83A7, Rogue One, requesting immediate landing!”
“Acknowledged, Rogue One, is everything–?”
“No, no you didn’t hear me, we can’t just go through the usual landing procedures, we’re coming in NOW – oh – oh hell –”
“Calm down, is that Officer Rook piloting?”
“Yes, yes, that’s me – be advised, we have severe injuries on board!”
The hangar waited on tenterhooks.
Maybe it was a mark of Bodhi Rook’s call and the utter desperation in his voice, because no one skipped landing procedures, even for injuries. That was how outsiders and Imperial spies invaded. But their transport was coming in only moments later and the officers and pilots clung to their projects, hiding behind helmets and x-wings, not wanting to be obvious, but needing to know everything that was happening. Rogue One was infamous throughout the entire wider rebellion, after all.
But no one had expected this.
Jyn Erso knew she was unfortunately awake, but she kept her eyes closed. She refused to move. She would refuse to breathe if there was any chance of it actually doing anything. Her throat burned to swallow, although it kind of felt like her entire body was burning, if she was being honest. The harsh lights of what she knew was the sickbay were sizzling behind her closed eyelids, but she crinkled the skin, refusing to look.
Her head was spinning wildly and she knew that she had to be slowly losing control. She needed something to hold onto. Her hand reached out of its own accord, blindly sliding across the sea of sheets, grasping desperately at the first thing it touched. The other hand gripped her own tightly, squeezing her fingers hard enough that she was able to focus.
Think. What did she know?
Your name is Jyn Erso. You are a rebel soldier. Your husband is dead.
She almost started screaming again.
She didn’t have a lot of memories of being moved from the transport to the sickbay. She barely even remembered the trip here. She knew she had lost a lot of blood though, and that it must have been quite the sight when they’d arrived. She figured that it was Bodhi, her friend no doubt panicking and white-faced, who must have carried her. The entire base would have seen him sprint with her in his arms straight to the sickbay, the usually stoic Sergeant Jyn Erso barely able to breathe.
The gut-wrenching sobs that had wracked her would have reverberated throughout the hangar floor.
(She was glad she didn’t remember).
It had taken a long time to finally recognise the hand she was holding.
“Jyn,” Bodhi had tears on his own face when she woke, her eyes bleary and her back throbbing with pain. “Oh, thank the Force, Jyn. I was so worried.”
She silently scoffed, feebly shaking his hand away.
The lights weren’t any less harsher than when she’d first been brought in. She was starting to be able to think clearly, which wasn’t what she wanted at all. Compared to this, she’d liked the floating disassociation the pain meds and the trauma had clearly put her in, but Bodhi was crying and watching her, and she couldn’t possibly push him away.
“Were …” she croaked out. “were you hurt?”
Bodhi shook his head. He looked like he wanted to reach for her hand again, but was holding back now that she was actually awake. “A few scrapes, nothing serious, nothing like …”
“You can say it,” she whispered. “Nothing like me. Nothing like him.”
The sound of the blaster bolt hitting flesh suddenly and violently clawed its way back into her head. Before she could even blink, she was back in that run-down apartment, crouched on the worn carpet, back against the stained couch. Yelling, then running, and then without warning –
She wouldn’t forget it. Never could.
“I can remember …” she forced herself to say. “He’s dead … isn’t he?”
A part of her foolishly hoped that she’d been mistaken. She had been half dead herself at the time, it was completely possible that her brain had just leapt to the obvious conclusion. But she would kick herself for thinking it if she could, because Bodhi wouldn’t ever lie to her and she could see the look on his face. Jyn herself even drilled into the new recruits that people died in this war and that it was something to simply get over, but Bodhi was staring at her white bed sheets now, unable to meet her eye, and she knew –
“I’m sorry, Jyn,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Jyn Erso was supposed to know death.
First her mother and then her father, years later. Many people in between; thugs and mercenaries, Stormtroopers and comrades, nearly all killed in the name of war. She was well acquainted with it, death having followed her like an old friend her whole life. She could mourn. She knew how to eventually only think fondly and move on because that was all you could do when you lost someone. Almost all of Rogue One was gone, but she could remember Chirrut and Baze and their connection to the galaxy and to each other without losing herself at the same time. She could remember Melshi and how he’d had her back in the end. She could even remember the damn droid with affectionate regret (they never had managed to find his back-up drives, had they?).
