Hi folks!

Sorry for the delayed update. The last few weeks have been hectic at work, with many long (12-hour plus) days. But I finally got this chapter done!

Enjoy!

Moki

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Episode 5

Title: "A Little Help"

Chapter 3

Genre: BoDin, CaraMed, slow burn romance, humor, angst, fluff, father/son, family vibes

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Cara woke up early the next morning, stretching and yawning in her bunk before the sun rose. While she did enjoy sleeping in on those rare occasions when she could, she wanted to get back to work on her ship. Yet simultaneously, she was also hesitant to depart from Mandalore right away.

Cara found herself liking the planet and its people the longer she was around them. In some ways being on Mandalore reminded her of being around her fellow soldiers while on missions. The nearly constant training and sparring, people in armor and carrying weapons, it all felt familiar to her. Comfortable.

However, there was something else that intrigued her, beyond just the warrior aspect of Din and Med's clan. Yes, Mandalorians were soldiers by nature. Weapons were literally part of their religion. But during her time on their homeworld, Cara had seen that the Mandalorians were also a tight-knit family. She'd had a glimpse of that during the escape from the Imperials in the Nevarro tunnels. While Din had stumbled beside her, barely surviving Moff Gideon's attempted murder. She'd witnessed Din's anguish upon discovering the loss of his clan, his family. Having experienced such pain herself, she had deeply sympathized with him.

With a start, Cara realized she had been with Din the moment he'd found evidence that seemed to prove Med and the rest of his tribe had died. Now that she knew of Med, Cara marveled that her friend had kept it together as well as he had. It wasn't as if he hadn't shown any emotion, but she still wondered if after the battle was over, after the adrenaline wore off and he'd been alone with Grogu in the Razor Crest – had Din only then been able to truly mourn his clan? His brother?

As she got out of her bunk, Cara's thoughts shifted back to the Mandalorian people. The more she observed them, the more Cara saw that they weren't simply soldiers. Unlike hired guns or even willing military volunteers, Mandalorians were not people with homes elsewhere who had been assembled solely for the purpose of fighting. While that atmosphere created a camaraderie Cara had craved after losing her family, she appreciated there was more to it than that with the Mandalorians. Especially now that they'd gotten their homeworld back.

They were a family. A clan. A tribe. Walking around with Med the previous day, going to and from the public kitchens and eating area, Cara had seen all manner of people. Young and old, some in helmets, some without. Even children, youngsters who weren't much older than toddlers, being carried by their armored parents. So far, she'd only seen the smallest children with Nite Owls. Though she'd also seen young foundlings, some in lighter training helmets, and others who weren't quite of age and had no helmets at all, with Children of the Watch.

As Cara remembered seeing the children the day before, she smiled to herself. She pictured Din and Med running around like that and pondered what it had been like for them, following the Guardians and Trainers, learning how to spar, getting ready to take their vows. The brothers had been much younger than she'd been when she'd lost her people, and she was glad they'd been taken in by the clan. Maybe the Children of the Watch hadn't been as affectionate as she imagined their own families had been, but at least they'd had people who cared for them. Ones who had given two orphaned boys something beyond the bare necessities of food and shelter. They'd also given them something to believe in, a Creed to guide their lives and motivation to embrace a new future.

Cara grew wistful, thinking about what her life might look like now if she'd had such a chance after Alderaan had been destroyed. She may have been an adult when it happened, but the loss had still left her grappling with feelings of solitude and grief for a good long while. Perhaps if she'd had a true clan who had taken her in, rather than simply using her military brethren as a makeshift family, she might not have made some of the mistakes she had in her younger years.

Much like many in the galaxy, Cara had made certain assumptions about Mandalorians. Befriending a member of the helmeted tribe eventually shattered many of those presumptions for her, but she now realized she had still clung to a few of those old beliefs. Perhaps it was because, up until a short while ago, some had still been true. Mandalorians had gone without a homeworld for many years and as such, they'd had to adjust their lives, surviving the only way they knew how. Din's people went back to ancient ways, many of Bo's became mercenaries. All of them had been scattered across the galaxy without anywhere to call home. Again, it was a feeling the ex-dropper knew all too well.

