Chapter Text
“You think this was some kind of football stadium?” The gravity on this moon is all wonky, so each time Lance tries to take a step, it’s like he’s wading through water. As he struggles to find his balance, he cranes his neck back to examine the ancient structure towering above them. It certainly looks like a football stadium, only old and overrun with alien flora. The only thing it’s missing is a food court.
Keith scoffs somewhere to his right. “I doubt it, Lance. Now focus. We don’t know if we’re alone here.”
“ We have to focus,” Lance mocks in an annoyingly high-pitched voice, but if Keith is aggravated by his teasing he doesn’t show it. He only trudges forward, his steps slow beneath the strange gravitational pull.
As far as Lance is concerned, the moon is abandoned. This structure doesn’t look like anyone has gone near it in years. There isn’t even a sign of Galra invasion, which strikes Lance as odd considering it had been a distress beacon that had called them down here in the first place. The longer they stay on this planet, the longer Lance figures it was just some kind of blip in the system-- a misfire of energy. But both Keith and Shiro insisted on at least checking it out. It’s only his luck that Shiro sent him of all people down with Keith for recon.
However, Lance likes to look on the bright side, even when a grumpy and brooding Keith is involved. He can stretch his legs, breathe some fresh air, and if he catches a glimpse of Keith’s backside as he walks ahead, that’s a bonus. Not that he’s looking, of course.
Lance casts his gaze over to Keith, who has a hand raised against a metallic pillar with green lettering of some alien language etched into it. His fingers splay across the words, tracing them. Lance isn’t sure what Keith is thinking about, but the boy hums before turning to face Lance. He tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat in his chest as Keith looks at him.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” he says. “This place is abandoned. Who could’ve set off that distress beacon?”
Lance knows that Keith isn’t really asking for his opinion, but that’s never stopped him before. “Like I said back at the Castle, it was probably just some stupid blip. And now we’ve wasted at least a varga on this moon. The gravity here sucks. ”
“Stop whining.” Keith cranes his neck back to look at the overarching structures of metal, large metallic bolts lining the thick beams supporting the dome of the stadium. Lance truly thinks it looks like one of those indoor football or soccer stadiums back on Earth. There’s a twinge of homesickness in his gut.
There’s a moment of still quiet. Lance and Keith stand side by side as Keith examines the building. “You actually might not be too far off. Look. It’s like some kind of gladiator pit.”
A retort is on Lance’s lips, but he casts his gaze over to the sides of the broad stadium-like building. On either end is a large archway with metal gates blocking them off. The metal looks old and rusted to hell. Reluctantly, Lance realizes that Keith is right. There’s an energy to this place that hangs heavy on his chest and shoulders. And that’s saying a lot considering the gravity has his feet hardly touching the ground.
“Something doesn’t feel right.” Keith is the one to say it. He sounds particularly grave, and when Lance turns to face his comrade, he notices how pale he looks through his visor. Lance opens his mouth to --
Suddenly there's a crash and the stone roofing above them shakes, sheets of dust raining down on them as a crash rattles the ground beneath their feet. Keith gasps as he spins on his heel, bayard materializing in his hand and unfolding into a sword. Lance is quick to follow suit, but before he can get a solid grip on the rifle, a hand wraps around his wrist and tugs him forward.
“It was a trap! Run!” Keith yells over the sound of collapsing stone. It hits him at that moment. The beacon had been a trap -- it had to be. Because now he and Keith are trapped inside of a collapsing structure on an alien moon while Galra cruisers are bombing the building from the outside. It’s coming down and it’s coming down f ast.
Keith’s breathing cracks loudly through his helmet’s comms. Lance’s feet can hardly keep up with his brain as he sprints towards the exit. His blood is roaring in his ears, but no matter how much he’s struggling to keep up, Keith’s grip on his wrist never wavers. He holds onto Lance tightly, practically dragging him along.
“Lance!”
