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Alone. Uncomfortable. Salty. Dark. Lance tries to open his eyes, but he can’t. He tries to breathe and something keeps blocking his nose. Startled, he raises his face and the intense light prevents him from seeing for a few seconds, while he feels sand sliding from his face, rushing to the unstable ground. Making an effort to blink, he looks around.
He’s face down in a desert, and around him, the wind raises menacing bursts of dust and pale sand. His heart pounds loudly. "Home?"
"No," he answers to himself immediately, disappointing the hopeful thumps on his chest. It looks remarkably like the desert surrounding the Garrison, back on Earth, but something in the gray pale sky and the unbearable clarity of the dunes is unmistakably alien. He doesn’t know where he is, but he knows he’s not at home. With difficulty, he manages to stand up, although he feels how his body sinks a bit while doing it.
"Red?" He thinks. If he’s there, he could only have arrived with his Lion, but he doesn’t see it around. A cold shiver runs through his body. How did he end buried in a dune, without his Lion in sight? Alone, on an unknown planet, without his Lion, Lance won’t be able to escape. He doesn’t have his helmet either, he realizes, and his pulse quickens again, looking down, digging into his pockets and the sand surrounding him. He has the rest of his paladin armor, but he has no communicator nor bayard. He has nothing. None of the mystical artifacts that transform him from a simple scared human teen into a legendary Voltron paladin.
"Calm down, calm down..." he repeats to himself in his head, looking around, searching for some reference point, some sign of fight or a crash, anything. But in all directions, there’s nothing but sand on the horizon. To make matters worse, the place is dominated by a disturbing silence. He can clearly see the clouds of dust raising everywhere, but the wind doesn’t roar while lifting them.
"Ah..." Lance tries to push his voice out, but the atmosphere seems to swallow the sound, it comes out low and doesn’t resound, dying immediately. He can only feel the insistent beat of his own pulse in his ears, while panic begins to tingle and spread from his feet to his head.
"Calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down..." He puts one foot in front of the other, trying to take a step, but his legs weigh. Propellers are down. Damn it. One step, another... his feet sink pathetically into the soft, fine sand. Trying to walk like this will be impossible. Defeated, he lets himself fall on his knees, containing his fear and frustration.
He doesn’t understand why he’s there, but he feels like he knows the place. It’s as if he’d come voluntarily to look for something, but he doesn’t remember what. The rest of the team didn’t come with him, apparently, but he expects them to discover his absence and rescue him. They wouldn’t let one of their people roam and die in a desert planet just like that, right? Not when they depend on him to form Voltron. After all, he still is the red paladin. No matter how stupid it was to venture alone, or how little they respect or consider him, or how lonely he feels at the Castleship... his friends would never abandon him, right?
"Never," he says to himself, but a horrible thought creeps slowly, like a dark stain, from his chest to his mind. If Red isn’t with him, maybe it's at the Castleship. If the Lion is safe, they can find another pilot. Maybe they aren’t looking for him. Maybe they don’t need him...
With effort, he gets back on his feet. His eyes burn furiously, but he won’t give up without fighting. Even if it takes him days, even if he agonizes trying, he’s sure that he’ll get somewhere. His legs weigh more and more, as if something is pulling them down but, somehow, he manages to take one foot out of the sand and put it in front of him. Then the other one ahead. And, again, the other.
He has no notion of time. It feels like a second, or perhaps a whole day on the task, while his heart beats painfully. Trying to concentrate on that constant sound, ignoring the thoughts released from the dark corner of his heart threatening to overpower him, blaming the insistent wind for his wet eyes.
Suddenly, a gust blows particularly strong, although still silent. Lance puts an arm in front of his face and, when lowering it, sees that the dust has dispersed a little in the distance. A dark building rises far away on the horizon, solitary in the middle of this eternal desert... A cabin, maybe?
His face lights up, but when he tries to move forward, he realizes that now he’s stuck to the floor. His feet are buried in the sand and he can no longer lift them. Maybe he’s just not trying hard enough… He attempts again to move them, but they don’t respond.
"C’mon, move, move!" He orders himself, but it's useless. His body trembles at the realization that he’s trapped. Again, he lets himself fall to his knees on the sand, feeling how it seems to swallow him slowly, but surely. Silence devours a shameful sob. Why? Why can’t he move? Why has nobody come? Why is he alone, why nobody is looking for him, why is he so weak, why...?