But that wasn't the case any longer, now that they had their planet back. Despite being populated by a race of warriors, Mandalore wasn't just a place for people to train and spar, preparing for the next battle. People were working on building new homes, the landing bay was being expanded, the medical center was in progress. While Cara hadn't seen all of those places yet, she'd heard about them and observed evidence of their construction.

She'd also heard of the underground gardens, river, and waterfall, and looked forward to seeing their beauty someday. Mandalore may look bleak and lifeless on the surface with her green trinitite spikes pointing into the sky, but she was hiding life underneath.

Choosing to ignore the strange dichotomy of her feelings – wanting to finish the repairs, but also reluctant to leave – Cara continued her morning routine, walking to the fully functional fresher on board her small gunship. The vehicle wasn't quite as big as Din's old Razor Crest, but it wasn't far off from it either. Though, unlike the Crest, Cara's ship didn't have an upper and lower deck. Everything she needed was all on one level.

The bunk area, along with the fresher and galley, was in the middle of the ship away from any portholes, giving Cara privacy as she showered and got dressed. She debated grabbing a ration bar, but a part of her hoped she might get to eat at the public kitchen again. She didn't know what they were serving for first meal, but something told her it was bound to be a whole lot better than the supplies she had on board. Cara had never been much of a cook (not that one could be on a small ship like hers) and hardly ever had much more than the basics when it came to food.

Once she was ready to face the day, Cara checked her onboard chrono and noted it was still early in the morning, though not extremely so. She was just debating if she should try and reach out to Med when the alarm near her boarding ramp went off. It was more of a proximity alert than one that warned of danger. Smiling at Med's timing – for she assumed it had to be the medic – Cara walked to the edge of her hull and hit the switch to drop the ramp.

"Morning," Med said as the ramp came down in front of him. Cara could've sworn she heard a stifled yawn and chuckled as she walked down to meet her friend.

"Tired, Rosca? I would've thought you'd be used to early mornings."

"Oh, I am. That's why I'm yawning, actually. I had some patients to check on after we were done last night, and one needed to be seen again this morning. Nothing too serious, but I still wanted to examine them and make sure they're responding to treatment."

Cara frowned as she walked up to the medic. "Patients. Of course you would have patients. But you spent the whole day with me, how did you manage that?"

"I have a few good senior medics now. Some arrived from other systems where they'd been in hiding, others are ones I've been training since I came here. Having staff allows me time to get away, which was sorely needed when I was studying for my exams, and when I had to leave to take them – which took several days."

"Plus, I have this." Med held up his arm and Cara recalled the special hardware embedded in the medic's vambraces, enabling him to remotely monitor patients.

"So, you were communicating with your people all day yesterday?" How did I miss that? she wondered.

He shrugged. "Not all day, but I did check in a few times. Plus, if there had been an emergency I would have been notified immediately."

"You're one busy Mando, that's for sure."

"True, and right now this busy Mando is also a hungry one. Care to join me for breakfast before we get back to work on your ship?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

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The morning after Din and Bo had their long talk, the Mandalorian and his son were getting ready for a new day at the cabin.

"Hey buddy, you ready to do some more training today?" Din asked the boy after they both had eaten their breakfast, Grogu in the kitchen and Din in his room.

Yes! Grogu was enthusiastic, nodding his head up and down, making his ears waggle in a way that had Din smiling under his helmet.

"Good, because I have a surprise for you."

Cake?

Din huffed a short chuckle. "No, you little womp rat, not cake. The surprise is a person."

Uncle?

"Nope."

Then Grogu made a sign Din didn't recognize, causing the father to frown slightly.

"Sorry, I didn't understand that one. Can you show me again?"

Grogu repeated the sign and Din's mouth broke into a wide grin when he realized what the sign meant.

