Unbearably loud knocking dragged Keith halfway out of sleep. His head was swimming, pounding; everything ached. There were voices nearby, but they were hard to make out, and listening seemed more effort than it was worth, so he kept his eyes shut and tried to find sleep again.

The voices stopped, a door closed, and then, "Keith."

"…"

"Keith."

"…Mm?"

"C'mon, Keith. We need to go for breakfast soon."

A gentle pat to Keith's cheek coaxed his eyelids open. He groaned. The lights were far too bright, and when he managed to push himself up to his elbows, the room spun.

Shiro's face slowly came into focus. "Hey," he said, keeping his voice low. "You not feeling well either?"

Keith blinked a couple times, then frowned. "…Either?"

"Yeah," Shiro said. "I'm guessing it's whatever we were drugged with last night. Must be part of the trial."

"Worst trial ever."

Shiro breathed out a laugh. "Yeah, no kidding."

He stood up and walked around to Keith's side of the bed. "Okay. Time to get ready." He offered Keith a hand and helped him to his feet.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, they washed up. Keith kept his eyes closed as he brushed his teeth and got dressed. He struggled to put his shirt on, giving up halfway through.

"Need some help there?"

Keith let out a muffled sound.

His eyes flew open as Shiro grabbed the bunched up fabric and pulled the shirt down the rest of the way for him, his breath catching as Shiro's knuckles trailed down his obliques. He was officially awake.

Shiro was already fully dressed, and wearing a little smirk to boot. Keith was both glad and not glad that he had already put his pants on.

Visran was back too soon, his knocking painfully loud again. He stepped inside. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," Shiro said, standing tall and seemingly alert. He was worryingly good at hiding his symptoms.

"Did you drug us last night?" Keith demanded.

Visran gave a curt nod. "Yes."

"Why?"

"More will be explained when we begin the next stage of the trial," Visran said, impassive as always.

Shiro put his arm around Keith as they made their way to the dining hall. He was mainly supporting Keith, but Keith took some of Shiro's weight, too.

They got there eventually, but breakfast was the last thing Keith wanted right now. The food was even less appetizing than usual, all lumpy and slimy and slippery. "Really don't feel like eating," he muttered, staring at the plates in front of them.

"I know," Shiro said. "But we should try to anyway. Keep our energy up. If it's a continuation of yesterday's trial, we might need it."

Keith sighed. He grabbed a handful of the closest thing on his plate, something pale and mushy. Leaning forward, he brought it to Shiro's lips—or at least, he tried to. His vision was blurry and he missed, smushing half of it into Shiro's cheek instead.

"Sorry!" Keith grimaced. "Sorry."

Shiro just laughed.

Keith scooped the mush from Shiro's cheek with his fingertips, then carefully stuck it back in Shiro's mouth. Shiro's tongue was uncoordinated, and it took several long moments of licking Keith's fingers before finding the food. By the time Keith pulled his hand away, he was blushing bright.

They didn't get much better at it, and by the end of breakfast, they'd only managed a few mouthfuls each. More of Shiro's food ended up on his face than in his stomach. It was a good thing neither of them were hungry.

The carriage ride to the trial did not help Keith's stomach. He kept his eyes closed and burrowed into Shiro's shoulder, trying to ignore the nauseating up and down of the ungulates' gait. The long ride was made tolerable only by Shiro's sturdy weight against him, his temple resting against the crown of Keith's head.

They were brought to the same building they'd been in the day before. When the carriage door opened, Keith tripped and nearly fell out. Shiro caught him and linked their arms to help him walk.

Keith had enjoyed the ambience of the facility yesterday, but it was far less pleasant today. The glaring bright lights and thundering echoes amplified Keith's headache, and the strong odour of disinfectant mixed with sweat turned his stomach further. Shiro wasn't a fan either, judging by the grimace he was trying and failing to hide.

They staggered past the gymnasium they'd been in yesterday and followed Visran into a dimly lit, windowless foyer. Two other Graxari waited for them there, dressed head to toe in sterile white. Visran gave them a cursory introduction, though Keith wasn't focused enough to retain their names. Re-something and La-something. Keith really didn't care.

He cut to the chase. "Why did you drug us last night?"