A sickening crack resonates from above. Metal screams and twists, and in an instant, the entire dome of the stadium comes crashing down on top of them. Keith’s grip disappears from around Lance’s wrist.
The first thing Lance is aware of is the silence. It’s a silence that is both deafening and eerily quiet. It’s hollow and empty, made by what is lacking. From where he’s sure there were just the deafening sounds of rapid gunfire and collapsing metal, now there’s nothing. It’s the lack of Keith’s raspy voice yelling in his ear, urging him to run. It leaves a weight in his chest that squeezes the air from his lungs.
Or, no. It’s not the silence crushing his chest. As Lance pries his tired eyes open, he can see the giant sheet of curled metal that’s pinning him to the ground. It expands across his chest, blocking the view of the rest of his body. Metal and crushed stone surround him on all sides. Above him, there’s a large metal beam that’s holding up the remainder of the wreckage a mere few feet above his head. It croaks beneath the weight, more dust falling into Lance’s face.
A cough tears through his throat, but the metal across his chest doesn’t budge. He cranes his neck to try to look at himself. There’s a massive crack along the front of his Paladin armor, splitting the blue Voltron insignia on the front in half, but the structure is still intact. Any more pressure and the armor would’ve completely split apart. It has saved his life. As Lance shifts beneath the weight of the metal pinning him on his back, he assesses his injuries. There’s something warm and sticky against the entire left side of his face. Lance doesn’t need to be as bright as Pidge to realize that it’s blood. Nausea furls in his gut.
Next, Lance focuses on his fingers and toes. He curls them, relief blossoming in his chest as he realizes he isn’t paralyzed from the waist down. Good. This is something he can work with. His legs are numb, but at least now he realizes it’s likely from the heavy sheet of metal pinning him. Now that his injuries are cataloged, he can focus on the next biggest concern: getting the hell out from this death trap. Because the metal above him seems to be hanging on by a literal thread. Lance is afraid that even the slightest movement will send it crashing down on top of him.
His head spins as he cranes his neck to try to get a visual on his surroundings. The fallen rubble of the stadium blocks out any light, and it’s so dark that Lance can hardly see his hand as he pries it free from a pile of rocks. He holds it a few inches from his face, managing to make out the color of his skin peeking through the tears in his gloves. Lance struggles to make out any distinct shapes among the debris. Until he sees a flash of white and red far off to his left. Keith.
Gasping, Lance tries to sit upright but the sheet is a deadweight against his chest. From the corner of his eye, he can see the piece of white buried beneath mounds of rocks and smelted steel. He thinks that it’s the material of Keith’s shin guard, but at this angle, he can’t tell. All he knows is that Keith is trapped only a few feet from him, but he’s too far out of reach.
“Keith!” Lance cries out, his voice hoarse as if he’s been gargling gravel. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest that he feels like his ribs are going to break. Keith is so close yet so far away from him, and Lance’s own body is pinned to the ground. He’s useless, left to stare at Keith’s mangled leg as if it’s any indication that his friend is alive.
He’s never felt this terrified. Facing down a murderous, blood-thirsty alien race and their insane emperor was scary enough in its own right, but at least he had his four best friends -- his family -- at his side. Together, they can face anything, and Lance has never believed something more in his life. But now, Lance is alone. There’s no one encouraging him to fight through the static in his comms. There are no witty, fiery remarks from Keith to urge on Lance’s competitive streak. He’s alone, the silence is deafening, and Keith is hurt , and there’s nothing he can do about it.
Nothing can be scarier than that.
Lance heaves on a sob. “Keith! Can you hear me, buddy?” The metal above him creaks. “I know you have a flair for the dramatics, but now’s really not the time, Keith!” The still body several feet away from him doesn’t even stir at his plea. “Keith!”
There’s no response from the crumpled body several feet away from him. Lance’s veins run cold. Adrenaline surges in his chest, and he starts to writhe beneath the rubble. Keith needs him. Fierce, hot-headed, strong Keith is trapped and probably injured, and he needs Lance. He won’t fail him.