"Bo? Is that your name sign for Bo?"

Yes! Bo!

"That's great, buddy. And you're right, that's who the surprise is. Would you like Bo to help us practice today?"

Yes! Fun!

"Good. She'll be here in a little while. Want to help me clean up in the meantime?"

Yes! I help.

Grogu might be small, but Din felt it was important for the child to be offered the chance to help in any way he could. Din remembered assisting his parents with little tasks around their home, and then later doing the same for his covert. It always gave him a sense of pride, and he wanted his son to feel that as well.

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That same day, Bo flew into Nevarro's atmosphere during the planet's morning hours, landing with plenty of time to make it to what would probably be her final trade meeting with High Magistrate Karga. As she finished the landing sequence and shut down her engines, the Mandalorian princess felt a sense of melancholy fall over her knowing that she wouldn't have as many reasons to visit the unusual, yet beautiful planet.

Over the past several months, Bo found herself increasingly anticipating her visits to Nevarro. At first, she told herself it was for the very important trade talks. But eventually she accepted the truth, which was that she wanted to visit Din and Grogu at the cabin. The humble home and its small plot of land had become an oasis of sorts for the busy Mand'alor, almost as much as it had for Din himself.

Before long, Bo couldn't ignore the effect Din's property had on her. Every time she walked off the Gauntlet and the desert air hit her lungs again, her body released tension she never even knew was there. Bo felt like she could breathe when she visited Nevarro in between the challenges of bringing Mandalore back to its former glory. However, like Din, she also knew she couldn't live the simple life it offered permanently. She and Din both craved balance. They needed some excitement and challenges in life, to better appreciate the peace and quiet in between.

Though recently there had been more challenges and excitement (not the good kind) and very little time for peace and quiet with all she'd had to deal with, but she put those thoughts out of her mind.

Once they finished their talk, High Magistrate Karga confirmed Bo's suspicions.

"I think this is the last time we'll need to do any trade discussions, Your Highness."

"I suppose you're right," she agreed, trying her best to hold back a sigh. "We've discussed every scenario, the contracts are rock solid, and should hold up for many years. I suppose there's no need for me to return."

Greef didn't miss the disappointment in her voice, and he sensed it had nothing to do with their negotiations. He cleared his throat.

"There's no reason you can't come back to our beautiful planet, my lady. You know you're welcome here on Nevarro whenever you choose to grace us. Many of our fine citizens love having visits from the Princess of Mandalore."

Especially one citizen in particular, Greef thought to himself. He didn't have any solid evidence for his suspicions about the princess and the Mandalorian he'd made landed gentry on Nevarro. He put it down to gut instinct, which he'd usually found to be correct during his many years of experience working with bounty hunters.

"Yes, you're right," Bo said, not quite hiding the relief in her voice. If the High Magistrate wanted visits from her, she wouldn't refuse him. That would be rude, and not at all becoming for a princess.

That's what she told herself, anyway.

"Thank you for the kind hospitality High Magistrate. I will return often, I think. For trades and for… other reasons."

"I look forward to many future visits."

"And you know you're welcome on Mandalore whenever you'd like to visit our planet as well."

"I will definitely take you up on that, my lady," he gave a bow, and she dipped her head politely in return.

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Father and son worked together for a couple of hours until they heard the sound of a ship outside. Truthfully, Din had done most of the work, but Grogu assisted however he could, taking on all the little tasks Din gave him.

Bo! Bo! Bo! Grogu jumped up and down, waving the rag he'd been using to clean off the kitchen table like a flag, while making Bo's name sign over and over again. The boy had to actually walk on the table to clean it and Din usually needed to give it another wipe down when Grogu wasn't looking after the kid was done, but it was one of his favorite chores to do so Din always put him in charge of the table.

"Come on, let's go say hello," Din said with a chuckle at the child's excitement.

