Author's note: Many thanks to my new friend Sultan who has helped me re-write chapter 20 into a decidedly "M" rating. He suggested I wait to post it with a rewrite of Chapter 18, or one like it, so that Keith gets equal time (at least). And thanks to everyone else who has been so encouraging and urging me to get the dang thing posted already! You know who you are…

Playlist: Some Cowboy Junkies and some Townes Van Zandt covers.

And, of course, all standard disclaimers apply: I do not own Voltron, etc. etc.

Chapter Twenty-One:

The Gathering

Keith felt his heart sink as he looked at the ruins of the city as Black Lion approached it. Framed by the setting sun, he could see the twisted spires of what had once been towers, and the burned-out husks of long, low buildings spread out amongst smaller, crumbling dwellings. The cracked surface of what had once, most likely, been a major road of some kind snaked its way through the ruins. The wasted city must have been magnificent, nestled against the side of the mountain range. The setting sun cast an eerie red light across the place, and he could see why it might once have been an appropriate capital for people identifying with the element of fire. In the setting sun, it almost appeared to be made of flames, as the sun flared brightly against some of the standing structures, but faded as it encountered the empty shadows. Great, he thought. This place looks even more desolate than the castle did when we first came here…

Heart heavy within his chest, he thought of Allura, shaking and sick, needing help, and he prepared to descend in Black Lion anyway. Just a quick look around, he told himself, just to make sure, and then I'll head back to Lance and Allura. We can start out tomorrow for the Water tribes… He set Black Lion down on the outskirts of the ruined city, between two crumbling buildings that offered some cover, but were still far enough away from each other to make it less likely he might encounter any "surprises" in the gathering shadows. He checked his weapons, assuring himself they were fully charged and attached to his belt, then absently ran his fingers across the sword. The Sword of Altaire. He shook his head, sure he still didn't grasp the enormity of what it meant to be carrying it, but strangely, he had begun to feel quite…attached…to it, to the point that he felt as if was missing some vital article of clothing without it. At any rate, Allura and Koran both had assured him repeatedly that the sword was an essential part of securing aid from any of the tribes.

As he exited his Lion, he looked carefully around at the ruined remains of the last great city of the Fire tribes. He walked cautiously through the outskirts of the city, stepping carefully over the rubble of crumbling buildings scattered across the cracked road. He saw nothing but shadows as he walked through the city, which deepened as the sun set even more. He felt the familiar anger rise within him as he thought about the destruction Planet Doom had visited on Allura's planet. So much waste, he thought, reaching for his comm. unit to check in with Lance to let him know he would be back at camp within twenty minutes, and to let him know the bad news about the city of the Fire tribes. He was anxious about Allura, and wanted to know if she had gotten any worse since he'd left them. He also hated to leave the two of them alone and exposed like that. Not that he doubted Lance's abilities to protect Allura, but, as he had told his friend before departure, he really had half-ass set things up. He hadn't even set up an adequate security perimeter, or, at the very least, alarms. Not smart, he berated himself, and pulled his comm. unit free, reaching for the switch…

…and felt a long, cool length of steel slide itself suddenly across his throat, the blunt side pressing back against his neck with just enough force to make speech extremely uncomfortable, if not impossible. A low, hissing voice, as if speaking through clenched teeth, whispered to him from behind. "If you move so much as to twitch one little finger, Outworlder, I will give your throat a new smile." Keith froze, muscles tense, even holding his breath, as the long knife against his throat increased its pressure. "Now," the voice continued, "You will remember my words as my comrades disarm you. Do. Not. Move." The speaker said again, to make sure Keith understood. He didn't dare to nod or speak his agreement in any way, merely stood motionless as he felt hands moving lightly and quickly across his body. He tried to count how many pairs of hands he felt, but they moved too lightly and swiftly for him to get an accurate count. He guessed at least three pairs of hands, which would mean at least four people, including the one holding the knife, but of course there might be more of them, standing in the shadows. He felt his blasters being removed from his belt, felt his own knife being slipped free of its sheath in his boot, felt hands move up and down his legs, back and arms, prying his comm. unit from his hand, removing even his watch. But when a pair of hands found his sword and started to remove it from his belt, he felt himself jerk slightly, almost entirely against his will.

"Perhaps you have forgotten, Outworlder," the voice holding the knife hissed behind him, increasing the pressure of the blunt side of the blade to choking intensity. "I said not to move." Keith froze again, his air cut off, as his vision started to gray around the edges.

