A/N So I started sorting through my old documents and came across this. It needed to be finished/polished off, but... yeah, you get the idea.
Dedicated to my two best friends, Meritt and Purplehood, AKA Findekano and Makaluare.
Keith lets out a shaky breath and places one hand against the solid rock side of the tunnel.
"Hello?" he calls out, voice shakier, more hoarse then he'd like to admit, trying the Comm. again. "Shiro?"
Nothing.
Something in the rock walls must be interfering with the signal, because he really doesn't think there's enough distance between him and the other paladins for him to be out of range.
Then again, he's not really sure of anything right now.
Except… pain lances through his side and he gasps, because quiznak, it hurts!
Keith closes his eyes, dipping his head down. He takes a deep breath, riding through the pain.
Patience yields focus. Patience yields focus.
It's not that bad, he tells himself. There's no blood.
Some bruises, definitely. Maybe a few - he whines as fire shoots through his chest when he takes a deep breath - broken bones.
But it's not that bad. He can handle himself.
He knows he can.
Keith squints his eyes, peering into the darkness, but it's almost impossible to see anything.
He's lucky enough that the tiny crystals embedded in the cavern walls provide any light at all.
It's not enough though.
He clenches his teeth, frustrated, and takes a cautious step forward.
It would be just his luck if the tunnel suddenly decided it wanted to plunge forward in unexpected drop.
Something skitters in the darkness behind him and he whips around, ignoring the way his body screams in protest at the sudden movement.
He fumbles for his bayard and his fingers are frantically scrabbling to find a purchase on its slick handle.
He has it though.
Nothing makes itself known.
The silence returns, only now, everything about it seems unnatural.
Allura had mentioned that there were rumors of... other things- things besides the Galra hidden deep in these caverns.
As to what those things were, she hadn't been able to elaborate.
No Altean had ever seen one, but the rumors were there.
Besides, it didn't matter. The likelihood of encountering something other than the Galra were slim to none.
It was likely the rumors were just that. Rumors.
There's nothing there, his mind tells him. There's nothing there.
What Allura said in the Castle is getting to him.
It's the dark, the fact that he can't reach any of the other paladins- (but no, that's not right. He was alone a long time. He should be used to it by now.)
It's all messing with his head.
Somehow he knows, deep down in his gut where it counts, that that's not true.
He's not alone.
Keith closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, lets his hand close around the handle of his bayard, feels its reassuring weight in his hands.
He's not unarmed. He's not defenseless. He can take whatever is down here with him.
Or so he'd like to think.
The clicking comes, quiet and insect-like, closer now. It's off to his right.
Something blinks into existence. It's a small, pulsing yellow light and it's gone almost as soon as it appears, but the implication is undeniable.
Something is there in the dark with him.
Keith hisses in surprise, holding his bayard out to ward off what he thinks is an incoming attack, and he spins to face the unknown presence.
Unfortunately, the movement is enough to knock his balance off kelter and he finds himself tilting sideways.
He tries frantically to catch himself, but his coordination is out of whack, and he fails miserably.
He hits the ground hard. A cry of pain is wrenched from his throat as his ribs light up in agony and his bayard skitters away from his hand.
Keith's head is spinning. Everything is spinning and he can't move. He can't remember how to get his muscles to work.
The chatter starts up again. He flinches, fingers scrabbling for his bayard. They brush up against it, but he can't seem to get his fingers around it.
Ignoring the pain flaring up in his ribs at the movement, he shoves against the ground, rolling over onto his stomach.
The light from the crystals is just enough to allow him to make out some sort of silhouette.
He can't see a shape, can't see details, but it's big.
Keith gets an impression of coils, a serpent-like body.
And he's alone. Alone with a bayard that's just out of his reach.
(But this is fine-he's fine. He's been alone before. He knows how to make this work.)
He sucks his breath in, scrabbling back as far as he is able.
His back hits stone.
There's nowhere for him to go.
The thing shifts in the darkness.
It doesn't come closer.
Keith gets the feeling that it's investigating. Scoping him out.
He doesn't want to contemplate what will happen if it likes what it sees. Or… senses.
He can smell it, the stench of death and decay that seems to accompany it like a cloud.
He inches to the side, and the pain in his chest flares up again. His vision whites out and leaves him gasping for breath, but the moment his fingers close around his bayard, it becomes worth it.
His breath is coming in shallow pants and he drags his bayard closer to his side, but he doesn't activate it.
Not yet.
Patience yields focus.
He tries to concentrate on breathing.
Something clicks again, the sound dragging past Keith's ear.
He cries out, flinching away from it, even as his bayard activates.
