Lance woke up slowly. He was pretty sure this was what a hangover felt like, though he had never really gotten smashed before. Besides the pounding headache and the waves of nausea rushing over him, he felt cold. Really cold. His nose was all stuffy, but the smell of copper was strong, and he almost threw up right then and there. He groaned, and lifted a hand to his face, rolling onto his back. Sure enough, his fingers came back with flakes of dried blood.

Everything was coming back to him, in fuzzy bits and pieces.

Someone bashing his face with the butt of a gun. Dropping to his knees. Pain exploding at the back of his head and everything going dark. Tentatively, he felt for the knot under his hair. A small bump that made him wince in pain.

Oh yeah. Shit.

They had been cornered.

Keith.

Lance attempted to sit up, far too quickly. His vision went blurry and he registered the stab of pain in his ribs. A small groan escaped him. Slowly this time, and with a hand pressed to his side, he pushed himself up. A hazy glance around the room.

It was dim, but he could tell the walls and floor were rocky, like they were in a cave, but the room was too square to be natural. He realized also that there wasn't a wall to his left but something purple and transparent, giving off a faint glow. Beyond it was metal and lights, harsh and obviously Galra.

He'd critique their aesthetic if he could form a proper insult through this headache.

To his right though, he saw the red paladin, and breathed out a pained sigh of relief.

Keith was laying on his stomach, and what Lance could see of his armor was in rough shape. Lance would have to twist around to see his face, and he didn't feel like moving so much, so he kicked Keith's leg before going back to poking his own wounds.

You know what they say about assumptions, though.

"Wakey, wakey, Sleeping Beauty." He was gonna need about five aspirins. "They kicked our ass, dude." Make that a whole bottle. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, and sighed.

"Dude?" Keith hadn't moved. "Keith?" He forced himself to move, to twist and inch closer to him.

That stupid mullet and bangs covering his face. "You dick, come on," He whispered, more for his own benefit than anything else. He reached out, the black gloves on his hands covered in dust.

The back of Keith's head was soaked, his hair matted and wet with blood.

Shit shit shit.

His chest went tight and his mind raced.

He tried to recall the first aid lessons they'd been given. Their lions had med kits, and if he could get his hands on one of those, this would be a slice of cake. Unfortunately, resources were a little tight. Not to mention, in the dim light he couldn't properly examine the wound. He could just barely see that Keith was still breathing by the slight rise and fall of his back. His armor probably wasn't helping any.

Okay, breathe, Lance. Chill out.

He bent his knee to get at his ankle. If he twisted it right - there! The armor on his shin came apart in two halves, letting him get at the black fabric beneath. There were seams there that ripped out so a paladin in need could make strips of cloth to use as bandages. And, boy, was he in need. It hadn't been a feature he'd been incredibly interested before, as it did nothing for his aesthetic, but now he was grateful. He ripped a long enough strip, leaving half his shin naked. The room was cold and he wasted only a second putting his armor back on over his suit.

Shifting back to Keith, Lance gingerly lifted his head and set it on his thigh so he could work.

All this goddamn hair in the way. He couldn't understand how Keith could put up with it half the time. Didn't he get sweaty?!

As he wrapped the cloth around his head, there was no response from Keith. The tight feeling worked its way up from his chest and into his throat. If this idiot didn't wake up, how were they gonna get out of here?

There was no way he was able to carry him, especially not if they had to fight any guards on their way out and especially not while he was wounded like this, and there was no way he could leave him behind.

He tugged the knot on the bandage tight, careful not to get any hair caught in it. He moved Keith enough to make sure he had no other wounds to attend. And then he sat back and waited. There was nothing else he could do but think.

Lance was good at thinking. Some of the time. It helped him to think out loud, but he felt too tense, the scene too eerie. If Keith was awake, he could bitch and moan and drive away his nerves. But Keith was out cold in his lap. Lance did however make the mental note that if - no, when they got out of here, he just had to hold this over him.

I cradled you in my arms.

A small lopsided grin spreads across his face.

He doesn't remember falling asleep. He's colder than before, and when he shifts, he realizes his legs have fallen asleep. He bangs his heels against the ground in annoyance, trying to get circulation back. Keith is still asleep in his lap, but he doesn't look any worse. His head wound hadn't been bleeding too badly when he first wrapped it and the bandage seems to have stopped it. For that, at least, he's thankful.

He wishes he had better light, though. Something to pass the time. He doesn't want to fall asleep again.

At this point, he'd rather be the one unconscious. Boredom is a punishment he wouldn't wish on anyone, except maybe Zarkon. Yeah, Zarkon can go fuck himself. He wonders about the other paladins. His mind is still fuzzy about the mission they were on, but he's sure everyone else is okay. He feels like he would know if something had happened to them.

He'd rubbed away most of the dried blood under his nose but his ribs ache and he doesn't have to look to know he's got, at best, some pretty heavy bruising. The rest of his face felt like shit too, and the headache was still there, making him dizzy and glad to be sitting down.

