Author's Notes: I told myself that I wasn't going to write for another fandom. And then I started reading far too many Rebelcaptain stories. So I told myself that I definitely wasn't writing for Rogue One. But then fix it fics were calling to me. I settled on writing this instead of starting on the multi-chaptered story that is currently brewing in my head. Platonic, romantic, partnership - what have you - I am here for these two and basically everyone else in this damn movie. I think the way it ended was perfect, but it hurt me and I need to cope and the Fix It fics on here have been so kind to me.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rogue One owns my ass and I am both dead and a better person because of this movie - but you can pry these Fix It fics from my cold, dead hands.

"though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect life;
i have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night"
- sarah williams, "twelve hours: a legacy of verse"

Jyn pulled at the neck of her dress. The thin band around her neck wasn't tight, but she was unaccustomed to the feel of such soft clothing. The material of the dress itself was light and thankfully didn't cling to her small frame, the lavender dress drifting down to her ankles, touching her so that it only suggested the hint of any curves that she might have. It covered her back and chest, leaving no unseemly view of her cleavage, and the slits at the bottom were modest, going only up to her knees.

It was a beautiful dress - even she could grudgingly admit that - but it wasn't her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn a dress and she didn't think that she had ever worn anything remotely close to this lovely. There had never been an occasion and it would've only hindered her besides. Dirt, oil, blood, and sweat had become as much a part of her clothing as pants and shirts. Now she was so clean that she felt like a layer of her own persona had been scrubbed away.

She may have been a part of a particularly dirty group of Rebels, but even she couldn't look like a dirty scoundrel during the celebration of the Death Star's destruction.

During the award ceremony, when Princess Leia had given medals to Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, Jyn had been able to wear her uniform. It hadn't been as crisp as Cassian's, but at least it had been familiar. She had even been given a medal as well - smaller and with much less pomp and attention too - but it had rested comfortably under her jacket near the kyber crystal that always hung around her neck.

She was still wearing the kyber crystal necklace now, even if it had smudges of dirt on it and didn't match the dress, but she refused to part with it. K-2SO had taken one look at it and then raised his hands in surrender without even saying anything when she glowered at him. Let her at least wear one bit of her armor to protect herself since she felt so bare and vulnerable in this damned dress.

Jyn took a deep breath and dropped her hand from the band. She should be grateful to even have the chance and ability to wear something this nice. By all means, she should've died a hundred times. When Shara had eagerly presented Jyn the dress for her to wear since she had nothing but her uniform and old clothes, Jyn had accepted without words, honestly too stunned by the kind gesture and the fact that everything was happening. It was, in K-2SO's words, statistically impossible that she was here, alive, and relatively whole - and even more so that she wasn't alone.

At that thought, Jyn's sharp eyes examined the room until she found a familiar face in the crowd, her thudding heart slowing the moment she spotted him. Cassian was also out of his uniform, but the dark pants and navy blue suit jacket was no less crisp. She thought it looked, in a way, like just another uniform that he might put on. He had that air about him. Everything that he wore was an extension of himself. Unlike her flimsy dress which couldn't hide a blaster if she tried, she had no doubt that Cassian could turn his nice outfit into functional clothes if a battle should spring out of nowhere.

Her eyes wavered around the room again at the thought of a battle and her heart raced once more, but nothing dark came to spring out of the corners of the ballroom. She was seeing ghosts of her past. It was hard not to look for a fight when that was all her life seemed to be made of. She could barely remember a time where the word "peace" was uttered not in dry contempt but in pure, genuine hope. It felt as foreign to her as this dress. She pushed the cuff of the sheer, slit sleeve of her dress, rubbing her wrist and imagining all the shackles that had been placed over them. They still felt raw if she thought about it hard enough.

Lost in thought as she was and feeling like a stranger in her own skin, Jyn didn't hear the footsteps coming to her side and damn near jumped right of the dress when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She quickly spun to snatch the wrist of whoever had touched her, moving to twist it in a painful hold, when she locked eyes with Cassian, who looked more amused than caught off guard by her violent reaction.

