Chapter Text
Keith was familiar with loss. Familiar with loneliness and the fear that came with it. Fear of becoming attached. Fear of being left behind again. He'd lost his father, his home. He'd lost Shiro, his brother, his mentor, twice already. And now he'd lost him for a third.
On a planet he couldn't name, after watching the man he admired and loved most lose his mind back in the cloning facility, Keith felt like he was at the edge of something. Perhaps the edge of how much he could cope with this loss. He felt he was breaking with the worry, the longing, the hope that kept crumbling just as he'd gripped it. He wasn't built to deal with so much stress. How had he carried on for so long? When did it all go so wrong?
He could tell himself that running away from the team made it all easier. But being far from those he wanted to be close to, wishing that would keep the disappointment of loss from catching him; it only worked in theory. He felt it all dragging the thorns further down his skin, breaking him open no matter how much he wanted to keep himself closed off and strong.
Keith was slipping, and he knew there was no one out here, in the middle of nowhere, who he could trust to catch him.
- - -
Shiro was a broken man. He'd been torn apart, rebuilt, dropped into a position of leading four teenagers into otherworldly and dangerous battles against aliens and robots. He'd been on adventures he didn't recall, been friend and foe without the memory to back it up. All in all, he'd held up well, despite the trauma, and what little memories that did slip through from his time as a prisoner.
But seeing hundreds of copies of himself light up in rows, tubes of Shiros aglow within their containers, nearly life like, yet so surreal in their stillness. Druids who sneered behind masks and hinted of a truth about himself that Shiro was unable to understand.
He could not cope.
Shiro sat listlessly in the middle of a barren wasteland. The plains were as empty as he was. His mind was no longer able to cope and process all that had happened to him. Inner strength was gone, as a heavy existential crisis bore into his core.
What am I?
- - -
Lance was alone. He was so, so tired of being alone. The past few months had been nothing short of emotional and mental torment. Now, uncertain of the well-being of his team, he stood in a crowded forest painted in greys and other dusty colours. His only hope was that the druids had simply used magic to separate them, and not something worse.
His communications weren't working. Whether it was distance or some other malfunction, he couldn't be certain.
Should he stand there and wait, so as not to become lost in case someone came for him? Or investigate the planet in hopes of finding a way back to his team?
Yeah, he was more of an action sort of guy. He'd walk.
As he walked, he barely took in the dull scenery. He kept picturing Pidge and Hunk vanishing, kept seeing Shiro, his hero, falling to pieces. Were it not for the placidly dull scenery, he'd have been overwhelmed by all of the horrid things his mind wanted to focus on. There was so much pain, so much loss, so much frustration and a wild need to tear the world apart.
"This sucks." He growled to himself, his hoarse voice the only sound aside from his footsteps.
At the least, he was less concerned with his own well being and problems, which had been a rancid habit of the last few months. But worrying hopelessly over his friends felt a little worse. Especially for Shiro. Pidge and Hunk, if they were together, would find their way home easy peasy.
But Shiro...
God, he hoped Keith was with him. The man had never looked more haunted in the time Lance knew him. And he was also missing a lot of his memory. Lance couldn't bring himself to fathom the agony of that man's plight. The strongest man he knew, the most capable, brought to his knees by a facility of clones. It was an existential nightmare.
Lance drew himself up to full height, his chest out and his head held high to face the tree tops. Barren as this world was, Lance had a goal, a task to keep his scattered mind focused.
"I've gotta save Shiro."
- - -
It had been hours of walking, and Keith was no closer to finding anything or anyone. Why couldn't he be in space with his lion? Fighting battles, slipping past security or straight out fist fighting with the enemy? That was so much more simple. Task oriented days that blurred into one another had been distracting and serene. But this vast emptiness where his thoughts and ruminating were his only companion? It wasn't so simple. It was complicated with no right answer. He longed to grip his blade in battle, or feel his hair fling behind him on a bike on Earth.
Memories of racing Shiro on their cruisers swept over his vision, bringing him a pain that edged the bittersweet. He wanted his friend back. His brother. His family.
Keith felt his lungs close up, his throat swell and his eyes burn. He gripped his hands into fists at his sides, fighting off the urge to break apart and allow these feelings to surface. Crying would do no good. Nor would anger.
"Patience yields..."
No, even those words hurt. They sung of Shiro and his gentle strength.
