Chapter Text
"Lance!" Keith barely remembered to shove his knife back into its sheath before he found himself kneeling next to Lance, whose face was scrunched in agony, tears already gathering at the corners of his tightly shut eyes. "Lance, are you okay?!"
That was clearly a dumb question as all Lance could provide for an answer was a soft whimper. Keith turned his gaze to the blue paladin's right palm and felt his stomach somersault because Quiznak that was a lot of blood. A long, thin cut stretched from below Lance's middle finger to the upper part of his wrist, with bright-red blood steadily leaking from it, already staining the sleeve of his jacket. Keith barely managed to swallow back bile as he noticed a glimpse of something white under all the red. The blade is so sharp it can cut right through bone in just a single thrust. A wave of dizziness washed over him, but he forced himself to keep it together. He needed to act quickly, or Lance could lose his hand.
"Hey, you! Don't just stand there, do something!" he barked at Gediok. The shop owner seemed to have recovered from the initial shock and was now leaning against the wall, watching the two paladins with a blank expression. The Orlean sword was still held firmly in his paw, but the third arm seemed to be gone.
"What exactly do you want me to do?" he said. "I have no medical supplies in my shop; you'll have to go to the first aid station for these."
Keith's jaw twitched and it took all he had to stop himself from lunging at Gediok and giving him another taste of his knife. "Can't you at least call them and tell them to come here?" he asked through gritted teeth. "In case you hadn't noticed, we aren't exactly in shape to walk all the way there right now." Not with Lance bleeding all over the floor.
Gediok huffed out a breath as if all of this was a waste of his precious time. "I have no interest in people who aren't customers coming and sniffing around my shop. It is your friend's fault he got hurt in the first place; no one asked him to interfere with the match. If you choose to get involved with his recklessness, that is your problem, but I must ask you now to respect the rule we’d agreed upon earlier and leave my shop immediately."
Keith's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me? The match isn't over yet!"
"The one to draw the first blood wins," Gediok said in a louder voice, a dangerous sheen in his yellow eyes. "Considering you friend's condition, I believe that would be me. Am I wrong?"
"He wasn't even part of the match! Besides, you were cheating!" Keith was standing now, blood roaring in his ears.
Gediok didn't seem too agitated by the accusations. "We’ve never stated whose blood had to be drawn in order to win the match," he said darkly. "As for cheating, well, it is a rather tricky term, so I guess it depends on how one would define it. The bottom line is that I won and you lost, so you must leave. Now." He basically growled the last word, twirling the sword in his claws as if to emphasize what would happen exactly if Keith and Lance stayed there a tick longer.
All of this did not make Keith falter the slightest bit. It only infuriated him further, if anything; he was more than ready to charge forward and strangle Gediok with his bare hands, press against his ugly, furry windpipe until the bastard begged for his life… but one quick look at his friend and Keith felt all of his fighting spirits flag at once. Lance's entire palm was painted crimson now, and the boy was teetering dangerously in his place, clutching his wrist with his uninjured hand as if trying to keep it in place.
Keith sighed. "Fine. Just give us a sec," he hissed at Gediok, who still looked completely unmoved by the mess in front of him. Realizing he had no better means at the moment, Keith took off his own jacket and knelt back in front of Lance. "We'll have to use this for a while, to stop the bleeding," he said quietly, and without further warning wrapped the red jacket – how fitting, he thought bitterly – around the bleeding palm, tightening it as much as he could and tying the two sleeves together to hold it in place. It was far from enough, but Keith hoped it would at least slow down the bleeding until they had the chance to get some real medical attention.
Lance cried out and tried to wriggle his hand free, newfound tears trickling down his cheeks – I made Lance cry, I him cry, for fuck’s sake, Keith thought in horror - but Keith's grip was strong, even though he still felt like throwing up any minute. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know it hurts, but we have to get out of here right now. Do you think you can walk?" he hoped for a positive answer, because he had no idea how he was supposed to carry both Lance and their shopping bags all the way out. Technically, Lance could hold some bags in his left hand, but Keith didn't want to burden him with this task - not when he was in so much pain.
