A/N: Finished one summer class a little early! To celebrate I thought I'd post a tad early. ;3 Thank you so much to those of you who followed/favorited. It may seem like a small thing, but to a self-conscious author, it's a real confidence-boost.
Keith sat cross-legged on his bed, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. His chest rose and fell in a series of slow, measured breaths.
Concentrate on the Moment. Control the clamor or it will control you...
The mantra made his chest ache hotly in a blend of familiarity and longing. Kolivan's low voice burned like simmering embers in his mind. How many times had the Blade leader made him repeat that mantra? It had worked then. Somehow, those simple words had corralled the clamor and chaos galloping through his mind. It no longer worked now, though. Keith gave a pained, frustrated growl at the now-useless mantra. He suspected it wasn't the words that were defective. It was the fact Kolivan was no longer around to say them with him. Kolivan was the active ingredient that was missing.
Keith inhaled slowly and forced himself to hold it for several long seconds. He concentrated instead on the steady ba-thump of his pulse in his ears. Another phrase rose unbidden to his mind.
Patience yields focus.
His eyes cracked open with a wince. The memory of the hurt on Shiro's face swam into focus with sharp clarity. The look of raw concern still stung Keith's conscience. He silently cursed his lack of control several days earlier. Why had he snapped like that?! He knew he was less than stable even on a good day, but to have such a pathetic meltdown in front of Shiro no less!
Disgusting. Weak.
Kolivan had trained him better than this!
He shook his head hard and forced himself back into his meditation. He needed it badly. It was nearly impossible to perform correctly without Kolivan's guidance, though. It wasn't enough to quote a mantra and hold his breath. He needed Kolivan's help.
Kolivan was no longer with him. He probably never would be again after what Keith knew he'd done.
"Concentrate on the moment," Keith breathed softly, squinting his eyes shut. He exhaled slowly and nearly jumped out of his skin at the chorus of pounding suddenly shaking his door.
"Keith, open up! I brought dinner."
Keith stared at the closed door in stunned silence when he heard Pidge's demanding voice. He wanted to answer, but his words wouldn't come. Any response he could muster sat frozen in his throat. He imagined the girl standing out in the hallway. How long would it take for her to give up and leave like all the others had before?
"Keith, I'm not leaving until you open this door. I've been thinking... if you can barricade yourself in there then why can't I set up shop out here? It's like a sit-in right? A protest to see who can last the longest? If you think you can beat me, Space Cat, you're about to get your furry butt kicked!"
There was a loud shuffling sound that made Keith's ears swivel and perk up in curiosity. What was she doing? For one panicky tick Keith had the horrible fear that she'd brought some kind of explosive device with her to blast his door open. Experience reminded him that Pidge wasn't above using force if she found it necessary. Before he could panic further, Pidge's nonchalant voice chirped out reassuringly.
"I brought my mini tent, pillows, blankets, lap desk, and laptop. I also have a backpack of snacks and water pouches. I can do this for days, Space Cat."
Keith felt a sudden wild urge to laugh at Pidge's utter ridiculousness. He loved this tiny, unpredictable girl more than he knew how to admit. If she knew she had "sister-privileges" there'd be no stopping her. Only she would think of something this outlandish. He could picture her out in the hallway with her tiny green tent and supplies. No doubt she was totally comfortable in her make-shift nest. He didn't doubt her threat to stay.
"Keith?"
Her voice, although playful and challenging just moments before had gone abruptly quiet and gentle. Keith found himself pressed up close against the door, hands braced on the frame shakily.
"Listen, I don't know what's wrong. Maybe I shouldn't know. Just... I want you to know that no matter what's wrong or how scared you might be..." There was a soft sound Keith couldn't quite interpret. He pressed closer to the door. His chest ached hotly as he imagined Pidge just inches away on the other side.
"I'm here, okay."
Pidge's 3-Day-Sit-In ended in blood and tears.
Quite literally.
Pidge sat propped against her body pillow, fingers flying over the computer keys with soft clacks. She slipped her glasses up onto her forehead and peered hard at her screen.
Patients experience massive systemic reaction including boils approx. 1 kro in diameter with recurring night sweats, hallucinations, and personality change.
It was safe to assume that Keith's personality had changed since his return from the Blades, but Pidge had absolutely no clue whether the other 3 symptoms were present. It wasn't like she could just knock on his door and ask if he had boils, night sweats, and hallucinations. Also, she had idea how big a "kro" was. Equivalent to an inch? A centimeter? Space measurements were a tricky thing. She didn't dare open that can of worms right then.
Scratch Triko's Disease off the list.
In the 3 days she'd lived outside of Keith's door, she managed to scour through the Castle's medical records, delving in old files and symptomologies of patients treated by the Castle's former healers in the eons of the past. So far, Keith seemed negative for nearly 200 conditions, not that she had a lot of info to go off of. Her own brief observations of his behavior and the few biometric readings she'd salvaged from his armor readings were hardly proper medical observations. It wasn't like she even knew for sure that whatever was bugging Keith was even physical. She could be way off base and still have no idea.
She banged her laptop closed and glared fiercely at the locked door before her. Mentally, she wanted to beg for just a single clue. Anything. Something to tell her if she was at least getting warm.
