Last chapter! A huge shoutout of thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story thus far: YourGuardianAngel08, katiedz, and EyesOfHorus82. You each were so kind to take the time to give me encouragement so thank you! (If I was able to PM you, I sent you a personal response, but I wanted to make sure you knew I was thankful regardless!) And thanks also to everyone who favorited this story—means a lot to me and I'm glad you enjoyed it!

(Also, just as a reminder, my OC doctor first popped up in my other story called "The One Where Grogu Gets Sick", but if you haven't read that one, you're still fine. :)


Grogu's head dipped forward in drowsiness until he leaned in and—thunk!—against warm flesh. Actually, it was very hot flesh. The stark temperature was enough to rouse him from his slip in guard duty, and he hurriedly blinked his sleepy eyes awake with a shake of his head.

Buir?

No response.

A niggling sense of urgency tugged Grogu a little more into alertness and he reached out again, a little stronger this time.

Buir?

No response was given again but this time he was able to pick up on Din's projections: a deep-set burningpain combined with sluggish confusion. His father wasn't asleep, but he wasn't exactly awake either. As the boy's mind began to sweep away the fog of exhaustion, Grogu suddenly realized that Din was shaking.

"Meh?" wondered Grogu aloud and placed a tentative palm on his father's bicep. The heat radiating off him made him quickly remove his hand. Whimpering in worry, the boy glanced down and realized the bedsheets were thoroughly soaked—they hadn't been that way before.

"Mmgah?" the infant asked as he pushed up on his tiptoes to try to see his father's face. Din's eyes lethargically opened and closed in slits, his gaze roaming about but focusing nowhere. His breathing remained the same—strained and shallow. His pallor was still pale and grey but now a sickly sheen of sweat covered every inch of his exposed skin. Shivering, Din unconsciously whimpered. Very worried now, Grogu decided it was time to call for help.

"Mehhhhhh!"

He heard the marshal's heavy step and she soon slid down the cockpit ladder and hurried over. Grogu nervously patted Din's side and looked up at Cara with wide eyes, pleading for her to do something to fix him. Cara frowned and her eyes quickly scanned over the patient.

"It's the fever. And probably shock from fluid loss too." Grogu saw a brief flash of fear in her eyes before she headed directly over to the medical crate. Rifling through, she found the baby thermometer Din had previously bought for Grogu. Shrugging at the option, she quickly headed back to the cot and knelt beside it. The cloth had slid from its place on his brow but was uselessly warm now anyway. She turned the thermometer on and hovered it above Din's forehead. The movement caught the man's attention.

"Cara…?" he gasped, confusion lacing his tone. Grogu spotted the number "104.6F" on the readout before Cara set it aside with a curse muttered under her breath.

"I'm right here, Din," assured Cara, turning down the blanket. Din mumbled something unintelligible in Mando'a as Cara disappeared briefly before returning with a new cloth soaked in ice cold water from the Crest's limited supply as well as a new bottle of water. "Din, do you know where you are?" the trooper anxiously asked as she began to bathe him to cool him down. Grogu chewed on his bottom lip and remained close, not quite sure what to do to help.

"…Crest…?" came the jumbled reply, his tone slurred and inhibited by the ventmask.

"That's right. We need you to hang on, okay? We're only two hours out from help. Can you stay with us, Din?" Cara fought to keep her tone steady, but Grogu could hear the slight fear in her voice and read it on her face behind her own resolved mask. "I need you to drink this, Din. Get some more fluid in you." Carefully, Cara removed the oxygen mask and was concerned at the immediate change in his breathing due to its loss. Quickly unscrewing the lid and adjusting herself on the cot so she could prop him up more, Cara guided the bottle to Din's lips and helped him drink. Thankfully, he didn't put up a fight and gladly drank the liquid. He had nearly drained the bottle before his lungs desperately needed air. The tight clenching in his chest drove him to sit more upward and into a brief coughing spell that sounded horrible. Discarding the bottle, Cara hurriedly replaced the mask. Before she had even finished fitting it back into place, Din almost manically grasped for it with both hands and pressed it hard against his face, greedily trying to gulp its offered oxygen.

