The planet was quiet. Too quiet.

You’d landed for routine scouting, expecting maybe some old ruins or scattered wildlife — not the trail of destruction you were currently following. Burned ground, wrecked Galra tech, and… blood.

You almost didn’t see him at first. He was slumped against a jagged rock, red and white armor dulled by dust, blade still in one limp hand. His breathing was shallow, his face pale beneath smudges of dirt and blood.

Your instincts told you to keep walking — strangers in this galaxy could mean trouble — but something in the way his fingers twitched, still gripping that weapon, made you kneel beside him.

“Hey,” you murmured, testing the weight of his head as you tilted it toward you. No response. Up close, you saw the deep gash across his side, the scorched tear in his armor. If you left him here, he wouldn’t last the night.

“Great,” you muttered, looking over your shoulder before hauling him up. “Guess I’m making bad decisions today.”

It was a struggle dragging him to your ship, but somehow you managed. You patched him up as best you could — sealed the wound, cleaned the blood — then left him resting on the small med-cot in your quarters.

Hours later, the sound of movement pulled you from the cockpit. He was awake, propped up on one elbow, eyes sharp and wary.

“You’re on my ship,” you said quickly, holding up your hands in what you hoped was a disarming gesture. “You were bleeding out on that planet. I patched you up.”

He blinked, still assessing you like you might be an enemy in disguise. “Why?”

You tilted your head. “Because you were dying.”

There was a pause. His gaze flicked over the clean bandages on his side, then to your face. “You don’t even know me.”

“No,” you admitted, stepping closer. “But I know what it’s like to be left behind.”

Something shifted in his expression — just a flicker — before he looked down at the floor. “...Keith.”