With his fists on the sand, he sees his own tears fall on it without even wetting it. The sand swallows everything without leaving a trace, and he understands that, soon, it’s going to swallow him. He didn’t want to die like this, alone, far away from home, without his friends, stripped of everything that was making him a legend, but maybe he always knew it would happen, and that's why resignation numbs his body completely. Just like they say drowning people always surrender to the sea...
A sudden movement in the perimeter makes him look up. Among the dust, a dark figure is walking towards him, with light steps. His heart leaps and his soul seems to return to his body, although relief overwhelms him and he can’t say a word. The figure seems to move on the sand as if it belonged to it, and the familiarity of its walk gives him a chill. He watches it silently, because he knows it’s going straight to him.
The stranger stops three steps from Lance and he has already identified his armor. His mouth opens when the man turns off his mask and lowers his hood, revealing his familiar face, the wind stirring his dark hair. Without saying a word, he looks right into his eyes and extends one hand.
The desert swallows the sound of his name, but Lance repeats it anyway, now louder.
"Keith!"
He stays in the same position. His hand invites him to get up and take it, but Lance can’t reach it. They’re barely three steps away, but Lance can’t move, and Keith makes no effort to get closer. His eyes look at him without expression, as if waiting to see what he can do.
"Come on! Help me!" Lance asks, trying to free his legs, but Keith doesn’t respond. His silence begins to feel eerie. The relief Lance feels at having the person he misses so much come and rescue him becomes sudden terror. Somehow, he understands that those eyes are giving him a warning.
This isn’t a rescue. It’s a trial, and he’s losing it.
"No," Lance whispers as all air begins to leave his lungs. "No, no, no... Keith!"
His legs seem increasingly numb. Useless, weak, pathetic, Lance can’t breathe and his eyes begin to cloud. His tunnel vision is narrowing, but he can see that Keith is slowly lowering his hand and his expression shows pity...
"KEITH!"
Lance wakes up as if he had been choking, inhaling strongly. His eyes are wide open, wet, while he tries to steady his breathing. A damn dream.
He’s welcomed by the dim lights of the Red Lion's cockpit. His legs are extended at a strange angle over the pilot's seat, completely asleep... that explains why he dreamed he couldn’t move them. His heart still beats as if he had run and he’s pretty sure that at some point in his dream he really stopped breathing. It happened to him sometimes, although never so vividly accompanied by a fully colored dream as on this occasion. A bad horror movie, he thinks, as he puts his hands to his face and rubs his eyes furiously, angry at himself, remembering why he is there.
A few hours ago he had gone out for a night walk to fight his new mortal enemy: insomnia. The Castleship's recent events seemed to be affecting him. The constant presence of Lotor, Shiro’s weird behavior, the increasing responsibilities as paladins, Keith’s absence...
He always, ALWAYS ended up thinking about Keith, especially since he had awakened the red bayard’s ability to become a sword. He was so eager to tell Keith about it and everything else that was going on, though he’d probably rather die than acknowledge it. And now, ironically, he had dreamed that he was dying in front of Keith.
"Agh!" he growls, stretching his aching legs in front of him and sprawling in the pilot's seat, arms dangling at his sides, staring at the ceiling. Insomnia wears him day by day and, in that state of mental fragility, his steps had taken him directly to the hangar of his Lion tonight.
Why?
A soft murmur implied that he already knew the answer. Red was the connection he had with its previous paladin. The only one he had left, maybe...
Shaking his head, Lance had quieted that voice. He was the red paladin now, there was absolutely nothing strange or mystical about wanting to spend some quality time with this beloved sentient metallic creature, strengthening their bonds, something that every paladin should do. There was nothing unusual nor nostalgic nor desperate about this, he had said to himself, sitting in the pilot's seat. And, very earnestly, he had reminded himself that it had nothing to do with Keith. Absolutely nothing, he repeated, refusing to listen to the inner voice that, timidly, tried to contradict him.
"Hey, buddy," he had greeted the Lion, putting his hands on the levers. Red was in a sleepy state. Even his Lion slept better than him, he thought, raising an eyebrow. Recalling everything that distressed him, he had stayed a long time huddled in the seat until the warmth of the cockpit and fatigue began to appease him. And, of course, his last involuntary thought had been dedicated to Keith. What was he doing? Was he alright? Could he even sleep?
