panic grips her like a vice ,   the scavenger - jedi - drifter - whatever she may be now   —   collapsing onto her knees with a dull thud.    but whatever he is  ,  he should heal   —   after all  ,  she’s seen him come back from worse  ,  has counted on it no shortage of times  ,  has even grown to care about him simply because of it.    his life could very well span an age  ,  while hers will meet its end in much less  ,  making her into a distant memory  ,  a faded face.    a ghost.    long before he can ever become one to her.    he’s meant to be safe.      ❛   you are not dying.   ❜      she corrects him  ,  a palm pressing down firmly upon one of his broad shoulders  ,  urging him to rest and rid himself of the delusion   —   though with the way her lips tremble and her lashes wet with tears  ,  she feels as though she may already be speaking to ghosts  ,  live man before her or not.