"I'm sorry," Cassian said, his voice somehow soothing and irritating at the same time even now. She could tell that he was being genuine, but his eyes told her that he still thought it was funny. "I should have known better than to startle you." Jyn let go of his wrist, which he rubbed as thoughtfully as she had her own just moments ago, and tilted her chin to look up at him. "You look very threatening, of course."

Now he was teasing her. She would've punched him in his arm if they weren't in a room surrounded by their superior officers and heroes of the Rebellion. She still might.

"Yes, well," Jyn responded, almost primly, "we were ordered to wear something nice."

"And you've been hiding that under your bunk for a special occasion?" Cassian questioned cheekily, knowing full well that she definitely didn't own a dress. He'd seen her in literally every piece of clothing she owned and nothing came close to this nice. She wondered where he'd found his own clothes, if they'd been in his closet this entire time, unused and gathering dust. While the outfit fit him, she thought it hung a little loose on him, like he'd lost weight since he'd last worn it. Rebellions could do that to a person.

Jyn scowled at him, letting him know just how she felt. Cassian only chuckled and, despite his teasing, she felt a pleasant warmth flood into her chest. Laughter was as unusual to them as these fancy gatherings, but she was more than happy to hear it come from him, even if it was small. She couldn't picture him laughing outright. Even his smiles felt hidden, like he kept them a secret for only some people to see. She liked to consider herself lucky to have seen a few of them.

"Not fond of dancing?" Cassian asked, gesturing to the many couples swirling around the room.

Drinks were being passed around openly, allowing the once strict and reticent soldiers to revel gleefully. Nothing was coordinated, despite the music playing, but that added a certain charm. Everyone was a moment off from the beat, dancing to their own tune, making random cheers and toasts, free to hug and celebrate and mourn. There were tears, but there was happiness mixed with the sadness. It was as much of a celebration as it was a farewell. Who knew when they would be able to do something like this again? People were opening themselves up to the possibility of hope, proudly sharing tales of their friends' and comrade's sacrifices. They were healing.

And yet here was Jyn, closed up all by herself to the side of the room. Even Cassian had been wading through the crowd, talking with people, clapping backs, shaking hands. She thought she heard him bark out a short laugh once, but it hadn't seemed real. She wondered if he was enjoying himself. He certainly seemed to have a lighter air around him than before.

Biting her lip, Jyn shook her head. "I've never dance before."

Cassian raised an eyebrow. "Never?"

"It's not like Saw taught dancing lessons in between hand-to-hand combat," Jyn replied dryly. She almost laughed at the mental picture of the old man dancing around his base before remembering that he was dead, destroyed by the Death Star's first test. Combating the memory, Jyn turned the question on him. "Why aren't you dancing?"

"I'm picky about my dance partners," Cassian told her, though it felt like an obvious lie. He was deflecting, as was the case for a career Intelligence Officer, but she couldn't understand why. Maybe to continue joking and keep the conversation light. Things always ran so deep between them that it was sometimes hard to figure out how they had gotten here. It was a nice respite when things weren't so serious.

Jyn nodded her head to the left. "I'm sure K2 would be more than willing to pair up. He seems eager to dance."

When Cassian looked in the direction she'd nodded, he was forced to stifle another chuckle upon spotting the tall and imposing robot swaying side-to-side to the music with his hands held up to his chest. K-2SO either didn't notice the strange looks that he was getting or didn't care, until a golden robot - C3-PO, she thought - questioned him outright. If robots could glare, K-2 probably would've done so.

"I don't think he's the right size," Cassian informed as he turned away from the scene. His eyes caught hers for a brief moment before he looked back into the crowd. "I prefer someone smaller, less bulky, a lot more attractive."

"You'll hurt his feelings if he hears you say that," Jyn told him, trying to hide a smile and failing. She followed his gaze, but she couldn't be for sure if he was looking for anyone in particular. There were plenty of attractive men and women out there. She couldn't be exactly sure of his preference as she thought it rude to ask. She'd done a lot of shitty things in her life to people, but assuming that wasn't one of them.