“I’m coming, Keith,” Lance promises as he presses his hands close to his chest. It’s difficult to slither them in beneath the weight of the metal, but he manages to get his palms on the underbelly of the slab pinning him to the ground. He pushes upward with all of his might, but the metal doesn’t as much as budge. He manages to lift it a few inches before his elbows completely buckled beneath the weight and the metal comes crashing back down onto his chest plate. The crack across his insignia only worsens, spider-webbing across the entire surface of his armor. Lance steadies himself, a panicked breath caught in his throat. If he drops the metal again, his armor may completely fall apart, and neither he nor Keith will make it out of this alive.
Suddenly, Lance misses the others. He misses Shiro and Allura’s steadfast leadership and level-headedness, he misses Pidge’s intellect, Hunk’s wit. Fuck , he misses Keith’s sarcastic comments he usually delivers beneath his breath. He misses everyone because anyone would be better suited to tackle this situation than him. But he can’t rely on anyone else right now. Shiro and the others are in orbit, Keith’s buried in rubble, and Lance needs to move . Now.
He tries again, adrenaline now surging in his veins as he thinks of Keith, dying beneath the weight of the rocks. He locks his elbows as he lifts the heavy sheet inch by inch until finally there’s enough space for him to roll out from under it. He dives to the side, the steel crashing to the ground. The impact causes whatever is left of the structure to shift and creak. Lance holds his breath as he stares at the dome structure above them, waiting for it to collapse. Soon enough, though, it settles, and Lance sharply inhales with relief.
Now Keith’s leg is just in reach. Lance crawls over a mess of steel beams and rock before he’s resting at the mound of debris that covers Keith’s body. The only part of him that is visible from beneath the wreckage is his leg, and Lance’s blood runs cold as he realizes Keith’s ankle is very broken. He fights the second wave of nausea that’s already burning the entire back of his throat.
“Keith.” Lance doesn’t hesitate as he starts to dig away the large chunks of boulders and twisted metal beams. His fingertips, bare through the torn fabric of his flight suit, scrape bloody as he throws rock after rock aside. The only sound disrupting the quiet is the ragged, desperate breath in his chest as he begs. He begs to no one in particular, but he pleads that when he moves this final stone, he will see Keith’s pretty face with a mischievous glint in his eye.
When he turns that final piece of rock, the only hope in his chest withers away. It wilts beneath his crack armored like a dying flower. Because all he can see is red. Where there should be white Paladin armor, there’s only a deep, crimson red. It washes out Keith’s incredibly pale, almost translucent, skin. The blood coats the entire front of Keith’s armor and up the sides of his arms. Eyes wide in horror, he follows the stream of blood to its source. This can’t be happening.
Keith is resting on his back, eyelids peacefully shut as if he’s simply taking a nap. Lance can’t help but mentally trace each eyelash that rests against his cheek. But a thin metal pipe protrudes from his abdomen. Blood boils from the wound. Whatever it is must’ve stabbed Keith through the back as he fell among the wreckage. He’s pinned to the ground. Literally.
Lance drops to his knees above Keith’s head. He leans over him, prying the helmet from his head with trembling fingers. Immediately, he presses the pads of his fingers just beneath Keith’s jawline. A small, jittery pulse thrums beneath his fingers, and a sob of relief rips through Lance’s chest. He pulls off his gloves with his teeth before placing his shaking palms on Keith’s cheeks, tilting his head back.
“Keith,” Lance says firmly, though his voice is trembling more than he cared to admit. Keith’s skin feels far too cold against his palms. Tears start to bead in Lance’s eyes. “Keith, can you hear me? I really need you to wake up, buddy. Please.”
Keith doesn’t as much as stir.