"It's okay, you're okay. Try to calm down, it'll even out," encouraged Cara while she supported her friend's shuddering frame as he fell back against her, conscious of his still aching shoulder. Grogu watched in distress as the coughing episode caused Din's abdominal muscles to constrict, and the man tried to curl up, attempting to protect the painful injury.

"Ughhhhh," groaned Din, face pinched tightly, and tried to cross his arms over his bandaged midsection until Cara intervened.

"I know it hurts but try not to move. Here, lie flat," urged the shock trooper gently, guiding him to stretch back out on the thin mattress. Thankfully Din's breathing rhythm steadied back out to his current version of "normal", and his body melted into the cot. His head deliriously lolled to the side once before slowly rotating to the other side. His eyes then fought to find Cara, widening with urgency.

"Vaii cuyir kaysh?" A guilty sigh escaped Cara's lips.

"Standard, Din. I can't understand you," the dropper shook her head to emphasize her confusion. Thankfully the man seemed to understand and tried again.

"W-where is he? Have they taken him?" The fever-skewed sincerity in his question made Cara's heart sore. She smiled at him to reassure the worried father.

"Grogu is fine. He's right here with you, see?"

"I…I can't lose him," mumbled Din, registering neither Cara's response nor Grogu's presence at his side. He loosely shook his head and closed his eyes. "He's…too little." Grogu eyed his father solemnly before looking up at Cara with curiosity. The woman gave the infant a small smile before trying again.

"It's okay, Din. No one has taken him. Grogu is right here. Look." The child felt himself scooped up and raised a little higher so Din's gaze could find him when his eyes reopened at Cara's insistence.

"Oh…Grogu," whispered Din, a thankful sigh fogging up the mask. Grogu purred in response.

"Patu." The child tried pushing calmassurance towards his buir. The man's shoulders seem to sag a little more in exhaustion and relief, but his brow furrowed.

"Are you sick?" Cara and Grogu exchanged a glance, confused at the man's question.

"He's not sick, Din."

"Then why is he all green?" came the delirious inquiry.

"Doh," reacted Grogu, his ears tilting back surprised. He looked up at Cara once more in question.

"Yeah, so he's off his rocker," explained the soldier with a slight shrug and settled the cold cloth on Din's forehead before replacing the blanket. "Din, you're in shock. And you have a high fever. We're working on getting you to a doctor, okay? Everything is going to be all right, just hang on."

"I feel cold…and terrible…" admitted Din and blinked his eyes wide at his next thought. He anxiously looked at Cara, his expression so serious. "Am I green too?" This time it was Cara's turn to sigh.

"You owe me big for this one, Din Djarin."


Grogu yawned sleepily and settled in deeper against Cara's leg. The sack that encased him kept him snuggly pinned against her muscular thigh and protected him from the heavy rain outside. They had landed on Tolmon twenty minutes ago and now were on their way to get Din medical help. Cara thought his fever had decreased some before they left the Crest, but they were not cleared of the danger zone yet.

Tolmon was not much to speak of…a rather mild climate (aside from the current downpour) with some trees but it consisted mostly of quarry lakes, providing the planet's livelihood. Being so far out from the core, its population consisted of only smaller towns spread rather far out from each other in between the quarry pits. Quiet and boring to be sure, but presently convenience was all that mattered.

Grogu shivered slightly from the chilly rain pelting his little sack. He felt the shock trooper shiver as well. Cara had thrown Din's spare cloak on him to keep him safe from the rain but she herself had nothing. After securing Grogu at her hip in his sack, she managed to wrangle Din out of bed and was now pretty much dragging him at her side through the wet and muddy streets of a quiet, small town. Cara didn't even know the name, but it was wherever Din's coordinates had been programmed. The few streetlights illuminated the darkness through the rain as it was pretty late in the evening. They were hopefully not too late.

Eventually, Grogu felt Cara's pace halt and her grunting shift as she must have struggled to climb a step or two. He heard the shush of a door sliding open. The sensations of the rain suddenly stopped, and the smells of antiseptics and the annoyance of bright lights through the sack's weave woke Grogu up a little more.