But this … how was she supposed to survive this?
It was over a week before she even let herself start thinking of him.
See, it happened like this –
Two undercover rebels walk into a bar. It sounds like a bad joke. But they were confident and they could play the part well. The exaggerated affection was unusual for them in public, but no one knew them here, aside from their exasperated pilot who was listening in from their transport several miles away. They bought drinks and they were always touching somehow. Her hand was on his ass and he sucked her neck under the cantina lights …
Their contact approached.
“Damn, I just feel so bad for her.”
“Hey, half the time I can’t tell if she even cares or not – OUCH, HEY!”
“UNCALLED FOR. You were there when she was brought in, I almost couldn’t listen to all that screaming.”
“She had been shot, of course she was screaming. But she literally turned up for training the second she was out of the sickbay, that says a lot, doesn’t it?”
“Weren’t they married?”
“Yeah, like that says much.”
“Oh, like you can judge, Mr. Never Had A Serious Relationship Ever.”
“For the record, she’s always scared me a little. I liked Captain Andor, I don’t know, I kind of wish I could tell her sorry or something but she always looks like she wants to murder someone.”
Many mumbles of agreement there (literally no one could deny that).
“We appreciate everything you have done for us–”
But Jyn cut Mothma off mid- what was clearly a well-rehearsed speech.
“This sounds like goodbye,” she said, bluntly.
Mothma stayed staring at her desk between them, obviously uncomfortable. No one had been able to look her in the eye at all since she had left the sickbay. Lord knew Bodhi tried, but even he could only hold it less than a second, before his gaze was again flitting away. No one really knew how to handle her at all, which was probably half the reason she had been hauled into Mothma’s office to begin with.
“We–” Mothma had always been well composed, put together. It was the one thing Jyn actually appreciated about the woman. However, in that moment, Mothma looked the most unravelled Jyn had ever seen her. “Sergeant Erso. I apologise. I should not have just assumed that you would want to leave the rebellion, given the circumstances–”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Jyn said.
“In that case …” Mothma sighed. “Your place with us still stands. Your role as a part of the Intelligence team has been invaluable, as hard as it is to admit sometimes. Captain Andor was highly respected. On the behalf of the Rebel Alliance Council, we are sorry for your loss.”
It was superficial. It always was. No one knew what to say (mind, no one had ever really known what to say to Jyn Erso, even when Cassian had still been alive) but they were humans, and they had to say something. So they offered condolences, apologies. At first there had been nothing, but it seemed that a certain amount of days had passed now for her to be deemed publically approachable or something, because now it was like she couldn’t get away from it. No matter where she went, she would be stopped by people she barely knew, letting her know that they were thinking of her, that they would there if she needed anything, that they were sorry –
Hell, she was the one who should have been fucking sorry.
But it should have been expected. It hadn’t exactly been a secret on base that they were married and everyone had mostly liked Cassian. Jyn was just the wild rebel that he had made a wife of, who was known for her murder face, starting fights and making new recruits cry.
If she’d been the one who was killed, no one would be mourning.
Jyn gritted her teeth and said, “Thank you.”
Their bed was bone-chillingly cold without him.
It carries on –
“The Andor's, right?” their contact pressed, forcing Cassian to break away from Jyn’s neck.
“That's us, Jeron and Kyra–” They all held out their hands to be shaken politely, like any potential assassins would. “We hear you can help us out?”
“Depends,” Their contact, Jyn noticed, hadn’t introduced himself or even just offered a name.
“On what?” she asked. “Money?”
“On the job,” the contact pointed out. “This is how we do it – you write down a name for me. I take it away and think about whether it can be done. We meet again, and then we talk prices. Disclaimer now, I don’t do politicians or royalty, too much hassle.”
“That must filter out a lot of your clientele,” Cassian pointed out.
The contact just shrugged. “You giving me a name, or what?”
They handed over the holo of Bodhi Rook’s face and a fake name – the worst part of the plan, in Jyn’s opinion, but the man had apparently refused to be talked out of it. “He’s lying through his teeth,” she snarled, watching their contact slink back off through the dirty cantina. “No politicians, we KNOW he murdered Senator Dalton!”