Keith had been dead silent the past few days. He seemed to have a creepy Space Cat sixth sense regarding when she fell asleep each night (not that she slept long or hard by any means). Without fail, every night he managed to silently sneak the dinner tray she'd left for him inside without being caught. At least she assumed it was Keith who was doing the sneaking. It could be Allura's mice making off with the meal trays for all she knew.
Pidge leaned back on her pillow and inhaled wearily. Stake-outs were tedious. She'd translated thousands of lines of alien computer coding faster than this! The past few days felt so much longer than they should have. She hadn't dared leave her spot for anything longer than a bathroom break—training be screwed. Not even Shiro could budge her. Mercifully, he seemed to understand her mission if his quiet sad smiles and subtle hand squeezes were any indication. If anything, he probably wished he could join her camp-out.
Pidge jolted upright off her pillows, eyes wide. If she had Keith's kittybat ears, she knew they'd be arched straight up in hyper-alert mode. She crawled up to the door and pressed her ear against it so tightly it throbbed. What was that? Was she that worried that she'd progressed into hearing things now?
"Keith, are you okay? I mean, obviously you're not since you're still in there, but..."
Pidge blew a frustrated sigh. She was the last person that should be dealing with all this drama. Why wasn't Lance staging an intervention? He should have more than enough experience with it judging by his obnoxiously huge family back home.
"Are things... getting worse? Has something new happened?"
Silence.
Okay, now she was getting angry. Anger on top of fear was never a good combination for her—for many many reasons. Pidge felt her cheeks grow flaming hot. It was one thing to hole-up in your room and hide from society, but it was another to go completely silent. Keith could at least give her a sign that he wasn't bleeding out or melting into a pile of space goo. Was that too much to ask after her 3-day camp-out?!
"Okay, listen, Keefers. Sorry if you're naked or having 'private time' or whatever the quiznack Lance calls it but I'm coming in to make sure you haven't bit the big one!"
Pidge's fingers danced over the door's control panel like a concert pianist as she fluidly hacked her way through. The door hissed open with a satisfied beep and she scrambled inside. She had time to take exactly one fortifying breath to brace herself for whatever she was about to face.
With a shaky exhale, she opened her eyes and peered into the room's dim shadows. As per the norm, Keith's bedroom was a barren wasteland. No knick-knacks, no piles of laundry. There weren't even any blankets of pillows on the bed. Pidge frowned and crept further inside, every nerve jangling shrilly in warning.
"Keith?" she hissed into the darkness. She hunched down and stared at the bed pensively. Where were the blankets? There was nothing under the bed either. The closet was open and as empty as a coffin. Pidge felt her eyes drift over to the bathroom slowly. Her gut gave a jerk as she forced herself to confront the closed door. She reached for the handle. No turning back now.
The door slid open smoothly and Pidge stood stock still in a nauseating mixture of anticipation and raw dread.
The bathroom was dark and silent. In the tiny bathtub along the far wall, a dark shape moved ever so slightly. Pidge bit back a gasp of shock and forced her rubbery legs forward. She knelt down by the tub and reached out slowly, stubbornly ignoring the trembling in her hands.
"Keith, it's me."
The shadow jerked back with a decisive hiss at her touch.
"Go away!" came a raspy croak.
"It speaks!" Pidge leaned closer but withdrew her hands. "Okay, I won't touch you if you don't like it, but you need to talk to me then. Use your frickin' words for once." Keith went silent. Typical. "Let's simplify it then. Yes or no questions, 'kay? First one: are you in pain right now?"
There was heavy pause before Pidge finally heard a returning grunt.
"Sorry, was that a yes-grunt or a no-grunt? I'm a little rusty on my Grunt-ese."
"YES! I'm in pain. Happy?" he whispered, his words hoarse and stilted.
"No, not happy that you're in pain, but I am happy that you finally answered. Next question: Do you know what's wrong?"
"No." The caustic venom in Keith's words had abruptly evaporated leaving nothing behind except a fragile, trembling whisper. "Pidge, I-I don't know what's happening to me."
The raw fear in Keith's words was like a knife in Pidge's gut. She felt it give a painful twist as she sat listening to the shallow, pained breathing that filled the tiny bathroom.
"How long has it been like this?"
"Don't know. It's-It's worse now though. It keeps getting worse!" His words trailed off into a pained moan.
A sudden chorus of violent gags croaked out in the bathroom's silence. Keith's dark figure hunched over the side of the tub, shoulders trembling violent with every heave. Pidge rubbed at his back and closed her eyes against the pain she felt radiating from him. A horrible blend of sobbing and gagging burned her ears as she sat hunched beside him. Her brain was racing through possible solutions faster than she could comprehend.
Okay, things were officially Bad now.
Like they needed a real adult Bad.
Like they needed Coran or Shiro Bad.
No, scratch that. This was obviously some kind of crazy Space Cat problem. Space Cat problems needed a Space Cat Doc. Pidge was pretty sure Coran could get ahold of Ulaz if he made it clear Keith was currently in the process of self-destructing.
When Keith's heaving finally stopped, Pidge managed to scramble over to the light switch. She braced herself and flicked the light on. When she turned back around to face the bathtub she could do no more than just stand and stare.
Yep, things were officially at DEFCON 1 now. Time to call in the big guns.
She tapped at the wrist communicator numbly. "Coran, Shiro, I need you... like right now."