"Hello? I need help over here immediately!" called Cara, causing Grogu to jump a little in the sack. He next heard the voice of what must have been the receptionist.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, this office is about to close in two minutes. Everyone's pretty much gone home already. You'll need to take your friend down to the emergency room. It's just down the road about…"

"No. I need help now. I'm looking for a Dr. Micah Stolten," interrupted Cara adamantly. Grogu felt her shift her weight to heave Din higher up on her other side. The man had basically been out of it by the time they had landed and was now little more than dead weight. The sound of footsteps carried through the sack's material.

"I'm Dr. Stolten. How can I help you?" came a third, steady voice. This one Grogu recognized, and his ears perked up at the familiarity. Din had gone to this man several times when he needed medical help since losing his covert. Grogu still was not the biggest fan of doctors, but as far as medics went, he had decided that Dr. Micah was okay and nice. If his buir trusted him, he would too.

"I need you to look at this man right away. I believe he's a patient of yours—Din Djarin? He's been severely wounded and pretty sure poisoned," sounded Cara's urgent voice above the sack.

"Take him around back here. Follow me. Gemma, that will be all for tonight, thank you. I'll handle this," ordered the doctor with authority, and soon they were moving again. Grogu felt the renewed resolve pulse through Cara's movements as she dragged Din into wherever Dr. Micah had led them, presumably an examination room of some kind. There was some awkward jostling as Cara and Dr. Micah situated Din onto the raised medical bed that Grogu could just barely see from the shadows and shapes in the sack. "What happened?" the doctor questioned immediately.

"He was run through with a spear head of some kind. Had this thick, poison sludge on it that was affecting his breathing somehow. We weren't near any medical help, and he wasn't going to make it much longer, so I had to cut it out to remove it…had lots of barbs on it that wouldn't let it be removed easily. He's got a fever and he's lost some blood. He's been on oxygen for the past couple hours, but his breathing's been getting steadily worse," explained Cara in a rush, now fighting for her own breath. The snap of rubber gloves resounded in the room.

"Okay…and when was he pierced with the spear?" Grogu could just make out the shadow of the doctor's tall presence leaning over Din on the bed, peeling away the bandages to inspect the wound.

"Um, about a day ago? I couldn't get to him right away."

"That's fine. You've done well, given the circumstances. His flesh is definitely inflamed, but I've seen worse." A pause. "What did you say his name was again?"

"Din…Din Djarin. He had your name programmed into his ship. I assumed he was a patient of yours."

"No, I'm not familiar with that name. I've never seen him before in my life." A deep moan echoed in the room and shifting sounded from the bed. Suddenly worried, Grogu poked his head up and out of the sack to check on his buir.

"Eeehooh?" he called out anxiously.

Dr. Micah's head whipped around, and his hazel eyes widened behind his dark-rimmed glasses at the creature in the sack. "Grogu?"

"Patu," answered the child, wide eyes peering back. Dr. Micah's head boomeranged back to the man on the angled medical bed and the connection clicked.

"This is the Mandalorian," he said flatly, understanding and a hint of hesitancy in his tone.

"Yes, he's a….o-oh," realized Cara in horror. In the rush of everything along with the needed oxygen, the beskar had been the last thing on her mind. Din's gonna kill me. Din's gonna kill me. Din's gonna kill me. An awkward moment of silence hung in the room before the doctor spoke again.

"The ventmask obscured my view," Dr. Micah simply stated and respectfully averted his gaze from Din's face. "On to the matter at hand…" he amended as he redirected his attention to the cavity in Din's chest and abdomen. The dark-haired, middle-aged doctor instantly earned Cara's full respect in that moment.

"I was going to close up the wound, but I thought it better to wait until you could look at it in case I missed anything," admitted Cara, resting a hand comfortingly against Grogu fidgeting at her thigh.

"Yes, thank you. I'm glad to be able to inspect it, but it looks like all is in order for the most part. There is some tearing damage within the muscle, but nothing appears to be ruptured. He'll be very tender for a while, but those tears should heal on their own. Looks like the spear was somewhat close to the skin and just under it?" asked Micah as he reached for a penlight to inspect the wound closer.