A warm sensation had enveloped him at that moment. Red, maybe? Great, now Red knew about his secret concern for Keith. Even seemed to approve it... Lulled by the soft waves of affection from his Lion, he had fallen deeply asleep.
So deeply, that he had had the worst nightmare in several months, he thinks bitterly. Now, agitated, he realizes it’s still early morning, according to the time of the Castle. He's considering if he should try to sleep in his own bed a few more hours, but then a light on the control panel distracts him. The blinking light is shining on the communications section. Intrigued, he presses the button and the holographic screen opens before him. There’s nothing new.
"What's wrong, buddy?" Lance asks the Lion. Red is not that much of a talker as Blue is, but Lance hears a word unequivocally in his head.
Keith.
"W-what? What do you mean?" asks Lance, although he suspects something. Red simply repeats the same thing again. Keith.
"I don’t get it, you want me to call him? Now?" the paladin asks, blushing. The Lion doesn’t answer anything. It seems to hate repeating obvious things.
"Dude, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Keith is always busy. Also, look at the time..." Lance knows that time matters little in space and feels ashamed because the Lion sees through him as if he was transparent.
Excuses.
"Hey! Are we talking back now?" Lance scolds it. Crossing his legs on the seat, now that they have regained mobility, the boy sighs and adds, "besides, I can’t call him. Whenever we talk to him, it's because we call Kolivan first. How do you want me to explain that I'm calling for nothing? ‘Hey Kolivan, I had a nightmare, can I speak to Keith pretty please?’ … Ugh, forget it."
The Lion is irritated, as a wave of dissatisfaction in his mind indicates.
Keith. Now.
"Don’t be like that, I’m telling you I can’t," insists Lance, but looking at the communications panel he realizes that the Lion's system, like their helmets, is connected to the channels of each Lion and also each paladin individually, and Keith's name tops the short list. Could he had taken his personal comm with him when he left...?
No, impossible. If so, wouldn’t he had called them from time to time? Since his departure, Keith had never made a personal call. He only called for things related to the Coalition. He HAD to have left it at the Castleship, otherwise it’d be absurd...
...But we're talking about Keith here. This time, his voice and the Lion’s think the same phrase in perfect harmony. Lance laughs, nervous. Looks like both know that boy well. If someone on the team would take their comm with them and never use it, that was Keith. Would it be worth trying?
With a trembling finger, Lance presses the panel. The screen shows the Altean letters that indicate that communication is pending and his heart begins to thump in his chest, while the seconds pass, without response. Red seems satisfied at least, Lance manages to detect while feeling a little disappointed, until the letters disappear and instead sound waves move on the screen.
"…Hello? This is Keith."
Keith's voice sounds uncertain, like someone who answers thinking they're being pranked. But just with that, Lance's heart makes an Olympic jump and locates itself right in his throat.
"H-hey. Lance here. What's up?" he stutters, trying to impart confidence to his voice. He fails. Keith is silent for three tortuous seconds.
"Lance?" he finally asks, as if he can’t believe it. Lance lets out a chuckle while trying to get all his organs back to their proper places.
"That's what I said, Samurai, or could it be that you've already forgotten my sweet voice?" Lance asks sarcastically and regrets it immediately. He didn’t plan on provoking Keith as usual. He didn’t plan anything at all, he realizes, panicking. Why did he even call?
Keith seems to wonder the same. Lance can hear him exhale with irritation.
"It's not sweet at all," replies the boy.
Not so long ago, Lance would have taken that challenge and stretched it out in a futile battle of offenses and wits with the sole purpose of extending Keith's attention to his person for a few more minutes. But not now. Now hearing that is causing him a weird sadness, which makes him change his strategy involuntarily.
"… I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?" asks Lance, in a guilty tone. This change seems to disarm Keith.
"N-no. What happened? Is everything okay?" asks the boy, genuinely worried. Lance smiles. Was he always so kind? Maybe he was. Maybe he has never let him be nice.
"All good. But there’s a fan of yours here asking about you, he was so annoying I was forced to please him," Lance says cheekily, stroking the panel. Red seems divided between irritation and satisfaction, which makes his paladin laugh.
"Uh... a fan?" Keith asks, completely lost. Lance feels too sorry to extend the joke.
"Red. I'm in Red's cockpit. We had a little sleepover and we were talking about you," he replies.