He's pretty sure he needs to keep Keith's head elevated though. First Aid had been hard to focus on, though he had wanted to. It's just that when you start talking about injury and getting hurt, you get bummed out, or you start thinking about the epic battles you'd get those injuries in. Lance liked the latter option. If Hunk was here, he'd probably have Keith up and well again already. If Pidge was here, they'd probably have been able to get help somehow. God knows they always have a gadget up their sleeve. If Shiro was here, well. Lance didn't want to think about Shiro getting captured again, but he was pretty sure Shiro would still be doing better than him.

Gotta step up your game, McClain.

He squinted through the glowy screen, trying to see through to the other side. He couldn't make out much, and what he did see didn't make any sense, and the light just made his head worse.

This sucked.

He drummed his fingers on Keith's chest plate, thinking of all the songs he knew. He'd picked up a few alien melodies over time and, even though he didn't know what some of them meant, he still liked to sing or hum them. Music was his best way to pass the time.

So he did just that. He sat and thought and waited and hummed.

He lost track of time.

His ribs felt like fire and now he was sure they were broken. Humming hurt. Breathing hurt. Moving was unthinkable. And Keith was still sleeping. Lance briefly wondered if Keith was dreaming. He wondered how long he'd been waiting here. He wondered how much longer he'd wait.

Lance was struggling to keep his eyes open when they finally came. His ass hurt and he was exhausted, but every part of him screamed when the three Galra soldiers walked in. He sat up, pulling Keith even closer to him. They stood behind the screen, staring at him, and he could tell they were talking.

Then one of them leaned into the wall, apparently to a speaker, because suddenly he could actually hear them.

"We want the Red Paladin."

Wait what? Uh, no? Were these guys serious? They wanted Keith. And they just thought he'd hand him over? Yeah, sure, here you go, Galra scum!

Lance licked his lips, trying to speak.

"Wh-" He rasped, cleared his throat. "What, am I not your type?"

He shot them his best smirk but imagined he looked about as hot as he felt.

Before he had a chance to move, one pressed a palm to a control panel on the wall outside and the screen dissolved. Without saying another word, the soldiers marched in. Lance's brain screamed and in an instant he had set Keith aside, jumping up and taking a stand in front of him. He ignored the eruption of pain at his side as best he could, feeling sticky blood that caked his suit. The Galra soldiers spread in front of him, blocking any shot he had at pushing past them out of the room. He wouldn't have done that anyways. He wasn't going to run away and leave Keith. He knew he was going to lose. But he was going to give them hell.

That thought pushed a smile onto his face, even as the first soldier took a step toward him

They had socked him in the jaw. Hard. It was enough to make him stumble, cry out. But not enough to make him fall, not until a second soldier stepped in and whacked his stomach with their baton. The breath driven from his lungs, lightning shooting up his side, he wheezed and fell onto his ass. His chest plate restricted how hard he could gasp for air, and one hand scrabbled at his chest while the other dug nails into the weeping flesh at his side. The soldiers looked down at him, sparing only one more moment before turning back to Keith. Lance panicked. He gulped air, feeling like he was suffocating, but sat up. Pushed himself up. His hands were shaking and he clenched them into fists. The soldiers attention snapped back to him, and he heard one scoff lowly.

He took a staggering step toward them. Pushed himself into a run at them.

They shrugged him off with a sharp elbow to the ribs. He collapsed, wheezing, stars blinking in front of his eyes.

It was brutal. He lost track of how long he'd been curled on the floor. They kicked at him. Rained down at him with their batons. He'd given up trying to be silent. But after a while, his throat had gone dry, every cry coming out a wheeze. Tears leaked from his eyes, tightly shut. Every time he thought he might slip into unconsciousness, a sharp kick was delivered to his side, and the pain began all over again.

He covered himself as best he could, head ducked between his knees and hands covering his neck. He felt like a kid again, practicing those duck and cover drills. Oh god, he might die here. He might never see anyone he loved again. The heartbreak was worse than the beating. People flashed in his mind.

His mother.

His father, sisters, brothers, cousins. His nieces and nephews.

Hunk.

All the people he had ever flirted with.

Pidge. Matt.

Shiro.

Allura. Coran. Every alien he'd ever met, ever led to safety in the middle of a firefight.

Keith.

His heart squeezed. Oh god. They might kill Keith. They might torture him. He might never see anyone else either. Keith might never know about how Lance tried. Lance tried so hard.

I'm sorry. He wanted to scream it. I'm sorry, I couldn't keep you safe.

He's being crushed, broken, smashed until he shatters into a million tiny pieces scattered on the floor. His mouth tastes like copper. His limbs tremble with exhaustion, taut and splintered.

And suddenly, just like that, the hits stopped coming. He sobbed silently, painfully, not processing anything.