"The sword," the voice said, but not to Keith. "It's important to him," the voice observed, dispassionately. "Find out why."

Keith might have tried to warn them if he hadn't been about to pass out from lack of oxygen. But since he was, he thought with some satisfaction that they were about to get what they deserved. He only hoped Lance and Allura would be all right, if he didn't make it back…

He felt, more than saw, the blaze of blue fire flame up behind him. He heard his sword drop to the ground as if it had been hurled, and seconds later, heard one of the pair of hands drop to the ground, cursing fiercely. Damn straight, he thought, as smugly as was possible with a long knife pressed to his throat while cutting off his air. The arm holding the knife seemed to tense and freeze before quickly releasing a bit of the pressure. It was still uncomfortable, and he was sure he was going to have one hell of a bruise across his throat, but at least he could breathe again.

"You are fortunate, Outworlder, that I remember the world-that-was before the Hell Beasts came to destroy our people. You are more fortunate than you know," the voice hissed. "Secure him," it said, the knife still there as his hands were pulled behind him and roped tightly together. A cloth was shoved roughly into his mouth before the knife finally released his throat. He had time to take one deep, unfettered breath of air through his nose before a hood descended over his head, and he was being pushed ahead quickly, stumbling across rocks and rubble he couldn't see.

He reached out with his mind to Lance and Allura, doubtful he could reach them, given the distance between them and Allura's condition, but he tried with all his might as he stumbled along, surrounded, now, by his mysterious captors. Lance! Allura! He projected forcefully. Lance! Allura! It's a trap… but he felt nothing from them other than a searing, burning pain in his head as he reached out to them. Allura, he realized grimly. She was their strongest link, their mental conduit, so to speak, and she was burning, inside her head, he could feel it. God, the pain she was in, the pain he had felt with that very brief brush against her mind…

One of his captors, on his right, he thought, hissed. "Saran," the voice said, urgently.

"Quiet," said the one who had been holding the knife, presumably Saran, who was still behind him.

"But Saran," the speaker said, a note of urgency creeping in. "He just used mind speech. He was trying to talk to some others… but he couldn't… one of them, at least, is burning out…"

Oh shit, Keith thought to himself. He had just given them away. He felt his resolve strengthen. He was going to get out of this. He had to. They needed him.

There was a long silence. The hands pushing him along stopped him suddenly. "You must block him, Kiari. We cannot take the chance. I am sorry." The hood came off his head in one fluid motion, and he found himself staring into a pair of deep green eyes framed by dark red hair. She couldn't have been much older than Allura, and she was swathed from head to toe in sand colored robes, a long scarf of the same color hanging loosely across her neck, as if it had been hastily removed from her face. His eyes darted quickly around him, taking in the presence of at least four others, clad in similarly-colored, tight-fitting clothing, carrying rifles.

"As you will," she replied absently, answering the one called Saran. She closed her eyes for one long moment before she placed her hands on his forehead. He could have sworn he heard the faintest whisper in his head as she did so, a tiny voice that told him, Have faith, sword-bearer; all is not as it appears… Her touch was gentle, her hands cool, until he felt a sudden pressure inside his head, building and spreading, more uncomfortable than unpleasant, until his entire head felt…cocooned, as if his head was suddenly stuffed with cotton. The one called Kiari removed her hands and stepped back from him, studying him critically for one long moment, before she spoke. "That is the best I can do," she said, her head tilted to one side. "It should hold until we get to…to where we are going." She swayed, then, and sat down heavily on the ground. "I'm sorry, Saran. That was harder than I thought it would be."

"Can you make it?" Saran asked. He sounded concerned, Keith thought with surprise. His military mind made a note of this, that she was important to the leader…

One of his captors moved swiftly to her side, helping her up, supporting her with one arm while holding a rifle in the other hand. The hood came back down over his head and he was once more pushed roughly along. "We can afford no more delays," the one called Saran growled, increasing the pace as Keith stumbled along in front of him.

