The alarms starting ringing as soon as Keith was halfway down the hallway.

They were loud and blaring, red lights flooding the hallway as the entire facility entered lockdown. To Keith's immense relief, no doors began to shut down, barring his progress, but it would make it harder for him to get out.

The blood gushing down Keith's arm was making it hard to concentrate. At this rate, he'd have to abandon his bayard in favor of dressing his wounds so he wouldn't pass out before he got to an escape pod. That would make things a lot harder, but at least Keith wouldn't be in danger of unconsiousness anymore.

He gritted his teeth, tightening his grip around the blaster in his hand as he took another turn. He didn't know how long it would take for him to be found - or, rather, how long it would be until Keith had to kill again - and when that happened, he needed something he didn't need to aim with.

He turned another corridor, realizing that somehow, this hallway looked familiar. Vestiges of a memory, marching down this corridor behind Lotor with fire simmering in his veins, came flooding Keith's mind through the screaming of the alarms. He practically tore towards the door at the far end, pressing his good hand to the scanner. It slid open and Keith winced at the interior of the training room before him.

It was clean and orderly, just as it had been when he'd first came in. The only remnants of the duel was the splatter of red at the far side of the room where Keith had lost. He swallowed, panic already on its way up his throat, forcing himself to push away the horrible memories of nothing but pain after landing on his back. He had a mission to accomplish. He could not get sidetracked.

Shoving the thought to the back of his mind, Keith hobbled toward the weapons, leaving a bloody footprint behind him with every step. He fished through the swords and spears, smearing blood across the handles while he looked for any hint of red and white. However, it appeared - with a sinking feeling in Keith's gut - that his bayard was not here. Someone had moved it. Where, Keith had no idea. He was not only stuck with the blasters, he'd have to leave his bayard behind when he escaped.

He just didn't have the time to hunt it down.

"In here!"

Keith spun around. A Galra was marching into the room, outlined by the red lights in the hallway beyond. Keith raised the blaster with both hands, his injured arm screaming in protest. He put his finger on the trigger, shoulders tensing as he met with the yellowed gaze of the Galran.

The Galran was fast, but Keith was faster. A few shots to the Galran's legs and one to his hand was enough to send him toppling and unable to use his weapon. Keith dropped his stance, blood dripping off of his fingers, and he leaped over the Galran's groaning form. He ran down the hallway, cursing under his breath and his heart pounding in his ears.

He should have killed the Galran. Keith knew that.

But he couldn't.

They were his people as much as the humans back home, and evil as they were, Keith was already feeling sick for murdering the one back in his cell in cold blood.

He took another turn. The side-bag Keith had turned the other blaster holster into was bouncing uncomfortably against his thigh, almost to the point where it was starting to hurt. It'd probably bruise after this ordeal was done with. His lungs ached, gasping for air but Keith simply didn't have the time to slow down. The alarms were still blaring. They'd find him and detain him again if he stopped to catch his breath. Besides, they would discover him before long. Keith had to be in a pod by the time that happened.

Sentries were now marching down the hallway towards him and Keith hesitated. These were machines, but he had never fought them from ranged before. He'd always been in the forefront of the battle, slashing and hacking with a sword rather than with a blaster. He had no idea what to do.

I guess nows a better time to learn than any, Keith thought, gritting his teeth.

He raised the blaster painfully and fired, the trigger slick with his own blood. The first bullet hit a sentry's chest, the second accidentally shooting the one behind it in the head. Keith darted forwards at the opening he had created and slipped in between the sentries all swinging wildly for him.

Agony rippled up his arm as one lucky strike hit his injured arm and it was only by pure willpower that Keith did not drop his blaster. He let out a shrill cry of pain, blood flowing anew from the wound. Keith's mind went fuzzy. The alarms turned from an all-encompassing cry to background noise. Muffled, like he was wearing earmuffs. Keith staggered forward, pressing the muzzle of the gun into something hard to his right and fired one shot.

The sentry crumpled and Keith stumbled, breaking into an uncoordinated run. His arm was pulsing with pain, thrumming like it had a heartbeat. Keith had to switch arms now, gripping the gun with his better arm, the handle and trigger slick with blood. He tucked the other one up against his stomach, blood staining his skin scarlet.

