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Cassian is enjoying the prospect of death when his eyes snap open. He feels the cool, dry air of the center tower silently rushing through the holes of the metal grates. He feels the sharp, still sparking pain in his side where the man’s blaster had knocked him off. And he hurts absolutely everywhere else from the fall down, none of which he can recall at the present moment.
None of that matters, however, because Jyn is nowhere to be seen.
He pushes himself up, the grate biting into his hands is nothing compared to every muscle in his body screaming in agony. His blaster wound is terrible, worse than anything he’s ever sustained in the field, and logically he knows that if he’s going to survive this he needs medical attention and to not strain himself by climbing up.
But he’s already moving, heaving breath, gripping the metal tower as hard as he can. He already feels his strength leaving him, but he refuses to acknowledge it. There’s only one pressing, urgent, burning thought on his mind. Jyn.
She’s gone, and so is the man in the white cape, which means she either fell to her death, far from Cassian’s reach, or she made it all the way to the top. He won’t let himself imagine she’s gone. He can’t let himself imagine it, there’s only one place she can be, and the hope of it somehow pulls him all the way up to where the lift was left open. He knows he can’t climb any longer, he can already feel his muscles tightening, starting to spasm. He wonders if he’ll be able to jump to the lift or if he’ll miss it completely.
He doesn’t think, he just goes. There’s less than a terrifying second of complete disconnect before he hits the floor of the lift hard. A guttural gasp of pain is ripped from him involuntarily as he pulls himself all the way in, collapsing against the wall. He knows he should be worried about the death star schematics, he knows he should be figuring out how to get them both off of this planet.
But all he can think of is Jyn. That thought that’s intruded in his mind since their time on Jedha, the one distracting him from his purpose and his mission, the fire in her eyes burning away all of his logic and strategy and leaving him breathing in and choking on nothing but smoke.
He caves, and lets the thought of her will him to live. Jyn.
He slowly pulls himself up, sloppily hitting the button to take him to the top. Each movement of the lift brings him a whole new world of pain, but it’s so much he’s beginning to not register it anymore. Not now that he’s set his course and aligned himself to a point.
The thought of what he’ll do if she’s not up there, if she’s dead, if she’s gone, grips him with more pain than the sizzling wound in his side.
The lift is almost to the top when he feels the whole building shake with an explosion. He slams the hilt of his blaster into the side of the lift as if he could will it to go faster, as if he could rip the force apart with his bare hands to ensure that she was safe, that she was okay.
A few terrible, long seconds later, the lift door opens, the sticky humid air rushing in.
Cassian stumbles out, frantically overlooking the platform. He sees the man in the white cape first, then he sees Jyn. Alive. Breathing. Cassian’s relief is short lived as he sees the man in the white cape lift a blaster.
Cassian’s blaster is up before he even has time to think. He shoots, his arms and muscles so tight and pained that he misses the man’s chest and hits his shoulder. The man collapses and Jyn runs, straight to the console, slamming a button. Then she turns to him, her face a mixture of wonder and hope.
She smiles, and Cassian is undone. For all that the fire and anger in her eyes tore into him, her smile almost hurts more. She’s a bright star, hard to look at, hard to look away from. His body is in pain but he knows it was all worth it, that maybe there’s someone out there listening, ready to receive those plans.
He knows he can’t repent for the things he’s done in the rebellion. But as Jyn limps to him and wraps her arm around him, supporting him, he thinks that this is enough. She is enough.