"Because it is slow acting," Re-something answered. "The poison must be administered the night before in order for you to feel the effects."

Keith balked. "Poison?"

"Yes. Feradotoxin. Did it work?" La-something asked.

"Yes!" Keith snapped, glaring.

Shiro wrapped his arm around Keith and pressed his lips to his temple. "Keith," he warned under his breath.

"Why would you poison the two of us?" Keith asked, trying to keep his tone restrained.

"While we would usually only poison the one in your role," La said to Keith, "as we saw yesterday, your partner is exceptionally skilled in combat. We had to poison both of you to ensure the trial would be sufficiently challenging."

"Not to worry. He will be be given the antidote regardless of the outcome of the trial," Re said. "Provided he survives, of course."

"What about Keith?" Shiro asked, at the same time as Keith spluttered, "survives?!" Shiro's patient facade was cracking; there was an edge to his voice now. "What, exactly, does this trial entail?"

"There are two roles in today's component of the trial, as determined by your performance yesterday. You," La said, nodding at Shiro, "will be given a series of opponents to defeat in combat. If you pass the trial, your partner will receive the antidote."

Shiro's eyes narrowed. "But if I don't, Keith doesn't get it."

"Correct," La said.

Shiro clenched his fists. "Keith shouldn't have to—"

"Shiro, it's alright," Keith interrupted. He fumbled for Shiro's hand and smoothed his thumb over tight knuckles. "It'll be fine. You're gonna get through it, no question."

Shiro let out a slow, deliberate exhale and unclenched his hand, allowing Keith to thread their fingers together. "I will," he vowed.

"So what's my role?" Keith asked.

"You will watch over your partner from the monitor room, where you may provide moral support," La said.

"…That's it?" Keith asked, when she didn't continue.

"Supporting your partner is not unimportant," Re said.

Keith scowled, but relented. He absolutely did not want to play damsel, but if these were the roles, of the two of them, Shiro was better suited to fight. He was brutally well versed in facing opponents in this exact manner.

He also seemed less incapacitated than Keith by the poison—hopefully due to higher body mass, rather than built up tolerance or practice hiding it. Still, his breathing was heavier than usual, and his footsteps were clumsy. Keith heard him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth when the heavy, metal door at the end of the hallway emitted a grating screech.

Beyond the door, a long, dark corridor stretched out before them, illuminated only by the flickering yellow lights in the stairwell to the left. "You will be going this way," La said to Shiro, gesturing into the darkness.

"And you will come with me upstairs," Re told Keith.

Before they parted ways, Keith grabbed Shiro's wrist and pulled him back. "You can do this," he assured him. After a moment's deliberation, he pressed a kiss to Shiro's cheek. "Go get 'em."

Keith's heart flipped at the soft smile Shiro gave him in return. His heart flipped again in a worse way at the stumble in Shiro's step as he walked into the dark. Keith bit his lip. Shiro… Shiro would be fine.

Keith followed Re up the stairs, Visran close behind. His steps were sluggish, and he had to cling to the crimson railing to hold himself up. He was short of breath after just one flight; three more flights took a small eternity.

The room he was finally brought to was nearly empty. The only objects in the room were four large screens that spanned the wall, white plastic-like chairs facing said screens, and a control panel in the corner.

Re headed to the control panel, while Visrin took up residence at the back of the room. Keith collapsed into one of the seats, head spinning. His stomach cramped something awful.

When Re flipped a switch, the screens lit up, displaying Shiro in high definition at different angles. The tight black suit he was outfitted in provided very little protection, but he looked good. Really good. The material was strained where it stretched over his chest and—

Keith, no. He forced himself to tear his gaze away. There wasn't much else to look at, though; Shiro was alone in a large, barren room with heavy, concrete-like walls. There wasn't anything to listen to, either.

"Can he hear me?" Keith asked Re.

"He can," Shiro answered, looking upward at one of the cameras. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Keith said. "Worry about yourself."

La entered the room and joined Re at the control panel. "Are you ready?" she asked Shiro.

"Yeah." He took a fighting stance. "I'm ready."

The heavy wall in front of Shiro rose. A clunky, six-legged robot clomped forth before the wall dropped down again. It was scrap metal compared to the gladiator and sentries and robeasts they were used to—no wonder the Graxari had felt it necessary to impair Shiro's ability to fight.