"Shit.." He hissed, his vision threatening to blur. He needed to control his feelings, like Kolovan always told him he needed to. All he wanted to do was scream and kill something.
There was nothing to attack. Nothing to kick, or punch or stab. Just vast emptiness. That vacant expanse of nothing felt like an added insult to everything wrong. The horizon was laughing at him.
So he ran. Ran and ran towards it, like he was physically capable of chasing his problems down.
- - -
Something shut off in Shiro by the time something stirred out there in the dusty plains. A shifting of the wind rustled the dead grasses. Shiro barely moved his head to the sound as he sat surrounded by the wall of swaying grey stalks. His battle sense was deadened by his ordeal. Not a spark of self preservation, not a shred of curiosity. Just a dead grey as lifeless as his surroundings.
A growl, primal and hungry sang pointedly from behind him. Shiro did not stir.
He'd been seated, but suddenly something heavy clamped into his back and threw him several metres away. The armour had spared him damage from whatever had done it, but the rocky tumble over the uneven ground jostled his bones. He grunted, rolling to his side and tried to lift his head. There across the flattened grass was a large beast, large tusk like teeth bared and painted with rust like stains.
Shiro attempted to stand despite not asking himself to. Maybe like muscle memory, his body knew it needed to defend itself.
The beast came running at him, and Shiro could barely lift an arm before he was rammed again, sent flying and tumbling over the surface of the plains. His helmet flew off this time, allowing the rocky terrain to scratch his forehead where he now rested.
Somewhere in his dulled senses, his own brain tried to decipher this creature's goal. If it wanted a meal, Shiro hadn't exactly been threatening. He'd just sat there. Was the thing just toying with him? Or maybe Shiro had been parked near a nest?
He groaned as he tried to stand again, but the beast was once again charging. Shiro winced and braced for impact.
"Shiro!!"
A voice, so beautiful in its familiarity that Shiro briefly left the funk of his rotting mind and lifted his gaze to the side.
A vision in white and red leapt from a small incline nearby, a Marmoran blade summoned in full glory. Keith leapt onto the monster's back, his blade buried deep into it's neck. The creature was hardy, and it bucked and whirled around in rage. Keith was tossed, hitting a boulder with a grunt. His blade skidded across the rocky clearing away from him.
To their luck, the injury to the creature was enough to send it packing, as it staggered and ran back into the grassy plains.
Shiro struggled to balance himself, dragging his heavy limbs towards Keith. The paladin in question was slowly rising from his own crumpled form. Keith wavered in place, but soon raised his dark gaze to Shiro. His eyes widened, brows knit with concern and relief.
"Shiro.." He murmured, so relieved to find the man alive, and on the same planet he was. Keith managed the next few steps left between them, and gripped the man in a hug. Shiro felt something stir within his chest, a bright flame of life within the static nonsense that had plagued him. Despite everything he was fighting inside, having Keith in arms reach was grounding and safe.
"Keith." He murmured back, his shaking arms coming up to return the hug. He swallowed dryly, unsure of what was to be said between them.
Then a thought hit him; He didn't recall much of how he'd gotten here. His mind had been fractured by the druid's reveal. He remembered Keith calling for him, Lance yelling, and a flash of purple.
"Where is everyone?"
Keith pulled back from the warmth of the embrace, looking up at Shiro's dirtied face. Keith still had his helmet on, so he could only see some of the expression he aimed at Shiro through a scuffed up visor.
"I-I don't know." Keith admitted, stepping back and pulling the helmet off. "I was trying to wake you up. The druids attacked. Lance tried to stop them from aiming at us.."
His eyes widened.
"Oh no.. Shiro." His indigo gaze lifted to pierce Shiro with a grave look of concern. "He got hit with that blast head on. Where'd he go if he's not here?"
- - -
Lance was fighting against very little sleep, and a lot of previous mental fatigue. As much as he'd dedicated his focus to finding Shiro, his body and mind had limits. His feet dragged on the mossy forest floor. The fog that filtered through the dull landscape threatened to drown his lungs with its damp composition. He felt himself start to sweat the with exertion from simply moving forward, yet the air itself felt damp and cold.
With one last step forward, Lance stopped. It was time to take a break.