“Okay. Okay, Lance, calm down. What do I do? What should Shiro do?” Lance mutters to himself as he strokes the pads of his thumbs against Keith’s cheeks. He traces his sharp cheekbone with his fingers, stroking up and down in some sort of attempt to offer Keith comfort. To let him know that he isn’t alone.
There isn’t much he can do with Keith shish-kabobed to the ground and his comms cracking with endless static. The thought sends a wave of panic and hopelessness through him, but he forces the thoughts away. Keith doesn’t have time for Lance to sit here and feel sorry for himself. He’s bleeding out by the second.
“What would Shiro do…” Lance retracts his hands from Keith’s face and clears as much rubble from his friend’s body as physically possible. Thankfully, his armor is fully intact beneath all the stains of red. The pipe Keith tearing through Keith’s abdomen poked out from beneath the lower edge of his chest plate. He focuses his attention on the torn wound in his buddy’s abdomen, using his palms to press on the wound in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. The pipe is already doing a relatively good job of that, and Lance knows that taking him off of the pipe is like signing Keith’s death sentence. But there may not be a choice.
The metal above Lance’s head creaks, groaning as the weight caves it inward. There’s not enough time . If whatever remains of the stadium’s dome collapse in on them, neither Lance nor Keith will survive. Lance knows this with absolute certainty as the weight of reality crushes his chest with more weight than the debris or metal ever could.
Either Lance leaves Keith to go find help, and the remaining structure collapses and kills him. Or Lance pries Keith off of this damn pipe and prays that he doesn’t bleed out along the way. Either option is risky. Now would be a great time for the Red Lion to brandish her fiercely protective instincts, but Lance refuses to leave Keith to die. The Blue Lion isn’t far away, and if he can rush Keith there he can get Keith back to the Castle and into a pod.
As Lance applies more pressure to Keith’s side, the boy’s face remains still and peaceful, but whatever color remains in his cheeks is draining rapidly. “Keith,” Lance whispers. “I’m so sorry, but we have to go.”
He feels the bile crawling up the back of his throat as he positions himself back at Keith’s head. His hands, slick with the crimson of Keith’s blood, slip beneath Keith’s shoulders. He grabbed him from beneath the armpits. He steadies himself there for a moment, his breath rattling in his ears as he tightens his grip on Keith. A silent apology lingers on his lips as he pulls up with every atom of strength in his body.
A strangled cry tears through Keith’s throat as the sudden onslaught of pain rouses him from his stupor. Lance almost drops him, terror icing over his veins as the wave of cold runs down as deep as his bones. He falters. The pipe is still embedded in Keith’s side, though only a few inches of it are visible. If Lance can find the strength to give one final tug despite Keith’s desperate, mangled sobs, he may be able to pull him free. But Keith is crying in earnest now as he reaches up, clawing at Lance’s arms.
“Stop-! Stop!” Keith begs through his sobs.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Lance whispers. He can’t fight his tears anymore as they bud in his eyes and slip past the crests of his cheeks. Lance makes a split-second decision, motivated by pure adrenaline, as he yanks up one final time. Keith’s body clears the metal pipe. Lance quickly pulls and rolls him onto his side, holding his shoulders tightly. “Okay. Okay, Keith. We need to move.”
Standing as straight as he could considering the low-hanging ceiling, Lance grabs Keith and pulls him up alongside him. The boy’s knees buckle, shoulders shuddering with open sobs. Lance has never heard Keith cry before, and he realizes that it’s the most heartbreaking thing he’s ever heard. All of the walls Keith has built are torn down in that single moment, and Lance feels like he’s an intruder , seeing Keith like this as he’s compromised, blood cascading down his side. Lance cannot even begin to imagine how much pain he’s in.
However, there’s no time to worry about peeking in on the emotions Keith spent way too much time holding back. He’s in pain and he’s dying . Lance needs to hurry. He readjusts his grip on Keith and starts to climb over the rubble blocking the way to the exit. He needs to practically drag Keith to keep the boy moving.
