Jyn is worried about Bodhi. That's not particularly out of the ordinary, but he's concerning her. Normally any member of Rogue One – except maybe Kay – is able to calm him down with a few soothing words, and even on his wort days, Cassian still manages to reach him.

These past few weeks have definitely been some of his worst, and everyone is at a loss. Today he'd seemed so distracted Jyn thought he was losing consciousness. Enough is enough.

She gently knocks twice on his door, answered by a startled yelp and what she's certain is the sound of shuffling papers. It's almost as peculiar as the loud slam that follows before the door hisses open.

"Hey Jyn!" Bodhi says in a voice too high, wearing a smile far too wide.

"May I come in?"

"Sure, yes, of course." He seems to realize how suspicious he's making himself look and drops the smile, waving her to step inside.

Jyn sits politely on the edge of his bed. She's about to ask what's going on when her focus zeros in on his blackened hands.

"What's that?"

Bodhi looks at his palms then stuffs them in his pockets. "Nothing." At her unimpressed gaze, he sighs and removes them. "It's just oil from fixing the engine."

"You did that hours ago, and that doesn't look like oil."

"Jyn, it's no big deal."

"It is if it has something to do with what's been bothering you."

Bodhi blinks at her as if he's surprised she noticed.

(More likely, he's surprised anyone cares. He's not used to having people watch out for him, just like they're not use to having people worth protecting.)

Giving in, Bodhi pads over to the trunk at the foot of his bed and opens it. Jyn's lips part in awe. It's filled with what must be hundreds of sketches. He grabs a stack off the top and hands it to her.

"That one's not finished."

Jyn is mesmerized by her own eyes staring back at her, though the rest is just an outline. She mulls through the other pages. They're mostly members of Rogue One, but there are several landscapes that Jyn recognizes from Jedha. She's so immersed in the art she nearly misses Bodhi's anxious fidgeting.

"Bo, these are amazing."

Instead of looking relieved, Bodhi tenses further and launches into a rushed explanation. "I did it all the time when I was a kid… well, I guess whenever Mama could afford to buy ink. I had to stop when I enlisted but… G-Galen encouraged me to start again and it… it helps me, you know, calm down. I ran out of paper a few weeks ago and we've been hopping from mission to mission… there just didn't seem to be time and… and then Chirrut brought back a bunch from the village this morning. I don't know how he knew but he's… you know. It's all I've been able to think about all day so if I seemed distracted I'm sorry I just…"

He finally runs out of breath and collapses onto the bed beside her. Jyn shakes her head, but she's smiling fondly as she rests her hand atop his knee.

"You don't have to apologize for anything, Bodhi. We were worried about you, that's all." She holds up the sketches. "I wish you'd told us about this. We would have found you paper weeks ago."

He looks away sheepishly. She nudges him with her elbow. "But I understand why you didn't. You didn't want to make anything about yourself, yeah? You put the mission first because that's what you thought we'd want you to do."

"Sound like anyone you know?" He narrows his eyes playfully, but Jyn rejects the accusation.

"Yes, yes we all know Cassian has a martyr complex." Bodhi laughs. "But I'm not talking about him." Her hand moves to his shoulder and squeezes. "I'm talking about you, Bo. You're mental health is just as important to me – to everyone as your physical health. If drawing helps you, we'll make it a priority, understand?"

Bodhi looks as though he's about to cry, so he nods mutely and wraps his arms around her. Jyn is careful not to crush the drawings in her hand and hugs him back fiercely.

A few days later, Bodhi slips his latest portrait under her door, and it's perfect.