Grogu ran outside, hopping up onto the back of the single chair on the cabin's small porch as they watched the Gauntlet set down on the other side of Din's N-1 starfighter. Once the ship's engines were off and the ramp had gone down, Din allowed Grogu to run over and greet their guest.

He heard Bo's short laugh when the little one hopped into her arms, then the boy's giggles when she hugged him and tickled him fondly.

"Good morning," Bo said to Din as she walked to the cabin.

"Good morning. How did everything go with High Magistrate Karga?"

"Very well. It was a quick meeting, which is why I was able to come so early."

"That's good. We should get started soon. It gets pretty hot here in the afternoon."

"Fine by me, I could really use some time away from charters and negotiations."

Din swept his arm toward the training field he had set up. As he followed behind Bo, he frowned at her remark. He didn't think that she'd been talking about Nevarro when she said she needed time away from charters and negotiations.

He wanted to ask if everything was okay but wasn't sure if it was his place. She was their leader and therefore would be privy to certain information he wouldn't. Besides, she had advisors, including the Armorer, to help her with such matters. What advice could he, a simple beroya, ever offer a princess?

They arrived at the small training area and Bo put Grogu down. When she did, she noted that Din had set out some mock weapons made of wood.

"Did you make these?" She picked up a stick shaped like a blaster, admiring the simple but effective craftsmanship.

He nodded. "I wanted to give us something to work with that can't go off accidentally. I don't have all the training weapons we had at the covert, so I had to get inventive."

"I'm sure if you ask the Trainers, they'd provide you with a set of mock weapons. After all, you're a Trainer as well, even if you and your apprentice don't live on Mandalore."

"I didn't want to impose."

"It's not imposing. As Mand'alor, it's my responsibility to ensure all of my people have what they need to train our foundlings and apprentices. Even if they are offworld. Next time you're there, we'll get you set up with what you require."

Din dipped his head. "Thank you, my lady, I appreciate it."

"Of course. Now, what's first on the agenda?"

"You remember what we discussed?" Din didn't want to go into too many details and let Grogu in on what his plan was. He just wanted the kid to watch and hoped his son would catch on and ask to be included.

Bo nodded, understanding Din's desire to forego any further specifics. "I remember. Shall we start with sparring?"

"Works for me."

They set aside their blasters and other weaponry, and Bo put her helmet on. Once ready, they faced each other within the sands of the mini training arena. Din had created it by clearing out the rocks near the smaller pond on his property. The sand was perfect for softening hard landings and lessening the chance of accidental injuries.

They dropped into battle stance, but before advancing toward each other, Bo held up her hand.

"Before we start, I wanted to say that I'm doing this with one caveat."

Din straightened a bit, surprised by her sudden demand. His head tipped sideways.

"Of course, what is it?"

"Don't you dare take it easy on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he grunted as he countered her initial attack, barely getting a chance to agree before she was already coming at him.

As they grappled, Bo realized it was their first experience of truly sparring together. While she and Din had worked together on some missions and had both helped Grogu on the training grounds when she'd stayed with The Children of the Watch, they'd never had a chance to train together. They had fought side by side and defeated enemies as a unit but had never actually taken on the other as an opponent.

Of course, they had argued and had a few verbal spats when they'd first met, Bo remembered with a quick grin under her helmet. Which meant she wasn't unfamiliar with being on the receiving end of Din's ire. It made her almost pity the quarries he hunted. She knew from experience that one did not want to be on the bad side of their beroya.

As they continued to wrestle, one of the first things Bo noticed was that Din was strong. She knew in theory that he was one of the best, if not the best, warriors they had. He'd had decades of experience out in the field, battling alone as a bounty hunter and taking on all manner of opponents. While she understood that, converting those facts into how it would feel to fight such a combatant was something else entirely.

During the nano-droid poisoning, Bo had laid next to Din to keep him warm during that frighteningly cold night. At the time, she had still sensed his underlying strength, detecting the wiry muscles under the blankets. But it hadn't yet occurred to her what those same muscles would feel like when he wasn't weak and fighting for his life. Back then she had felt his body in vulnerability, and now she was feeling it at full strength. He wasn't sleeping and he wasn't simply moving, he was countering her maneuvers and initiating attacks. The difference was startling.