“Lance?” The voice is weak and thready. Lance almost misses it until he starts to feel Keith squirm in his grip. He turns his eyes down. Keith looks worse for wear, hair matted in his face with soot and sweat, skin as white as his Paladin armor, blood coating his entire side and slipping down his armored thigh. His eyes are weary and unfocused.
Lance swallows a lump in his throat. He never stops moving despite the pained noises Keith makes along the way. “It’s okay,” Lance assures, though he isn’t sure if he’s trying to reassure himself or Keith more. Either way, he doesn’t think his soothing words are working, because Keith continues to writhe weakly in pain and Lance can still feel his heart pounding in his face. “You’re hurt pretty bad, buddy, but we’re gonna get you to Blue, back to the Castle, and into a pod. Doesn’t that sound nice? So just hang on.”
Lance practically drags Keith through the wreckage. It’s difficult to navigate; the clearing they are in is barely tall enough for Lance to stand, and with the gravity, it makes the trek all the more difficult. He struggles to keep his grip on Keith, who’s dead weight in his arms, as he climbs through thin spaces of wreckage, trying to find a possible entrance. It’s so dark that Lance doesn’t even really know where he’s going, but he has to keep moving. Any second he wastes is another second closer to Keith bleeding out.
Eventually, a sliver of light catches Lance’s eyes. To his right, through a small slit of space in the collapsed metal, light pours in. Relief floods through him as he drags Keith towards the light. The boy groans softly as Lance almost trips, jostling his injured body. “I’m so sorry, Keith,” Lance whispers. With his free hand, one still draped beneath Keith’s shoulders, he reaches for his bayard at his side. It materializes in his hand and unfolds into its rifle form. It’s heavy and unbalanced in his left hand, but he has no choice. Stepping away an inch, he shoots at the small opening, hoping it doesn’t send the entire structure caving in on them.
The blast forces away most of the metal and stone blocking their path, and Lance doesn’t waste a second diving through the opening. He lands on his back with Keith pillowed against his chest. A beat later, the entire remaining structure crumbles to the ground, a huge cloud of dust billowing out from the impact. On instinct, he shelters the back of Keith’s head with his hand, holding him close to his chest as the dust settles. He stares up at the sky, a mixture of blue and red as typical for the moon’s atmosphere. Keith twitches on top of him, stirring Lance into action.
“We’re out, buddy,” he mutters as he sits up carefully, still cradling Keith close to him. With his remaining strength, which isn’t much if Lance is being honest, he tucks his arms beneath Keith’s shoulders and knees and lifts him that way. Keith moans lightly in pain, but eventually, his face relaxes and he becomes impossibly limp in Lance’s arms. Lance’s heart plummets into his stomach as he starts to run.
“Keith, you can’t tap out on me now,” Lance pants to fill the silence. His lungs scream at him as he runs. “I’m going to kill you if you die. It’s not allowed. So just don’t do it, okay?”
The moment Lance sees the top of Blue’s head in the distance is the same moment he feels a suffocating surge of relief boil up in his chest. It clogs his throat, an incoherent sob tearing from his lips as he grips Keith’s limp, cold body close to his chest. He’s been still for far too long, but Lance can’t waste any more time trying to rouse his friend. Instead, as fast as his shaking legs can carry him, he sprints towards the lion. Her eyes glow gold as Lance draws closer. She leans forward without prompting, and Lance can feel her disturbed, worried grumbles in the back of his mind. Her metallic maw drops open, allowing him to enter into the cockpit.
Lance nearly collapses as soon as he makes it inside. He’s never been happier to see her, and she seems to share the sentiment as she purrs deep in the corners of Lance’s mind. He recognizes vaguely that she’s trying to comfort him, but as he sets Keith down in the seat of his cockpit, Lance starts to fall apart. His hands and forearms are coated with Keith’s blood, and the crimson spreads across the front of his chest plate as well. The stains are going to be a nightmare, but it’ll be fine because Lance can tease Keith all about it after he gets out of his time in the cryopods.
