When the injured man had taken a breath, Garen had been stunned. He'd been certain that the man was gone, that the woman's inexplicable choice not to remove his helmet had cost her the life of her friend. But he'd been wrong, and he'd felt foolish for doubting the depth of their connection.

But doubt it he had… When Cara had been willing to let the man die for a reason Garen still did not—and probably never would—fully comprehend, he'd leapt to a judgment and condemned her for it. For, how could someone call themselves a friend if they stood by and watched their friend die, when it was within their power to save them? It had been so clear to Garen that what she was doing was wrong. That she was making a poor decision in the heat of the moment, and that they would both have to sit back and reap the consequences and mourn.

Instead, he sat back practically frozen in awed silence as the two clasped hands and Cara leaned her head down to rest on the man's visor.

And he realized how much of a blind idiot he'd been. The woman's willingness to let the man die because of some value that the man held did not cheapen their friendship, it deepened it. That she'd been able to respect the man's wishes even in the face of losing him… it spoke to a strength and selflessness that Garen would never know. Their connection—whether it had grown over decades, or formed in a fiery ordeal, Garen did not know, it did not matter—was deeper than Garen could fathom.

So Garen sat in silence, trying not to disturb the duo in front of him; they'd been through agony and anguish and more, the least he could do was give them a moment to reconnect.

He got the sense that Cara would have stayed that way forever, wanted to stay that way, caught in the moment where they were all safe, where the man was alive, but duty would not let her. Eventually, she sat back and gently placed the man's hand on the floor, separating their grasps with care. She looked up at Garen, then, purpose and responsibility filling the line of her shoulders, and he honestly didn't care that his face was probably filled with a ridiculous, awed smile.

She looked away, eyes bright, before she returned her gaze to his and cleared her throat. "I need to check on the ship, see what state it's in so we can get out of here—eventually. He still needs to stay warm, though, and stay breathing," she raised her voice slightly at the end, flicking her gaze briefly down towards the armored warrior as if her command would reach his slumbering ears and make it so. "Can you make sure that happens?" she asked, turning her attention back to Garen. "And call me if anything changes?"

"Of course," he replied immediately, prepared to do anything to make up for how he'd doubted and berated her only moments ago, which had only made her arduous task more difficult.

She nodded, then rose and moved towards the ladder, which apparently led to the ship's controls—which made sense, as it had been where the man had fallen from after piloting and landing the ship—and he expected her to climb it and disappear into the ceiling, but she stopped at the foot of it and did not move.

Garen frowned, confused why she'd paused; thus far, she'd not shied away from anything before her, not her friend bleeding out on the floor, not holding him down while some amateur performed surgery, not bringing him back to life, nothing. And yet she hesitated now?

He didn't understand, until he saw that she was looking upwards, towards the top two rungs. Garen followed her gaze and understood what had drawn her up short: twin streaks of red glistened on the rungs, as if someone had latched on to the first with a blood-soaked hand, then slipped off the second, no longer able to hold on.

And Garen realized he had no idea what she would find at the top of that ladder. He could only imagine that she'd walk in to see a story tapestried in red, with nothing but questions to fill in the gaps between the footprints of red stumbling, dragging towards the door… between the handprints etched in blood on the controls… between the red rivulets snaking downwards to pool on the floor. To stand amidst the evidence of her friend's desperate struggle to stay alive? To stand alone amongst a sharp reminder of how close she'd come to losing him, even knowing that she'd helped him triumph over that struggle? Yeah, Garen could understand why she might not relish experiencing that. But, he'd realized a little while ago that it was an established fact that Cara was a thousand times more fearless and undaunted than he, and thus, after the moment's hesitation, she strode forward and climbed the ladder, disappearing out of sight up above.

Garen shook his head in wonderment and turned back to the task that Cara had given him. He first checked that the stitches on the stab wounds were still holding after the rough treatment the man's torso had received while Cara kept his heart beating. He was pleased to see they were intact, and he therefore moved on to treating the rest of the man's comparatively minor injuries, including the mild lacerations high on the man's left side, and the gash on his leg. He hoped that they'd been treated fast enough to stave off the feared infection, but if the man had come back to life after Garen had been certain he was gone, he felt there was a pretty good chance the man could fight through the infection.

When there was nothing more he could do medically, he spread one of the blankets over the man, then decided another layer couldn't hurt and snapped out a second blanket in the open air in order to add it over top of the first, hoping to keep the man warm in the face of the massive blood loss he'd experienced. But when he turned to place it over the man, he fell back with a cry of surprise: the little green child had suddenly appeared by the man's side, between when Garen had put one blanket on and the next. It stared sleepily up at Garen, as if wondering why he was making a big fuss. When Garen just stared at it, it dismissed him and shuffled over to the man's left side, lay down beside him, latched onto his arm and pulled his hand gently over itself like a blanket of its own, and promptly fell back asleep.

Garen's heart may or may not have melted at the sight.

After carefully positioning the second blanket, he sat watching both his charges, as he'd promised, until, eventually, a loud whack startled him from his vigil. He turned and saw a pile of sodden rags had landed on the floor beneath the ladder. What color they were originally, Garen couldn't say, perhaps a faded gray that spoke of years of use, but now, Garen doubted they would ever lose their red tint.

Cara followed them down, wiping the blood from the ladder before dropping to the floor and letting the last rag fall and join the rest. There was still the blood pooled on the floor beneath her feet, dragged in streaks across the ship's bay area, but it would wait.