Still, she couldn't help but notice all the women in front of them, wearing beautiful dresses and looking a lot more comfortable in them than her. Out there, other women were smiling and laughing, carefully sipping on drinks or downing shots playfully, dancing to the music without a care or immersed in deep conversations. Every time Jyn thought she caught Cassian eyeing a particular woman, his gaze would shift elsewhere, like he knew that what he was searching for wasn't out there for him to find.

"You do look-" Cassian cut himself off as he seemed to struggle to find the right word. Jyn glanced at him curiously. It wasn't often that he didn't know what to say. He usually planned things out in advance, but now it appeared as if the words had started to tumble out of mouth before he'd thought it through. "Nice."

Not the most heart-clenching or stunning compliment a girl could receive about her looks, but considering her usual state of disaster and Cassian's typical deflections, Jyn could take it. "Nice," she repeated, like she was testing out the word.

Cassian cleared his throat and looked at her. "Yes, nice." He was sticking to it then, even if he didn't seem to like his own choice in words. He looked like he wanted to say more, but the words refused to come out of his mouth, like he was afraid. That was new. Jyn hadn't thought Cassian was afraid of nothing. He was fearless in that reckless yet admirable sort of way. Some people found peacetime discomforting though. "One might think you're trying to catch someone's eye."

"I'm not-" Jyn flushed pink, which probably didn't match the lavender of the dress, and this time she did punch him in the arm, lightly though. Cassian gave her a slight, half grin. "I was told to look nice. Shara gave me the dress. It would've been rude of me to say no and idiotic too as I had nothing else to wear. What's your excuse?"

Tilting his head in that infuriating way of his that always prompted her to react, Cassian asked in far too innocent of a voice, "My excuse for what?"

"For" - Jyn gestured to him, waving a hand up and down - " this ."

Cassian chuckled again. "What is 'this' exactly? These are my clothes. I am allowed to wear them, yes?"

Jyn pressed her lips together in a thin line and stared back at him. She had walked right into the trap without even realizing it and even worse she had set herself up in an attempt to turn things on him. He was better at this spy thing than she was. Her tactics still tended to be sneaking in and then blasting her way out, but she was learning, slowly but surely. He was teaching her, but she thought sometimes his tactics bordered on cruel and embarrassing.

"I'm not used to seeing you out of your usual clothes," Cassian continued, letting her off the hook by letting go of her fumble. She almost breathed a sigh of relief. "I've never seen you without your vest, I don't think."

"It apparently clashed with the dress," Jyn interjected.

"I half-expected you to wear a blaster tied around your waist," he added, this time reaching out to touch her waist with his fingertips.

The action seemed almost thoughtless, like he hadn't known he was doing it at the time, but it caused her to stiffen immediately. He pulled his hand back as he turned to look at something behind her, the touch so brief and light it was like it had never happened, but she could swear that her skin burned underneath the thin material of the dress where he'd touched her. She willed her body to relax so that he wouldn't notice how tense she'd become. By the time he looked back at her, whatever was behind her no longer of interest, she was passive again, at least on the outside. On the inside, she suddenly felt like a firecracker.

It had been far too long since they'd last touched. They kept respectful distances from one another for the most part and yet they were free with each other too. He would put a hand on the small of her back to stable her whenever the ship jerked in orbit. She would grab his elbow to get his attention. Ever since Scarif, touching hadn't been a problem. But for some reason, when they were around other people, in large groups, outside of their own, they remained distant. It was more professional that way, but it felt...wrong and she didn't know why.

"I only pointed it out," Cassian explained smoothly, "because some officers are tempted to ask you to dance, but you're - ah, what was the word for it? - intimidating."

For some reason, the use of his word "only" made her heart sink a little. So he was only talking to her right now because some other men wanted to dance with her? He was acting as his fellow soldiers' wingman? And here she had thought that she was his partner - or at least he was hers.

Folding her arms across her chest, Jyn said, "So they sent you over here to do the dirty work for them? Typical." If her words hurt or stunned him, he only blinked in response. He was so good at being unreadable. "If they're too scared to ask me themselves, then I don't want to dance with them."

Cassian shrugged his shoulders, either uncaring about his comrades' plights or amused again. "I told them you were acting unapproachable because you're too nervous to dance. It's safer to keep to yourself."