Keith woke to the harsh thwack of something hitting something hard. His head was foggy. He was cold, and his face was sticky. He let out a low groan, trying to get his bearings. He rolled onto his side, taking in the rocky ceiling, the faint purple light. The three figures huddled around something on the floor. At first he thought maybe it was the other paladins, come to his rescue, wherever this was. But he quickly realized, no, this was not a rescue. The Galra armor reflected the purple light, making it seem far more sinister. He sat up, pushed himself into a crouch. The soldiers didn't notice. He wondered if he would be able to sneak past them, but only briefly, because there, in the corner of his eye, was a blue kneepad. Cracked and discarded but recognizable. A paladin kneepad. Blue. His head snapped to the soldiers in the middle of the room. He could barely see him, but Keith knew. And he was standing before he could think.

The first two went down easy. He had smashed the back of their heads with a rock. They dropped before they could realize he had attacked them. The third though, took a step back, panting and surprised. And then they raised their baton and ran at him. He wasn't quick enough to get out of the way and caught the blow on his forearm. It hurt like hell. He screamed and grabbed at the Galran armor. The soldier was taller, but so were Altean training droids. The soldier fell, helmet smashing into the ground with a sickening thud, and Keith fell on top of them, rock still in hand.

He blinked at the mess in front of him, stomach suddenly churning. The rock was dripping and staining his glove. He dropped it, and slowly scooted backward, so that he wasn't straddling the dead soldier anymore. He was glad for the dim light, but he still had to tear his eyes away, bile bubbling up his throat and he hacked and spit, emptying his stomach on the ground. Tears pricked his eyes. He couldn't think clearly, and could barely remember waking up and attacking them. That seemed like a million years ago.

Lance. Gotta help Lance.

Lance was still curled up on the floor, feet away from where he leaned against a wall and panted. For a moment, he panicked, worried that Lance was -

He skidded to his knees at Lance's side. He looked bad, worse than he had ever seen him. Even after Sendak's bomb, there wasn't this much blood. It was smeared across his armor, shining in the faint light. He unfolded Lance's limbs, cringing at the sight. He had a few unnaturally bent fingers; broken, no doubt. His armor was in bad shape, littered with dents and scratches. Keith couldn't quite tell, but his shoulder looked dislocated. Lance didn't answer when he whispered his name. He said it louder, almost begging. A soft flicker under his eyelids and Keith sighed in relief, shaken.

"Okay, buddy. We're getting out of here." You just gotta wake up. There was blood smudged in the corner of his mouth. Keith was no doctor, but he knew that was bad. That was really bad.

One thing at a time. Get out of here.

"Lance, wake up." He shook the other paladin, lightly, terrified of hurting him more than he already was. Lance's eyes twitched open with a gasp and a sharp wince.

"Okay, it's alright, easy." Keith muttered every comforting phrase in the book. Lance tried to grab onto Keith's arm but could barely lift his own arm.

"What happened?" a strained and breathy whisper.

"I'm getting you out of here."

"The soldiers…" He trailed off, his eyes following the cave wall behind Keith to the floor. "They…"

Keith cupped his cheek, hoping he hadn't seen. "Can you stand up?" Lance's blue eyes were unfocused but he still held Keith's gaze before slowly, agonizingly slowly, shifting and starting to sit. Keith helped him, a hand on his back and on his arm. Together, Keith taking on most of Lance's weight, they stood. Lance's knees nearly buckled, but Keith held him.

Together.

One step. Another. Until they were out of the cell that now reeked of blood.

By some miracle they had gotten through the hall without a problem. By some bizarre stroke of luck, they had found an escape pod. By some blessing, they had gotten it open. By some fantastic chance, they had gotten out.

And Keith wasn't about to question good luck for once in his life. Keith set the pod to fly as far and as fast as it could and then they'd sat on the floor and assessed Lance's injuries. Lance kept closing his eyes, and Keith was terrified that if he fell asleep he might not wake up. Three broken fingers, and Lance confirmed the dislocated shoulder by crying out when Keith tried to move it. His side looked bad, and Keith tore the fabric away from it to reveal heavy bruising and broken skin. Lance couldn't remember when it had first happened but in any case, the beating hadn't helped it. Keith patched him up as best he could with the pod's small first-aid kit, but aside from some obvious bandages and splints, the rest was literally alien to Keith. He had no idea what could help and what could kill Lance. Knowing the Galra, most of it would kill him.

At some point, sitting in a chair with Lance holding onto consciousness beside him, Keith registered the bandage around his head. He reached up and felt it, tentatively. It was damp with sweat and a lot of his hair had gotten stuck in it, but still. He looked at Lance. The light from the dashboard lit up his face, the cuts and bruises, the dark bags under his eyes. Eyes that were barely open, looking out the window. He looked bad. But he looked good. Looked like he wasn't going to give up. Looked better. Keith's throat tightened. He would ask Lance about everything that happened later. For now, he would set the course to the rendezvous point the team and set before the mission, a small planet without civilized life. It wasn't far, and the pod was fast. They sat silently.