Lance did his best to focus on Keith's question as the pain seemed to mess up his brain. Could he walk? He had no idea. Everything just hurt too much. His entire arm felt like it was on fire, the pressure from Keith's make-shift bandage only making it worse, and his head was pounding mercilessly – from pain or blood loss, he wasn't sure, probably both – that even the weak light of the room hurt his eyes and made him sick. He didn't feel like he could move any time soon. He just wanted to lie on the floor and pass out until someone put him in a healing pod.
But there was a certain urgency to Keith's words that he could simply not ignore. He hadn't really listened to his conversation with Gediok – he heard their voices, but his pain-blinded mind couldn't quite grasp the meaning of the words – but he had the feeling that if they were not out of this place soon, things would get really bad. Like, worse than having your palm sliced open from top to bottom.
So he nodded weakly, grimacing as the movement sent his head spinning all over again, and got to his feet, legs shaking so hard he would have probably toppled over if Keith hadn't caught his good arm for support.
"Come on," Keith murmured in his ear and guided him to the curtained wall, not bothering to spare Gediok one last look. He knew there was nothing he could do right now to make him pay, so why bother.
Somehow - with the help of sheer will as Keith wasn't really able to keep supporting Lance once he gathered all their shopping bags in his arms - they made their way out of the shop and back to the main hall where they came from. Keith was just about to search for a decent-looking alien and ask for directions to the first aid station when Lance fell back to his knees, barely stopping himself from face-planting the floor with his one good hand as the injured one dangled uselessly at his side.
"Hey, you can't do that," Keith tried to coax, patting Lance's back but not sitting down yet since they really had no time to waste. "We need to get your hand treated and we won’t be able to if you stay here."
Lance showed no signs of hearing him and Keith gulped, risking a glance at the injured hand. He winced as he caught sight of his jacket, already moist and dripping dark, crimson drops from their short trip out here. No, there was no way to bring Lance to the first aid station in time. Although the chances of him bleeding to death until they got there were slim – after all, the blade didn't hit his neck or chest or any other major arteries, thank the universe – it was still a pretty serious wound, and walking like this through the crowded halls of the mall would attract way too much unwanted attention. Keith has already gotten them into enough trouble for one day.
There was only one thing left to do.
Keith took a deep, steadying breath, and activated his hand comm. "Shiro? Can you hear me?" he said, praying his leader would reply and at the same time not wanting to have this conversation right now.
To both his relief and dismay, Shiro's voice rang through the comm in an instant. "Hi there, Keith. How's it going?"
Keith swallowed hard. "It's… not so great. Lance is injured and we need someone to come pick us up, like, right now. A-and bring a first aid kit."
"What happened?" Shiro demanded the second Keith finished talking, and Keith hated how he shivered at the harsh tone; like a scared teenager who had crushed his parents' car and now had to call them and ask for a ride home. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll explain everything later," he sighed. "But he has a really deep cut on his palm and we don't have anything to contain the bleeding other than my jacket."
"Does he have any other injuries? Are you injured too?"
"No. Just Lance's hand." Keith licked his suddenly dry lips. "Please hurry."
"No problem. Coran and I will be there in five dobashes. Stay where you are so we can track down your signatures," Shiro cleared his throat before continuing in a softer tone, "And don't worry; everything is going to be alright. Just make sure you keep talking to Lance so he won't lose conscious. I know you can do this."
Keith barely managed an affirmative hum before turning off the comm, the concern and trust in Shiro's words making him even sicker. He did not deserve that trust.
And he certainly did not deserve Lance risking his life to protect him after everything he has done to get them into this mess.
Having nothing better to do in the meantime, Keith sank to the floor next to Lance and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I just talked to Shiro," he said. "He and Coran are on their way with some bandages. We're going to fix you up in no time, so just hold on a bit longer, okay?"
Lance only groaned, but that meant he was still conscious and Keith relaxed ever so slightly. "Lance…" The question left his lips before he could stop it, "Why did you do this? Why did you catch the blade?"
