Ton has been quiet for what feels like a long time, only the sound of his ragged breathing coming to Face over the splashing water as he drags the broken speeder bike down the river. That in itself is another indicator of how bad he is: no one should be breathing that loudly when they're not exerting themselves at all.

“You still with me?” Face calls back to his wingmate. He wonders if Ton has fallen asleep – or more likely passed out. Rest can only be good for him, but he probably shouldn't be sleeping. But, wait, no, that's for a concussion, and Ton isn't concussed. Is he?

“Present and accounted for,” Ton says just loud enough for Face to hear him, cutting off his increasingly frantic thoughts. “Were you missing my scintillating conversation?”

“Yep,” Face says.

“Have we reached our destination yet?”

“There's been a delay, I'm afraid. Rough tide and all.” As Ton chuckles roughly, Face pauses, squinting into the darkness as he scans the shore as far as he can see. They need to find a village, one with some kind of medic who can help Ton. And preferably one that won't turn them in to Zsinj, but they can worry about that later.

“I'm choosing a different shuttle service next time,” Ton quips. “Something more reliable. I'm going to have words with your manager.”

Face's lip quirks, but he's distracted by a light on the horizon. He'd assumed it was yet another of Halmad's moons rising from behind the trees, but the glow keeps getting bigger and brighter without a celestial orb cresting the trees. Civilization, he realizes suddenly.

“Do you see that?”

Ton grunts loudly, rearranging himself on the speeder bike to look where Face is pointing. “What am I looking at, captain?”

“It's lieutenant, actually, and I think it's a village. Some luck at last.”

“We'll see,” Ton replies, wincing as he levers himself back down. “Onward, then.”

It takes perhaps another half hour for them to round a bend in the river that brings the village into view. It's small, maybe a dozen huts that Face can see from here, but it's better than nothing.

“Maybe they won't take kindly to a couple of weird strangers emerging from the river in the middle of the night asking for help,” Ton suggests.

“We'll convince them.”

“That sounds serious.”

Face just grits his teeth. If only Ton would stop playing off how serious this really is, maybe they'd be in a little better shape.

As it is, they reach the shore soon after, a point of land that juts out into the water. There are a few docks and a little copse of trees blocking them from view of most of the settlement, but it's late enough that no one seems to be around anyway.

Face lashes the speeder bike to the dock and splashes back to Ton. He looks even paler than before, but his eyes are open, reflecting the bright moonlight.

“I didn't think we were ever going to arrive.”

Face can see that he means it as more than a joke and touches his hand gently. “We made it, and we're going in. Can you walk if I help? I don't think I can carry you.”

It's unclear whether Ton's answering expression is a grin or a grimace. “I'll do what I have to.”

“Come on, then.” Face keeps his touch as gentle as he can, but he knows it's a fool's errand trying not to cause Ton any more pain now. He just has to get him into the village. That's the goal. He leans down and eases Ton upright, going slow, pausing every time the wounded pilot cries out and tries to instinctively curl up to protect himself. Eventually, he has his friend sitting sidesaddle on the bike and gets one of Ton's arms draped around his own neck for support. “Ready?”

Ton doesn't answer, but slides off the bike to stand – and immediately his legs go out from under him. Face clutches him close, wincing at the bitten-off sound of pain that causes, to keep him from falling. Ton shudders against him, whimpering, face pressed to Face's chest. After a moment, he moves, righting his legs under him, and though he's still trembling, they hold this time.

“Okay?” Face whispers, knowing the answer is truly no.

“Yeah,” Ton says raggedly. “Just a few steps, right?”

“Right. You got this.”

He does not got this. Ton is clearly in too much pain to be moving himself anywhere, even with help, and Face winces at the sounds he tries to bite back with every step. What had seemed so close before suddenly feels like an incredible distance.

But somehow they make it. Face half-carries, half-drags his friend to the edge of the village square, and they're both gasping for breath when she reach the warm circle of light there. Ton shivers violently as he huddles against Face, legs shaking dangerously beneath him.

Movement flashes in the corner of Face's eye, and he spots a small face peeking from around a door. “Please!” he calls. “We need help! We need a medic!”

The face disappears into the house, and Face feels despair dropping over him. Have they come so far to be denied here at the end?

“Face,” Ton pants. “I-” He doesn't get any more words out before he's crumpling to the ground, Face just managing to catch him enough to set him on the grass with some semblance of gentleness.

“Ton!” He taps his wingmate's -cheeks, trying to bring him back around, with no luck. Ton's chest still rises and falls, but the movement is shallow and quiet. Panic bites at Face's brain again.

“What happened?”

Face looks up, wide-eyed, to see an old woman standing above him, a crowd of maybe half a dozen people behind her.

“Starfighter crash,” Face babbles pleadingly, not caring how much he gives away at this point. “Internal injuries. Please – help him!”

The woman kneels, touching Ton's forehead, then pressing her fingers gently against his chest and stomach. Even unconscious, he flinches away and tries to curl up on himself. The woman frowns, then motions over her shoulder at two men.

“Bring him.”

“What-” Face begins, automatically stepping back as the men heft Ton between them.

“I will do what I can,” the woman tells Face, pinning him with a look. “At this point, his fate is uncertain, but I will do my best.”

Face nods, barely able to form more words. Voice small, he manages, “Please.”

The woman's hand darts out to squeeze his arm, then she follows the men back into one of the buildings.

Two days later, Ton is smiling blearily up at Face from a cot, clearly half out of his mind with the painkillers the medic has given him. “You said you were going to find me a pretty doctor,” he accuses mildly.

“I believe the word I used was 'congenial.' And if that doesn't cover not asking questions about who we are or turning us over the the authorities, your new friend certainly fits.”

Ton huffs and closes his eyes. Face breathes easy, no longer terrified that he'll never see them open again. “Well, I'm certainly not running away with her.”

“Good. I'd hate to have to explain that to Wedge.”

“Hmm. When are we seeing the old man again?”

“I managed to get a message to base this morning; they're sending a shuttle. Wes said to say he hopes you aren't disappointed they still managed to win the battle without you. Everyone else is fine.”

Ton tries to hide his smile. “I'll let it slide this once.”

“Very big of you.” Face hesitates for only a moment before sliding his hand over Ton's. “I really thought I was gonna lose you out there, you know.”

“I'm not out of the woods yet.”

“Chea said you're stabilized. You'll be fine until we can get you to a better facility.”

“Hey, who's the doctor here?”

“I am,” a new voice says.

The men look up to see the village medic standing over them. “I want you both gone as soon as possible. I was glad to help, but we don't need the trouble here of being associated with Rebellion.” At their surprised expressions, her fierceness fades into a smile. “I may be old, but I'm no fool.”