It was the painful truth of warfare that innocents died in slaughters and the good guys were nothing more than glorified murderers.
War was the price for peace, and the paladins were paying that bill tossing and turning in their bunks night after night after night, with a myriad of fear laced flashbacks that drained more energy than fitful sleep allowed. But something close to restful slumber could be found in the familiar warmth of someone to hold onto when the sense of dread overwhelmed in the dead of night, and nightmares kept at bay with whispered reassurances that maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok in the end.
So the quiet knock at Lance's door was neither unusual nor surprising, and finding one bedraggled Keith, hair mussed and eyes bruised, had become a commonplace sight at his doorstep.
Tongue heavy, head blurry, Lance simply stepped aside to allow Keith entrance, halfway turning to retreat into the warmth of his covers when cold fingers locked around his wrist and stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Keith?" The name dropped from Lance's lips low, gravelly, hazed with exhaustion and confusion. "What's wrong?"
Keith's eyes, sharp, bright, sliced through the fog of weariness as they flicked up to look at him, then down where his grip had Lance rooted to the spot, and back up to Lance before he spoke.
"I'm leaving tomorrow. For the Blade." In the darkness of the Castle's empty halls, his words echoed.
"Oh." Lance's words struggled past the lump in his throat, but he couldn't tell if it had managed to smother the hope in them. "Did you change your mind?"
A deep breath. "No. No, this is something I have to do." Violet eyes glanced away; blunt nails bit into warm skin. "I just--I needed to, to get something off my chest. Before I go."
Lance's heart skipped. "What is it?"
Keith's eyes met his and fled in the space of a heartbeat. "Lance, I-- I," a shaky exhale; when Lance found Keith's gaze again, it had dulled. "I-- I'm-- Shit, I'm sorry."
Keith was kissing him.
Tick.
Pale fingers clamped around handfuls of Lance's collar, lips pressed urgently against his.
Tick.
Eyes wide, heart in his throat, Lance couldn't find the air.
Tick.
It was over and Keith was gone, vanished into the shadows of the Castle, before Lance's lungs could relearn their function and his legs could stop trembling.
The next morning, Keith's bedroom was empty and Coran discovered a shuttle had been launched in the middle of the night.