As he clumsily sat on the forest floor, he began feeling that it was difficult to breathe. He tried un-slumping his posture, but to no avail. It was as if the air was too thick to breathe. His chest felt heavy, like something heavy was sitting on it, despite sitting up straight. His arms and legs felt like they weighed thickly of lead, and a sensation of white noise tingled up his veins.
This might not be fatigue. He thought to himself, a dread falling deep into the pit of his gut.
Could the air be poisonous here? With a start, he activated his helmet into full face protection. He hoped he wasn't too far gone to have prevented something potentially fatal.
He needed to get out of the forest. Quickly. With a groan, he slowly heaved himself from the ground. "This must be what it feels like to be fifty or something.." He wheezed, pushing himself up and staggering forward. His vision blurred, and as he navigated clumsily through the thickening foliage, the world suddenly dropped from under him.
With a strangled yelp, Lance fell. He'd not seen a sudden drop through his hazy surroundings, and found himself tumbling head over heels down a ravine slope. His shoulder collided with a hard surface, his head bounced off the terrain at uncomfortably sharp angles. Lance tried in vain to grab hold of something or control his descent. The sharp branches and jagged boulders that peeked from mossy earth scraped and scuffed his armour, tore at his sleeves and under-suit.
After what felt like ages, he suddenly rolled to a stop. His head swam. It didn't make sense how he could possibly remain conscious through the fever of the forest and the beating from his fall.
Lance strained to move his head, taking in his new surroundings.
The forest was gone. Ahead of him was a large expanse of nearly flat terrain. There were stretches of grassy fields, patched with clearings of varying sizes, mostly comprised of dust and rocks.
Well, at least he was out of the forest.
With a tried breath, he flopped onto his back.
Lance closed his eyes. His breaths came in sharp wheezes, like he was breathing through a straw. His body was sore and stinging all over. He needed help. He didn't know if he'd wake back up if he passed out now.
Risking attracting the wrong sort of attention, Lance winced as he brought out his bayard. Transforming it into a blaster, He aimed it at the murky sky, firing off several rounds of loud shots. His arms shaking with the effort to keep them raised, they finally collapsed on either side of his head, his weapon fizzling out of existence once more.
As a foggy darkness creeped across his eyes, he heaved one more tired breath, let his head fall to the side, and passed out.
- - -
Keith helped a limping Shiro traverse across the patchy fields around them. They were heading toward what looked like a dreary looking forest in the distance. With any luck, it might have food and water. Shiro's injuries weren't too severe, but neither of them had anything to eat or drink, and they'd been on this planet for hours and hours.
Suddenly, gunfire rang out in the distance. Keith lifted his head, and witnessed the remains of bright trails of energy coming from the forest's edge. He couldn't see so far ahead to make out details, due to the grassy fields blocking half the horizon. He did know, however, that those red flares of energy could very well have come from Lance and his bayard.
Hoping beyond hope that he was right, Keith shouldered Shiro more securely and pressed forward.
He gave his dearest friend a glance, noting his condition. Shiro was not doing well. While injuries were few, his eyes were dark and far away. It was difficult to keep him focused and grounded, and all he could do was watch as the man's mind drifted off into some far away place that Keith had no hope of finding him in.
Keith swallowed the pain of seeing Shiro like this, and pressed on. It was a solid hour or so before he got anywhere near the forest edge. His shoulder and back were burning with the continued effort of supporting Shiro's weight. He was almost ready to take a rest when he saw something in the distance.
There, near the bottom of a ravine's cliffside, was Lance. He was far away, but the armour was a solid giveaway. He was laying down, unmoving. Surely he wasn't...
With a wince, Keith shifted Shiro off his shoulder. He was going to ask him to stand and wait, but at that moment the man seemed to come back to himself. "Keith? What's wrong.."
"It's Lance." Keith remarked, pushing away and jogging toward Lance. He could barely manage a jog. Running seemed impossible. His legs were already worn and tired from hours of walking and holding up Shiro. He finally reached the other teen's side, settling down into a crouch beside him.
"Lance?" He asked uncertainly, touching his shoulder with a degree of gingerness.
Lance didn't stir. His face was partially obscured from the scuffing and dirt on his full face visor. He didn't dare remove it. His whole attire was worse for wear. Tears and dents in the exterior of it indicated Lance could have fallen from the top of the cliffside.
"Lance!" Shiro's voice came from behind him. Keith looked over his shoulder to find Shiro sprinting to their location. Shiro's face was torn with concern.
