It was cold, and growing dark. The soldier huddled in his tattered jacket, fighting for breath, then typed a code into his COM, leaving smears of blood. "Please. . .please. . ." he murmured faintly. "Keith. . . Sven. . .need you. . . " It had been three years since he last saw the team, three years since he broke away to fight the Drules on his own terms. He didn't know if they would come, didn't know if his former brothers would remember their Academy promise. But his time was running out, and he had to try. Strength fading, shivering with cold and blood loss, Lance McClain dragged himself into a cave out of sight of his Drule pursuers and waited, trying to stem the flow of blood from his head and stomach, not daring to hope his message would even be heard.
Sven Holgersson was sitting with his son, going over some Norwegian vocabulary, when his COM beeped in his pocket. He fished it out and glanced at it casually, then did a double take, swearing under his breath in Norwegian at the code it displayed. Quickly he set a lesson for Erik, translating a paragraph from his favorite Polluxian story into Norwegian, then slipped to Castle Communications. His hands shook as he traced the communication back in one screen and called up the Castle of Lions in another, hoping Keith would be there. To his relief, when the connection went through, Keith was sitting at the console, cool and unperturbed as ever. "I can be dere in twenty minutes; Lance is on Doom; dat's only ten minutes from Arus," he greeted his former commander. "Are you ready?"
Keith's glance flickered over him like ice water. "Ready for what? I'm not leaving Arus."
Sven was incredulous. "Hva i helvete? You aren't leaving Arus? After DAT message? Keit, you are joking!"
"Never been more serious." Keith turned his attention to another screen. "Doom could attack at any time; I'm not Lance, to turn my back on my duty. He made his bed, he can lie in it."
"Dustajævladrittsekk." Lightning flashed in the Norwegian's blue eyes. "I am on my vay. You VILL be going vit me, Kogane. But ve vill discuss it vhen I get dere. Holgersson out." The screen went black, leaving Keith alone.
Twelve minutes later, Sven stormed into Castle Control, finding Keith still sitting where he had last seen him. "Vhat is your problem, Keit?" the navigator demanded, spinning Keith's chair to face him. "You know what that code means; Lance needs us, now!"
"He hasn't needed us for two years; I'm not going to go running just because he snapped his fingers now. I'm needed here."
Sven scowled. Before Keith even saw him move, the Norwegian's big right fist connected with his jaw, sending him flying from the chair. "You listen to me, and listen well," Sven said coldly, coming to stand over his stunned former commander. His accent had completely vanished, as it only did when he was truly furious. "I do not agree with Lance walking away from the team any more than you do, though I respect his reasons. That matters not a damn right now. We promised each other at the Academy, we fucking swore to each other. We get that code, no matter what, we drop everything, we're there. Now. Get your ass up and get moving. We're going to Doom." His voice softened. "Please, Keit. You vill regret it de rest of your life if you do not."
Keith got to his feet slowly, still blinking at the unaccustomed show of temper from his oldest friend, and followed him from Control. Much as he hated to admit it, Sven was right. The code was the oldest promise between the three of them, and for Lance to use it after splitting from the team. . . "Do you think we'll get there in time?" he asked softly, rubbing his bruising jaw.
"Going to do my damnedest, min bror," the navigator answered grimly, pushing the Polluxian cruiser's throttles to the firewall. "And if ve are in time. . . ." he turned from the controls to meet Keith's eyes. "Let him take your forgiveness vit him, ja? Dis has gone on long enough."
Keith shook his head. "You ask too much, Sven. He had a duty. . .he promised to fight with us, to free this part of the galaxy from Zarkon. And he walked away from it."
"He valked avay from Voltron," Sven corrected, turning his attention back to his flying. "Still he fights, does more damage on Doom den half my fighters. Voltron vas not de fight he needed, Keit. You know his history as vell as I do; it nearly killed him to haf to sit and just react to vhat Doom vas doing. And vhen you and de Princess vould not consider using Voltron in an offensive capacity. . ." he gave a Nordic shrug. "He had to follow his own convictions, Keit. His honor would allow no less."
"I hate it when you're right," Keith said quietly. "Damn. I should have known, should have understood. . . I just hope I can still tell him."
The rest of the trip dragged by in silence, seeming to take forever though it was actually only another five minutes. With the ease of long practice, Sven guided his ship through the Doom defenses, homing in on the signal from Lance's COM. He set down within yards of what the sensors pinged as Lance's position, and the two pilots made their way through the darkness to a cave. "Lance? Lance, are you here?" Keith called softly, and was rewarded with a moan just ahead of him.
Sven moved first. He eased forward and knelt where they had heard the moan. He slipped a light from the thigh pocket of his fatigues and turned it on. What it revealed had the two Space Explorers gasping and swearing in horror. Lance's auburn hair was matted and nearly black with dried blood, from a deep cut in the back of his head. His beloved jacket hung from his slim frame in tatters, and the tshirt beneath was soaked with the blood that pooled beneath him and oozed between the fingers holding his intestines in. "Min gud, bror," Sven whispered; Lance's green eyes flickered then opened as Keith shook off his shock to kneel on his other side.
"You. . .came," Lance's eyes were full of pain, and he fought for every breath. "Didn't. . .dare. . .hope. . ." Sven looked at Keith over the body of their friend and shook his head; Lance had no time left.
"Of course we did," Keith choked, managing a smile as he clasped Lance's bloody hand. "Promised we would, no matter what, didn't we? Holy hells, Lance. . . brother. ..I'm so sorry."
"No. . .were right," Lance wheezed. "Should've. . . stayed. Tell. . .Lura. . .sorry." He coughed, blood and intestines slipping from his wound. Sven put his hand over Lance's, trying to hold back the inevitable, eyes bright with welling tears. Lance turned his hand over to clasp the Norwegian's, squeezing it and Keith's with the barest of motions. "Hell of. . . a ride. . .love you both."
"Ve luf you too, min bror," Sven whispered, brushing Lance's hair back with his free hand as Keith nodded. "Go on; you can let go now. Ve vill see you in a vhile, ja?"
Lance nodded wearily, eyes closing. "So tired. . .so cold. . .want. .go home."
"We'll get you there, Lance," Keith managed through his tears. "You just rest, we love you."
His only answer was a sigh as Lance's hands went limp in theirs, and his body fell still. Sven checked his pulse, then shook his head. "Farvel, min bror," the big Norwegian said softly, hand smoothing Lance's hair. "Elsker deg alltid. . ." He took a breath, fighting the tears back; Keith did the same. Then together they lifted the body of their fallen brother and carried him back to their ship, taking him home to Arus and a hero's goodbye.
A/N: This piece was inspired by a Bon Jovi song, "Blood on Blood", about a group of childhood friends. One of the lines that has always stuck with me is "Through the years and miles between us, it's been a long and lonely ride/but if I got that call, in the dead of the night, I'd be right by your side". I always thought Keith, Lance, and Sven would have that sort of relationship.