Cassian huffs out a laugh without any humor behind it. "That's about why I said it too," he admits. She'd been grieving, had every excuse to lash out. It's not her fault that the words she said exactly matched what Cassian had been thinking of himself for too long. Obviously, she'd been trying to wound him. He doesn't think Jyn knows how deep she went. When he'd lashed back, it had all been any defense he could find to try and distance himself from what he'd nearly done. I didn't follow orders was hollow comfort when the results had been the same.

"I understand why you would have thought those things of me," he says. "It's probably why we were able to hurt each other so well." The truth isn't pretty, but it's honest. Jyn had found the pressure point in a foot soldier who did the ignoble, dirty work of the Rebellion. Cassian had taken someone who had to live her entire life fighting for survival and against recognition and told her she was indifferent and selfish. Both of them had hit home.

It's so late. Nearly two years too late. Cassian wants to say it anyway. "I'm sorry. I never should have said any of those things. You were right to be angry at me and I tried to deflect." It's possible he's thought about that moment for a long time and hated everything he said and did.

"But I mean it. Early on, I saw there was a lot more to you than what I said." And he said it anyway.