Because this could have ended so much worse than an injured hand. Had Lance approached the sword in a slightly different angle, or missed and didn't catch it in time… he could have had his entire limb chopped off, or his chest impaled, or… Keith shuddered violently as he considered all the gruesome options. It wasn't as if he’d never witnessed such injuries before; he was fighting a war, after all, and as an expert at close combat with a bayard that morphed into a sword, slicing through other people's flesh was a rather familiar (albeit repulsive) experience for him. But the thought of something like that happening to one of his friends…
"He was going to kill you," Lance murmured all of a sudden, pulling Keith from his dark thoughts. The blue paladin slowly turned his head to look at him. His face was white as a sheet and covered in sweat and his eyes tired, but they were burning with such resolution it nearly took Keith's breath away. "I couldn't… I couldn't just sit there and let him do it."
"But you almost died," Keith said, his voice wavering.
Lance shrugged, grimacing as the movement jostled his damaged hand. "Yeah," he said faintly. "Guess I hadn't… thought it through…" his eyes rolled backwards and his body pitched to the side, head bumping against Keith's shoulder.
Keith caught his shoulder with one arm and tapped on his cheek with the other. "Hey, Lance, stay with me," he called. He looked at the jacket and realized to his horror that it was completely soaked at this point, the blood already pooling in a small pond on the floor. Keith was distantly aware of the awkward stares of the passers-by, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.
"Lance!" he was yelling now, growing more and more desperate, but the blue paladin remained still. "Come on, Lance, you jerk, you can't do this to me, please…"
"Keith!" Keith's head snapped at the direction of the voice and he nearly cried with relief when he saw Shiro sprinting towards him, Coran hot on his heels. The advisor was hugging a large, white box which Keith realized as one of the many first aid kits that were stored in the infirmary.
"He just passed out," he said dumbly as Shiro slid to a halt in front of them, kneeling down and taking Lance in his arms within seconds.
"Yes, I can see that," Shiro said, frowning as he inspected the blood-soaked jacket and the dark stain on the floor. "You can tell me everything in the castle; right now we need to bandage the wound properly so we can stabilize him until he gets to a pod."
"Already on it," Coran announced, rummaging through the first aid box and taking out a tube of some Altean ointment Keith did not recognize and a roll of thick bandages, while Shiro peeled Keith's jacket off Lance's palm and threw it to the floor. The limb practically shone red once the pressure was removed, and Keith's eyesight suddenly blurred, knees growing weak even though he was still sitting.
He did this. He did this and now Lance was dying because of him.
Lance, who has been right all along about this whole fight and tried to talk Keith out of it, was dying – all because Keith was too arrogant to listen.
The guilt that wrapped around his chest was so overwhelming he felt as if his lungs were going to explode.
"Number Four, eyes on me, please," Coran's voice was heard from a distance. Keith inhaled slowly, blinking a few times to get his eyes to focus on the older man's face. Coran gave him a small smile, eyes wrinkling softly without a hint of fear or panic in them.
"That's it, keeping breathing and looking at my face," he encouraged. His arms never stopped working, opening the tube and smearing a thick layer of the mint-scented ointment on the cut. Keith took another deep breath, forcing himself to keep looking at Coran and not at Lance's hand.
"You're doing great," Coran said kindly. "And Number Three is going to be fine as well. This Altean clotting cream is pretty strong; it shall hold until we get to the castle. There is absolutely nothing to worry about."
And although there was so much to worry about that Coran and Shiro hadn't known yet, for now Keith allowed himself to believe the advisor's words.
Lance was going to be okay.
Whether he and Lance were going to be okay… well, that was a totally different question.
**
Keith paced back and forth in front of the lines of cryopods, glancing nervously at the infirmary's clock. A shiver wrecked his body every now and then – the infirmary was chillier than the rest of the castle, and his jacket had been thrown into laundry almost immediately after they reached the castle – but he didn't dare go to his room and fetch something warmer to wear. Lance's two vargas in the pod were about to end, and Keith had sworn he'd be there when he was out.
Honestly, it was a miracle that all Lance has ended up with was two vargas in a pod. The Orlean blade did manage to pierce a small part of the bone (a fact that sent Hunk hurling his entire breakfast in the infirmary's bathroom once it was mentioned by Coran), but only enough to crack it, not shutter it completely. It also didn't hit any major blood vessels or nerves, which meant Lance was expected to make a full recovery. Coran said that his hand might be a bit stiff or uncooperative for the next day or two, but after some exercise it should return to being completely functional.