"Mostly, yes," nodded Cara and bit her lip as Din squirmed unconsciously under Micah's touch. The doctor reached again and grabbed a sample test stick to fish out some of the remaining poisonous sludge that still resided hidden in the injury. Turning to the computer, he inserted the sample into a slot and typed quickly to run an analysis. While the program was running, Dr. Micah resumed his inspection of his patient—listening to his breathing, taking his temperature, cleaning out the remaining sludge, inserting an IV for fluids and general meds for the fever, and so forth. All was done with quick precision and clean professionalism. The only time he even once looked toward Din's face was to check the dilation of his pupils and his response to the penlight. Cara and Grogu waited anxiously and silently from the side, feeling a bit useless. The only sound in the room was Din's hoarse and very weak gasping or the occasional moan.

The computer soon notified the room's occupants with a beep that its analysis was done. Dr. Micah quickly turned and scrolled through the text before typing a command. It was difficult to read the doctor's professional mannerisms and posture to be able to tell how bad it was. It felt like an age to Cara and Grogu. But eventually the man turned back around.

"The computer was able to find an antidote for the poison."

Cara let out a loud sigh of relief, and Grogu bounced lightly in his sack.

"It's processing the formula right now. Should be ready in fifteen minutes or so," communicated the doctor steadily, as if it was the most common piece of news in the world.

"What was it?" the marshal wondered aloud, her eyes roaming over Din as he shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his lucidness still affected by the fever.

"I'm not sure exactly what it was," the doctor confessed as he reached within a nearby cabinet and grabbed a stock towel which he tossed to a grateful Cara. "But the chemical makeup was similar to that of another common poison we have on record. It attacks the lungs and paralyzes them slowly. Thankfully, it remains pretty localized to that region and doesn't seem to spread. The antidote is administered as a vapor—inhaled through the mouth. We should expect improvement within a few minutes of him breathing it in," stated Dr. Micah, his intelligent eyes sweeping over the rest of Din's body. "His full recovery will probably be a bit slower, taking into account how long it's been in him. Two to three weeks and he should be breathing pretty normally. I'll patch him up here in a second after I've given him the antidote. Would rather he be able to breathe a little better before having to go through that," the man conceded with a side dip of his head.

"Sigh, thank you," replied Cara in great relief, her entire body slacking at the good news as she dried her hair off with the towel.

"Not a problem, Miss…?"

"Dune. Cara Dune," the marshal introduced herself. "I'm a good friend of Din's." Micah nodded his head.

"Yes, I would expect so gathering you carved a weapon out of his chest," the physician observed with a slight smile before glancing back at his patient. "I'm just thankful there's an antidote available. I'll also continue to give him meds to fight off the infection and to bring his fever all the way down. His fluids are low, but I'll hold off on giving him blood for now. I recall his system is pretty good about resupplying that fairly quickly. I'll keep an eye on his vitals through the night though to make sure he's doing okay," nodded the doctor.

"Again…thank you," smiled Cara in all earnestness, overwhelmed by the kindness nestled in such an overlooked corner of the universe.

"Hey, it's my job to take care of my patients," Dr. Micah shrugged and smiled back just as the computer beeped again. The antidote was injected into a miniature aerosol container, which the doctor retrieved from a slot in the side of the computer. He then proceeded to remove the oxygen ventmask from the Mandalorian, forcing him to breathe on his own. The effect of the confiscation of assistance was immediately evident as Din's lungs seemed to quiver and struggle more.

"Din? Din, in a moment here when I say, I'm going to need you to take a big, deep breath, okay? Can you do that for me?" asked Dr. Micah. Even while coaching his patient, the doctor kept his eyes trained away from Din's face after ensuring the inhaler was positioned correctly in Din's mouth. "Let's try a test run…one, two, three: breathe!" Grogu was glad to see his father's chest rise and fall in response to the command. He cooed quietly from the bag and worried the fraying edge of the sack's material as he watched. He had a bad feeling about this…but he trusted Dr. Micah. "That was good, Din, but I'm going to need you to take an even deeper breath. I know it's painful, but I need you to try. Let's try one more time, this time make it as big and as deep as you can. One, two, three…" encouraged Micah, hovering beside him and holding the inhaler, ready to release the medicine. This time Din took the deepest breath he had in a very long time and managed to suck down a good portion of the ejected antidote—but it dearly cost him.