"Oh..." Keith doesn’t know what to say. Truth is that Lance doesn’t either, but he can’t tolerate awkward silences. Clearing his throat, he decides to keep talking.
"Yeah, we were wondering if you’re in the middle of a dangerous mission. Sharpening your knives in a Galra sentry or something... You know, the usual."
"No, I'm at the base now," Keith replies. There’s hesitation in the brief silence that follows, and then he adds, "but I think we’ll leave tomorrow for Sector Four. Allura asked Kolivan to prioritize that mission."
Lance frowns. He knows that the Blades are going to be in charge of disarming a heavily guarded Galra outpost and that Allura, Shiro and Kolivan agreed that it was wiser not to risk the paladins in that mission.
"That's going to be dangerous. Do you really have to go?" asks Lance. He knows that the question sounds a bit rude, but he doesn’t care.
"What do you mean?" Keith asks.
"What I said. Did they have to take you? Why are they sending you, when they didn’t allow us to go?" insists Lance. Keith is slow to answer.
"... I asked to be sent."
"What? Why?" asks Lance, too loud.
He can hear Keith’s breathing. The waves on the screen indicate that he’s a bit anxious.
"Because I want to be of help," the boy replies, finally.
Lance facepalms himself.
"Keith, putting yourself at risk ‘just because’ doesn’t help us at all. Like, seriously," he growls.
"It's something I want to do, I know I can do it. Why are you worried, anyway?" asks Keith, as if the question slipped from his mouth involuntarily.
"Why am I…? Keith, please, what kind of question is that?" replies Lance. What concept did he have of him? Did he consider him that insensitive, or did he think he wouldn’t care at all about his well-being?
Dispel them.
Red again. Wait... Was that it? Did Keith really feel that Lance didn’t care? Not just Lance, maybe... Wait. Waaaait. Is this why he actually left?
Harsh irritation is growing inside him, but it's pricked like a balloon when the murmuring voice reminds him that he had done nothing to convince Keith otherwise. Dispel them. Red knew that, he understood, ashamed. About Keith’s struggles and doubts, and his own incompetence to help him.
The prolonged and uncomfortable silence is interrupted by Keith’s trembling voice.
"Lance, what did you call for? If you have nothing else to say..."
There it is, classic former black paladin. A hurtful question to receive a hurtful answer, protecting himself from something, keeping everyone away. Lance sees with absolute clarity that he’s been part of this dynamic from the beginning. But no more. With a sigh, he gathers courage.
"You know… I fell asleep at Red's cockpit today. I came ‘cause I’ve been having a little insomnia issue lately. Every night I think about a lot of things and this time I came to visit our pal here, you know, to chill for a bit, have a talk from man to Lion... But, instead, I fell asleep." Lance clears his throat, while he feels himself blush, but he’s going to say it anyway.
"...and I dreamed about you."
Keith keeps quiet on the line. He doesn’t even seem to be breathing. Lance smiles involuntarily.
"I'd love to say it was a nice dream, but it really was more of a nightmare."
A scoff is heard from the other side.
"Hey, nothing personal, I swear.”
“Hmm.”
“Look, I was in a desert, I couldn’t move at all and the sand was trying to swallow me. I saw a house in the distance, but I couldn’t get there, I was trapped. When I was resigning to die... you appeared. You stood in front of me, extending a hand, but I couldn’t reach it. It was as if you told me that I had to stand and go to you on my own, or else..."
Lance sighs. He usually told Hunk his dreams to be interpreted, but something tells him that this one shouldn’t reach his ears. This is just for the starring guest, who is still on mute.
"Well, I'm not an expert. The one who knows about those things is Hunk," Lance jokes, "but the truth is, at that moment I felt like... I felt that you were judging me. I thought 'Keith thinks I'm useless, he doesn’t care if I die here'. It's not that I'm proud of my brain..."
"I’d never... I wouldn’t...!" Keith hurries to say, and Lance laughs at his concern.
"Hey, hey, easy. I'm not that stupid. I know it's just a dumb dream. But I think there’s some truth there." Lance pauses. None of this is previously thought, so he just speaks his mind. "I guess, after all, that I'm the one who believes that about myself. And that's why... deep down, I'm afraid you'll think so too."
It’s an unexpected confession for both of them. Lance has never considered how much he cares about Keith's opinion before, but suddenly he realizes that most of his actions have been motivated by that fear of being despised by him. Not only recently... since the Garrison, even. His hand covers his mouth. So far back? Really, since how long ago has he been...?
