His hands move up her back, fingers curling around her shoulders from below, pressing into the interplaying muscles and sinews, feeling them flex and flow under his hands; bowing his face to them as he held on and let it all bleed down his face.

"I'm sorry," he says in a thick voice. Not for all of it… he needed… possibly they needed… some of it recognized, some of it let out… acknowledged, remembered. But— "I shouldn't have brought him into it." That had just been… weak. It was good that Jyn hadn't had to die before experiencing love.