VVVVV

He lost track of time as he was pushed along in the center of the group. He could tell the girl who had touched him was still leaning against one of the others for support; he heard two sets of footsteps to his right, where she had been standing. He had tried to speak to Lance and Allura one more time after she had "blocked" him, as Saran had called it, but he accomplished nothing whatsoever. It was as if she had blinded his mind just like the hood across his head had blocked his vision. They have a kind of magic, he remembered Koran telling Allura, although it may not be the kind you'd prefer…

Eventually the ground grew smoother, and he could tell they were walking slowly upward in some kind of tunnel. There was no talking among them, and they were forced to walk single file in some places, so narrow were the tunnels. The girl had recovered, then, he thought, at least enough to walk unaided. He was glad, because her eyes had been kind, her touch gentle, and he was betting she could have been rougher and crueler, like the rest of them, had she wished to be. He was hopeful, too, that perhaps, since she knew something of mind-magic, enough, at least, to know that Allura was in pain, that she might be able to help them, if he had indeed found the Fire tribe, and could convince them to help her. His mind held on to that thought as they stumbled along. They really were quite impressive soldiers. They had caught him, although he was being less than careful, and had shown a ruthless efficiency since taking him…too bad I'm the enemy right now; imagine having a half dozen or so of these people around the castle as guards, on our side…

And suddenly, he felt the closeness of the tunnel open up around him as he was forced to his knees. The hood was once again lifted off his head, although he remained bound and gagged, and he found himself kneeling in front of a group of people standing together in a loose group in the center of a cavern that had been furnished as if it were a fine room in a castle. Low couches and overstuffed cushions hugged the walls of the room, while thick carpets were scattered across the ground. Flickering torches were permanently fixed into the cavern walls. In the very center of the room stood a low table with what looked like a map spread out on it, rough stones holding it down at its corners. Low cushions were scattered about the table instead of chairs. The whole gathering had the air of something important that had been interrupted. His suspicions were only confirmed when one member of the diverse group, a woman who resembled the one named Kiari, with the same green eyes and dark red hair, but several years older, turned almost angrily to the man who had been pushing him along.

"This had better be important, Saran," she said, in a warning tone. The others in the room just looked on, with varying expressions of interest. Six others, Keith noted; two younger men, perhaps his age, or a little younger, one woman about their age, and three very old men. Keith realized, with a shock, that he was seeing the only men of fighting age on Arus since the Royal Guard had been shot, besides the Voltron Force. Too bad they're such assholes, he thought. With friends like these…

Saran bowed. "My apologies for the sudden interruption, Clan Leaders," he said. "We caught this Outworlder sneaking through the outskirts of the city under most unusual circumstances, and thought it best to bring him here directly."

The older woman, who had first spoken, moved closer to Keith. She had a liquid grace about her that instantly put Keith on edge. It was more like she…prowled…towards him, like she was stalking prey. She looked him over closely, holding him under the chin and turning his face towards her. He fought himself to stop from recoiling at her touch. "Saran," she said, disapprovingly. "You held him under the knife."

"My Lady Morgana, you underestimate the situation. You know the circumstances of our arrival." Saran bowed to the others in the room. "He arrived in a Lion craft," he said, as the others in the room looked at him with shock. "And, he carried this," Saran said, removing the Sword of Altaire from the folds of his dark clothing and placing it on the low table.

For one frozen moment the room was deathly silent, and then it erupted into chaos, everyone talking at once, turning to one another, gesturing toward him, pointing at the sword, pointing at each other… everyone, that is, except the group that had brought him, and the Lady Morgana. She continued to hold his face, looking deeply into his eyes. "He is shielded," she said, surprised, continuing to look at him as if he were some bizarre new species of insect.

The girl who had swathed his mind in cotton earlier stepped forward and bowed. "We thought it best not to take chances," she said, placing herself directly to his side as she spoke, Keith noticed.

"She was acting under my request, of course," Saran said, stepping forward smoothly to place himself at Keith's other side. Keith noticed Saran said "request," not "orders."

The Lady called Morgana finally removed her hand from his face. Keith wanted to wipe his face off, but couldn't. "Excellent work, Kiari," she said, joining the others in the center of the room. "I don't think I could have done it better myself," she said, absently trailing her fingers across the hilt of Keith's sword. "Was he alone?"

"Quite alone," Saran said, still standing by Keith's side.

"And the Lion craft?" asked one of the younger men, eagerly.

"It remains on the outskirts of the city," his captor replied.

"Did you examine it?" the younger woman asked, just as eagerly.

"I sent two men. They could not gain access."

"And the color?" Morgana asked. The room was expectantly silent, as Saran appeared to hesitate.

"Black," he said finally, almost reluctantly.

"And the sword?" she asked, touching it lightly again.

"It is authentic. It burned Kieran when he tried to use it."