Coughing harshly from the pain and effort, Din suddenly doubled over on the bed. Both Micah and Cara leapt forward to steady him, bracing his weight as he leaned against them and continued to gasp. Grogu took advantage of the close proximity to the bed to crawl out of the sack at Cara's hip—he just needed to be with his buir. Just because he was too tired and weak to help him through the Force didn't mean he couldn't be physically there to support him! So Grogu wriggled up onto the bed to nestle against Din's hip and gently pat his leg as he struggled through settling his lungs.

"Focus, Din. Fight for that breath by steadying it out," the doctor calmly but firmly commanded his patient while he supported his convulsing frame. Din continued to chaotically cough, choke, wheeze and sputter, his flushed face screwed up in agony and his grasp on a rhythm completely lost. At one point he began to even dry heave violently.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Cara worriedly as her friend leaned into her and Micah's shoulders, drool dribbling from his lips instead of vomit.

"His body is so panicked and lost control that it doesn't know what to do. The confusion of the fever isn't helping much either," explained Micah quickly before speaking directly in Din's ear again with determination. "Din, listen to me. You've got to force yourself to calm down. Get your mind involved, c'mon now, you've got this."

Unbeknownst to all but the littlest, chaosconfusionpanictightnessagony rippled fiercely in choppy waves through the Force. Scared, Grogu worriedly glanced upward from Dr. Micah to his struggling buir. Din's age-lines creased tighter as his eyes clenched farther shut in distress. An angry vein pulsed at his temple, his head bent and neck muscles strained. A lone tear, born from the anguish, escaped from the pinched corner of Din's left eye and fell. It splashed on the tip of Grogu's nose.

Caught in the middle of the frenzy, the boy sadly lowered his head and buried it into his father's thigh. Wrapping his little arms around Din's leg, he squeezed him tightly in a hug. Reaching out into the Force, he scraped up the last ounce of energy he had and managed to push one single wave of love toward his father: calm.

Please, buir. Breathe, begged the child. The feverish warmth of Din's presence in the Force rubbed against his son's.

G-grogu?...

"Follow me, Din. In, out. In, out," Micah guided aloud as he breathed audibly at Din's ear so he could latch onto the pattern.

Focus, buir. Please.

I'm…trying…

It took an agonizingly long minute, but eventually Din managed to get his lungs under control, and his companions gingerly lowered him back onto the raised half of the bed as his wheezing dissipated. Din growled loudly at the tension in his abdomen from the intense coughing spell, but the pain seemed to wake him up more. For the first time since arriving, he opened his eyes.

"Thanks for staying with us," breathed Cara in relief and gave her friend a wide smile. Din's eyes roamed over toward her in acknowledgment, still glassy and a bit hazy from the lingering fever. A tiny, clawed hand grasped onto his left hand near his hip. Soaking in the comfort from that gesture, Din managed to rub the palm of his son between his thumb and forefinger. Grogu purred as he felt relief and love radiate from his buir. Micah's deeper voice then redirected his attention.

"I hate to ask this of you, Din, but we're going to need to do this about three more times," stated the doctor, empathy lacing his tone. Din paused briefly to register before merely nodding his head once tiredly. The process resumed, but luckily this time there were no more panic attacks. Within minutes soon after, Din appeared to breathe easier, his lungs expanding more normally and his stress diminishing as the antidote began to work. This in turn caused the rest of the group to breathe easier as well. The Mandalorian sucked in one long breath and let it escape slowly, savoring the regained freedom. He turned to face the doctor, acknowledging him directly for the first time.

"Thank you," Din said simply, a weary, grateful smile on his lips.

"Not a problem. Glad you're all right," grinned Dr. Micah but kept his eyes occupied elsewhere. Cara felt the urge to speak.

