“Are you with me?” “All the way.”

She didn’t look away. Nor did Cassian. They stood locked together until at last the cold and the dark became too much for Jyn to bear.

“Do you think anybody's listening?” “I do. Someone's out there.”

But he was warm, and his breathing was regular, and it felt good to have life close to her.

Most of all, he listened for Jyn. He listened for her struggles. He listened for her voice.

She dominated his thinking nonetheless. Cassian believed neither pity nor pragmatism explained it.

She’d half stumbled to his side and gingerly wrapped an arm around him, led him toward the maintenance turbolift

She took his hand and let him show her the way out.

Every step was an effort, and Cassian’s grip was growing weaker. His strides faltered. She kept propping him up.

Cassian caught the man by his cyan head-tails and tossed him against a wall. “Where’s Jyn Erso?” he asked. “Where was she taken?”

They passed the body of a rebel soldier along the tree line. Jyn positioned herself in Cassian’s way so he wouldn’t have to see.

Her terrible need had returned. It couldn’t end in anything but disaster, no matter how prettily she dressed it in the clothes of the Rebellion.

“You’re a terrible spy,” Jyn hissed. She was surprised by her own intensity, the easy jibe laced with frustration. Cassian ignored her.

“'Stardust.' That's it.” “How do you know that?” “I know because it's me.”

Maybe it was the need he’d seen in Jyn, the fire that had carried her through the fighting in the Holy Quarter. It seemed obscene to leave that need unanswered, abandoned to the dust.

She nearly loosed her clutching fingers, nearly followed him into the abyss, but a swell of vertigo shocked her out of her horror and impelled her to cling more tightly to the stack.

“I know how to use it.” “That's what I'm afraid of. Give it to me.” “We're going to Jedha. That's a warzone.”

She watched him somberly, sadly, like she was sure he would disappoint her. She was probably right about that.