It was quiet in the Peace Keepers homeworld. Gosnold, the balloonist, didn't know why but he had a bad feeling, like something was off...wrong somehow.

There was no gnorcs as Spyro had already taken them out long ago. Now that he thought of it, where was the little dragon anyway? He hadn't heard from him in some time. He thought the dragon would be done by now but he figured he underestimated how much time that would take.

He started to make his way back to his balloon but he tripped over something. He pushed himself up, feeling something bumpy but soft through his gloves.

He looked at what he tripped over; it was Spyro. Gosnold gawked, horror over coming him as he realized how eerily still the young dragon was. Gosnold gently rolled him over and flinched when he saw the gashes on his flank. His yellow underbelly was a bit red too, almost like sunburn but he knew better. Though he really he hoped it wasn't what he thinks it is.

Gosnold lightly shook the dragon but got no response from him. He bit his lip from behind his scarf glancing away, looking for something. Anything. There wasn't really anything around close by, although he saw a trail in the sand that looked like the dragon had dragged himself across before collapsing but he couldn't pay any mind to that.

The gash on his flank was oozing blood and he didn't think twice about it, he removed his scarf and pressed it against the wound. That was his favorite scarf but he could always get another one, he couldn't get another dragon.

Spyro groaned, weakly pawing at his hands.

"Spyro it's me. It's me. It's okay." Gosnold told him, "Can you tell me what happened!?"

The dragon took a breath and opened his mouth. He was silent for a bit, like he was having trouble speaking. "...Fell..." Was all he managed to say. All that was needed to say.

The balloonist's stomach dropped, knowing that what he feared was correct. He did fall into the purple water.

Gosnold scooped the dragon up with much difficulty, he was heaver then he looked, and walked off to a clean pool.

"Tired..." Spyro mumbled.

"You can't sleep now, young dragon. Not until you've had a bath."

Spyro groaned.

"I gotta get that... gunk off of you. After a bath and drink then you can rest okay?"

"...Mmkay."

He gently dropped the dragon into the pool, careful to keep his head above the water. He used the scarf to gently scrub off the gunk, he thought he looked a bit darker than usual but now with all that gunk off his scales he looked better.

He wringed out the scarf then went to clean his face. He wiped down his horns, main and made sure to get in between those scales then dripped a small amount of water in his eyes just to be sure.

Gosnold got startled as the dragon lifted his head to sneeze. At least he has no goop in his nose now. Taking advantage of his partial consciousness, he laid Spyro's snout at the lip of the pond and managed to make him drink.

He sighed, admiring his work. The dragon was now clean of goop. His wounds were a bit red and might be infected so he had to take care of that when he got back to base. He picked up the dragon and took off.

When he walked into the room he found Spyro glaring at the ceiling. "What do you think those unicorns are up to Sparks?" he growled. "I don't trust them."

Oh, dear...he might have gave him too much painkillers.

He put down a plate of hot vulture in front of him. The young dragon looked down at it, gave a 'ooooooo!' then dug in. Gosnold could only smile as he enjoyed his cooking. Flame broiled with a pinch of salt... Maximos always had the best recipes, he mused.

It's been a few days since he brought him to the barracks. Luckily his wounds did not worsen, in fact and they were well on their way to healing completely, but the dragon still came down with fever a while back. Wasn't totally sure why but it was probably the goop he fell in. Sparks came back at some point too, wasn't sure when he did either, but it was a relief to the balloonist nonetheless.

He grimaced as a thought came to him.

What if...?

What if this was his fault? Spyro getting injured? Was that his fault? He did tell him to get the treasure. But he just wanted to make sure they were no gems around that could be turned into monsters, but he didn't expect the possibly of a casualty either.

"It's not your fault," said Spyro with a mouthful of food, as if he had read his mind.

"Huh?"

He swallowed. "Not your fault. It's goop's fault. He has it out for me, he's a meany pants." Then he went back to eating.

Gosnold went completely silent... Then he burst into laughter.

A week has passed now and Spyro is now more coherent. Every time Gosnold checks up on him he always seems to be buried in a book, he didn't think the dragon was the type to read. Well, he's an Artisans' dragon after all. He did ask for some books and he got them.

The young dragon himself was laying on the rug in the breakroom reading a book.

He looked over the dragon's shoulder looking at what he was reading. "A shipping fic? Really?"

Spyro almost dropped the book in surprise. He looked over the books edge looking very embarrassed.

"I...um...but um...I...I don't know why I'm reading this..."

Gosnold chuckled. It's funny how flustered this dragon became at times. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fine... it's just..." He trailed off.

"Something on your mind?"

"Yeah. It's just I've been feeling bad lately, uh mentally bad I mean. Like when you feel a storm coming on soon, well it's not really a storm but..."

"You have a bad feeling?"

"These books are reminding me of my family you know? I haven't been able to free them yet either I..."

Gosnold replied, "I'm sure you'll think of something."

Spyro kept frowning. "But what if I can't?"

"Well...I guess you'll just have to move on in the worst case. I think that's what they would want you to do."

Spyro gave a small smile but said nothing.

"Hey, what chapter are you on?"

Spyro groaned smacking his face into the book.

"I meant it."

"What?"

"Sometime ago, I think I said it's not your fault. I meant it."

Gosnold didn't know what to say to that.

"I had to say this before I left to Magic Crafters. I'm right y'know?"

"I..." he shook his head.

"Forget about it." Spyro said.

"But I asked you-"

"I was going to do it anyway, there was no stopping me."

"Alright. I still feel bad though."

"I'll be okay, you know me."

Gosnold, smiled despite himself. Spyro wounds had healed, leaving nothing but nasty scars on his flank, the scars of a Peace Keeper. "You ready to go?"

Spyro nodded.

A pang of sadness hit him but he told himself it was alright though he was gonna miss the little guy once he was gone. "Hey," he said, "If you get into trouble I'm always here."

Spyro smiled. "Thank you, Gosnold."

A/N

At first the Balloonists didn't have a much of a role in this fic but I needed someone else to be around for some of the plot points to work. The Balloonists were most likely the only ones hanging around if you cut out all the dragons.

What Spyro was reading was a shipping fic made by one of the dragons. I'll let you decide who wrote it and what it's about.

By the way I don't get the remastered game until Christmas and I don't want to really spoil myself so if things are a bit different that's why. I've played the original games a lot, Spyro 1 in particular so I know a thing or two at least. :P