"Lance..." Keith's voice is soft and hearing him say his own name gives Lance shivers. He founds out he’s so nervous he’s even clenching his jaw but is still unable to stop the flow of words.
"T-then, what I'm trying to say is, how can you even ask if I care about you risking yourself? Of course I care, dude. And just to clarify, if the one stuck on a killer desert were you, I’d do more than watch how you sink into the sand," concludes Lance, trying to be funny, but instead he sounds a bit resentful. He slaps himself again, wrinkling his face.
"I’d also do more than watch. I’d never let you die in front of me," says Keith, firmly. Yeah, Lance is sure he's going to combust spontaneously any moment now.
"Well, it's what I’d expect from any decent human... or alien," he replies. The brief laugh on the line is like a stream of warm water in his stomach. However, Keith stops shortly after, pausing again before asking in a low voice:
"So… you dreamed about this house in the desert while sleeping in Red's cockpit?"
"Yup," Lance replies.
"And... Have you ever dreamed something like that before?"
"Nope. And I hope I never will again. No offense," Lance replies, scratching his chin. "Why do you ask?”
"Nothing. Curiosity," Keith replies swiftly. Lance is sure that there’s something hidden inside these questions, but he decides to let it go, having more pressing matters to attend.
"Well, I'm also curious about something. Why didn’t you tell us that you still have your comm? Or, even better, if you took it, why haven’t you called us?"
This time Keith takes too long to answer. Lance can almost hear the sounds of the gears in his head trying to conceive a convincing explanation. But it’s, in fact, a trick question, because in Lance's opinion, no answer he could give is going to be acceptable. He just wants to hear the excuse and destroy it.
"I... I just brought it in case of emergency," says Keith, dragging the words.
"Pfff…" that's worse than what Lance expected, and he didn’t expect anything to begin with, "come on, man, you can do better than that."
"I don’t know what you expect me to say," Keith admits, cornered and moody.
"It’s cool you took it, my question is why haven’t you used it. Don’t you feel like talking to us once in a while? I, personally, am tired of talking to Kolivan instead of you. Why not call me, for example?" asks Lance.
"Well... I didn’t think..."
"I didn’t think what?" Lance presses.
"I didn’t think you’d ever want to talk to me."
That’s playing dirty. Lance is sure that Keith is doing this on purpose. He wants to force him to confess what he feels when he hasn’t even confessed that to himself yet. What a cheater.
But Keith seems to take Lance's silence the wrong way and stammers.
"Uhm, because I know that you... no, I mean, me--"
"Shh. Quiz time. First question: Do you feel lonely, sometimes?" interrupts Lance, his tone low.
"What?" Keith is puzzled.
"I’m asking if you ever feel lonely. Well, I do. When I can’t sleep, when I don’t have anyone to talk to because everyone is busy. When I have to train on my own..."
This is dangerous. Lance knows he should stop, but an internal heat emboldens him. He feels like he has nothing to lose, while his pulse goes wild. Keith doesn’t say anything.
"Another one. Did you know that my bayard can transform into an Altean sword now? Yup. Now I also have one of those. What do you think?" asks Lance, changing the question without following any plan.
"Oh. Wow, well... that’s neat, I guess?" Keith replies, still stunned. Lance lets out an exasperated scoff.
"Great reaction."
"… Sorry."
"Did you know I was dying to tell you?" adds Lance. He can almost hear Keith blushing.
"N-no."
"Did you know that every time I train with the sword I think 'Quiznak… I really wish Keith were here'?"
"No, I--"
"And did you know that every day, before going to sleep, I think about what you’re doing, if you’re ok?" continues Lance, not stopping.
"Lance--"
"No, Keith. Listen out. I know I'm an idiot. I know that I could have tried to call you before too. But I also know that you are just as idiotic, and you probably think that nobody here cares about you. As always, pal, you're wrong."
Lance inhales and exhales, before adding:
"In short, yes Keith, you could say that I do want to talk to you."
'Every day, even' he thinks, but that would be too much. He’s already on the verge of having a stroke with what he has said. He has confessed some of the most shameful things he feels, he has exposed himself without provocation. He’s sure that, if he were face to face with Keith, it wouldn’t have been possible. If Keith looked at him the way he did in his dream, with his violet eyes full of indifference or contempt, he isn’t sure he could take it. Maybe he’s making that face now, thinking about how detestable it is to hear this from someone who has teased him so much, for so long. A jerk.