"Din, I am so, so sorry…I totally forgot about your helmet in the heat of everything," she whispered although her earnest plea for forgiveness reverberated off the walls of the small room. Din then turned to look at his friend with a merciful smile.

"It's okay. It was only a matter of time when I would sustain an injury that would require him seeing my face. I appreciate you saving my life," Din covered over graciously, his words a little sluggish from exhaustion. Gathering his implication, Dr. Micah finally looked up and looked Din directly in the face. He stretched out a hand accompanied by a grin.

"Well, it's nice to officially meet you, Din Djarin. You're not at all how I pictured you," confessed Dr. Micah with a slight chuckle. Din met his handshake and smiled in response.

"That can be either good or bad."

"Haha just different. It's a pleasure though. Which is more than I can say for what has to happen next," sighed Dr. Micah, reaching for a dermal regenerator.

"To be honest, I'm just thankful I can breathe again so go ahead," shrugged Din before wincing at his shoulder. The grimace didn't escape the doctor's watchful eye.

"More injuries?"

"Uh, I had dislocated my shoulder. Also got a scrape on my neck but the bacta patch should have handled it," Din waved off. "But that's it then, I swear."

"Hmm. Well, I'll check out your shoulder after this and put a new fresh bacta patch on your neck. But you're not allowed to get into trouble for a solid three months, okay?" warned Dr. Micah with a playful shake of his head.

"Three months? Let's shoot for a year," mumbled Cara.

"Eh, I'm a realist, not exactly an optimist," admitted the doctor with an amused sigh.

"Yes, sir, although no guarantees," laughed Din weakly. Dr. Micah then turned to Grogu sitting quietly beside Din.

"That's your job, Grogu. You see to it that your dad keeps himself out of harm's way, okay?"

"Hmph," grunted Grogu in agreement and turned a stern, scrunched up face towards his father as if in warning. The child's response and cranky expression elicited laughter from both Micah and Cara, leaving Din's eyes wide as he took in his son's strict "no nonsense, serious business" face.

"Fair enough," placated Din with a small, sheepish smile before Dr. Micah lowered the head of the bed so Din could lie flat.

"Did you need me or…?" questioned Cara, unsure if she was wanted in the room or if it was better to leave for the next part.

"I don't need your assistance, if that's what you're asking," clarified the physician as he adjusted the dial on the handheld dermal regenerator.

"Just do whatever you prefer, Cara," replied Din, releasing her to go if she wished.

"Okay, well as much as I'd like to stick around for the grand finale, I'm kind of still soaked so I'll just slip out to find a restroom to more thoroughly dry off," decided the solider before exiting the examination room.

"I want to keep him overnight for monitoring so feel free to pick a bed to bunk for the night!" Dr. Micah called out after her before turning on the dermal regenerator, a loud hum filling the air.

Grogu, having every intention of staying with his buir through this next part, nudged closer against his father's hip and pulled his father's hand nearer. Din responded in kind by wrapping his large hand around his son, his thumb rubbing Grogu's tummy back and forth.

Doing okay, buir?

Doing okay, ad'ika. Din cocked his head as best as he could in his position to give his son a comforting smile. Breathing much better now. Are you doing all right? You haven't been able to sleep much.

Sleep later. Doing okay.

Did you get something more substantial than a protein bar to eat?

Grogu practically rolled his eyes. BUIR.

Hey, now. Don't give me that attitude. I'm your father, I ask those kinds of things, Din thought back firmly and raised a single eyebrow at his son.

Aunt Cara gave me two frogs before we landed, assured Grogu with a sigh just as the doctor came closer.

Good.

"Okay, so you'll feel sort of a warm, sharp vibrating sensation. Some think it's more painful than others, but given your profession, I think you'll be fine," shrugged Dr. Micah before bending over to begin, unaware he had just interrupted a conversation. Din simply nodded once and worked on keeping his breathing steady and holding very still. Grogu intently kept an eye on his father to make sure he did okay and found nearly no change in the Mandalorian's features as the doctor worked on knitting his flesh back together. He did feel his father's hand initially tense up until he grew accustomed to the sensation. Approximately fifteen minutes ticked by before the doctor announced he was halfway done.