Lance digs deep in the corners of his mind to reach his connection with Blue. I need you to get us back to the Castle. Please. I need you. He can only hope that his lion listens, but without hesitation she stirs to life, sealing the cockpit doors before she leaps into the sky. The jostling causes Lance’s head to pound, but the pained whimper from Keith is enough to spur him into action. The boy’s eyes are still scrunched shut with agony, his skin ashen with a thin sheen of sweat clinging to it. If Lance wasn’t in a deep stage of denial, he would’ve thought Keith was on death’s front door.
“It’s alright, baby,” he mumbles, leaning in front of Keith’s crumpled body as he presses the pads of his palms against the wound. Blood gushes from between his fingers, and no matter how much Keith whines, he keeps applying the pressure. As much as it pains Lance to see Keith in so much agony, he’d rather have him suffering than dead. Who is going to make fun of if Keith is gone? Who’s going to keep him motivated and energetic? Lance will never forgive himself if he allows a recon mission to be Keith’s downfall.
Lance can’t help but think it’s bitterly hilarious given the countless, reckless situations the Red Paladin has gotten himself into. He had taken on Zarkon without any backup for crying out loud. And he’s going to die on now? Not on Lance’s watch.
Blue hits a rough patch of turbulence as she exits the moon’s thin atmosphere and a hoarse whine cracks in the back of Keith’s throat. Bleary, violet eyes peek up at him, tears sticking in the corners of his eyes. Lance’s heart leaps into his throat, and despite how much guilt tears through him, destroying him from the inside out, he keeps the pressure on Keith’s wound. The boy’s hands weakly pry at Lance’s. Lance lets his fears fall without shame.
“I know it hurts, Keith,” Lance whispers, ducking his head to catch Keith’s unfocused, distant gaze. The boy’s head wavers from side to side, unconscious tugging at him like a string, before he finally steadies and stares at Lance’s face, jaw clenched so tightly that Lance can hear his teeth grinding together. “I just need you to stay with me, okay? It’ll be okay, baby.”
Lance is so far out of his element that he’s drowning. The fear, terror, and despair are clawing their way up to his throat, closing off his airway as worst-case scenarios fly through his head. If Shiro was here, this wouldn’t have happened. Literally, if anyone else was here, maybe Keith wouldn’t be bleeding out in Blue’s cockpit, but he is, and Lance feels like the biggest screw-up in the universe.
What keeps him grounded -- what keeps him from completely losing himself under the water of his panic -- is Keith. It always is Keith, isn’t it? Only this time, it isn’t the boy’s stupid smirk or teasing jabs that have Lance barreling forward. It’s the fact that he’s bleeding out beneath his hands, hanging on by a thread, and the only thing keeping him alive is Lance. He won’t let him down. He doesn’t know what he’d do without the Red Paladin at his side, rivalry and all.
Blue jostles again, but Lance blinks in surprise as Keith remains silent. He searches the boy’s face, only to find in horror that his eyes have slipped shut again and his mouth is lazily pressed into a line. Lance pulls one hand away from Keith’s wound to touch the side of his neck, searching frantically for a pulse.
Bump. Bump. Bump.
It’s slow and it’s weak. But all that matters to Lance is that it’s there. Blue barrels through space, and he swears he’s never seen her fly this fast in his life. Lance focuses all of his attention on Keith, putting as much pressure as he can muster onto the wound now that Keith isn’t crying out in misery. Though, somehow, the silence is even more unsettling.
Suddenly, a harsh crack jolt through his comms. Lance flinches against the sound, but his hands remain firm over Keith’s wound.
“ Lance! Lance, are you there? Answer me!” It’s Shiro, who sounds pained yet somehow still composed. They must be getting close to the Castle if his communications have come back online. That moon’s gravitational field cut it out long before they even landed on the planet. It has never been better to hear Shiro’s voice. Lance almost sobs in relief.