In the opening exchanges of their mock battle, Bo quickly grasped that fighting Din was going to be a bigger challenge than she had originally assumed. She had decades of experience herself and had fought many a larger, stronger opponent. She knew the various strategies and techniques that could be used to leverage one's size to gain an advantage and prevail in combat, even when facing an opponent with greater body mass. Yet despite her extensive knowledge and prior experience, she still found the match to be a tough one.

There was also something else Bo noticed as they continued to fight and wrestle, a particular scent that came through her helmet. At first, she only noticed the typical ones she expected. The smell of the leather of his vest with its attached sleeves that held his chest plate, pauldrons, and back armor in place. The scent of the oil used on some of his weapons. Even beskar had its own aroma, as well as the polish used on it.

Beneath the surface of all the expected scents, there was something unexpected. It was spicy with an undertone of warmth. Unable to pinpoint its exact source, she began to wonder if maybe it wasn't coming from Din at all. Perhaps it was coming from somewhere nearby, possibly a plant on Nevarro she hadn't spotted previously.

Before Bo could continue to ponder the new scent, Din had her in another hold. The man was good, there was no doubt about it. She was using every bit of her training to keep ahead of him, but she needed to do more than just keep ahead. He said he needed her to toss him, and she was determined to do just that, without him taking it easy on her.

Din was having some thoughts about his opponent as well. While he didn't think that fighting the Mandalorian leader would be child's play, he had made assumptions about how much power he'd have to utilize during their match. But Bo had proven him wrong, making him increase the strength he used against her. It was impressive for an opponent of her size, and he found himself enjoying the challenge more than he expected.

As they kept sparring, Bo began putting together an idea to mislead Din. She needed him to think she was going to try one thing when she was going to do something else entirely. She was certain it would catch him off guard. Most warriors – especially ones used to fighting for their lives nearly every day – stayed in the moment when they battled. They weren't often thinking two, three, or even five moves ahead.

Bo was doing exactly that.

She attacked with a series of offensive moves that made it seem as though she was gearing up to hit Din low. She could tell he was preparing for it, bending his knees, and readying for the attack that he thought would come at his waist. Seeing him ready, Bo feinted, simulating an intention that she was going to shove her shoulder into his hip and flip him over.

But at the last second, she went another way. Popping up, the Mandalorian princess jumped onto the bounty hunter's body. She planted her booted feet on Din's bent legs, grabbed hold of the top of his cuirass and heaved backward with all of her might.

Din's eyes flew open as his much smaller opponent basically climbed him like a tree. Before he could defend the move and get her off, Bo used the full force of her body – and the fact that he was caught off guard and therefore off balance – to fling herself backwards, taking Din down with her.

The Mandalorian bounty hunter let out a stunned grunt as he was tossed over the Mand'alor. Even as he felt himself being launched; Din marveled at how Bo used her feet once she was on her back to give him an extra shove that sent him flying higher. He tucked and rolled, coming back up quickly, but was still shaken.

"That was… impressive," Din said, backing up a couple of steps as they faced each other again.

"Ready for more, beroya?" Bo's helmet cocked to the side in challenge.

Din stood with his hands on his hips, one knee bent slightly as he eyed her. Bo grinned under her helmet at the sight. She'd seen him affect that same stance many times before. Sometimes it was a challenge, like now, other times it was simply a resting position. She surmised it had become a habit for the busy bounty hunter, probably caused by always having the extra weight of beskar and weapons on his body. He'd learned to rest whatever leg he could whenever he could.

"Always, my lady," Din replied, raising his hands up in sparring position again.