Jyn opened her mouth in protest and then promptly closed it, matching his gaze. His face was impassive as he stared down at her, but his eyes were far too sharp. She could feel him staring right through her, like he saw her for who she was despite the dress, like he knew her every thought. She didn't know how to dance, but that didn't mean she was closing herself off because she was nervous or scared. She'd faced down life or death situations; she'd seen the end of far too many blasters. She wasn't afraid of dancing with someone. She just…

She didn't want to dance with any of them. She had only ever had one partner, after all.

Not once looking away from him, Jyn took a breath. "I'm not nervous."

"No?" Cassian didn't look away either, but then, for a moment, she thought she saw him waver. The sharpness in his eyes never left, but something else flickered briefly across his face. It looked like doubt. She had only seen him look like that a handful of times and every time she did, even in the beginning when they had barely known each other, it had propelled her towards him. She could feel it now, something inside of her urging her to step forward, step closer to him, until he was only a hand away. But that felt dangerous and her heart began to race again.

"No," she told him.

"Then prove it," he countered.

For a moment, neither of them moved or spoke, continuing to merely stare each other down like the first person that looked away was the loser. The truth was, Jyn more than wanted to step towards him, but she was uncertain if it was the right move. She would hate to be mistaken. But brave and more than a little foolhardy and filled with daring by the way he looked at her, she finally did so, until her chest was nearly pressed against his, tilting her head up so that she could continue looking at him defiantly.

A small, faint smile appeared on his face. It wasn't the half-hidden one that he usually gave. It looked a little more open than that, a softness she had seen only a handful of times taking over the normally sharp look in his eyes. Every single time he had looked at her like that - like she was something to be protected, cherished, cared for, like she was life - she didn't think she could breathe. She didn't understand how anyone could look at her like that. It was always so brief and gone before she knew it and was left to question herself for days if it had even happened.

Then, one of his hands found hers, their fingers threading together, a perfect match of scraped knuckles, burned fingertips, and callouses. By now means were either of their hands soft or smooth - nor would they ever be - but they spoke of the things they had gone through on their own and later on together. Just a simple pull and she followed him into the crowd, keeping little space between them. People were pressed on either side of them, moving them along with them, but all she could focus on was the way his body pressed against hers. It was solid, comforting, familiar. For the first time since coming to the celebration, Jyn felt at ease.

"I still don't-" Jyn sighed and closed her eyes when his other hand landed on her hip. It burned, but this time, he didn't pull away. This dress was far too thin. She could feel the way his fingertips tapped against her in what she thought was old morse code. It both soothed her and made her squirm against him. There had been plenty of times when they had been thrown together, pressed against one another, in each other's space, but never like this, never not under stress and yet somehow, she felt like her chest might explode. Maybe she wasn't meant for peacetime either. "I still don't know how to dance."

"It's okay." They moved together, clumsy and out of tune like everyone else that was too merry and drunk with hope to notice, going with the flow of the crowd. Cassian leaned down so that he could speak in her ear, his breath hot and she could smell a hint of alcohol on his breath. Not much, but just enough to give him some liquid courage. His voice wavered just a bit as he whispered, "All you have to do is follow my lead. Can you do that?"

He barely pulled away from her, his face dangerously close to hers, but enough so that she could look him in the eyes again. Eye contact was constant with them. It was how they read one another in the heat of battle when they could not speak aloud. She remembered when he had fallen and had gone still like death on the platform and she hadn't been able to connect eyes with him for him to tell her what to do next. She had felt adrift then. She felt like she was floating now, but in an entirely different way.

"Always," Jyn answered him honestly. She had followed his lead so many times before and he hers even when he shouldn't have and it hadn't failed either of them since. She wasn't about to start now.

Cassian closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers, content, and she followed suit. Neither of them had to look to know where they were going. In truth, she didn't have to follow him much, as the joyful crowd pushed them along, but as far as either of them were concerned, they were the only two in the room. Surrounded by people, they could be alone together, hidden from the world and its tragedies. They could live in a time outside of everything else that had happened. And that was good enough for them.