She smiled widely, and Keith was reminded suddenly of a snake. He did not like this woman. He tensed as she approached him again. He looked critically at his sword on the table. Two paces, he judged. "Well, we must let him up, and greet him properly, and explain," she told Saran, even as she ran her hand down his shoulder and arms, a bit too…intimately… for Keith's liking, attempting to help him rise. Saran looked uncertainly at the girl to Keith's left side, who nodded very slightly before moving away. "You must forgive us. We have survived this long only through our caution," Morgana said, as he felt Saran bending to untie his hands. He tensed, waiting until he felt his bonds loosening, and then looked up into the smiling face of the woman he had taken an almost instant dislike to. She had her hand on his arm, stroking it lightly, as if she was helping him rise, when he shoved her to the side forcefully with his shoulder, his hands not yet completely free, and launched himself forward, rolling the two paces between himself and his weapon, freeing his hands as he moved. Still on his knees, he grabbed his sword from where it lay on the table and was up in seconds with the blade extended, spitting the cloth out of his mouth. He held it with both hands, ready to swing, standing over the Lady Morgana, whom he had just shoved roughly to the floor. Saran and the group who had brought him stepped in front of Kiari in one smooth motion, hands on their rifles, which they had slung across their shoulders. No one else moved.

"Excuse me," he said, finally, wishing Allura was here, or even Lance. She would know exactly how to be diplomatic to a group of people, who had just threatened, bound, injured, and kidnapped her, and Lance would at least have a snappy comeback. He had nothing. So he settled, as he so often did, for the plain, unadorned truth, his voice hoarse as he spoke through bruised vocal cords. "My name is Keith Kogane, Commander of the Voltron Force. I am here at the request of the Princess of Arus because we need your help."

The woman at his feet looked enraged, and Keith, although he would never purposefully hurt a woman if he had a choice, was almost glad it had been her in his way. The room was frozen, staring at him and the sword in his hand. How in the hell am I supposed to get help from a room full of people by holding them at sword point? After they've already tied me up, hooded me, pushed me… he thought, frustrated. None of them had been exactly welcoming, or even friendly, and he was trying hard to fight the urge to engage them in direct combat immediately…

The young woman named Kiari swiftly removed the voluminous sand colored robes she had been wearing and dropped them to the floor. Traveling clothes, for the desert, Keith realized as she stepped through her ring of guards. Underneath them she was dressed as elegantly as anyone else in the room, perhaps more so, her shimmering dress the same color as her eyes, strands of gold woven through her long red hair. Saran placed a restraining hand on her shoulder, trying to pull her back behind him, but she moved smoothly out of his grip, moving slowly until she was just slightly beyond easy striking distance of his sword. Her guards, for that was what they must be, Keith realized suddenly, shifted nervously behind her, but she stilled them with a gesture.

"Commander Keith Kogane," she said, looking him directly in the eye as she slowly rolled the sleeves of her gown up to her elbows, holding her bare arms out to him palm up, "you can see that I am not armed." She held his gaze while she added, "and my guards will lay their weapons down now," pausing until she heard them unstrapping their rifles behind her. "My name is Kiari, of the Red Dawn Clan of the Fire Tribe of Arus. I was once a playmate of the Princess Allura, long ago before these attacks laid waste to our planet." She smiled at him, her eyes still locked on his, her arms still extended. "I must beg your forgiveness for our harsh treatment of you. I will only ask you to consider whether you would have behaved any differently, had you been guarding your Princess as she traveled by night through dangerous country with only five guards. For that is what I am to my own people, and they are as fiercely protective as I know you must be." She did not look away from him as he continued to grip his sword, unsure of the situation, still. "My fellow Clan Leaders will sit down now, as civilized people should, and I would be honored if you would do me the great favor of sitting by my side at our council table."

"How do you know Allura?" he asked, still unwilling to trust her, to trust any of them, but desperately needing their help. How can I let people this hostile anywhere near Allura? He thought, torn. Oh, right. Because you have very little choice?

Kiari smiled encouragingly. "I played with her when we were girls, and our fathers met at the Castle of Lions to negotiate mineral rights and representation on the Grand Council." She narrowed her eyes at him, as if trying to tell him something important. "I felt a great burning, earlier, as I shielded your mind," she said. "A pain as great as that would indicate immediate, perhaps dire, need; I was not raised to leave a friend in need," she said, growing frustrated as she saw he still didn't trust her. "And I would dearly love to ask Allura how her pet mouse, Cheddar, liked the pepper cheese I brought him the last time I visited her, so long ago."

