From the anonymous prompt, "I can't believe you did that for me, I'd do anything for you."

Sorry this is so late; I'm on reading week but I've been ridiculously busy, somehow. ONE more slightly longer one to finish and then I can move on with my life. There's a lot on my plate at the moment, kids.

Enjoy.

Cassandra flinched as Jacob gently washed the cut around the outside of her left eye socket. The bruise covered nearly the whole left side of her face by now, and the swelling had really set in around her eye and brow. It pained him to see her like this.

Normally patching up was Jenkins' job, but he had been persuaded to go out into the field and join Eve and Ezekiel. Flynn was elsewhere this time, and they needed someone to replace Cassandra; she'd been in the middle of working something out when they'd been taken by surprise. It was time-sensitive, so Jenkins agreed – a little reluctantly – to take a crack at the problem and let Jacob look after the redhead. It wasn't entirely unfamiliar to Jacob, looking after cuts and bruises and things; everyone knew he'd gotten into more than his fair share of fights well before coming to the Library. But he was used to his own injuries, or once in a while those of his equally rough-and-tumble hometown friends. Looking at Cassandra's face like this was nearly bringing him to tears. She didn't need that, though, so he kept himself together and just tried to be careful while he cleaned her up.

He tossed the cloth back into the metal bowl that sat next to her hip on the edge of Jenkins' desk and ran a hand down his face. "Why would you do that, Cassie?" he had to ask. He'd been trying not to, but it was impossible not to say something.

"For you," she answered softly, as if it should have been obvious. "He was coming at you from behind, Jacob. A weapon that heavy at an angle like that – he could have killed you."

Jacob sighed heavily. "That doesn't mean…" He paused, swallowed, and reached for the ointment Jenkins had left out for him to use. Popping the lid off the tin, he scooped some of the stuff onto a fingertip and began to rub it carefully into her skin. "That's none o' your business, pushin' me outta the way like that," he told her. He hadn't meant to sound angry – he was a little angry, but he didn't see the point in showing it – but it slipped through anyway.

"Bullshit," Cassandra told him, frowning, and then immediately cringing in pain. He met her eyes, surprised by her language. "I have every right to shove you out of the way of a potentially fatal blow, Jacob, don't you dare try to say otherwise," she continued, now a bit irritated herself. "Besides, I didn't think about it. I just did it. It was an instinctive reaction."

"Can't believe you'd do that for me," he muttered, as much to himself as to her. He looked down to scoop more ointment out of the tin, but she reached up to his face and, with two fingers on his chin, directed him to look at her again.

"Why not?" she asked. "Why on earth wouldn't I?"

Frustrated, he set the tin down on the desk next to the bowl, hard. "Dammit Cassandra, you just got your future back," he retorted. "You can't afford to throw it away like that!"

"I knew I'd be fine," she answered derisively. "As long as I got you out of the way and twisted at the right angle he could only get in a glancing blow to my face. Maybe one more to my shoulder before you'd have time to turn around and react; I was right about that, too. Then I just had to roll out of the way. I had faith in you to take care of the rest."

Jacob narrowed his eyes at her. "Thought you said you didn't think about it."

"Not before I moved," she said, shaking her head. "But while I was moving."

Part of him that wasn't worried and angry wondered for the millionth time at the speed with which her brain could work. "You don't belong in the fights. When you get into the fight we end up with a situation like this, where I'm standin' here fixin' up your beat-up face and shoulder, barely a scrape o' my own. Ain't right."

"You're not a Guardian, Jacob," Cassandra said, her hand shifting upwards so she could run a thumb across his cheek before breaking away. "Looking after me isn't your job, and you don't have to take all the hits just because you're a fighter."

"It – it ain't that, Cassie," he told her, momentarily thrown off by her affectionate gesture against his face. "I don't… I hate seein' you get hurt, specifically. I hate the thought of anythin' happenin' to you…" His gaze had shifted to the floor. This time she was gentler about lifting his chin to make him look at her again. He saw the sweet smile on her face, such a stark contrast to the bruising and the swelling and the broken skin, and his heart jumped into his throat. "I'd do anythin' for you, Cassie."

"Oh, Jacob," she sighed, running her thumb across his cheekbone again, more slowly now. "It's mutual, you know." Her hand pressed lightly against his jaw, he let her pull him in and close the gap between them.