Cassian’s arm was slung casually around her waist, although she thought she might have felt him tense slightly at her indignant words. “Bodhi, we made the deal,” he said into the commlink. “Congratulations, you have a hit out on you.”
“Brilliant,” Bodhi’s voice came back through.
After 2 months, they held a funeral.
Though it wasn’t exactly a funeral, as there was no body and never would be. It was more a vigil, a short ceremony held, before the entire base could converge on the mess hall and proceed to get mind-numbingly drunk.
Someone had even had the gall to ask her if she wanted to speak. She’d started a fight over that one.
“You’re still here?” Bodhi leaned against the wall next to her. The lights were turned down low, casting deep shadows into the corners of the mess hall. Soldiers laughed, drinks were clinked and memories were spilled freely. It was what happened every time a comrade fell, but Jyn felt disconnected to all of it.
“Free alcohol,” she just said in answer.
Sometimes she asked herself that. Why are you still here? She had some loyalty to the rebellion, but most of it had just been for him. Cassian was the one thing she’d known she could always believe in. He wouldn’t ever fail her. In the initial days after Scarif, they had circled each other like satellites, struggling and unable to figure out the connection between them just yet. It had sparked under fire, it hadn’t been the right time to try and sort out their hearts when their heads were barely functioning.
No, it had taken time. Her walls had been high to begin with, but Scarif had all but fortified them. Nothing was getting in, despite how desperately she had apparently wanted something to. They had danced around each other for weeks, unsure of how to act, unsure about what to say (could anything really be said?). Until eventually, the need for each other had won out and they’d found themselves falling into bed together anyway.
They had ended up married barely a year later.
“I …” Jyn had hardly spoken a word since the mission. But she spoke to her drink and whispered, “I miss him.”
Bodhi knew better than to say anything in reply. He just pressed his shoulder to hers and remained silent.
She gasped loudly as her still-healing wound suddenly stabbed at her.
Several officers glanced around, but their gazes were quickly averted. People knew better than to make eye contact with Jyn Erso, the grieving soldier who had been forced to witness her husband’s murder. She made herself carry on punching the shit out of the sand dummy. She was straining too far, she knew, but she didn’t care.
Let her bleed.
See, it had all gone wrong –
“Negative, no one in sight,” Bodhi’s voice echoed through the commlink. “I don’t know, this doesn’t feel right to me, guys.”
The apartment they were renting under the guise of newlyweds was shady at best, but at least it offered them a roof while Bodhi was out in the pouring rain, waiting for someone to try and kill him. Jyn would have much rathered been tailing Bodhi, ready to leap in the moment the hitman appeared, but Bodhi had rightly pointed out that the hitman was clearly a professional and would surely notice if someone was following. So they were forced to stay put, stuck in the kind of building where screams and other loud noises were ignored and no questions were asked. Their plan was solid, but Cassian’s hand on her knee as they listened together on the couch was almost too hard.
“Relax,” she muttered, hoping that Bodhi wouldn’t hear.
“I am,” Cassian said. She shot him a look, and he let out a huff of breath, pressing his nose to her hair for a moment.
Suddenly, Bodhi’s voice was tinny and panicked. “Oh, hell – this isn’t good–”
“There’s wanted holographs all around the square here,” She heard the wet slapping of footsteps as Bodhi apparently ran. “For me, for my actual name, wanted as a traitor to the Empire – shit, I didn’t know this was Imperial-occupied territory–”
There had been absolutely no records that indicated such a thing and Jyn exchanged a hard and fast look with Cassian, before they both leapt up, moving to pull out weapons –
“What did you tell the hitman about who I was?” Bodhi asked fearfully.
“We said you were a jealous ex.”
“Oh, god. He has to know you were lying! He’ll put it together, he'll figure out you're Rebel Alliance investigating Dalton's death, quick, you have to get out of there–!”
The door to their apartment was blown backwards. Jyn dove as who was clearly an Imperial assassin stormed in, blaster bolts raining over their heads. Cassian returned fire as Jyn rolled to reach him. They pressed their backs against the back of the couch for cover. “He would’ve caught on the moment we handed over Bodhi’s holo!” Jyn sent three shots in perfect formation. Their hitman lunged to take cover behind the doorframe to the kitchen.
“I’ll cover, you get out the window–” Cassian said.
She almost laughed. “Don’t even think about it–”
But he ducked back down behind the couch. Before she could protest, he’d grabbed her around the waist and practically thrown her towards the window. “GO!” he yelled.