The robot was crude, but it wasn't as slow as it looked. It rushed forward and swung a limb at Shiro. Shiro was successful in dodging, but his movements were sluggish; his usual grace and finesse had been stolen with the poison. The robot swung again and made contact, knocking him off balance.

But Shiro was Shiro, and he always came out on top. He avoided the next hit, and the next, before he sliced through the robot's core with an arc of purple light. One more cross-wise hit, and it stopped functioning.

"Nice work," Keith said. "You good?"

"Yeah. I'm good."

The wall rose again, and a bigger, sturdier robot stomped forward with thin, whip-like appendages. Its footsteps were slow. The rest of it was not.

Its whips lashed out with a loud crack. Shiro tried to dodge, but one of them struck his shoulder. He flinched, shook it off, and then went on the offensive. He tripped as he ran forward, but he didn't fall, and was able to get in close. Lighting up his hand, he plunged his arm deep into the body of the robot. It stopped moving.

Shiro stumbled again as he stepped back, panting hard.

"You okay?" Keith asked.

"I'm fine," Shiro said.

"Good," Keith said. There was nothing else to say. "You got this."

...

The trial got harder and harder to watch as Shiro got slower and the opponents got stronger.

He'd managed to avoid any devastating blows, but the hits that had landed were adding up. Not to mention the effects of the poison were getting worse. Keith's stomach clenched, and his vision blurred in and out of focus, and his head throbbed, and every part of him ached. He could only imagine how much worse it was for Shiro.

"I'm okay," Shiro told Keith each time he defeated an opponent. And he was, but for how long?

...

"How many more of these does he have to face?" Keith asked the Graxari, after the wall rose for an eighth time.

"The trial will be over soon enough," was all Re said. One way or another, that would be true.

Trying to ignore the stabbing pain behind his eyes, Keith tried to focus on the screens. "Upper… upper back," he said to Shiro. "That part doesn't look like metal. Could be a weak point."

"Thanks," Shiro panted. He dived between the robot's legs to get in behind it, then spun around and leapt upward. He thrust his hand forward, but his aim was off and he only grazed it.

He tried again, but he missed and hit metal instead. This time, the robot began crackling with electricity just before he made contact, and sparks flew when he hit it with his metal arm. He cried out, collapsing.

"Shiro!" Keith leapt out of his chair, nearly keeling over with the sudden rush of dizziness.

Shiro managed to push himself up to his feet. He tried again. This time, he hit his mark, and the robot shut down.

"Shiro—"

"I'm… fine," Shiro said, between ragged breaths. He got into a fighting stance for his next opponent.

Keith clenched his jaw. Shiro wouldn't give up. They had to pass this trial if they wanted the alliance, not to mention the antidote. Still, Keith asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Shiro said. "Don't worry. I'm okay."

The wall lifted again, and a monstrous, plated thing with blades and long limbs stepped forward. Without pause, it came at Shiro and sliced his arm open with a deep cut, eliciting a pained gasp.

Keith dug his fingernails into his palms. "Come on, Shiro," he uttered.

Shiro took a swing and hit one of the metal plates. He didn't have enough momentum to even leave a mark. The thing hit him back, sending him flying into the adjacent wall. There was an awful crack as his ribs fractured.

Keith's stomach tried to crawl its way out of his throat. "Shiro!"

The robot found Shiro and slashed at him with another blade. He rolled, avoiding a lethal hit, but it still carved a deep gash in his side. Dragging himself to his feet, he tried to get away, but it caught him first. It grabbed him with one of its appendages and squeezed, further crushing his broken ribs.

An awful, strangled sound tore its way from Shiro's throat, but he didn't falter. When he was close enough, he seized the opportunity to plunge his lit hand into a crevice between plates. It slowed it down and loosened its grip, allowing him to wriggle free. He fell to the ground with a painful thud.

Staggering closer, Shiro found another crack between its plates. He buried his arm in its innards, pulling out broken wires as he withdrew. Finally, it stopped moving.

"I—I'm okay," Shiro gasped, clutching his side. "I'm okay, Keith." His face was pallid, blood spilling from multiple wounds. He swayed dangerously as he turned to face the moveable wall.

