"Funny, isn't it?" she asks, pulling them together, cheek pressed to his shoulder. "To be a caged thing, yet feel more free than when we'd been back there?" There, meaning home - though she always hesitates to use the word. It's where she's from, it's where she's born, it's where she'd lived her life - but there was no sense of longing inside of her. Perhaps for something silly, something superficial - a comm, a holodrama, a ship - but nothing below the surface. She had nothing to return to, if she could.

No, home is here.

Home is wherever Cassian happens to be. It wasn't confined to physicality and structures and architectural feats.

"It's a bit scary," she whispers, "But I'm less afraid with you at my side."