After Keith's face met the altogether pleasant sensation of his teeth grinding against an incredibly harsh metal floor, he didn't think his day could become much worse. But that didn't stop him from springing to his feet and whirling around, a string of unhappy, and rather explicit, words on the tip of his tongue. However, as he propelled forward, toward the sheriff that had tossed him into the small cell, a force field of violet energy crackled to life before him, effectively startling and electrocuting him because of his close proximity. After the wave of sparks passed over his body, setting his hair on end and sending a mad look into his eyes, he pivoted around, glancing at the other cells adjacent to his own. Each wall consisted of the same purple energy, making the other inhabitants of the cells visible through the force fields. In one cell, two burlesque and rather intimidating Galra glowered at each other, and on the other end, a small, unassuming person, whose species Keith did not recognize, meditated on the floor, three eyes closed in concentration.
Running a hand through his already stiff hair, Keith let a growl of frustration escape his lips.
"Of course we ended up in this mess," he groaned, finally facing his cellmate.
The boy beside him, whose eyes were dangerously untame, cast him an incredulous look.
"Why are you complaining, when you got me into this mess in the first place?!"
"I got you into this mess?! If I recall, you're why we're here!" Keith snapped, on the edge of his restraint.
Lance glared, daring Keith to act on the violent instincts that rushed through his blood like an inferno. Inhaling with as much self-control as he possessed, Keith tried to calm himself. He repeated the words that Shiro had told him, letting them march through his head like a parade.
Lance isn't himself, or at least, he's not the Lance you know. He's trying to process everything that happened to him, and it will take him a long time to heal. He'll go through stages, some of which he won't even understand himself. Be patient with him.
"It doesn't matter anyway," Keith sighed eventually, after the vicious buzz of impulsiveness subsided.
In a manner of self-acceptance, he eased himself onto the floor, suddenly feeling the ache in his bones.
Crossing his legs and running a hand through his raven hair, Keith glanced at Lance, wanting to gauge Lance's mood. His companion's shoulders relaxed slightly at Keith's non-confrontational behavior, and after a moment of what seemed like heavy contemplation, Lance joined Keith on the floor, his eyes wearier than ever.
"How did we even get here in the first place? I can't really think straight right now," Lance admitted, his fingers forming chords on an imaginary instrument.
Keith leaned back, his thoughts whirling back to the beginning of the day, and how he had no idea of what was to occur.
It started normally enough. The group of unlikely heroes had stopped at an enormous space hub, teeming with life and the bustle that accompanies it. Originally, the group had intended to stick together, seeing as they weren't sure if they'd be able to find each other if they separated.
"Can we stop at the food court?" Hunk asked, his mouth watering as the scents of exotic foods encountered his nose.
"We can get something to eat after we find everything that we need," Coran told him, observing a map of the center that was projected on a nearby floating screen.
"What exactly is this place?" Lance wondered, his eyes soaking in all the information that enveloped them.
All sorts of species of Aliens walked around them, some in pairs, chatting amicably with shopping bags on the arms, some with their eyes glued to the ground before them, mouths moving quickly as they discussed business, and still others, in whole families, laughing or arguing with one another. Neon lights blinked, flashed, or glared advertisements, store fronts, and business buildings, each connected to each other like a row of townhouses. When Keith looked upward, he could see through the transparent ceiling to another floor with the same environment. And past that, he could see another floor, and another floor, and still another, the levels seeming stretching to infinity. Glancing below him gave him vertigo, seeing what seemed like hundreds of layers to this expansive city. Every twenty or so buildings, slender tubes stretched downwards and upwards, connecting the numerous levels and acting as elevators. They, like the floor and ceiling, were also transparent, allowing for everyone to not only be able to see the slick and incredible technology that operated the transport, but also the passengers within.
"This hub is much like a city," Coran explained, interacting with the screen to find the store for which he searched. "We're in the shopping quadrant, which comprises of about twenty floors."
The lilt in his voice emphasized the magnitude of where they were.
"There are all kinds of quadrants, some for business, some for education, and others are living quarters. There are even floors assigned to specific species or the planet where they're from," Coran explained.
"Oh! Like Little Italy! Or Chinatown!" Hunk announced, his mind probably imaging the cuisine of the sectors more than anything else.
"Little Italy?" Romelle whispered to Keith, at the same time that Allura wondered, "Chinatown?" on his opposite side.
Before Keith could explain, however, Coran began to go into a long explanation of the system of the hub, and how everything functioned and worked. Although Keith knew that he should listen, his eyes caught on the scars on Lance's forehead, as they often did, and his mind flooded with the concern that he'd felt for Lance in the past couple of months. At first, Lance had acted as if nothing was wrong, but over time, for reasons that Keith didn't really know, Lance had begun to furl into himself, barely talking, barely eating. Barely living. At times, a smile poked through the clouds that seemed to hover on his features, but those moments were few, and very far between. Keith wanted to help his friend, wanted to reach out, wanted to comfort Lance like Lance had once comforted him, but there seemed to be a distance between the two now, as if they'd relapsed into their old mindset. Lance's actions and words had gradually become more and more irritable as well, and Keith knew that he needed to talk to Lance before things got out of hand. Although, Keith wasn't the best example of restraining fury.
"Found it!" Coran cried, cutting through Keith's contemplations.
After a moment of memorizing the directions, Coran led the team onward, his brisk pace making it difficult for everyone to keep up.
After tripping over feet, knocking down unsuspecting shoppers, a cramped ride in a transparent elevator, and losing their way several times, the group passed a performing troupe that caught their attention. Romelle insisted upon watching them, her eyes shining as she watched the acrobats perform flips and twists.