The tiny detail was enough. He lowered the blade and noticed, absently, that the Lady Morgana had been crouched there the entire time, watching the entire exchange. "I do not have time to sit at your council table, although I am grateful for the offer." He addressed himself directly to Kiari. "Arus's need is dire, and I am here to call on the aid your people promised long ago, on this very sword, by the ancient accords."

Morgana stood, towering over the girl in front of him. Saran inched closer to his charge, Keith noticed. "What aid do you dare demand, Outworlder?" she hissed.

"All of it," Keith said simply.

Kiari smiled into her hand, her eyes dancing with merriment.

"All of it?" Morgana repeated, outraged.

"Yes, all of it. Immediate help for the Princess, in the form of healing and training. After that, personnel, arms, any military resources, any resources for building, farming, reconstruction, any people of fighting age, the deposit of trillium you're sitting on…"

"But surely you know, Outworlder…" the woman hissed.

"Keith," he corrected. "My name is Keith, and Arus is now my home as much as it is yours," he said.

"Very well, then, Keith," she spat. "Surely you know that the ancient accords allow us, any of us, to invoke the right of challenge."

"But who would deny our planet the aid it needs?" Kiari whirled on the older woman, furious. He noticed the younger members of the council nodding in agreement.

"We have survived this long because we have looked out for our own, first and foremost," Morgana hissed.

"We have survived this long by hiding like the desert rat, living in isolated pockets, and by scattering to the winds at the first sign of trouble," she shot back, drawing herself up as tall as she could. "If we are going to fight the Hell Beasts that haunt us still, we must unite…"

"I invoke the right of challenge, as head of this council," Morgana said smoothly, ignoring the younger woman's outburst. "He must prove he is the rightful sword-bearer. The accords give us the right. He will stay and endure the challenge or we will give no aid at all."

"But the Princess needs help now," Keith said, his voice growing low and dangerous.

"Then stay here and meet your rightful challenge, and we will send what aid is reasonable. Kiari can run along and play with her friend. Otherwise, we declare the accords annulled."

Keith felt completely out of his element. Koran had warned him to expect some kind of challenge. But that meant staying here, and trusting that help would reach her…

"You do not control all of us, Morgana," Kiari hissed right back at her. "We are independent Clans, still, and we may give what aid we, as individuals, have," she said. Turning to Keith, she placed her hand on his arm. "She has the right to challenge you for what you seek, but I swear that my Clan will ride at once to the Princess's aid. I will go now, and speak to like-minded others," she said, with a look at the younger members of the council. "You must tell Saran where to go. We will leave within the hour. And, Commander Keith Kogane," she drew him down to her, close enough to whisper in his ear. "I blocked your mind-speech so Morgana could not find your friends herself. She is a very dangerous woman. I will find them, and bring them back with me. I do not trust her." She stepped back from him with a bright smile, and added, loudly, "I'll be sure to tell Allura hello for you," and she whirled away from him, stepping quickly to the far end of the council table, whispering to the three younger members of the council.

Saran stepped up to him next. "Morgana will try to get inside your head, Commander. She has powerful mind-magic. It is good that my lady blocked you when she did. It should offer some protection. Now, please tell me where I can find these friends of yours?"

VVVVV

Within twenty minutes, the council room was devoid of anyone except himself, the Lady Morgana, and the three elder council members. The three younger Clan Leaders had gone almost as quickly as had the young Kiari, and he already felt a little lighter at the thought of some kind of help on the way to Allura and Lance. He tried not to think about the coming ordeal; the woman to whom he had taken such an instant and deep dislike had grasped his upper arm and led him to this chamber where a couple of low couches hugged the wall and there was only once source of light in the entire room: a low green fire that cast dim light. He thought about what had just happened so quickly in the council room; the governing powers of the Fire Tribe had just split almost directly down the middle, the younger ones rushing off to help the Princess and work towards a unified Arus, while the older ones clung to their shelters and the ways that had become familiar to them. He sighed. A new Arus was taking shape, and they just couldn't see or accept it. He felt uncomfortably caught in the middle.

"Are you comfortable?" asked Morgana, behind him.

"Yes, thank you," he said flatly, trying to manage his irritation. He was sitting in front of the strange green fire with his sword in his hands, as she had instructed him. He sat straight on the edge of one of the couches, trying to ignore her presence in the room.

"This might take quite a while," she told him. "Are you sure you're comfortable?" she asked again, gliding toward him, sliding in next to him on the couch. He ignored her question.