"Fuck, fuck," Keith whispered vehemently, trying to will the pain away. His efforts were in vain, however, and Keith's mind grew more and more fuzzy with every painful step. He had to either dress the wound or get on an escape pod as soon as fucking possible and hope it had first-aid supplies on board.

Keith took another unsteady turn. Something turned the corner ahead and Keith hardly looked before he fired, whining in pain as he jostled his arm wrong. His foot had at least stopped bleeding, but it didn't hurt any less with every step. The body crumpled at the end of the hallway and Keith jumped over it, taking a chance with the nearby door as another sentry troop came charging around the corner.

He plowed through it and pressed his back to the door as it slid shut behind him. He looked around for anything he could use to wrap his wound, but the room he'd stumbled into was the Galran's living quarters, not an infirmary. It also appeared to be the only place on the ship that wasn't spinning red, the alarms muffled beyond the door. They were still ungodly amounts of loud, but it was at least quiet. The room was thankfully empty, with no sign of purple fur or yellow eyes. The bed frames were all metal, with lumpy mattresses covered in, predictably, violets quilts.

Keith's breath hitched.

Quilts.

Fabric.

Keith pressed the inside of the ID scanner, prompting for it to lock behind him so he wouldn't be disturbed. He stumbled to the nearest bed and dropped his blaster with a loud thunk on the ground. He used his good arm to pull the quilt off, and he was surprised at how easily it came off. Either the Galran the bed belonged to was awful at making their bed, or the quilt wasn't as firmly tucked as Keith thought it was.

Keith grabbed the edge of the quilt with his teeth, using his arm to pull the rest of the fabric in the opposite direction. But after the only reward for his efforts was an aching mouth and the barest of rips in the thick material, Keith had to turn to other methods.

He began searching through the cabinets on the far side of the room. He needed something - anything - to help him rip the quilts before he bled out in the Galran's sleeping quarters. He dug with his good hand through boxes of belongings, trying to find anything to help him. He wasn't sure what he was looking for - something sharp, maybe? - but he knew he had to find it soon.

Keith overturned a pair of enormous boots and caught a glimpse of something oddly shiny tucked away in the corner. He picked it up by the handle, observing what looked like a butcher knife but with teeth that were sharpened to a point on the sharp side of the blade. It was clearly stolen from a kitchen somewhere else on the ship. It was well hidden. Keith wouldn't have spotted it if he wasn't so attentive, which was something he now attributed to his Galra genes.

It would do.

Keith staggered back the quilt and almost collapsed. Ignoring the pulsing in his injured arm as he moved it to grip the blanket, Keith used his non-bleeding hand to cut little-starting points in the blankets. He was strongly reminded of his time in the desert, where he cut apart strips of his own shirt to bandage a wound he'd accidentally gotten in the middle of nowhere searching for what he would later discover as the Blue Lion's energy.

Keith used both his hands this time as he pulled, just to gain a little bit of leverage, hissing in pain as he yanked apart the quilt, strip by strip. It was near mind-numbing, the process slowed by the pain and blood dripping onto his flight-suit pants. Every so often he'd have to stop, gasping in pain as his arm pulsed with horrible agony.

Finally, it was done. Keith began to wrap the heavy material around his wound. It weighed his arm down considerably, blood wetting the purple and turning it magenta as he worked. Keith tied a knot around his elbow to keep his makeshift bandages in place and began work on a sling. He tied a shorter strip around his wrist and another near the knot at his elbow and wrapped it around his head, letting the weight rest against the back of his neck. He tested his new sling, his injury swinging in its bandaging. The pain was considerably easier to manage now that Keith didn't have to constantly think about keeping his arm safe and tucked to his stomach. The sling would do that for him.

Keith rose unsteadily. His foot was no longer a concern. While the cuts were fresh, it wasn't bleeding and leaving his tracks everywhere anymore. It hurt with every step, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

Now...now he had to get out.