“Shiro! Shiro, I’m here,” Lance reports, staring wide-eyed at Keith as he silently begs him to hold on. “Listen, the d-distress signal was a trap! We were ambushed, and the whole building caved in on us. Keith’s in bad shape, Dios Mio, he’s bleeding everywhere. We’re on our way back, but you have to get a pod set up right now because I don’t know if he’s going to make, and oh God--”
Shiro’s steady voice cuts him off. “Lance. Listen to me and breathe. How bad is Keith off? Coran is setting up a pod now.”
“It’s bad , Shiro,” Lance cries weakly, unable to fight the break in his voice. “He was impaled on something -- some kind of pipe. it went straight through his abdomen. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
There’s a beat of silence that feels like it lasts hours, even though it can’t have been more than a second. “Keep pressure on the wound. Don’t let up. We have a visual on the Blue Lion, you’re almost home. Stay calm. Is he conscious?”
Lance focused on Keith’s closed eyes. “No,” he croaks. Shiro must murmur some kind of reassurance or an order, but Lance doesn’t hear it. His ears start to ring as his eyes flicker between Keith’s pale face and his bloody, shaking hands. There’s so much blood. But Keith cannot die. Keith is not allowed to just die like this. Lance will not allow it.
“ Lance! Are you listening?”
Blue comes screeching to a halt as she lands in the hangar. She moves at the speed of light as she sets her claws into the metal flooring to stop herself, hanging her head low as she opens her maw wide. The doors to the cockpit fly open. Before Lance can even move, the Paladins, Coran, and Allura are pouring into the room. Shiro rushes to Lance’s side, and once again Lance cannot hear what he’s saying. His flesh hand rests on Lance’s shoulder as he pulls the boy away from Keith’s body. Lance’s first instinct is to protest because someone’s taking Keith away, but Shiro’s eyes meet his own, and calm overtakes him.
“It’s okay, Lance. You made it,” Shiro soothes. Hunk lingers close behind his back, a familiar green tinge to his skin as he takes in the sight of the bloody mess in Lance’s cockpit. “Allura’s taking Keith to a pod.”
Lance cranes his neck up to find Allura drawing the fallen Paladin into her arms. His head lolls back as she lifts him, cradling him against her chest before she takes off out of the lion’s head without a word. Lance moves to struggle to his feet, but his knees feel as if they’re made of putty.
“Woah, easy.” Thick arms catch him from beneath his armpits, and Lance glances to the side to see Hunk steadying him. While the color of nausea is still prevalent in his skin, the look of worry across his brow is even more pungent. Lance doesn’t like to see Hunk like this, but he can’t imagine he’s a lovely sight to behold right now, covered in Keith’s blood and with cracks in his armor.
“Are you hurt?” Shiro asks him, bringing a hand against the side of Lance’s face to get his attention. Before he can respond, Shiro glances over the bloodied side of Lance’s face. There’s so much blood on him that Lance is having a hard time figuring out where his begins and Keith’s ends, but he figures it doesn’t matter that much. “You’ve got a head injury. You should get in a pod as well.”
Lance shakes his head, horrified at the thought. “What? No. I have to be here for Keith.”
“Lance, you’ve already done all that you can,” Hunk chides as he pulls his friend close into the side of his chest. Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge, who has been pretty much hovering with a stricken look on their face, escort Lance out of the lion. He can’t wrap his head around why they are coddling him when Keith is literally on the brink of death. The frustration is so suffocating that Lance feels like he’s about to snap. Keith almost died because of him, and they’re trying to tell him that he’s done everything he could?
“Allura and Coran are taking care of him. For now, you need to rest.”