Her heart was slamming in her throat. Their battery packs wouldn’t hold out forever. Logically, their best chance was for one of them to reach the window, escape, call Bodhi. Any other Intelligence team would have made the call without hesitation, and Jyn swore she’d one day make Cassian pay for forcing her to make the same choice.
She ran –
The bolt got her from behind. Pain flared up and she hit the ground hard, still feet away from the single window and the fire escape beyond. Shit. Her flesh was burning. She felt like vomiting. She heard Cassian scream –
She dreamt about it.
Every night in their bed, she was forced to remember. How in his distraction, Cassian had been shot no less than five times in the chest. How Bodhi had arrived in record time, but still not fast enough. She was forced to remember what it had felt like to lie crumpled on the ground, bleeding and burning and unable to do anything. Her dreams made her watch the hitman move across the room and bend down to Cassian’s side, feeling for a pulse. Made her watch his satisfied expression when he stood once more.
Made her remember when the hitman had seen her watching him, still alive.
Jyn’s hands were shaking uncontrollably as she pushed back her sweaty hair. She hated the night terrors. She hated the icy chill of Hoth ripping through her when she was forced to change her nightclothes. She hated how she both despised staying in this bed, but was still unable to leave it. She hated that couldn’t accept this, hated that she was still struggling so many months later, hated seeing his face –
She couldn’t muffle the sobs against her hands.
(God, she wanted to die).
Jyn had never seen Bodhi so livid.
“What the HELL happened?!” he yelled, storming and shoving his way through the crowd that was curiously gathering. Jyn shoved aside the officer who had been helping her down the landing platform, ignoring Bodhi completely. He noticed her sway slightly on her leg and grabbed at her arm, but Jyn ripped herself from him as well. She wasn’t dealing with this.
“It’s only fractured,” she bit out.
“It's only –? You cut me off!” Bodhi cried, watching her limp determinedly through the hastily scattering crowd. “I didn’t have a clear view, you had no idea what was in that warehouse, but you just stormed in anyway!”
“It worked out, didn’t it?”
“You have to stop doing this,” Bodhi said furiously, loping alongside her. “Throwing yourself into danger like this, you’re going to get yourself killed! Oh, wait, sorry I forgot – that’s what you want, isn’t it?”
The barb was intended to hurt, but honestly it just hit her like a dull throb. Bodhi seemed more upset than she was at his words. His face immediately fell as she paused, more out of the pain in her leg than anything, but he didn’t know that. He hadn’t meant to say it. She could see it clearly on his face, but it didn’t make it any less true.
The truth was that yes, she had basically no regard for her own life at all. The truth was that she missed Cassian with every fractured leg, every bruised knuckle, and every cracked rib that she ever got. Jyn Erso might have been clueless about falling in love, but damnit, she knew how to fight. She knew how to punch and shoot and she knew that the rebellion needed people to push the boundaries. They needed people with little regard for their safety, to be willing to sacrifice themselves for the cause. She could be that person.
It wasn’t like he was coming back anytime soon.
But she had apparently scared Bodhi a few times too many.
Jyn had honestly lost count how often he’d been there for her. How often had Bodhi dragged her home drunk, or held her as she cried? He sat next to her every morning in the mess hall, made sure to drop by at lunchtime, and always dragged her to dinner. Bodhi hated confrontation, but would go off at anyone he caught gossiping about her. The man was her best friend. She’d never even asked him to do any of these things for her. He had taken her self-destruction silently, allowed her to deal in her own way. It was what she had needed at the time … but now it apparently wasn’t.
He sighed as he slowly sat next to her. His face was cast down, wary. She realised that not once, so far, had she ever even asked how he was doing.
“I’m sorry for yesterday–” he began, but she roughly cut over him.
“No, shut up,” She breathed in painfully, closed her eyes. “Bodhi, I think I need your help.”
He glanced up. He searched her face and apparently found what he was looking for. He held out his hand.
She took it.
“I've been meaning to say I’m sorry,” Bodhi whispered to her. “I'm sorry that I couldn’t save him, too.”
“Stop it, there was nothing to save,” She winced at the flatness of her voice. She was making an effort these days to try and fix that.
