But when he turned around with the healing balm in his hand, he stopped short and stared like he’d seen a ghost. For a moment, Jyn didn’t get it. She even looked behind her to see that there weren’t actually any spirits in the room with them, because by the stars, one could never know. But no, she realized as she turned back, he was staring at her. He was staring because she was standing in front of him in just her trousers and breastband and not much else. A flush colored her cheeks as she resisted the urge to fidget.

Stars damn it.

Thankfully Cassian shook himself out of it before it got too awkward, his eyes darting away from her chest and to the bottle in his hands. He unplugged the cork and stood in front of her.

Except that wasn’t much better.

Because now he was so close, she could smell the earthy aroma he always brought with him, could feel his warmth envelop her in a warm hug, could feel his breath dance on her cheek. Jyn tried very very hard to concentrate on her breathing to keep it steady, in and out, in and out, but goosebumps rose on her arm anyway that had nothing to do with the cold.

Cassian thought it did.

“I’ll be quick,” he promised as he got to work. As soon as his fingers touched her bare skin, she was lost. She barely felt the stinging burn of her injury anymore; all her senses were dominated by Cassian, the rest of the world falling away. Her eyes fluttered closed, her fists clenching and nails digging into her palm as she fought to urge to let out a quiet sigh.

Embarrassing. It’d been too long since she laid with someone if a mere touch of a man could bring her such pleasure. Which was quite true, actually. Now that she was thinking about it, she hadn’t been with anyone since she and Cassian crossed paths a year ago. She didn’t want to think too hard about what that meant, but deep down, she already knew anyway.

No one else seemed to live up to him since they met. No one she looked at twice or wanted or even thought about wanting. Her thoughts, her gaze, her attention always wandered back to Cassian in the end.

Something had to give, Jyn thought as her eyes opened again, taking deep breaths to steady herself. She couldn’t go on like this anymore, wanting him and pushing it down at the same time.

“You shouldn’t have rushed into the fight like that,” Cassian told her, oblivious to her inner turmoil. His voice was quiet, his eyes trained on what he was doing. There it was; she’d been expecting it. Jyn rolled her eyes, her annoyance momentarily outweighing her longing for him.

“Spare me the sermon, Cassian. I know what I’m doing.”

He looked up at her for a brief moment, his eyes flashing. “So do I. I told you I had it handled.”

“You needed a partner.” You needed me. She didn’t say it.

“Fire magic doesn’t work on a fire dragon, Jyn,” he pointed out, and that one snapped whatever thin patience she was still holding onto.

“That goes both ways, Cassian! Fire also doesn’t work on me.”

Well, that wasn’t completely true. She wasn’t immune to fire, but she was far more resistant than Cassian with his ice magic, or any other ordinary person. Fire simply didn’t damage her as much. And yes, he had a point; his ice magic was far more effective on the dragon they were fighting than hers which must have just felt like light tickling for the creature. But the dragon’s fire was also far more effective on him than on her. This could have been a much more serious and painful injury, or worse, if he’d been the one who was scorched. Which was why he needed her.

They were a team. He fought the dragon, and she protected him. It’d always been like that. She didn’t understand why he was resisting it now.

“You’re not immune to fire, Jyn,” he said, a dangerous note in his tone. Finally done with his task, he pulled away and carelessly threw the bottle to one of the beds. Even in the circumstances, Jyn mourned the loss of his hands on her skin. “It can still kill you if you’re not careful.”

“But it didn’t because I know what I’m doing. I don’t understand! Why are you suddenly treating me like a child?”

There had to be more to it. The way he was looking at her now, face withdrawn, eyes wide, hands shaking… He was worried about her, that much was clear, but why? The fear on his face didn’t make sense for the injury she suffered. He’d seen her in far graver circumstances before.

There was more this and she just had to push him a little.

“What is it, Cassian?” she whispered, far gentler than she’d been a second ago.

Cassian’s eyes briefly closed, a defeated sigh on his lips. “Chirrut had a vision,” he began, his voice very quiet. Jyn waited patiently, watching as he stared at the tacky rugs on the floor, clearly struggling with how best to say this. Or perhaps he just didn’t want to say it aloud at all. Avoidance was the easiest way to cope, Jyn would know. But she wouldn’t let him weasel out of this one. If Chirrut had an important vision, she needed to know. “He said… He said he saw your death. By a dragon.”

Finally, Cassian looked up at her, and the fear in his eyes now made perfect sense. Jyn could only stare for a second, heart in her throat, unsure how to react to the possibility of her impending doom. That was always in the cards for her, for all of them, roaming the realm and fighting monsters, killing bandits, helping villagers. But it had never been as clear as it was now, her own death staring her in the face.

And it was terrifying. With a painful twist of her heart, she realized she wasn’t ready for this.

“By a fire dragon?” Jyn asked, the first thing that came to her mind. Her voice was a little strained. Cassian gave her an unimpressed grimace.

“Jyn… I don’t know, he didn’t say. By a dragon.”

“Chirrut’s visions don’t always come true,” she pointed out, trying to reassure him as much as herself. Chirrut was an incredible seer, the best of their time, but even he was fallible. More often than not, although he didn’t like to advertise that. The reason was simple. The future was ever-changing, every decision creating a new fork in the road, a million paths and possibilities stretching out ahead of them. That was all Chirrut saw. Possibilities that may or may not come true.

Apparently, one of these paths could lead to her death at the hands of a dragon. Another path could mean she’d die in bed when she was 90.

“Yes,” Cassian said, his voice insistent, “so if we want to make sure this one doesn’t come to pass, we should make sure you stay far, far away from dragons, don’t you think?”

He might have a point, she admitted begrudgingly. She was reckless, but she wasn’t a fool. It was better not to tempt fate, not unless there was no other choice. But…

“How did you expect me to know that if you weren’t going to tell me about this?”

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes again as he shifted on his feet. “We wanted to. I wanted to. But Chirrut said the less you knew about this, the better. Something about a self-fulfilling prophecy. I don’t know.”

Yet he went against Chirrut’s advice anyway. Jyn herself wasn’t sure if that was wise or not, but she could only feel grateful for it. She’d always preferred cruel honesty over a kind lie. And how could she trust him if he was keeping secrets from her?

“Alright,” Jyn nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’ll stay away from dragons. On one condition. You stay away from them too.”

“What? Why?” Cassian’s mouth pulled into a confused frown. It was honestly a little laughable that he didn’t get it.

“Where you go, I go.” She gave him a small smile, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not going to let you run off to fight dragons without me. So if you want me to stay away from them, you’ll have to follow my example. That’s the deal.”

“I…” Cassian trailed off, then let out an amused huff. His eyes were fond, sparkling as he looked at her.

Stars… He was beautiful.

Soon. She would tell him soon. But not today.

“Alright, yes. You have a deal. No more dragons.”