"What do we do?" Keith asked, hoping he wasn't placing too much burden onto Shiro's shoulders. "I don't know if I should move him or not."
Shiro shook his head, bending down and pressing his fingers to a point on Lance's neck. After a few heart stopping moments, Shiro breathed out a sigh. "He's alive. His pulse is pretty strong, but it feels like he's breathing a bit shallow."
Sure enough, the subtle lift and fall of his chest armour seemed to be quick and jarring. Keith and Shiro felt helpless. They were far from the castle, from any means of lending medical aid to their fallen team member. All they could do was wait. Wait, and hope that awful beast didn't have friends.
- - -
Shiro had dreamed of space. His warmest memory being the thrill in his heart upon seeing the craft that would take him up on his first flight. He'd dreamed of discovery and adventure. Of the floating through stars and galaxies. Of freedom.
His life since that last mission from Earth rang of anything but freedom. It was imprisonment, torture, bloodshed and body horror. It was ups and downs as he found his new family in space, as he fought and bled for galaxies that would never know his name, but always know his legacy. Spots of visions danced in his dreams, of memories he didn't remember making.
He saw his found family wincing at harsh words and demands, in a voice that was his but didn't ring proper. Of watching Keith leave the castle of lions wearing a uniform that didn't belong on him. Of watching Lance try his best to be heard, only to be shot down ruthlessly by his own words. He saw a flash of a hag's face, grinning wildly as a laugh tore through his dreams.
He gasped as he awoke to a brilliant night sky. Whatever clouds that had veiled the planet in a dreary grey had dissipated, revealing a wash of speckled colours amid the deep black of night.
"Shiro? You okay?" It was Keith's voice. Shiro winced as he sat up from where he lay, looking upon the small fire they'd managed to make. Keith watched him with worry, and Shiro gave him a small smile. "I'm fine. Just some weird dreams." He assured him before looking down at the prone form of Lance.
The lanky teen had moved in his sleep, which must mean the boy wasn't injured enough to prevent such stirring. He was now on his side, his arms curled up in front of his helmeted face.
"I think it's safe to take that off him now. He seems well enough to move." Shiro murmured. Keith agreed, and together they gingerly took off the blue paladin's helmet.
Lance looked like he'd been sweating a bit. His hair was damp and sticking to his clammy forehead. He was still breathing with some arduous effort.
"Fever?" Keith asked, looking completely out of his element.
"I'm gunna wake him." Shiro leaned over, gently nudging Lance's shoulder. "Lance. Wake up, buddy." Lance's body moved with the motion of being jostled, but otherwise didn't stir beyond a small grunt. Shiro frowned further, and tried again. "C'mon Lance." He urged, softly patting the kid's cheek.
Lance scrunched up his face, lamenting his awakening with a disgruntled whine. Tired blue eyes opened, looking hazily ahead of him before lifting his gaze to Shiro. "Shiro..?" Suddenly, Lance gasped, and sat up with a jolt, much to the distress of Keith and Shiro. Here they'd been worried about spinal injuries, yet here was Lance awake and alert like a beat up maniac. As quickly as he'd sat up, he was bent over with a wince, cradling his arm.
"Jeez, Lance. Be careful." Keith insisted, hovering his hands out to keep the Cuban from flailing about anymore. Lance breathed in and looked at Keith, then around the small campsite.
"The.. the forest. We can't stay in there." He said with laboured breathing. Shiro gave a nod, and tried to usher Lance to lay down again.
"We know. Keith scoped the place out after we found you." Lance was settled back down on his back, despite a bit of grumbling about being just fine.
"Whatever that fog was, you probably breathed in a lot of it. It might still be in your system." It explained the wheezing, although that alone could have been the result of some rib or lung injury. What did any of them know about medicine anyway. Shiro boasted some degree of knowledge, though Keith suspected it was second hand. Shiro, for his part, felt a great relief in worrying over Lance and Keith. It was a welcome distraction from his own issues.
A silence settled for a moment, none of them really knowing what to say or do. The fire crackled, the breeze felt weak, and the night sky was ablaze with sparkling pinpricks of light.
"Communications don't work." Lance remarked, resting his hands over his stomach. He tapped his fingers in a nervous rhythm over his abdomen, unable to keep still, or even silent, for very long. This nervous fidgeting made Shiro feel a lot better about Lance's condition. He obviously looked worse than he really was. He held out hope he hadn't broken anything, like a leg, or an organ.