The wall started to rise again, but Keith couldn't let it go on any further. "No. Stop the trial. We're done."

Re pressed a button, freezing the wall in place. She looked at him. "You would forfeit the alliance?"

Keith clenched his fists. The alliance was important, but not nearly as important as Shiro. "Yes."

"You do not have the antidote yet," La reminded him.

"I don't care," Keith growled. "Call it off."

"Keith, no," Shiro said. "I… I can still…"

"Maybe you can," Keith said. "But I can't. I can't stand by and watch you get hurt anymore."

Shiro shook his head. "Keith—"

"Shiro, please. You're way more important than any alliance or cure. I'd give anything to keep you safe. I need you. …I love you."

Shiro's eyes widened a fraction. "But the… the antidote…"

"It's out there," Keith said. "We'll get it some other way."

"But what if—"

"We'll figure something out. We always do. Trust me, I'll be fine," Keith said. "So please, Shiro. Let me stop this."

Shiro closed his eyes. "If you're sure that's what you want."

"I'm sure. We're done."

The Graxari looked at each other and nodded. As Re lowered the wall, La withdrew a metal box from the underside of the control panel. She opened the box, revealing two large needle-like apparatuses filled with a bright purple liquid.

"Well done," she said. She stepped forward. "Your arm."

Keith blinked. "What?"

"You passed the trial," Re said. "This is the antidote."

They'd passed. Keith's head spun. His lips curved up, and he let out a relieved laugh. "Hear that, Shiro?"

"Yeah," Shiro said with a slight smile. And then he fell forward to his knees.

As soon as La had administered the antidote, Keith ran for the door. He raced down the stairs faster than was safe, having to catch himself on the railing a couple times. He bolted down the dark corridor Shiro had taken, pushing off of the walls when he ran into them.

Finally, he reached the large, empty room he'd seen on the screens. Shiro was waiting in front of all the broken robots. He was back up on his feet, but as soon as Keith reached him, he pitched forward and collapsed into Keith's arms.

Keith wasn't sure he could stay on his feet himself, so he guided Shiro down to the ground, where he could cradle him in his lap.

Shiro looked up. "Hey," he said, weakly.

"Hi," Keith whispered back.

Shiro raised his head a few inches and looked behind Keith to check that they were alone. "That was smart," he said, keeping his voice low. "When'd you figure it out?"

"Figure what out?"

"That the trial wasn't just about how far I'd go to save you, but what you'd give up to save me." Shiro gave him a faint smile. "Convincing speech, by the way."

Keith swallowed. He had the opportunity; he should go along with it and pretend everything he'd said was part of a plan. His feelings had been made obvious; now he had a chance to fix that. He could save their friendship. But at the same time…

Before he could say anything, the Graxari entered the room. "Congratulations," La said. She opened the box and withdrew the needle. "As promised, the antidote."

Instead of bringing relief, the sight of it made Shiro stiffen. Every muscle in his body went rigid.

"Your arm, please," La said.

Shiro hesitated before holding out his left arm. Keith took his other hand and laced their fingers together.

Shiro squeezed Keith's hand as the needle jabbed his arm and liquid pushed from the needle's chamber into his bloodstream. His metal grip was painful, crushing Keith's hand, but it wasn't quite hard enough to break any bones, so Keith stayed silent. He let Shiro release his hand on his own time.

Keith hadn't noticed Re leave the room, but she entered the room again, now followed by a small crew of other Graxari. They carried a thin cot on a frame suspended by poles over their shoulders. "The healing facility is next door," Re said.

Keith hoisted Shiro to his feet, keeping him steady despite his own lightheadedness. He helped him onto the flat surface, then fumbled his way over to the space beside him. Careful to avoid his cracked ribs, he wrapped his arm around Shiro and let him lean into his side.

The ride over was a blur, and Keith paid no mind to their surroundings. Nothing mattered but the expansion and contraction of Shiro's ribcage, and the accompanying sound of his breaths. He only realized they'd reached their destination when Shiro's breathing stopped with a sharp inhale and he began to tremble.

