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It takes a few months for them to learn that the Space Whale, like Earth, has long stretches of time in which the temperature drops drastically. Krolia, accustomed to the cold of Galra bases, is virtually unaffected. Her immune system is also considerably strong, and she doesn’t have a hard time staying healthy.
Keith, on the other hand, falls ill within days of the cold spell.
It starts out as a few meager symptoms — chills, aches, and lethargy — and escalates into something that neither he nor his mother can ignore.
He’s puking into a bush for the third time that day when Krolia approaches him warily, hands outstretched with a strange leaf of some sort. He looks up at her, still clutching his stomach, and tries with everything in him not to roll his eyes.
Of course, Keith knew she was trying her best, but they were still quite uncomfortable and awkward around each other. They hadn’t done much talking since the initial flashbacks, and though Keith was no longer toxically resentful, he still sought closure for all the years he spent thinking she didn’t love him.
Now, though, was not the time. Now, he just wanted some damn Earth medication.
Nothing he’d done had lowered his fever or eased his stomach. He was starting to get dehydrated, since he couldn’t keep anything down for more than a few minutes, and Krolia was beginning to become startled by his symptoms.
He can just tell she’s about to ask him questions, he realizes with annoyance. She stares at him curiously, analytically, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and straightens up, finally over the bout of nausea. And, as expected, she speaks up, “I don’t know much about illness on Earth. Are humans usually this sick? What is your typical recovery period?”
God, he just wants to be left alone.
“I don’t know,” he snaps despite his efforts to keep his tone even. She draws back, if only slightly, then hands him the leaf she’d been holding.
“This looks like an herb given to Galra children when they are uneasy. It is said to settle their stomachs. It might help you as well,” she informs, stretched her outreached hand a bit farther, encouraging Keith to take it from her once again. He looks at her through half-lidded eyes, exasperated at her formality. Couldn’t she take a hint?
Regardless, he takes it, raises it to his nose, and sniffs. It’s peppermint, he realizes, and chews on it.
Only to promptly throw it up merely minutes later.
Krolia sighs in resignation, and when she tells Keith that she’s going to take a walk with their wolf, Keith sighs in relief. The second he starts a fire and curls up in the cave, he falls asleep.
He dreams fitfully; first of his desolate shack in the empty desert, second of the easier times in the castle, and third of his team when he left. The last image, though burnt into his brain since the day it happened, catches him off guard. When he finally wakes himself from the restless nap, he finds himself fighting tears from his eyes.
Of course, Krolia is watching him from the other side of the cave.
Luckily, though, he’s much too feverish and much too confused to feel any embarrassment about it. He groans loudly and unapologetically, and it serves to further pique Krolia’s attention. She stands and walks over to him, before kneeling next to the makeshift pillow his head is rested on. “What’s currently bothering you?”
“Nothing,” he whines, rolling away from her so she can’t see the tears that have begun to leak from his eyes. “Everything!”
He doesn’t even comprehend what he’s saying, or what she’s saying. or what’s happening, or frankly, anything in that moment. He’s just so overwhelmed by the sudden longing he has to see his team that he can’t even think. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give to be near them now, as he’s freezing half to death yet sweating uncontrollably.
“They could be dead by the time I get back! They could be dead already, and I wouldn’t even know it,” he half-yells, and the shaking of his shoulders is no longer resultant of the chills.
“You miss them. It’s normal, Keith.”
“What would you know about missing people? You didn’t even try to get in touch with me!” He accuses ruthlessly, and though it’s the fever talking, he’s been dying to know the reasoning for her silence all the years she was gone.
“You know I couldn’t,” she rationalizes.
Yeah, he knows, but the pain is still fresh — despite its eighteen-year existence. He’s learned the hard way that there’s no expiration date on loneliness.
“What if they think I abandoned them?” Keith asks, abruptly flipping over to his other side, so he can face his mother. He knows he looks pathetic — after all, he’s probably flushed yet extremely pale — but he just doesn’t care if she sees his weakness anymore. Now, he just seeks the motherly affection and reassurances that he’s been deprived of for so long. “What if they ignore me when I get back? What if they hate me now?”
“Then I will beat them to within an inch of their lives,” she declares flatly, like it’s the most obvious response. To her, Keith guesses, it probably is.
Of course, it’s not the same as what he’d wanted growing up. She would never be the type of person to tuck him in, kiss his forehead, and call him sweetheart, but Keith doesn’t really know if he’d want that now, anyway. He’s grown out of his childish desires; now, he appreciates her fierce loyalty in a way he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to as a child.
He laughs a little deliriously and closes his eyes. When he hears her stand, he grabs blindly for her hand and ends up with her forearm in his grasp.
“Mom,” he whimpers, voice bordering a whisper. He doesn’t mean to sound so pathetic, but he doesn’t know how to avoid it either. He doesn't mean to call her that, either, but maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world; it’s actually nice to say aloud. “I don’t want to be alone now. Please stay here, Mom.”
Keith hears her inhale sharply. Then, she responds. “Of course.”
She sits beside Keith, moves her hand to enclose his own, and he finally starts to feel warm again.
Within minutes, he’s asleep.