Sometime later, Din ended up in the sands for the fifth time (not that Bo was counting, of course), rolling away with a snort that could have also been an amused chortle. While she had gotten him to the ground a few times, he had returned the favor a few times as well. Bo had even caught herself laughing once or twice when he'd done it, immediately chastising herself. One shouldn't enjoy being thrown around by their opponent as much as she was, yet she couldn't deny the thrill, relishing Din's strength even as she countered with another offensive maneuver of her own.

The two warriors were having so much fun they'd nearly forgotten they had an audience until they heard something from the sidelines.

Grogu was giggling.

Both heads snapped up at the sound. Helmeted gaze met helmeted gaze as a silent message – which they seemed able to do with more ease each time it happened – passed between them.

He's getting it!

"What do you say, kid? Want to try and fight your old man now?" Bo asked the little one.

Yes! My turn!

Din chuckled. "Okay, okay, just give me a second, all right?" He stood up slowly out of his battle stance, stretching his back.

"You all right?" Bo asked, suddenly feeling guilty about all the times she'd thrown her friend. Sure, he had asked her to do it, but she never wanted him actually hurt.

"I'm fine. Just not as young as I used to be, I need to stretch out sometimes."

"I know what you mean. I often forget I'm not twenty years old anymore."

"Well, you'd never know it, the way you fight."

"Right back at you."

Din straightened, ready to get back to work. The first part of his plan had been a success, getting Grogu interested in wanting to emulate what he'd seen Bo do to his dad.

Now it was time to see if he could get the kid to actually use his powers, and if Grogu could control them.

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Back on Mandalore, Med and Cara hoped they were getting closer to resolving her hyperdrive problems. Using his diagnostic abilities, the medic managed to locate several issues and they had gone through each one, fixing them as they went along.

Cara had run up to the cockpit a few times to perform tests, each time hoping the last problem would be the final one, only to find another issue pop up.

"I swear this is the last one," Med said as they worked together inside the hull of her ship. They'd pulled off a section of the bulkhead and were looking for the source of another leak.

"Yeah, yeah," Cara griped good-naturedly, "that's what you said the last time."

"I know, but I really think this is where the majority of the oil has been coming from. Once we get this hose repaired, that should be it."

"It better be. I feel like we've taken apart nearly the entire ship at this point."

"Okay, let me just tighten this last fitting and…"

Just as Med twisted the spanner one final time, something popped inside the line and a stream of oil came spraying out.

Straight at Cara.

The soldier's instincts had her ducking as soon as she heard the sound, but she still caught the brunt of the sticky fluid. Med quickly loosened the fitting to release the pressure, stopping the spray. But even with that precaution, oil ended up all over the former shock trooper. They stood in silence for a few seconds, recovering from the initial shock.

"I swear, Rosca, if you laugh right now, I will end you," Cara growled, standing with her hands slightly out to her sides as oil dripped off of her, making little pools on the deck next to her boots.

But Med wasn't laughing. He was noticing where the oil had gone and immediately dropped the tool he'd been holding.

"Cara, don't move, okay? And keep your eyes closed. I don't want any of that getting in them. Just hang on." He looked around for a clean cloth and finally pulled one out of the small bag on his hip.

"Don't worry, I'm not moving," Cara said. She'd felt the gunk cover her head, dripping down toward her eyes and had closed them right away. She heard Med rustling around, then his soft footsteps as he walked toward her.

"I'm going to wipe it off, just stay still," Med's voice was suddenly right next to her ear and Cara felt her chest rise as she took a steadying breath. Why she needed one, she didn't know. She wasn't overly concerned about being injured by the oil, but perhaps she did feel a slight apprehension about it potentially getting into her eyes. That had to be why she was reacting to Med's closeness.

Expecting to feel a rag wipe at her face, Cara had to stop from jumping when the first thing she felt were gentle fingers grasping at her chin to hold her head steady.

Gloveless fingers.

Cara continued to breathe steadily as a rag was wiped over her eyes, softly so as not to push the sticky substance under her lids. As Med's touch registered, she sensed a whirlwind of thoughts flooding her mind, yet she grappled to decipher any of them or discern their meaning.