Keith grunted in response to Lance's statement, leaning back on his hands as he tried to map the mess of stars above him. "We also don't have any supplies. We'll be in big trouble if we don't get found soon."
"At least we have our health?" Shiro offered mournfully.
All three sighed.
Shiro snorted. "At least we have each other."
Lance smirked. "That's more like it."
- - -
If it hadn't already been apparent that Lance was perfectly healthy, his complaining and whining made it certain. Keith was a second away from smacking the other teen upside the head. Either it was his feet hurt from walking, or a bruise was forming from his scary fall from the cliff, or that his mild fever was making him sweat (and according to Lance, this was super gross and intolerable).
"Lance, we get it." Keith growled, shoving the man in the shoulder as they walked side by side. "Whining won't change anything. Besides, we have to keep moving. We need food and water."
Shiro was ahead of them, walking with a straight back. Keith was more worried about a silent Shiro than a loud and unhappy Lance. With Lance, he was more likely to voice any concerns without being asked. Shiro, not so much. So far the man had held up decently, if he ignored the first few hours of their time on this planet. But that was just it. No one should be able to stand tall under so much burden. Shiro had been led into a chamber filled with clones of himself, teased into believing he was one of them.
And what if he was?
After all, from what they'd come to understand, Shiro had been taken over by Haggar's energy through his robotic arm, or so they said. What if, after they'd defeated Zarkon and Shiro had disappeared, the real Shiro had been..
No. No he could not believe such a thing. If he did, he'd have to believe that the real Shiro was out there, abandoned or dead. If he believed it, then he'd have to treat this Shiro as someone else. If it was true..
Maybe Shiro thought it was true. Maybe he was struggling. But there he was, leading two teens out into the barren wasteland around them, with no guarantee of survival.
Just how did any of them keep going despite all of this uncertainty and helplessness?
Keith spared Lance another look. The lanky teen had finally stopped talking, but as a result he looked introspective and sullen. Not a great look on an otherwise bubbly ball of energy. Keith only felt a little bit bad for making him shut up. After all, while whining was Lance's way of dealing with his stress, it would've added to his own, and likely Shiro's.
"Well.." Lance murmured a moment later, his tone subdued, "At least it's cloudy, I guess."
Keith raised a brow. "That's true.. No sunburns. No heat stroke." He supposed that was one small mercy.
And then it started to rain.
A lot.
Keith fully expected Lance to groan about jinxing their luck, and his back was up before he'd even said a word. But then no words came. Shiro looked back at the pair. Keith looked at Lance.
Lance was staring up at the sky as if he'd just seen God.
"Lance?" Keith asked tentatively, "You okay, man?"
Lance blinked, the rain running in streams over his visor. "Can we take out helmets off?"
Keith furrowed his brows, "Huh?"
"Like.. is the rain here acidic?" Realizing he could just check himself, Lance looked down at his bracer, flicking up the floating screen and scanning the atmosphere. A relieved sigh came from him after a moment, and Lance swiftly took off his helmet. Shiro stammered, walking over to him with determined strides. "Lance, no. If we get wet, we can't dry off properly, and--"
But Lance's head was already soaked as he closed his eyes and let the rain fall on his face, a look of total peace keeping his skin free of distress lines. His smile could light up the darkest of any abyss. Keith was taken aback by it, unable to join Shiro in being mad about the risks.
"Guess he really likes rain." Keith observed helpfully, earning an exasperated sigh from Shiro.
"Well, if this water is safe, then we should gather as much of it as we can. Who knows how long this rain will last."
The trio split up, looking through husks of plant life and hollowed stones for anything that could hold water. Shiro fashioned a decent sized container from dried grasses he'd braided together and lined with thicker leaves, all of which had held up to scans looking for poison or other irritants.
Keith used his knife to hastily carve out a bowl from a large log he'd found. Lance used his blaster to shoot out a dip into a very large boulder, which quickly filled with rain water.
"Lance, we can't even carry that with us." Keith bemoaned. Lance stuck out his tongue at him. "S'far as I'm concerned? We shouldn't be running all over this planet unless something chases us. No reason we can't just camp here."
Shiro had a million things to say to this, but watching Lance sway and stagger as they worked had him holding his tongue. The kid was tired, unused to all this hiking, and likely had injuries he wasn't bothering them about. Maybe they should have taken his whining a little more seriously.
