Jyn clasped his hands back without thinking, without meaning to, her body yet again some of the emotion she was trying so desperately to keep at bay. With him, she'd never really been able to. And maybe, in that moment, that was all that mattered. They were here, they were alive, finding themselves with a second chance that the galaxy never gave them. For so long, that had felt like a cruelty. Left alone here, she had been unable to help thinking that maybe she was meant to have died there on the beach with him, and that should have been the end of her. Her survival always having been such a hard-won thing, she never went so far as to wish it had stayed that way, but the notion had been there all the same. It was a lonely thing, being the only survivor of a mission like that, knowing the others were dead in part because they'd followed her. Knowing that all that was waiting for him was, well, nothing.

There, perhaps, was the root of her anger. The alternative was to grieve the man she loved as being dead, and she didn't want to know how much harder the last years would have been in that case. Again, it was a matter of survival, as it had been with all the others who'd left her over the years. Sadness left her weak. Anger could be a weapon.

But he was here now, alive, and that was more important than her own mess of feelings. He deserved that. She told him once that he was the best man she'd ever known, and that still held true.

"Me too," she breathed, then swallowed hard around the lump forming in her throat. "That you are."