After a few quiet moments, Cara finally picked out one thought from the maelstrom swirling inside. Med was gentle, even more gentle than Din had ever been when treating her for an injury. The difference between a trained warrior and a doctor, perhaps? After all, gentleness was intrinsic with a medic.

"I'm going to walk you over to the pilot's chair, okay?" Med's words cut through Cara's meandering thoughts and all she could do was nod. He guided her to the chair and helped her sit down. She heard more rustling and figured he must have pulled out his small medical bag.

"Luckily nothing went inside your eyes so I think we can avoid a trip to the medbay," he said before she heard him step closer. "This is just a little spray. It's for cleaning wounds in the field and should do well to get this off your face."

Cara sat unmoving as Med's hand cupped her chin again. She heard the spray a second before it hit her face, her reflexes urging her to flinch, yet his firm hand held her steady. He wiped off the spray, then used another clean rag to finish up, not stopping until he was certain there was nothing left that could go into her eyes.

"All right, I got it off. You can open your eyes but do it slowly and if you feel anything stinging, close them. Okay?"

"Yes, doctor," Cara's mouth twisted into a sideways grin, but she did as she was told and opened her eyes slowly. She came face to face with the now familiar helmet, slightly dipped to the right as he studied her carefully.

"You good?" he asked with an anxious tone.

She blinked, then sighed as she looked down at herself. "Yeah, I'm fine. It didn't get in my eyes, but it's going to be hell getting this out of my clothes and hair."

"Here," Med pulled another clean towel from their tool kit and started wiping off the worst of the oil from her arm. He had already touched Cara's face, so he couldn't understand why he was suddenly having a strange reaction to touching her arm. He was used to cleaning up patients, though he was typically dealing with blood and other unpleasant things.

Once he'd finished Cara's arms, Med automatically applied the cloth to her hair, wiping gently. Cara stilled at his touch. No one, outside of injury assessments or medical treatment, had touched her hair in a very long time. Granted, technically the man touching her was a doctor and he was only doing it to ensure none of the oil dripped into her eyes, but still it felt… well, she wasn't sure what but not at all what she had expected.

Med struggled to keep his mind on his task when his fingers slid over her hair. He reminded himself that this was the same as cleaning up after an injury. Though it wasn't as bad, he decided, helping someone who'd simply had a mishap. That must be why he felt a little flushed. As a medic, he was used to being on alert. He wasn't used to being the one on site to render first aid, or preventative aid in this case since Cara was unhurt.

Stop being so awkward, buckethead. Med thought to himself. She's your brother's best friend. They could even end up as more than that someday, you don't know what might happen between them. Keep acting like a di'kut and Din will kill you.

Though Med had his suspicions about Bo's feelings for Din, he wasn't absolutely sure of them, mostly because he didn't think she was even aware of it herself yet. As for Din, he was even less in touch with his emotions in that area. But just because Din hadn't expressed interest in Cara, or anyone else for that matter, didn't mean it couldn't happen.

Because of that, Med wouldn't allow himself to act strangely around the shock trooper. Even if it was just an overly attentive observation of how soft her hair was. Even that was too… strange. He needed to keep things completely professional. Medical.

While Med continued diligently tending to her hair, Cara couldn't shake the feeling that his touch didn't feel the same as Din's when the bounty hunter had helped her with injuries on their previous missions. No less kind or gentle, just… different.

Cara didn't know what to think of the feelings that rolled through her. It was…. interesting. Like the good soldier that she was, she analyzed her thoughts and emotions, trying to piece together what was happening.

She finally decided that Med's touch was soft, but infinitely professional. The medic wasn't doing anything inappropriate, just treating her like any other patient.

So, she wrote it off as barely knowing Med, choosing not to think too much about it. He was a doctor after all, so there wasn't anything strange about him helping her out.

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Mando'a translation

Di'kut: A foolish, idiotic, useless individual.