"Very well," she sighed. "The High Council of the Fire Tribe of Arus has invoked the right to challenge you, Commander Keith Kogane. Should you… survive … this challenge, we swear to abide by any and all requests for aid from the Royal House of Altaire, represented by the Princess Allura. Should you fail, the ancient agreements become null and void. Any questions?"

He stiffened when she used the word "survive." "Is this a life-threatening challenge, then?" he asked, feeling once again completely out of his element.

She leaned back against the wall, sinking into the couch next to him. She held a goblet in her hands, and she was running her fingers absently around the rim. "Not life-threatening in the sense that you might actually die," she said, playing with the goblet. "But life-threatening in the sense that you might lose your life as you know it."

"Oh, thanks for clearing that up," he said, less sarcastically than he would have liked, thinking of Lance and missing his irreverent attitude. They'll be safe, they'll get the help they need, and I just have to get through this. "What exactly do I have to do?" he asked, thinking of the challenges and quests of Earth mythology, like fighting dragons, or finding magical objects.

Morgana laughed. "I'm afraid it's going to sound rather boring." She passed him the goblet, brushing his hand with hers. "All you have to do is drink this."

He sniffed it suspiciously. "What's in it?" he asked, thinking immediately of poison.

"No, it's not poisoned, Keith. Don't be so mundane." She took the goblet back from him and took a sip. "There. See? No poison. No, you just have to drink it, and your own mind creates the challenge. You claim that Arus is your home now, that you have left your past and the planet of your birth behind you. That is the challenge, Keith of Earth. To truly be the sword-bearer, you must be of this world more than any other." She gave him back the goblet. "If you are…successful, then you will awaken here, in this room, with all the resources your Princess and her planet needs from the Fire tribes, down to our last drop of blood. But if you choose… less than correctly, then you might not awaken at all, and your Princess will get nothing from us willingly."

"Are those the only rules?" he asked, still clutching his sword.

She looked down at the sword in his hands and laughed. "You may use any resources you have, Keith, but remember, this is a battle of the mind, and your friends, your weapons, cannot help you there." He did not like the way she was leaning in towards him, and he certainly didn't trust her, but he had promised to find help for Allura and her planet…for his planet, now, and he would….

He drained the goblet dry. Nothing happened. "Is that it?" he asked.

Her laughter echoed off the walls of the room. "No, Commander Keith Kogane. Now you just have to watch the fire, and dream, and choose…"

He found himself growing sleepy, and as the green flames danced in front of his slowly closing eyelids, he found himself remembering back to the day they had found the Ark of Arus, and remembered Allura, her beautiful face streaked with tears, as her parents said goodbye to her. They had told her, "Choose with your heart." He had thought they meant himself and Lance, and maybe they did, but as his eyes closed, and he could no longer see the flames, he had one last thought, like a shooting star across his mind as he drifted, that maybe that advice hadn't been meant for Allura alone…

VVVVV

He could hear the annoying, constant beep of the machine right next to his ear. He had been hearing it for days, but as he had faded in and out of consciousness, people hovering around him, sticking him with needles, sticking him with tubes, he hadn't been able to make himself understood. He wanted to tell them to make the beeping stop, but for some reason, he had been unable to open his eyes, let alone his mouth. He tried to move his fingers, and couldn't; the effort exhausted him. So he let himself slide back into a restless sleep, where he had strange dreams about Beverly, his fiancée, dying in a plane crash, and about wide open spaces and blasted, ruined earth, giant robots and mechanical lions, and someone…with blue eyes? But Beverly had green eyes…

Today was different. Today, someone had heard him, had moved the machine so that it was no longer so close to his ear. Today, he felt the soft, gentle fingers of someone he knew… he just couldn't place who, right now… as they stroked his face, brushed his hair back off his forehead.

"It's just your heart monitor, sweetie," said the voice, full of concern. "It's what's been telling me you're in there, somewhere, these last few weeks," continued the worried voice, but he also heard love, and relief, as well.

"Heart…" he murmured.

"Yes, Keith, your heart monitor." And then the voice was crying, the hands shaking, as they moved over the side of his face, brushing away the tears that he knew weren't his. "Oh, baby, you're talking," she said, crying almost soundlessly, and, as usual, he only figured it out by the time her tears were literally soaking some part of his body. This time, they splashed onto his face, and she brushed at them with her fingertips, her long fingers firm but tender. He felt his mouth move up into a smile, and her crying got worse.