Those were excellent news, and Keith wanted nothing more than go back to his room and cry his relief into a pillow, but once Lance's medical condition was made clear the others urged him to tell them what exactly happened at the mall. And Keith had no choice but to tell them, since delaying the inevitable could only work for him for so long.
If he thought Hunk and Pidge's reaction was harsh – the two of them took turns at yelling at him for being a stupid, selfish asshole and hurting their friend like this (Hunk burst into tears at some point while Pidge had to be held back by Shiro as she waved her fists and hissed at Keith like a furious cat) - it was nothing in comparison to Allura's ice-cold glare as she told Keith that his behavior was no less than disgraceful and not suiting a paladin of Voltron whatsoever. He was pretty sure that being run through with the Orlean blade stung less than her words.
Coran did not take part in the round of reprimands, and although the solemn look he gave Keith lacked any heat, it didn't offer any comfort either. As for Shiro…. Well, angering Shiro had always been Keith's greatest fear, but now that it finally happened, it was so much worse than he'd imagined. Because Shiro wasn't just angry; he was disappointed, and Keith honestly preferred being yelled at until his ears rang than having to live with the knowledge that he had lost his leader's trust.
"This was the most irresponsible thing you could've ever done," Shiro said after everyone else has gone (he was a bit reluctant to let Pidge go, but the girl only gave Keith one last glare before storming out of the room, muttering to herself about going to her lab and playing with some codes to relax). His eyes were cold and hard and Keith suddenly felt very, very small, wanting to avert his gaze but knowing it'll deprive him of what little dignity he still had.
"We are fighting a war," Shiro continued, arms crossed. "And every battle can be our last battle if we're not careful enough. That is why we need to choose those battles wisely. And what you did today was not a wise choice. Not only you put your own life at risk – you put Lance's as well. You're both paladins of Voltron, the only hope the universe has against Zarkon; we can't afford to lose you, especially not because of something that could’ve been prevented easily."
"I know," Keith said in a small voice.
Shiro's jaw worked as he considered his next words. "I'm not going to punish you, because I don't think it'll help in any way," he said eventually. "I suppose you've already realized your mistake. But you will talk to Lance once he's out of the pod and you will apologize. I know these conversations make you uncomfortable, but you owe him that much."
Keith nodded silently, not trusting his voice to speak up again. Shiro sighed and turned to exit the infirmary. As he passed Keith he made an awkward movement with his arm, as if wanting lay it on the younger boy's shoulder, but ended up shaking his head and walking to the door without looking back.
And so Keith spent the next two vargas in the infirmary, wallowing in his own guilt and self-pity.
A long beep followed by a swoosh shook him off his depressing thoughts. Lance stumbled out of the pod, swaying in his place while squinting against the bright lights of the infirmary. Keith hurried forward and wrapped one arm around his waist to keep him upright.
"Hi there," Lance rasped, frowning as if he was surprised to see Keith there, of all people. "Why were you the one to catch me? Am I dead? Am I in the afterlife where you're actually nice to me? Seriously, I can't decide if it's heaven or hell."
Keith felt his cheeks heat up. That jerk. "I can drop you if you hate it so much," he hissed.
Lance gave a lopsided smile. "Now that sounds more like the Keith I know." He looked around in slight confusion. "Um… what happened this time?"
Keith's eyes widened. "You don't remember?" he really didn't want to explain everything again, especially not to Lance.
Lane hummed. "Well, I remember we were at the mall and you got all worked up about some dumb sword and there was this weird ferret creature who wanted to fight you for it and then… Oh." He gasped and stared at his right palm, shoulders drooping as he took in the smooth, unscarred skin. "Ah, gracias a Dios," he breathed. "I thought I was going to lose it."
Keith's stomach clenched. "Well, Coran said it might take a day or two until you can use it normally again, but you're supposed to make a full recovery, so… that's good." It sounded so lame when he said it.
Apparently Lance thought so too, as he huffed out a laugh. "Always the bearer of good news, Keith," he gently left Keith's side and wobbled his way to the nearby bed, sitting on it carefully. "How about you?" he asked in a softer tone. "You okay?"