“Still. If the hitman hadn’t still been shooting at us, I would have gone back for his body. You know, I would have, right?”
Jyn leaned her head against his. “I know, Bodhi. I know.”
The day of their wedding anniversary, she allowed herself to reminisce –
“Jyn …" She ignored the way her name sounded more like a prayer than a call for them to stop. There was no stopping now. He pressed her deliciously against the wall of the storage room, fingers grasping at the collar of her jacket. He yanked it down, making way for his lips against her neck. She bit back a moan, her fingers desperately seeking out skin. His back wasn’t smooth; it was pockmarked and scarred, but right now it was hers and that was all that mattered. She caressed up his spine as Cassian made a noise somewhere in the back of his throat. He pulled her face back to his.
She should’ve known she was in trouble the moment she first saw that mouth.
He slid his fingers through her hair, down her neck. His lips were fierce, his tongue relentless. For several moments she lost herself in him and the way he consumed her. They had been dangerously close to this ever since Scarif, but the meeting earlier had no doubt tipped them over the edge. His hand on her thigh, the look on her face … something inside her had splintered, set alight. She pulled him closer into her by the hips and he growled. Oh, he could keep making that noise, it was all right with her. She could feel every inch of him, feel the heat spreading as they pressed and ground against each other and this was utterly terrifying. So rarely had she done this. So rarely did she form connections at all. Were they really going to do this? Were they really going to risk fucking up whatever it was they had for this? Was she really going to let herself fall ridiculously in love (because that’s where this was going, plain as day –)
“Too cold,” Cassian suddenly gasped.
Jyn was burning. Unable to comprehend, she muttered, “What?” into his mouth.
“Can’t – not here –” Cassian said. “It’s too cold to take clothes off here.”
She found herself grinning.
"Then let's find somewhere warmer."
Six months since the day she’d lost him, Jyn Erso finally made a decision.
“I need a new room,” she demanded.
Mothma glanced up. The woman clearly didn’t know what to do with her most days, but Jyn was still one of their best soldiers. She threw herself into her work and that was still enough to tolerate her. “You know we don’t just swap around room assignments,” she countered.
“Something about ‘if we let one person do it, then everyone else will want to as well, whatever’ – I don’t fucking care,” Jyn thundered. “I need a new room.”
Mothma watched her a long time before finally answering,
“Ok. Report back at 1700 hours for your new quarters. I can’t guarantee,” she added, making Jyn pause as she’d spun around to leave. “that it will be a private room. Space is limited on base, remember.”
“I don’t care,” Jyn said. “Thank you.”
She had a debriefing scheduled, but apart from that, nothing else to occupy her. Jyn felt like visiting Bodhi, but she knew he was on guard tower duty all day and wouldn’t be clocking off until midnight. At least she even had someone who vaguely understood what she was going through. The man’s guilt was only rivalled by her own, but Jyn was always quick to stamp down the worries of who had become as good as her brother. No one deserved to be free from this more than Bodhi Rook.
Speaking of –
The screech made her start, along with several other officers who occupied the corridor with her. Bodhi came hurtling round the corner, nearly rolling his ankle in the process. “I’ve been trying – just saw you – it’s him, it’s him!”
He crashed into her, grabbing at her arms.
“Hell, I – don’t think I’ve – ever run faster in my life,” he gasped. “I was on the guard tower–”
“I know, I didn’t expect to see you all day–”
“A freighter’s come in! Stolen, so we flagged it and oh lord, Jyn, IT’S HIM.”
“What do you mean ‘him’?” She was truly alarmed now.
“I can’t explain it, but it was Cassian’s voice and the first thing he asked was whether you were alive or not,” She only just noticed the smile on his face, his eyes gleaming. “COME ON!”
Something stabbed at her heart.
They stormed through the base.
A commotion was happening in the hangar. Curious and astounded faces peppered the crowd, pilots hanging out of their cockpits to witness the chaos the stolen freighter had caused. The Wookiee, Chewbacca, had even stuck his head out of a vent on the Millennium Falcon to try and figure out what was going on. “He was taken to the sickbay!” one of the guard tower officers yelled at them when he noticed their approach. They quickly backtracked and Jyn was honestly surprised that half the hangar didn’t follow. She honestly didn’t want to make a scene when they reached the sickbay, but she knew she would punch anyone who dared try and stop her. Luckily, the med staff recognised her and apparently knew better. “He’s through here–” one of them pointed out.