"I'll stop if you keep that up," he told her, as she leaned into his chest, crying into his hospital gown. He could feel it getting soaked. He found that he could move his hands, so he did, moving them to rest gently across her back, coming as close to holding her as his body would let him. "What happened?" he asked her, almost afraid of the answer. It had to have something to do with his head, with the crazy dreams he'd been having while he was sleeping, about lions, and robots, and about Beverly in a plane crash, and a woman, smiling, but a little sad, with wide blue eyes and blond hair…

"Oh, baby, I was so scared. I thought I had lost you," the voice sniffled into his hospital gown. "You had a crash," she whispered. "You don't remember?" she asked, sitting up.

"No," he admitted, opening his eyes, inch by slow, painful inch, for what felt like the first time in weeks. "I don't remember," he whispered, staring up into the face of the woman he loved, the woman he was going to marry, the woman who had agreed to be his, unconditionally, for the rest of their lives. Her huge green eyes were red from crying, but his heart did that same funny little leap that it still did every time he opened his eyes to her beautiful, green-eyed face.

"Beverly," he said, tasting her name on his tongue. "Beverly Hagel," he continued, as she smiled down at him. "Beverly Kogane."

She smiled and nodded, holding up the square-cut diamond engagement ring he had given her… when had he given it to her? Frowning a little, he looked at it. "When did I…"

"The dinner cruise, in the harbor," she said. He was afraid she was going to start crying again. He just didn't know how to deal with her crying. It was the worst thing in his world….

VVVVV

"Lance," Allura said softly, still burrowed into the sleeping bags, despite the rapidly warming temperature as the sun rose over the desert.

His back was to her as he rummaged in a duffel bag, looking for something to put on besides the sweaty Voltron uniform lying in a heap beside his cot. "Hmmm?" he answered absently, slipping on a pair of Garrison issue desert khakis and pulling out a matching t-shirt. He paused in his motions, looking at her over his shoulder. He slid the t-shirt on over his chest and perched on the edge of the cot, concerned. "Are you still cold?" he asked.

"A little," she admitted. She was still shaking, although not as badly as the night before, and she was covered with a light sheen of sweat. He reached out and felt her forehead. Still feverish. Damn.

"Believe me, it's not cold out here, Allura." He frowned. "Is it something else?" he asked, anxiously, remembering the way she had kissed him that morning. The way he had kissed her back. Part of him was still waiting for anger, or remorse, or some kind of freak out, but so far, she had done nothing but smile at him.

"I feel really horrible, still," she said, squinting at him as the light inside the tent climbed with the temperature. Even all squinty-eyed, he thought, she looked like an angel. A squinty-eyed, sweaty, dry heaving angel, he amended, but it was true. "And we need to look for Keith," she whispered, shaking. "I don't know what to do," she admitted, sighing softly as he brushed her sweaty hair back from her forehead. "I still don't feel any pain, or fear, or anything negative like that coming from him, but maybe I'm not the most reliable…" she doubled over, clutching her stomach, and Lance was at her side in an instant, rubbing her back and holding back her hair while she dry heaved. "Sorry," she said as she rolled back over onto her back, embarrassed.

Framing his blue-eyed gaze, his reddish brown hair was wild and sticking up everywhere as he smiled down at her crookedly. "Don't worry about it, Princess. It's karma," he said cryptically. She couldn't help but smile back. His cheerfulness was contagious. "Here's what we're going to do," he said. "I'm going to find the bag Nanny packed for you, so you can get dressed, and then… do you feel like eating?" She shook her head violently. That worried him; she had eaten nothing since the Robeast attack, and had difficulty keeping down fluids. He didn't let it show, though. "Ok, skipping breakfast, then. I'll keep trying to raise Keith, and the castle, and we'll go from there. Ok?"

She nodded at him solemnly. He sighed. "Allura, what's wrong? Do you feel bad about… this morning? Do you regret it?"

"No, Lance, I don't regret it, I'm really, really glad." she whispered. "I'm just…scared, is all. I know how pathetic I am right now, but please, will you hold me?"

"You're not pathetic, angel," he told her. "You're very brave. And kissing you is far from scary." He did it again, quickly, before he slid away from her. "But we really need to get you dressed and cleaned up. Trust me on this, angel, you'll feel much better. I'll be right back, ok?"