Keith flinched. Lance was the one who had been hurt because of Keith's stupidity while he himself got away without a scratch. So why the hell did he ask him if he was okay? "I'm fine," he muttered.
"Good. Because you were kind of freaking out back there."
"Well, you were bleeding quite a lot. It was…" Keith shuddered as the image of Lance's red, mutilated hand surfaced in his mind again and his breath hitched for a moment.
"Hey, man, come on," Lance bent closer to him, concern evident on his face. "It's over. I'm okay now. Everything is okay."
"No, it's not," Keith's voice rose without his permission and he ran a hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to compose himself. "You could have died, Lance, all because I acted like... like an asshole. It wasn't even a fight against the Galra - it was just some stupid, pointless bet with a guy whom I should’ve never trusted in the first place. You called his bluff right away and tried to warn me, but I didn't listen." He raised his eyes to the ceiling as treacherous tears began to prickle his eyes. "And then I told you that you were only thinking about yourself! Fuck, what is wrong with me?!”
"Whoa, Keith, calm down," Lance said, clearly taken aback by this sudden burst of emotion. "I get that you're upset about what happened but dude, you need to chill. I only got my hand cut. Sure, it wasn't exactly fun and hurt like hell, but it wasn't a fatal wound either."
"No, but it could have," Keith insisted. "And even if it was just a scratch, it's a scratch that should have never happened. I…" he recalled Shiro's words. "I can't afford to lose you, Lance. Not like this. Not ever."
"Same here, man," Lance said with a tentative smile. He couldn't say he wasn't touched by Keith's speech, but it was also a bit unsettling. "I'm just glad we're both alive. I honestly thought this guy was going to finish you off when he grew this freakish third arm out of nowhere."
"I would have probably deserved it," Keith said quietly.
"Hey, don't say that."
"I mean it. After everything I did, all those horrible things I said to you… you still jumped to protect me. You," Keith's chuckled without humor, "You've got to stop doing that. It's not healthy."
"So is picking up fights with sly and clearly evil arms dealers."
Keith sighed. "Yeah. So… how about we both agree to keep each other from doing such reckless things again? I won't make bets with people I don't trust, no matter how cool the prize is, and you won't go and throw your life away whenever you see someone in danger. We'll… we'll have each other backs on this."
"This sounds like a good plan." Lance grinned and offered his hand for shaking. Keith took it in his own, but before he knew it he lunged forward, wrapped his arms around Lance's back and buried his face in the taller boy's shoulder, not caring about the antiseptic smell of the cryosuit.
"I'm glad you're okay," he said tightly. "And I'm sorry. About everything."
"I forgive you," Lance said gently, leaning into the hug. No matter how surreal this bonding moment was, it was still so much better then after he had blown up Sendak's arm and collapsed unconsciously to the floor, body burned and bruised. And yes, he did remember this one; he just hadn't told Keith because the expression on Mullet's face was so hilarious back then. But now he seriously considered telling him the truth.
He was about to let the words out when a different thought popped into his mind. "Hey," he said. "What happened to Gediok in the end?"
He felt Keith tense up. "I don't know. We didn't exactly have time to come back there, and I honestly don't care." He tightened his arms around Lance a bit more. "Besides, I don't want that sword anymore. Not… not after it hurt you."
Lance nearly melted at the last sentence and was more than grateful when his stomach suddenly gave a loud rumble, ruining the moment. "Jeez, even a short visit to the pod makes you starve," he said and leaned backwards, rubbing his aching belly. "Although I did miss lunch, so that makes sense. I better head to the kitchen before Hunk yells at me to eat something."
"I doubt it. He and Pidge have probably ruined their throats from yelling at me," Keith said, looking at the floor.
Lane winced in sympathy. "Oh no. That must've been ugly."
"Not as ugly as Allura and Shiro’s reactions."
"Gosh, the princess and Space Dad. You really had it tough today, didn't you?"
"Well… I kind of deserved it."
"I agree with you on this one." Lance patted Keith's shoulder. "Now, how about you start with the whole having-my-back-thing by escorting me to the kitchen? Just so I won't face-plant the floor. Still feel kind of cryo-dizzy."
Keith smiled, feeling at peace for the first time today. Of course he will have Lance's back; he always will, just like Lance will always have his.