"Depth of the wound aside, this regenerator isn't nearly as bad as mine," remarked Din with a hint of surprise. Dr. Micah flashed the device within Din's eyesight.

"Newer model. Just came out three months ago. I've found it leaves incredibly minimal scarring, works faster, and isn't quite as painful," Micah advertised. "My new toy." Din bit back a laugh.

"I should get myself one of those."

"I'll warn you, they're not cheap. Costs about as much as a halfway decent single seat speeder."

"Guess I'm sticking with my old one then," sighed Din. Cara eventually meandered back into the room as the doctor was finishing up the last few inches of the incision. She curiously edged closer to see the tool's handiwork.

"Wow," she mused with a raised eyebrow and nodded in acceptance. "That's a much better job than I could have done."

"I'm a better artist, eh?" joked Dr. Micah without lifting his eyes from his work.

"You better not have written something with it," muttered Din under his breath.

"He tattooed 'this is the way' across your chest," Cara responded in a dead pan tone with a straight face. Din snorted in amusement.

"At least I'd trust him to spell it right."

Cara's eyes narrowed into accusatory slits. "Excuse me?" The Force was suddenly saturated with sass.

"Yeah, Grogu would have botched it," replied Din easily, a glimmer of tease in his eyes despite the fever.

"Nice save," stated Cara cooly, her tone warning. Din's gaze dropped to his son who now wore the dead panned expression.

You used me, buir.

I'll buy you pickled frogs when I'm back on my feet.

Deal.

Soon the surgery was finished and after a double check on vitals, a thorough inspection of his shoulder, and a fresh bacta patch for his neck—"That's NOT 'just a scratch', Din..."—the Mandalorian was declared stable for the night.

"I'm sorry…I know this wasn't your plan for the evening. I'm sure I'd be all right back at my ship," apologized Din with a yawn as Micah handed him a pillow and blanket for the night.

"It's all right…you caught me on a quiet day," assured Micah kindly. "I have a permanent cot setup in my office for these kinds of emergencies. I'm sure you'll be fine, but I'd rather not take any chances tonight. You should be fit to head back in the morning, at which time we'll discuss your recovery."

"Well…thank you, again," acknowledged Din with heavy sincerity, receiving a nod from the doctor before he retreated to the hallway for the night.

Silence settled in the room.

The Mandalorian sucked in a breath before glancing over at Cara who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Both sets of dark brown eyes latched onto each other. The stress and weight of a thousand "what if's" and "unknowns" that had been shoved aside for the sake of keeping it together suddenly hit both warriors. Cara's eyes betrayed the vulnerable fear she had suppressed, and Din released a long overdue and well-fought-for sigh. The pair let the weight be felt a couple seconds more before truth released the burden. A comfortable peace then settled between the two before Cara simply gave a single nod and pushed off the wall to head to bed.

"See you in the morning, Mando," the shock trooper wished with a wink before turning off the light, exiting the room, and closing the door. Din welcomed the semi-darkness and let its stillness wash away the bad memories for tonight. This adventure had been a close one.

A tiny, clawed hand rested against his chest under the blanket.

Much too close.

Grogu curled tighter up against Din's bare side and soaked in the lingering feverish warmth. The man's arm tugged him closer still. A raspy little yawn escaped out from under the blanket.

Buir?

Sleepiness echoed to Din through the Force.

Yes, ad'ika?

You're allowed to sleep now.

Exhausted amusement swelled briefly from the Mandalorian.

Thank you. Good night, Grogu. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.

Warmthlovecontentreliefhappytiredpeace rippled between father and son.

Love you too, buir. Good night.

...

.

Buir?

(Yawn) Yes, Grogu, what is it?

Computer's lights too bright. Can't sleep. Turn off, please?

Sigh…


The End! Thanks again so much for taking the time to read and double/extra thanks if you review! Very thankful for the FanFiction community to enjoy creativity together. Until next time!

Mando'a Translations:

Buir = father

Ad'ika = affectionate term for child

Vaii cuyir kaysh? = Where is he?

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum = I love you.