Unlocking the door, Keith scooped up his gun and adjusted the holster wrapped around his chest. He put his finger on the trigger and swung out of the door, back into the loudness of the alarm and the red-flooded hallways. The sentries were no longer in sight, which was good for Keith. He cast a glance down at his arm and tore down the hallway.

It was harder, now, to use his handprint to open doors. He'd have to tuck his blaster under his bandaged arm and then take it back. The process was tedious, took too much time, and was probably why purple blood now stained most of the hallways.

Keith stepped over another Galra soldier's downed body and turned the corner.

His first mistake.

A bullet whizzed past his head and embedded itself in his shoulder. He let out a loud scream of agony, stooping low to grip the wound suddenly burning holes into his consciousness. He raised his head weakly to look at the sentry that had fired the shot, smoke curling from the muzzle of its blaster.

He stumbled sideways, pressing his now-bloody palm to the scanner of the nearest door and collapsed inside. He let out a soft sob of pain, gripping his shoulder and trying to regain control of his rapidly beating heart. The sentry was now banging on the door, likely sending distress signals to every other sentry - and Galra officer on the prowl for him - to his location.

Keith could hardly hear over his own gasping breaths. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he let out a high keen, leaning forwards. He scrambled for the sling, undoing it around his neck and relieving some of the pressure his shot shoulder was carrying. Then, he used his good hand to wrap it messily around the wound. Magenta spread from where the blood soaked through the quilt.

Keith let out a loud gasp of pain as he moved wrong. Hot blood oozed from the wound, pressing against the bandages that were just too wet against his fatigued skin. He leaned his head back, pressing it against the door and listening to the pounding against the door that seemed to increase in intensity. More sentries had clearly joined the pounding party.

Another mistake. Keith thought. He had made one that had landed him in this situation in the first place, and this was his second, more-fatal one. Because of it, he was bleeding out in a strange room, in the middle of space, with his teammates god-knew how far away.

Keith wanted to cry. He wanted to sob, to scream, and for his father to come and chase his wounds away and tell him everything was going to be okay.

But it wasn't okay. Keith had his one shot at freedom, and he was fucking it up.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to be home, in the cabin that had taken desert monsoons and sandstorms and lulled him to sleep in safety and security.

He wanted to see Shiro, who he knew would wrap him in blankets, reassure him and just be there like he always was. He wanted to see Hunk, who would bake him goods and make something weird for him to play with while he grew restless on bedrest. He wanted to see Pidge, who would rig up a video game for him to play. Keith had never played a video game before, but he'd always wanted to. He even wanted to see Lance, who he wanted to watch smile, the corners of his ocean eyes crinkling in the way he was familiar with. In the way he trusted.

He wanted to see Allura and Coran too, the Alteans that hadn't understood any of the Earth customs at first in an adorably endearing way. He wanted to watch Coran groom his mustache when he thought no one was watching, see Allura chat with the mice and giggle at a dumb joke one of them had just cracked.

Keith just wanted to see his family again.

He sobbed.

He wanted to go home.

But the first step for that was picking himself up off of the ground and getting shit done.

This wasn't over yet. Not until Keith was lying on the ground with life gone from his eyes. Not until he got to see them again.

This wasn't over yet.

Keith pulled himself up, his blaster held tightly in his good arm. He pushed through the fire burning into his consciousness, begging him to surrender to the darkness. Through the agony of the bullet in his shoulder, the pain of the wound clawed into his arm.

He was going to go home.

The door slid open. Keith's bullet was the first thing out.

The sentry pounding against it crumpled, three more crashing into the wound, stumbling over the mechanical corpse of the first. Keith shoved the butt-end of his blaster into one sentry's face, firing a blast at another. Both of them crumpled, the first's helmet dented. Keith turned around, pivoting on his injured heel to fire a final shot, directly into the final sentry's chest.

He didn't stop to admire his handiwork. Instead, Keith turned and ran.

There was a door at the end of the hallway. One that drew Keith towards it unconsciously, and he tore towards it as fast as he could. There was a pounding of footsteps behind him - a mixture of heavy Galran boots and mechanical thuds - and Keith picked up the pace. His injuries screamed with agony, blood making the bandages stick to his skin.