Bodhi hung back as Jyn pulled aside the curtain. In the literal minutes it had taken to run here, she’d known that she wouldn’t believe it until she saw him with her own eyes. It was too unbelievable. Too miraculous. The scar on her lower back was throbbing.
… kind of as if it knew.
He sat perched on the edge of the bed. He looked like he’d been dragged through hell backwards the last six months. His beard was wild and unkempt, and he held himself awkwardly, like his wounds hadn’t properly healed. His clothes were dirty and not his own, but then he looked up and saw her face and apparently, nothing else in the galaxy mattered.
“Hey,” he choked out.
“Hey,” she whispered.
I thought you were dead screamed from every inch of him. He had seen her go down first, of course he would assume that she was gone as well. A part of her wanted to get mad and yell. Six months apart and he’d been out there the whole time, hurting just as much as she had been. She wanted to hit something. She wanted to ask what kind of stupid trick this was. She wanted to cry. She wanted to laugh. She needed to get her hands on him –
His face said the same thing as she broke into a smile. His arms were up before she had even run into them. He’d tried to stand, but the force of her had sent him back onto the bed, his arms a tight vice around her waist. She’d never thought she would have this again, never thought she would get to hold him like this again, and she found herself climbing up onto the bed with him, crawling into his lap.
She fisted her fingers into his hair and sobbed.
“Did I get a funeral?” he murmured.
Thankfully, the sickbay had just been precautionary. There wasn’t much they could do for Cassian that hadn’t already been done, and as such he had been quickly sent on his way. Bodhi had also cried and hugged the both of them for several moments before they’d left. Cassian had thanked him over and over for managing to save Jyn, even if he hadn’t managed to save him. Having been cleared for leave for the next several days or so (“Mothma literally said ‘come back whenever’,” Draven had reluctantly informed them) they had quickly retreated to their quarters.
Their bed was suddenly warm again.
One of the first things they had done was helping each other strip off their shirts and inspecting the scars that they now had. Jyn had sat hunched over with her back to him, shivering as his fingers had traced the old wound. Cassian’s chest had looked worse, but they were all just added to the collection of scars both their bodies hosted. Refusing to let each other go, they had simply crawled into bed together and there they stayed.
“It wasn’t so much a funeral than a memorial,” Jyn murmured, on her side and her nose pressed against his chest. “I almost didn’t go.”
“Fair enough,” Cassian said back, voice equally low. “I might not have gone to yours, either.”
“How did you survive?” Jyn whispered. “The hitman … he checked for a pulse …”
“He must’ve gotten it wrong. Maybe I did die for a moment, there. I don’t know, I don’t remember a lot,” Cassian spoke to her forehead. “It would have been hard to ignore a shoot-out, so someone must have called the police. I woke up in a hospital without a commlink and was told that there was so much blood from where your body had been that there was no doubt you were dead. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back here, I tried to send messages back to the rebellion to let them know I was injured, but–”
Jyn was shaking her head. “I should have been looking for you, I shouldn’t have just assumed–”
“I shouldn’t have assumed you were dead,” Jyn said, fiercely. “From now on, I will only ever believe it with my own eyes and hands.”
She looked up at him, but it hit her that what she saw on his face was familiar. It was the look of grief, the look of someone who had been through too much, and she saw that look whenever she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She sighed and whispered,
“We’re both sorry. There was nothing either of us could have done, Jyn,” Cassian assured.
"At least I had Bodhi. You had no one."
He just hauled her tighter into his arms. "It's … been a rough six months," he admitted. “I mean, your body was missing so I guess a part of me hoped … I just can’t believe you’re here.”
Jyn needed to see his face. Nose to nose, she ran a hand over the beard that had grown, before moving and tangling her fingers in his hair. “I love you,” she suddenly said. “Don’t ever leave me again.”
He pressed his lips to hers. It was hesitant and greedy all at once, and she held him to her desperately. She wanted to claw at his skin until she could claim it as hers once more. He kissed hard, ferocious, rolling and pulling her on top of him. She knew better than to protest she might be hurting him. His hands spanned her waist, roaming until they were both breathless and soaring together. Losing Cassian had been like getting her arm chopped off, but now she was suddenly complete again.
He was home.
They were home.