But then the voice on the line dispels his doubts.
"I also wanted to talk to you. I really wanted to... I just..."
It’s the most fragile sound that Lance has heard from Keith ever and it seems like it’s costing him a lot of effort. But that's enough to make his stomach flutter. The waves of Red's affection intensify in his mind, although he isn’t sure where the Lion's ends and his own begin.
Keith can't seem to find the words to finish his idea, sighing as if he was mad at himself. Lance can't help finding that absolutely endearing.
"Ok, ok, don’t hurt yourself there. I get it," he says.
"But I mean it."
"I know. Really." Lance smiles. He knows that this is hard for Keith, so he decides to take the initiative, make things easier for both. "Look, this is what we’ll do. Today I called you, right? Tomorrow-- no, wait, after Sector Four's mission, you'll call me. No matter the time, just call, okay? And then I'll call you again after that. What you say?"
Maybe it's more for his own convenience. Maybe Keith considers it a nuisance. But, again, the answer surprises him, this time in four words.
"Is that really ok?" Keith asks, so shy. Lance feels his face hot. This is too sweet.
"I wouldn’t propose it if I didn’t want to, right? And, for now, I'll keep your little secret. Just so Hunk and Pidge won’t call you every time they find a new crappy gadget." That's 100% the real reason and not just the fact that he wants to monopolize their former leader for a little while longer. Of course not, that would be silly. With a cough, he adds: "But sooner or later they’ll have to know, understood?"
"Okay." Keith must be smiling, his voice sounds satisfied and soft. If Lance was relieved before they weren’t face to face, now he really wants to see him. His hands are subtly trembling.
"Alrighty, then. It's a deal."
"Sure."
Awkward silence again. But, now, the two boys can’t resist the urge to laugh. Lance feels like Keith is holding back but he can’t help it, letting out his laughter, until he hears the other boy let it out too. They laugh for at least a minute until Lance wipes a tear and speaks again.
"Okay, champion. Bedtime. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day," he says, and his smile disappears. Moving his fingers over the panel, he adds: "You have to come back in one piece. You can’t leave me hanging. I’d look really lame."
"Even more?" Keith says, insolently.
"Oh, are we going to play THAT now?" Lance replies, his mouth curling into a smile again.
"No." Keith still maintains the soft tone. He seems at ease. "Don’t worry. Nothing’s gonna happen."
"I hope so."
"Good night, Lance," says Keith, and Lance feels himself blushing again. Over something so simple and pure…
"Good night, Keith. Don’t fail," adds Lance. Keith doesn’t answer anything, but at that moment, Lance feels that Red is giving him one more message. The house in the desert, the loneliness, and despair of his dream, cross his mind in a single static image.
"H-hey, one more thing," hurriedly adds Lance, not sure how to put what Red wants in words. The Lion asks for a lot and barely helps.
"Yeah?" Keith asks.
"The sand... I was serious. If the sand was swallowing you, I’d go and save you. You know that, right?"
It doesn’t make any sense and he feels his ears burning. What the heck is he saying? The one who had the dream was him. But, to his surprise, Keith answers him immediately.
"Yeah. Now I know. Thanks, Lance."
Without waiting for a reply, the boy cuts the comm. Lance is sure he heard something muffled in his voice, but can’t decipher it. Laughter? Relief? Or... Tears?
Nah. As if.
"You made me look really stupid there. I hope you’re satisfied," Lance scolds his Lion, although he caresses the panel with affection. The Lion only lets him see that it is indeed happy, and returns to its sleepy and indifferent state.
"You're so difficult. No wonder that's why Keith and I are the only ones who can deal with you," says Lance. For all answer, the Lion opens the hatch on its own, clearly throwing him out. Laughing, Lance stands up and comes down.
"Thanks, buddy," he says from the hangar.
Whatever had brought him to the Lion that night had worked. Somehow, he’s sure that his insomnia will improve from now on. Or, at least, he’ll have nicer reasons for not being able to sleep, like eagerly waiting for a call. And if he ever dreamed again with the pale desert… he was sure he could move his legs this time, to run straight to take the outstretched hand offered by that sweet stranger, so close to his heart.