He all but collided with the far wall, pressing his palm to the scanner. It slid open and Keith tumbled through. It slid shut behind him and he locked it as fast as he could manage, and there were several heavy thuds as the group chasing him collided with the door.

He let out a shaky laugh, backing away and turning around to see what this room offered him.

His heart soared, feeling lighter than it had been in ages. There was a pod in front of him, fully loaded and clearly docked for departure.

But…

Someone was blocking the way.

Unblemished violet skin, white hair in rolling waves, and yellow eyes with alluring violet irises.

Lotor.

Keith choked on his next gasp of air. Chest heaving, he locked gazes with the Galran prince. He stood with his hands folded behind his back and a smirk playing at his lips. Sentries made a wall between Keith and the pod. Impassable. Inescapable.

Keith was trapped.

Lotor raised his hands. He began to clap, each one bouncing off of the walls of the room and all so mockingly loud. Something horrible began to squeeze Keith's heart, a cold feeling that turned the blood in his veins to ice and his mind to almost stop processing the world around him.

"Well done, Keith," Lotor's tone was condescending. "You were so, so close."

Keith was too lost in his fear, in the realization of failure, to respond.

"Of course," Lotor said. "I couldn't allow you to get away that easily. I have far too good a bargaining chip to simply let it get away just like that."

"Wh-What?" Keith managed to say.

"I knew you'd escape somehow," Lotor said. "I'm not foolish enough to believe that our duel was enough to break your spirit. So...I returned to the training room knowing you would upon your escape, and took your weapon." He reached behind him, unhooking something from his belt. He waved it leisurely, Keith's bayard in his hand.

Keith felt like he was about to throw up. "You're the one who took my…"

"Yes," Lotor agreed, cutting across Keith. "I was. After that, I came here...to wait. And lo and behold, the alarms began to sing and here you are now." He paused, a grin splitting his lips, his fangs brushing against his bottom lip. "You were so close, Keith. But...I'm afraid you've failed. You failed your teammates, the universe, and most importantly, you failed yourself."

Something inside Keith broke at the words.

He collapsed, his knees colliding with the ground with a jarring impact he hardly felt. The blaster fell from his hand, landing in a clatter on the ground. Lotor's expression showed nothing but triumph.

Keith had failed. He'd made one mistake after another that had cost him not only his freedom but the entire universe's too. He'd never see his family again. He'd never feel Shiro's reassuring hand on his shoulder, taste Hunk's cooking, Pidge's small but fierce hugs, Lance's dumb but still somehow amusing puns, Coran's gentle smile, or Allura's reassuring presence again.

He'd fucked up so badly. He was nothing more than a failure.

Lotor's eyes gleamed at the tears now filling the Red Paladin's eyes. He had done it. He had doused the fire that burned like the sun in Keith's eyes. He'd done the impossible.

He had broken Keith.

You thought Keith would get out, wouldn't you? Nope! Lotor's too much of a smartass (also a jackass, let's be real here) to let that happen, especially so soon.

Things went bad in this chapter real fast. Especially with the fact that Lotor has now completely and utterly broken Keith. The poor boy just wants to get out, but now that Lotor's proven himself to be smarter than Keith bargained for...well...he's got nothing else to do.

Next chapter, Keith deals with the repercussions of his escape, dealt first-hand by Laynek. What fun.

Rehabilitated Sith: Cheering him on only for him to get caught again, too. D:

Lilytheninjagirl: Aw thank you! I've still got some more torture before I set Keith free, though :p

Saany: :)))))))))) Sorry not sorry?

SamS14: Oops? Lol

Angel of the Honey Bees: dcfghjk Thank you! 3 I hope this chapter was in-line with your expectations. I didn't want Keith to escape so soon, especially when there's so much still left unsaid, particularly in the torture aspect :D he didn't quite get his bayard back because of Lotor (damn him, that little shit) The whump definetely will continue for a little bit! And then we'll finally get into the recovery period where Keith finally gets to be with his family again. Then there's more plot after that becasuie god dammit I'm not done making Keith suffer yet, even after he's been rescued!