With some guilt, Shiro accepted Lance's idea to simply create a temporary base. It would create a better landmark for the Castle, he supposed. That was assuming the castle had to find them visually. It was best to make themselves comfortable.
"With any luck, we'll be rescued before we're in any real trouble.." Shiro said to the pair, optimism coming out dry. He'd meant to sound reassuring. Somehow, the deadness in his heart was taking a more permanent residence. He'd been hoping to push down all the feelings and worries he'd had over those clones and his tangled memories. He wanted to stay strong for Keith and Lance. They needed him. But he kept having brief visions of clones lining a wall, staring at him blankly. Of surgery and tables lined with restraints. Of screams ripping his throat dry. Of the gut wrenching horror he felt when he awoke without an arm.
He shivered, feeling hot and cold within the confines of his helmet.
He had to keep himself together.
"Lance-" He choked on the name, clearing his throat to attempt some recovery. "Lance. Please put your helmet back on. You're still sick. I don't want you taxing yourself."
Lance frowned, his blue eyes seeming darker all of the sudden. "Yeah.. sure." Not wishing to incur Shiro's nagging again, Lance put the helmet back in place, shutting out the feeling of rain falling across his skin. Even the sound of his seemed duller within the small space.
"We should make a shelter." Shiro scanned their immediate surroundings. The plains they'd been walking through was a scrapyard of natural waste. Dead trees, desert plants and large boulders and rocks. The cliffs were only a short distance away, in case they needed emergency cover.
"Keith, keep your visor on and go scavenge that forest for something to use. Scan any plants for toxins before gathering them; we don't know what the fog might have done to them in the long run."
"Lance, use that gun of yours to make us a fire pit. Something that has cover from the rain."
Shiro watched the boys head off as he himself moved towards a grouping of cacti. With any luck, they could be refreshed from the rain, and possibly edible.
- - -
Lance fashioned something of a makeshift oven by carving out a dip sideways into a large boulder near their base. He'd used small microbursts of energy to keep the boulder from exploding, and merely took out small chunks at a time. He'd even added an opening to create a chimney. Keith returned with very large leaves, and a bound bundle of logs of varying sizes dragged behind him. The rain had made a nearby clay deposit malleable, and the pair used it to create a foundation for the logs, and a thin chimney for the oven.
After hours and hours of work, night began to fall. The rain let up. Their small, makeshift camp was complete. A decent wind storm could take it apart in moments, but it would keep rain at bay, and the sun if they had to spend another full day here.
Shiro dried some smaller sticks with his robotic hand, and they used it as kindling to start a small fire in the oven Lance had made. It was surprisingly functional, making the small little hovel they'd built warm up nicely. Shiro commented that it was functional and well made, earning a delighted gasp from the Blue Paladin. Said paladin eyed Shiro like a love struck puppy for a solid hour afterward.
They ate a tiny meal of cut up cacti, or at least the inner parts that were actually edible. The desert fruit had the texture of pineapple, but the taste of pinecone. All of them grimaced with every nibble. Shiro kept repeating "At least it's edible.", to appease the looks of disgruntled scorn he spotted from Lance and Keith.
Later that night, Lance wouldn't stop sniffling.
"See? Soaked in the rain, and now you've got a runny nose." Keith needled, getting irritated with the constant noise.
"Rain and catching a cold have nothing in common." Lance growled, rubbing his red nose on his arm. With no tissues, there wasn't much he could do, save for blowing his nose into his hand. Shiro had actually suggested that, but Lance had scoffed with such disgust, he'd not suggested it again.
Their armour and under-suits were blessedly weatherproof, but the idiot Blue Paladin just had to take off his helmet for a rain dance. Keith still didn't get it, and he didn't care enough to ask.
"C'mon you two. That's enough." Shiro pleaded with calm, tired patience. The pair simmered, but levelled sulking glares at one another all the same.
They sat in silence. Shiro fiddled with the inside of his helmet, trying to get communications to work. He wasn't a tech wizard like Hunk or Pidge. He was a pilot, and this technology wasn't flight related nor was it even from Earth. He was floundering in his attempts to figure it all out.
Keith bided time by whittling small wood branches into sharp points. They already had weapons, but as far as the other boys could tell, Keith was just trying to relieve stress.