He stepped outside the tent, intending to trot over to Red Lion, grab her bag, and be back in two minutes, when he heard the unmistakable sound of metal on metal as a round clicked into the chamber of a rifle. He threw himself backwards into the tent, landing heavily and rolling onto his stomach as he grabbed frantically for the blasters he had attached to the belt of his discarded uniform. "Allura," he whispered fiercely, gripping a blaster in each hand, tossing one to her as he grabbed another one from her belt. "Get down, Allura, get down now." She clutched the sleeping bag around her and rolled off the cot onto her side, wordlessly crawling her way up to Lance's side.

"What?" she whispered, trembling, whether from fever or from fear, he didn't know.

"Someone's out there, armed," he whispered back. "At least one someone, maybe more." He wracked his brain for a way to get her to Red Lion, sick and trembling, and still wrapped in her sleeping bag. "Can you run?" he asked her.

"I can try," she replied. Not good enough, he thought, feeling her shake against him. She wasn't well enough to run to Red Lion, and he couldn't carry her and cover her at the same time, and he didn't want to leave her behind while he ran for Red Lion…

And then he heard a sound like thunder, so forceful that it literally shook the earth. As the sound came closer, he heard a voice call out, "Would the one called Lance please come out? We do not wish to disturb your Princess."

Lance and Allura looked at each other as the thundering sound grew louder. He pressed one of his blasters into her hand, kissing her swiftly on the forehead. "Lance, no!" she whispered, fiercely, but he was already moving. If that noise is what I think it is, I don't really have a choice, he thought.

"We were sent by your Commander Keith Kogane," the same voice shouted out, the thundering din unmistakable now.

Lance made for the door. "It's all right, Allura," he called back, and she nodded. He thought about how ridiculous she looked, still in her underwear, sitting up in a sleeping bag that was tangled around her, her hair a sweaty mess, clutching two blasters while she shook and sweated. And she still looks like an angel. Damn.

Outside the tent, Lance looked out into what had been a deserted wasteland just a few minutes before. The desert was filling up with horses and riders as far as he could see. He shook his head in amazement. When you send help, Keith, you really go all out, he thought.

A small group of people stood several paces back from the tent, dressed in loose clothes that matched the desert. Several armed guards ringed a single figure that shouted to him over the rising thunder of the approaching horses. "We are three of the Clans of the Fire Tribes of Arus. We have come to give what aid we can, on behalf of your Commander Keith Kogane. More of us will be arriving soon." The speaker removed a sand-colored scarf and hood to reveal long red hair that whipped about her head in the rising wind. Her green eyes pleaded with his. "Please, I am here to help Allura. I knew her, before… before Zarkon. May I see her? You may tell her Kiari of the Red Dawn Clan is here."

Lance eyed the group of armed guards ringing the girl and felt his natural skepticism kick in. "No offense or anything, but how do I know you really know Allura?"

He thought he saw the girl laugh. "You may tell her that I am still very sorry Cheddar did not like the pepper cheese," she said, a sly look in her green eyes. There's a story there, he thought, taking an instant liking to her as he holstered his weapon.

He stuck his head back in the tent. "Angel," he called softly, trying to allay the fear he saw in her face. She had moved back to the cot and was holding both blasters, shaking with fever while she gripped them. "It's ok, Keith really did send help. I mean, really. There is a young woman here who says she wants to help you. She said to tell you her name is Kiari… uh, Red something?" Allura looked confused, clutching her weapons tightly. "She said to tell you she is still very sorry that Cheddar didn't like the pepper cheese she brought him."

Allura's face relaxed. She sank back against the cot in relief, placing her weapons on the ground, but within easy reach. "Thank the goddess," she said, as Lance stepped back outside and allowed the red-haired girl into the tent. Her tall, sour-looking guard started to follow, but Lance blocked his way.

"Ladies only," he said, crossing his arms as he stood in front of the entrance.

"Yet you do not observe your own rule," the guard challenged.

"Damn straight," Lance shot back, meeting his glare.

The red-haired girl stuck her head back out of the tent almost immediately. "The Princess is in very dire condition. Saran, get my women." The man continued to glare at Lance. "Saran! Please! Get my attendants." The tall guard gave Lance once last glare and stalked off. Kiari looked at his retreating back, and then at Lance's protective, cross-armed stance in front of the tent. She grinned wickedly. "It is humorous to me to see that men are the same in many ways no matter what planet or culture they are from." Her eyes danced with merriment. "Do not worry, Lance McClain. My attendants are all women. Although I am sure she would not mind a visit from you…" she teased, and laughed as Lance, for once, had no idea what to say.