Keith followed Shiro's gaze across the room, past the metal tables, past the beds, to the glass tanks lining the wall. A Graxari occupied one of the tanks, suspended in a pinkish liquid. A monitor beside the tank displayed readings that suggested he was alive, but otherwise it was hard to tell. From the outside, he just looked like a lab specimen. An experiment.

Keith held Shiro closer, paying no mind to the blood seeping through his clothes. The heartbeat against his chest was far too quick. When Shiro's breaths started again, they were shallow, ragged, stuttering.

"So this is where Shiro's gonna be healed?" Keith asked a new Graxari standing in front of them—some sort of med tech. He looked around. "Do you have cryopods or something somewhere?"

The med tech gave him a strange look. "Cryopods? That technology has been outdated for millennia. The immersive tanks you see here are far more efficient. Your partner will be healed in one of those."

"Oh," Keith whispered. He squeezed Shiro's hand and leaned in. "Shiro?"

Shiro didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the tank, or maybe somewhere beyond.

"Is there another option?" Keith asked the med tech. "Something less…" he gestured to the tank, "…isolated? I'd just... rather have him within reach. If I could."

"There is a gel that can speed up the healing of surface wounds, and an elixir to repair bones," the med tech said, "But in his state, and given interaction with the feradotoxin antidote, it would be over a quintant until full recovery."

Keith looked at Visran, pleading. "Can we do that? Or do we have to go through another trial tomorrow?"

Visran considered. His gaze wandered from Keith's face to Shiro's, to Keith's arms wrapped around Shiro's body, to their linked hands. "I think we can make an exception."

Keith nodded his thanks. He tugged at Shiro. "Shiro?"

When he tugged a little harder and said his name a little louder, Shiro's eyes finally snapped to Keith.

"Hey," Keith said, softly. "Let's get you fixed up, alright?"

"R-right," Shiro gasped.

Keith helped him up and over to the bed, where they sank into the mattress. With the lingering effects of the poison, it was horribly tempting to curl up and fall asleep, but first, Keith had to make sure Shiro was taken care of.

Another med tech brought over a tray of supplies. They were familiar, similar to those used in the med bay aboard the Castle. The med tech looked at Keith, who was still clinging to Shiro, and cleared his throat. "You'll need to release your partner while we tend to his wounds."

Keith didn't budge, holding on tight. Shiro hated medical facilities as it was; the last thing he needed was strangers poring over him. "I'll do it. You guys can leave."

The med tech's brows raised. "Are you certain?"

Keith's vision was okay for now, and his hands were steady enough. "Yeah. I'll take care of it. I do this all the time. Visran can let you know if we need anything."

"…Very well, then."

The other Graxari left. Visran moved to the back of the room, keeping an eye on them from there.

"Keith," Shiro murmured. His eyelids were heavy, threatening to close. "Thanks."

"Hold on," Keith said, grabbing the bottle of elixir from the side of the bed. "Drink this before you pass out on me."

Keith lifted the bottle to Shiro's lips, helping him drink. Shiro shuddered and gagged after the first sip. "Ugh…"

"Just toss it back," Keith said. He added with a quirk of his lips, "Like you did with all those drinks on your birthday a few years back."

Shiro let out a slight laugh. "You remember that?"

"Yeah, and you probably don't. But you get the idea."

Shiro's lips lifted. "Yeah." He put his hand over Keith's, and together, they poured the liquid down his throat. He cringed as he swallowed.

"There we go." Keith wiped away the liquid dribbling down his chin. "Okay. You can rest now," he said, and helped Shiro to lie down.

Shiro was out within moments.

Patching Shiro up was second nature at this point. Keith's hands were careful as he peeled Shiro's clothes off and disinfected his wounds. Shiro didn't react at all, already deep in slumber.

Keith scooped a generous portion of the smooth, cool gel from the jar into his palms and slathered it over every break in Shiro's skin. The open wounds stopped bleeding at once; there was no need for stitches. Wrapping them was effortless, the motions easy and familiar.

When he was done, he laid a hand on Shiro's chest. His heart rate was normal, his breathing slow and even in his sleep.

Abandoning all self-control, Keith gently traced Shiro's jaw with his knuckles. He trailed his hand down Shiro's neck, collarbone, shoulder, and arm, until he could fit their hands together. "Sleep well," he murmured, before he curled up next to him and fell asleep.