Lance tried not to make noise anymore. Which was very hard. He wanted to whistle, or hum, or drum a beat on his thighs. But all of that would irk Keith again. He drew lethargic circles in the dirt floor of their shabby shelter instead.
Hours passed. Lance felt a headache begin to form behind his eyes. He sniffed again. His throat hurt. He coughed.
"Told you so." Murmured Keith from nearby. Lance bit his tongue to keep from lashing out at his smug tone.
Shiro sighed, "Lance, you might be getting sick again, buddy. You already had a fever before you played with the weather." Lance gave Shiro a tired frown. With a shake of his head, Shiro gave the teen a weary smile. "Why don't you try and get some sleep. No sense in staying up if there's nothing to do."
Lance didn't want to sleep. He wanted to help. But help with what? Besides, his chest was starting to hurt as well with each breath. Resigned to his fate, Lance grumbled a half hearted goodnight, and curled up on the ground. His armour made it impossible to feel comfy. The floor was hard and still a little muddy. His nose stung with redness and snot. His headache worsened.
Sleep didn't come, and still he tried to keep his mouth shut and his limbs steady.
To try and count his blessings, he made himself feel better by remembering his mind wasn't a cesspool of warped emotions anymore. He had a handle on his mood, on his impulses, on his heart. He was simply grumpy because he was uncomfortable, and his team mate bullied him into keeping quiet, as if Lance was some finicky toddler.
So yes. Mildly miffed, and a little bit dejected. Otherwise, Lance felt pretty okay within his mind. He'd just have to suffer the fever and forming head cold. He could handle that. He'd never trade it for another stay at the Hotel Haggar.
However, after another hour, he'd had enough.
"Fuck it." Lance growled, sitting up and hauling his chest plate over his head. Shiro stumbled over his words as Lance started stripping out of his armour.
"L-Lance!" He finally managed to grab the kid's arm as Lance tried to remove his shoes and leg guards. "What if we run into danger? There are large beasts out there. Remember what I told you about what Keith and I ran into?"
"Yes. Yes I do, Shiro." Lance croaked, his voice already strained after several earlier coughing fits. "But I'm boiling, and I can't sleep with this stupid armour poking at me no matter how I lay down."
Shiro relented, if only because Lance had weaselled out of his grip and continued to strip off every piece of blue and white armour well out of Shiro's reach. Keith looked on with a haughty expression on his face. "You're an idiot, Lance. You're gunna get yourself killed."
Lance's ears burned, and then his cheeks. Whether from frustration, embarrassment or fever? Who was to say. "Yeah? Well that's on me, isn't it? So buzz off and mind your business!" He crabbed back at Keith, chucking his arm bracer at Keith's head. Keith avoided the hit without effort, since Lance's aim seemed to be way off at the moment.
Shiro groaned again, rubbing his temples as the heat in their little hovel picked up. Either from the crackling fire, or the flaring tempers; the place was a Hell hole.
"Jeez. Fine, Lance! I'm sorry for caring!" Keith bit with a growl, shifting his body away from facing Lance. Lance flipped him off before flopping back onto the floor, his back to Keith, his face pointed out at the dark expanse of desert peeking from the opening of their hut. He breathed heavily from anger and exertion, his face so flushed it stung. They'd only been stuck on this planet for maybe two days, and he and Keith were constantly at each other's throats. Lance felt badly, knowing their behaviour had to be a burden on Shiro. But he couldn't hold it back enough, no matter how he tried to behave. He had a feeling the same went for Keith.
As Lance flip flopped between feeling too warm, too cold, and horrendously uncomfortable, the night sky darkened to a solid black; a starless void.
He worried himself sick as he looked into the pitch black, imagining faces and eyes moving in the inky darkness. His ears strained for any alien sounds that might sneak towards them in the night. He'd not seen the creatures that Shiro and Keith spoke of, but he feared them anyway. He tried to stop thinking about it, but other worries plagued his upset mind.
Where was Pidge and Hunk? Were they okay? Allura and Coran? Was anyone trying to find them? Had they survived the druids? What about Lotor? Had he known those druids had waited for them there?
His heart wouldn't slow it's erratic and panicked pace, and his mind wouldn't cease creating scenarios for him to fear.
And then they all heard it. A deep, menacing growl in the distance. Shiro stiffened from near the oven, standing up as he heard the approaching footfalls of a great beast.
"Oh no.."