Lance wakes up from his cryosleep after a varga. The split in the skin across his temple is fully healed, though the stress and exhaustion linger after he stumbles from the cold pod into Hunk’s expecting arms. Keith isn’t so lucky. Several vargas after Lance woke up, ate, showered, and filled in the others on the ambush they experienced on that moon, Keith still hasn’t woken up. He sits in suspension, his face peaceful and relaxed as his body starts to heal. Lance almost doesn’t recognize him now that all the blood has been cleared away from his skin.
“He’ll be okay?” Lance croaks as he sits in front of Keith’s pod. He’s watching the clock count down, but even the ticks feel endless.
Coran steps up behind Lance and claps a hand on his shoulder. Though Lance can’t see him, he can hear the smile in his voice. “Of course, number three. Those cryopods are known to fix up ailments worse than an attack from a wild Klanmüril. ”
He manages a weak laugh. He wraps his arms tightly around his knees as he pulls them close to his chest, staring at the holographic surface of the pod. He’s too worried to marvel at the insane technological advancements of the Alteans— he’s pretty sure Pidge has that covered already.
”I thought he was going to die.”
Coran hesitates if the silence lingering in the air behind him is any indication. He stays behind Lance, quiet in his comfort as he rubs small circles into Lance’s back. It reminds him of his mom, hugging him and giving him silent comfort whenever he’s upset. Great, on top of worrying about Keith, now he’s homesick too.
Lance has never felt that terrified in his entire life, holding onto Keith as he slipped away in front of his eyes. Lance couldn’t admit it aloud, but Keith has become some sort of pinnacle for him, a beacon of sorts since they went rocketing through space.
As flawed as the Red Paladin is, there’s a spark in his eyes that Lance sees as he fights, trains, and throws himself head-first into all sorts of danger. No matter what, Keith has never given up. Even if it gets himself in sticky situations, Keith has a fighting spirit that Lance appreciates. The small arguments, the jabs of insults, they’re all things that have motivated Lance into becoming a better Paladin, into becoming more like Keith.
Back at the Garrison, he despised that drive— the part of him that envied Keith and disliked him. Lance had blamed Keith for all of his problems until the boy washed out and Lance was finally able to enter the fighter-class piloting program. Even then, Keith’s influence never seemed to disappear. He was still there, his legacy looming over Lance’s head like some cruel taunt. That was why Lance had despised the boy, but as he sits in front of Keith’s pod, counting down the ticks until he’s released, Lance realizes something.
He was never meant to rival Keith. As they spent more time in space together and their arguments became more playful than anything, Lance understood now, more than ever, that Keith was his motivation. And in some way, he sees himself as Keith’s control. Together, they are opposite sides of the same coin that work together to balance each other out.
Pulling Keith from that pile of collapsing rubble taught Lance that he never wants to be apart from Keith again. He needs him, and he believes deep down, Keith needs him too in his own way.
Suddenly, the pod jolts and starts to hiss as the glass screen falls away. Keith lingers there for a second, eyes still closed, before soft groans rose from between his lips and he staggers forward. Lance moves quickly, arms pillowing beneath Keith’s to catch him. His vision immediately clouds with tears as he sees Keith, eyes brighter and clearer than before, gazing up at him.
Coran hovers somewhere behind him, but he can’t focus on the man’s presence as he stares down at Keith, his heart galloping in his chest.
“Lance…? What happened? Why are you crying?”
Lance turns his head to the side, sniffing loudly as he struggles to compose himself. “I’m— I’m not! You stupid jerk , you’re not allowed to scare me like that—“
The bastard has the audacity to chuckle, though the sound is small and tired. Lance whips his head around to look back down at Keith, who has a stupid smile on his stupid pretty face. He’s still pale— because he always is— but some color is returning to the apples of his cheeks.
“Thanks for saving me, Sharpshooter.” The smirk on Keith’s lips is so striking that Lance worries he’s about to fall over. Oh God, this isn’t fair! He’s saved Keith from the brink of death, but Lance feels like a simple look from Keith is gonna have him kneeling over. “We make a good team.”