Before he fully comprehends what he's doing, he's swinging his bayard on instinct, bringing it up in a wide arc.
It's not long before it's met resistance.
There's a soft squelching noise and something shrieks, a high-pitched keening wail that stabs his ears. Something spurts all over him and it's cold, splashing on his skin, getting on his face, in his mouth.
Keith gags reflexively, doubling over, the foul taste cloying on his tongue. He barely manages to catch himself with his forearm before he crashes on his already injured ribs.
Not that it does any good.
His ribs are burning, each hacking cough sending new waves of pain racking through his body.
He's trembling. One hand clenches into a fist. He presses his knuckles hard into his thigh as he struggles to get himself under control, telling himself to breathe. Just breathe.
Breathe in. Breathe deep. Breathebreathebreathe.
The shrieking is rising in pitch and Keith realizes it's no longer coming from the creature he brought down, but from its companion.
He doesn't know if it's distress or rage at the fall of its comrade, or alarm now that it knows he has a bite of his own.
Whatever it is, he doesn't care. Doesn't care so long as it leaves him unmolested, but that's not going to happen.
He needs to be ready to fight.
More than likely for his life.
Keith tries to regain his bearing enough to struggle to his feet.
He closes his eyes, trying to think through the pain that stabs through his chest, trying to ignore how much it hurts.
He's reaching out behind him, groping blindly for his bayard, when something that's soft and firm slams into him.
It sends him sprawling back and he lands on his side.
Hard.
Keith screams as new pain explodes in his chest, sending splinters of fire lancing through his organs.
His vision whites out and, for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.
Before he has a chance to remember, something is wrapping around his ankle.
His throat closes in panic a split second before whatever is on the other end starts reeling him in like a fish on a line.
His fingers scrabble desperately for purchase, but there's nothing. Nothing but solid stone.
He can't find a hold.
Before he even has time to process what's happening, he's flying through the air and his back connects with the cavern's wall with a good, solid crack!
The air is driven from his lungs with such force that Keith doesn't even have the breath to scream.
The pain that explodes in his torso is like nothing he's ever felt before. A high-pitched whine escapes from his throat and his trembling arms wrap protectively around his stomach.
The creature in the dark clicks again and Keith jerks feebly in response, kicking out, but he's blinded by the shroud of darkness all around him and his heel meets with thin air.
The clicks merge together, more rapid, more… excited.
And then something cold and exploratory licks along his forearm. The touch is so light that it barely registers in Keith's mind before it's gone.
Keith inhales sharply, panic hitching his breath.
Every instinct is screaming at him to fight, to run, to do anything but lie there on the ground.
A stabbing pain in his shoulder, almost subtle at first. A strangled sob escapes Keith's throat and he flinches away.
But then it's on him, digging into his flesh, and fire sears through his body
Keith screams, twisting away but there's nowhere for him to go. He feels the claws, claws that grip at his sides, at his arms, and horror sinks in, horror at the sudden realization that- if he doesn't do something, if he can't stop this- he will be eaten alive.
He thrusts his hands out, trying to shove the creature's head away from him. He feels mandibles, some sort of jaw piece that gnashes and shreds.
He catches hold of what feels remotely like tusks. He slices his fingers on their sharp edges, is vaguely aware of the pain, but he doesn't care, doesn't care as long as he can keep those jaws that gnash away from himself.
Right next to Keith's ear, the creature shrieks. Something else screams right alongside it.
It takes him a moment to realize that it's him.
He turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. He's gasping for breath.
He'd always figured he was going to die alone, but now that he's faced with that possibility, he- he doesn't want to go this way.
The stench is stronger now. It fills Keith's nostrils-fills every part of his being it feels like- and he gags.
It's this feelings- this this is it, he's going to die, he'sgoingtodie, that sinks in. And he's tired- he's so, so tired. He feels his fingers sliding, slippery with his own blood, and he struggles to hold on, to maintain his grip. But the creature is stronger- so much stronger than he is.
This is a losing battle.
And then… he loses.
The creature wrenches its head away and Keith is aware of searing pain in his palms where the tusks tore against them.
He doesn't even have the breath left to scream.
Something rips into his side. Agony flares up in flesh, searing pain like fire, and he screams then.
A gunshot rips through the tunnel. In the flash of light that follows, Keith gets a glimpse of something tinted red and white in color.
The creature screams. It pulls away from Keith, turning to meet this new threat.
And then a second shot fires. The creature doesn't scream again.
Through vision that is rapidly fading Keith sees blue and yellow. Two figures.
He's shaking, tremors running up and down his body that only enhance the pain he's already in.
Keith is vaguely aware that he must be going into shock. He's lost blood. Likely a dangerous amount of it.
