A/N: You'll have to let me know if I'm going to slow or fast. On the one hand, I love having Krolia and Ken confuse each other with their differing personalities and habits. On the other, people might be wanting to see some action.

The next day...

Ken was doing the thing again.

Krolia pushed Ken's hand away from her forehead for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "I don't have a fever."

Ken frowned and replaced his hand. "You're hot. Are Galra always this hot?"

They weren't actually. Galra tended toward lower body temperatures, but Krolia suspected that her being warmer had something to do with her body adapting to the dry, desert heat. She said so to Ken, who didn't look comforted.

"You weren't this hot yesterday," Ken mused, lowering his hand. "Although, that might be because you were in the shade all day."

Ken's tone was slightly accusatory, as Krolia had insisted on a tour of Ken's property the following day. While she had adjusted to the crutch and walking on sand, Krolia now found that the unrelenting sunlight was draining her energy.

Krolia shrugged without responding. It was unbroken desert all around them, so she would have to get used to the sun so that she could finish her mission.

Speaking of…

"I need to start searching," Krolia said.

"Not until you can walk without the crutch," Ken replied, leaning against the corral fence.

Krolia blinked at him. Was that all? She leaned the crutch against the fence and stood tall.

"I'm ready."

Ken gave a sputtered laugh. "That's not what I meant."

"You humans are so confusing," Krolia grumbled.

"With an injury like yours, you can't do anything like search the desert for at least two weeks, if not a month."

Krolia frowned. "How long is a 'week' and 'month?'"

"Oh, right. Um… each time time between the sun rising each morning is roughly one day."

"Ah, a quintant."

"Right. I guess. Well, seven days is a week."

"One movement."

"And four weeks is one month."

Krolia blinked at him, mind reeling. Ken misunderstood her shock as confusion, and started to explain again.

"If seven of your quintants-"

"One pheob!" Krolia exclaimed. "I can't wait one pheob! I need to do this now!"

Ken leaned away, eyes widening. Krolia took a breath to compose herself after her outburst, and tried to speak more calmly.

"My mission has long been overdue. I need to make sure it is still secure."

"That what is? And where? Do you even know what you are looking for?" Ken asked.

"Yes," Krolia said, offended.

"Okay, then which way is it?"

Krolia stared at him.

"You don't know?" Ken asked.

"The scanner was broken in the crash," Krolia admitted.

"See? We can't just go wandering around the desert. How long has this thing not been checked on? What are you even looking for?"

"Deca-pheobs," Krolia murmured, not wanting to answer the "what" part of the question.

Ken stared into space for a moment, then said, "If it has waited that long, a few more weeks won't hurt."

"It could," Krolia said.

"If you were alone and if it has gone this long undiscovered by humans, I think it will be fine. This desert is vast, and not many people venture into it. For good reason. If you aren't properly prepared, you could die within the first day." Ken pushed away, apparently wanting to end the conversation. "Besides, you can't think straight with a fever."

"I don't have a fever," Krolia said stubbornly.

"I beg to differ," Ken said.

Krolia blinked at him. He wasn't on his knees, and how was "differing" was the exact same thing that he had been doing for the whole conversation?

"I can at least help you cool down," Ken said. He walked away, likely expecting Krolia to follow.

She did. But only because she was curious.

"What did you mean?" Krolia asked.

"About what? Cooling down?" Ken asked as they walked up the porch.

"What does it mean to 'differ,' and you weren't begging, unless humans have a different way to do so."

Ken chuckled, holding the door open for Krolia. "It's just a fancy way of saying that I have a different opinion."

"Then why do you say that you are begging?"

"I don't know, it's an old term."

Krolia shook her head and headed inside. Ken motioned for her to go to the living room, then went through the door he had said was off limits to her.

Krolia wondered what was down there as she sat on the couch. From behind the door, he had brought Krolia a pair of "socks." She found the thin, soft footcovers odd in that they provided little protection, but they were better than being barefoot in the house. And, maybe, she did enjoy the feeling of the socks just a little…

Ken returned after several doboshes with an armload of cloth. As he set them beside Krolia, he explained.

"I noticed that your clothing is quite thick. While that might work in space, where it is colder, they are too thick for the desert. Something in this pile should fit you."

"Who do these clothes belong to?" Krolia asked, eyeing the pile.

Ken shrugged. "Family. My family was always big on hand-me-downs, but everyone else has long since moved on. I was planning on clearing out the clothes soon, anyway, so you can keep anything that fits."

"Really? Thank you," Krolia said, startled. Galra were tight-fisted when it came to their belongs, and yet Ken was more than happy to share what he had.

"Well, it's not like I could wear them," Ken said with a chuckle.

Krolia took the clothes to the bathroom and tried them on. She found five shirts, two sleeveless shirts, two pairs of soft pants, and three pairs pants made of thick blue material.

Krolia changed into a light green shirt and a darker green pair of the soft pants. She ran her hand down the cloth, feeling cooler already.

She presented the pile of fitting clothes to Ken, who once again insisted she keep them. He took the other clothes back to the restricted room. When he returned, he once again put his hand to her forehead.

"Is this a human ritual?"

"Yes, it is. Hold still." Ken leaned back. "You don't feel as hot as before. Let me check your leg."

"No," Krolia said quickly, crossing her arms. "It is fine."

"You say that every time," Ken said.

"It is fine," Krolia repeated.

Ken shrugged. "If you say so."

"I do."

Ken went to the kitchen soon after to get some water. While he was gone, Krolia silently pulled up her pantleg and moved the medical patch to see the wound underneath.

Okay, so the skin was darker than normal and red-tinted. And, yes, the skin around the wound was hot to the touch. And just a little swollen.

It was fine.

A/N: Keith is so Krolia's son.

Guest review responses!

Dragunz: I loved Sam in season 7 (and basically everyone introduced) and couldn't help making him a part of this. I'm glad you like the OC's. Those are a little harder for me to write at times, so it's good that they turned out realistic. No spoilers, but she won't be the one freaking out next time.