She stood there for a moment, just listening to the man breathe, then turned to Garen and held out her hand. "I'm Cara. I know you know that already, but it felt like a proper introduction was in order, since you helped save my friend. And while we're at it, I think an apology is in order, too: sorry for threatening you with a blaster when you were saving his life."

He scrambled to his feet and clasped her hand in return. "I'm Garen, and I understand." He hesitated, before he added, "I can see how much he means to you. If I thought someone was killing a person I cared about, I'd have reacted the same way."

She nodded tiredly. "Well, thank you. Again. I don't know how to repay you—"

He cut her off. "Just try and make sure he makes it, okay? And I mean, given what you just did, I think the odds are in your favor…" Shut up Garen, you sound like an idiot. "Anyway, that can be my payment. I'd hate for the little one to lose him."

She turned to gaze back at the man, her face softening into a smile. "Yeah, I'd hate to lose him, too," she murmured, and Garen was pretty sure he was not meant to hear it.

Pretending he hadn't heard, he plowed on. "And try to get him to a real doctor. I can't do anything for his ribs, and another one broke when…" he trailed off, not wanting to make her feel guilty when she absolutely should not, but the line of her mouth and the quick nod she gave him told him she already felt that way. "Hey, you saved his life," he murmured.

She barked out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, only had to hurt him and kriffing break his bones in order to do it."

"I think he'd take an extra broken rib over the alternative any day."

She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "I know. I know that. Logically I know that, but it doesn't mean I don't still feel terrible about it."

"Fair enough. The good news is that none of the fractures punctured his lung," he offered, trying to look on the bright side. "So, while I can't do anything for them now, you might bind them later, once he's awake, and as long as he doesn't move around too much, odds are they'll be okay. Broken ribs take forever to heal and are painful as… well, they're painful, but if he's careful… But Cara," he hesitated, not wanting to turn towards the negative possibilities, but feeling he'd be remiss if he didn't. "If infection sets in… that's the big concern. If that happens, he should see a doctor. Or someone," he added, aware that the little bit he could piece together about these three individuals' lives might mean seeing a doctor would be a challenge.

She nodded.

They lapsed into silence then, just watching and listening. After a while, Cara sat down near the man and the child, back leaning against the wall, knees pulled up and hands resting on top, eyes staring at the two sleeping forms.

And Garen realized that his presence was no longer needed. That, in fact, this trio was ready to no longer have a stranger in their midst. While he would have liked to stay, to see it all the way through to the end, to see the man on his feet, child scampering around his ankles happily, and Cara standing to the side with a watchful eye, ready to step in and support the man should he stumble, Garen knew that was not what was meant to be. His path had only needed to touch fleetingly with theirs, to help save one of their own, and now that his task was done, it was time to move on.

Slowly, quietly, he gathered his things and hefted his bag onto his shoulder. When he rose, he found Cara's eyes on him.

"You're leaving?" she asked. "Do you have somewhere to go? You are welcome to stay."

He smiled, touched by her kindness, at her willingness to welcome him in, but he shook his head. "That's okay. I have a camp I need to get back to before nightfall—you don't want to be moving around out here after dark." Of course, his camp was only ten minutes away, and night would not fall for several hours more, but she did not need to know that. She did not need that burden.

"Well, thank you again, Garen. I can't… I can't put into words how much you did for me. For us." She rose and walked towards him, pulling a small device out of her pocket. "We move around too much to tell you any place you could reliably find us, but here," she handed the device to him. "If you ever need anything, anything, hit that button and we'll find you."

He smiled again. "Thank you. I'd rather not make it a habit of saving one of your lives, but if you ever find yourself in the area again, if you ask for me at the Trading Post, someone there usually knows where to find me."

She held out her hand and he grasped it. "Goodbye, Garen."

"Goodbye, Cara."

He made his way to the ship's ramp, and just before setting foot on it, turned around for one last look. Cara had moved and now sat with the man's head in her lap, one hand on his neck, no doubt on his pulse point, the other gently stroking the head of the still slumbering child.

And he realized that they were not merely a trio of friends. No, amidst the wreckage of a day that had tried so very hard to take the man's life, sat an unconventional family, whose bonds were stronger than Garen had ever seen.

With a smile on his face, he turned and walked away.

Tomorrow, he would return to this spot to find it empty, the ship gone, along with all of its occupants. The only trace that he'd ever crossed paths with them would be imprints in the canyon floor, a small device nestled in his pocket, and the memories of their devotion to one another, which would impact and stay with Garen all his life. Standing in the silence, he'd recall what had started it all—a noise shattering the sky and calling up all of his fears and doubts—and he would realize that it was true: he was not a superstitious person… But he was an optimistic one.

Because he'd have every confidence that the ties that held that family together would see them through whatever life had in store for them next.

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A.N. And here we are at the end. Thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me, for sharing your thoughts and support. It's been incredible.

I would have loved to continue to write more for this story-many of you have lamented the fact it is only 5 chapters, and I hear you-but this is always where this part of the story was going to end.

But that being said, I would love to write more of these characters, be that in a sequel to this story, or a brand new one. Currently, though, I do not have an idea of where to go from here, therefore please feel free to share your own ideas of what you might like to see, of what prompts I might be able to fill.

Thank you again, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it!