Someone is babbling, but the sound is incoherent to Keith's ears.
They sound panicked. Afraid.
He hears his name, but it's distant and scratchy.
Someone's hand slips under his head, lifting it up tenderly. The voice is speaking still, incomprehensible nonsense that Keith can't make sense of, but the repetitive rhythm is soothing nonetheless.
"...move you… hurt… hang on."
Actual words start filtering through the dizzying haze, but their actual meaning still eludes him.
The person supporting him slides a hand under his knees and shifts. The movement, however gentle, jars his injuries, electrifying his insides. He arches his back, a keening whine slipping past his throat. His vision fades to static and he feels himself being dragged down into a deep well.
The voice picks up in speed and urgency, but Keith doesn't have a chance to decipher any of it because Keith lets himself fall.
The well spreads itself wide to welcome him.
A hiss of chilled air welcomes Keith when he first returns to consciousness. He blinks his eye open, then closes them again quickly when the light proves to be too much.
He's falling forward before he even realizes. Panicked, he tries to throw his arms out to catch himself, but his limbs feel stiff and heavy at his side. He can barely move them.
Arms catch him, support him, before he can topple entirely to the floor. They hold him against a firm, broad chest and Keith relaxes slightly, recognizing the comforting smell of Shiro.
"Nnng…." His tongue feels thick. He can't properly get the words to form around it, but Shiro seems to understand anyways.
His arms tighten around Keith. One hand finds its way to his hair and holds him close.
Keith can feel the stiffness wearing out of his limbs and he latches onto Shiro, fingers twining and twisting into his shirt.
He takes a shuddering breath, then makes a first attempt to stand by his own power, though he does not release Shiro.
"Are you alright?" Shiro asks gently, keeping a grip on his arms to steady him should he need it.
Keith considers. For a moment, the darkness embraces him again. The memory of pain and fear brushes against his consciousness.
He wavers between uncertainties, but then finally he nods.
He's not ready to let go yet and Shiro seems to sense this, holding him tighter.
"Everyone's been taking turns keeping watch," he tells him. With a light laugh that doesn't sound entirely forced, Shiro says, "You gave us all a scare."
Shiro's arms flex and Keith realizes that- as much as he doesn't want Shiro to let him go- Shiro doesn't want to have to let him go either.
Keith's kind of okay with that arrangement.
He pulls back anyways, looking Shiro in the eyes. "I'm okay, Shiro," he whispers.
Shiro grimaces but tries to smile anyways. There's a haunted look in his eyes and Keith imagines what he must have looked like, covered in blood and pale like the dead.
It can't have been a pretty sight.
"Shiro, hey," Hunk's voice comes from just beyond them, "there's food, so if…" He stops short. "Keith! You're awake! Guys! Keith's awake!" He shouts back to the others and Keith winces against the way his voice carries.
Shiro chuckles mildly in sympathy.
And then Hunk has thrown his arms around them both and Keith is hissing in surprise because-quiznak- he hadn't even heard Hunk coming.
"Ah man, Keith! We missed you so much! I mean… I know you were only in the cryopod and all, but…" He breaks off and hugs Keith just a little tighter.
All the same, it all but squeezes the breath out of him.
Blue and yellow. He remembers Hunk is one of the ones who saved him and he makes an effort to raise his hand. He grasps Hunk's forearm and gives it a gentle squeeze.
"Thank you," he says softly. He'd thought he was dead. He remembers… he remembers dying. And then he suddenly wasn't. His teammates had come for him. And he thought… he seriously thought no one is coming for him. "Thank you," he repeats.
His bottom lip is trembling, he realizes too late. He buries his face against Shiro's shoulder, in a desperate last bid to keep himself from crying.
It doesn't work.
"Hey, hey, hey," Hunk says and Keith can almost hear his watery smile. "You don't need to thank us. We're a team, right? Of course, we were gonna find you. It's kinda what teams do."
Keith sniffs and nods.
"We're not going to push you," Shiro adds, "but if you ever want to talk about what happened down there… we're all here for you. You know that, right?"
Keith nods again. "Maybe," he mumbles. Maybe he will. In time.
Right now- Pidge and Lance's voices clamor together as they rush into the room… Keith thinks he hears Coran too, and Allura surely isn't far behind- right now, he just wants relish this feeling of being safe- of being alive- with his team.
Keith turns his head, resting his cheek against Shiro's shoulder.
He closes his eyes, content.
A/N Of all things, this ending was the hardest bit for me to write, but Keith will forever and always be my Voltron child. So... I had to struggle through it. Because the boy deserves love.
Seriously, go... give him a hug or something.