"You get to spend every day with the Saviors of the Universe, and this impresses you more than us?" Pidge asked as Romelle gasped in excitement.
"Can you do that?" Romelle asked pointedly after an acrobat twisted through a series of complicated flips and movements.
"No," Pidge admitted, and Romelle cast her a smug look.
As the show continued, the frontwoman announced that they needed a volunteer from the audience, and in reply, the audience produced a wild show of hands, dozens of spectators eager to join the show. Keith glanced about him as the frontwoman inspected her options, remarking sassily about different crowd members, until her eyes locked onto one in particular, who appeared to desire the exact opposite of participating in the show.
"You, dear, what's your name?" She asked, crimson painted lips enticing.
Keith felt an inkling of fear grip him as he watched her target blink, his eyes portraying his surprise and terror.
"Oh, it's alright, sweetheart, what's your name?" Her voice, like oil, seemed to bewitch the entire audience, and someone pushed her target forward. He stumbled into the ring, all eyes fixated on him.
Keith swallowed as he watched Lance fumble, knowing that, had this happened just months ago, Lance would've held no reservations or fear in being in a situation like this.
"Lance," Lance managed to say, while the frontwoman seemed to be eating him alive with her eyes.
Lance, obviously uncomfortable, tried to shuffle away, but she caught him by the arm.
"Let's hear a cheer for Lance!" She announced, to which the audience gave a rather enthusiastic, and envious, cheer for the boy who flinched from their noise and her grip.
"Now, Lance, can you do something for me?" She asked, her smile radiating menace instead of comfort.
Lance nodded, but his stance looked as if he were ready to fight an army.
"Now, come here," she led him to the dead center of the circle, allowing for everyone to be able to see him easily. Keith could practically see Lance's skin crawling as everyone watched him, and he couldn't help but be struck with how much Lance had changed. Lance used to love attention. He drank it up like water, and thrived in it. But here, in front of so many people, Lance seemed to shrivel into a lifeless, horrified victim, desiring nothing but to be released from the stares of those around him.
"Now, we're about to have our grand finale, and all we need you to do is stay still," she told him, which made Keith as uncomfortable as Lance looked.
"Yeah, sure," Lance muttered, obviously resolving that the sooner he did what she wanted, the sooner she'd let him out of her clutch.
"Marvelous," She exclaimed, before turning to the crowd again, "Let me hear you cheer!"
A roar rose from the crowd, but Keith refused to join in. His friends around him all seemed to be as uncertain and nervous as he was, and Romelle didn't look like she was enjoying the show anymore.
"He really doesn't look comfortable," Someone said to Keith's right.
"Why'd she pick him?" A different voice chimed to Keith's left.
Clenching his jaw, Keith stood, unable to do anything, as performers controlling whips of fire began to crack their whips around Lance's body, forcing him to stand completely still. An acrobat flipped clear over his head and both of the whips as they danced through the air, and two others began to twirl through the air on both sides of the performers with the whips. A performer began to breathe fire in front of Lance, and before long, the entire troupe was doing something rather dangerous near Lance, who tried to stand as perfectly still as he could.
The frontwoman, looking from the crowd to her troupe and back, announced, "You all seem bored! You must have seen people master fire dozens of other times!"
The crowd muttered their agreement.
"Well, we'll show you something truly spectacular!" She declared, and suddenly, the whips of fire turned into crackles of lighting, electricity arching through the air. The transition, obviously intended to seem magical, had its effect on the crowd, and they began to cheer frantically as the firebreather began to exhale lightning, the power and sparks of the element almost touching the audience. No one, seemingly, watched the boy who stood in the middle of the lightning storm, but Keith's eyes never left him. Lance, while previously uncomfortable, was now obviously panicking. His entire body visibly shook, and the crazed look in his terrified eyes was noticeable from where Keith watched everything unfold.
Before anyone could say anything, before Keith could yell for them to stop, one of the performers lost control of their whip, and electricity contacted with Lance's skin, and everything seemed to happen extremely slow and too quick all at once. A mess of singed clothes, burnt hair, dilated eyes, Lance sprang from where he stood, scrambling away from the event. In his haste, he bumped into an acrobat who had just begun to launch into the air. The acrobat tumbled into the lightning breather, who accidentally sent a bolt into the crowd, sending the audience into a scramble, screams rising from the mass of people. Lance, resembling a caged, wild lion stumbled in horror and shock, before seeing the frontwoman rushing towards him. With one glance at her, he instantly moved his feet, sprinting away from the scene in a random direction. While everyone else was caught up with the chaos and disaster of the acrobats trying to right themselves and the performers attempting to control the lightning that they had so foolishly assumed that they could master, Keith propelled himself after Lance, knowing that to let his teammate go would be catastrophic. As Keith chased after Lance, the flow of the people around him closed him off from those behind him, making sure that the only direction to run was forward. Speeding further and further away from the disaster, Keith never let Lance get out of his sight. While Lance might have been faster than Keith at one point, after his general lack of self-care, his strength had not returned to its original state, and Keith was able to maintain a close following distance. Lance didn't seem to know that Keith was even following him. Instead, it appeared as though he was running only to escape. And Keith couldn't help but wonder what Lance was truly trying to escape from.
Escape the lightning? And the crowd?
Probably.
Escape the pain and terror?
Definitely.
Escape the memories?
Undoubtedly.
However, Keith didn't know what those memories were, what kind of sheer trauma they contained. He couldn't force the image of Lance, emaciated, bruised, and scarred, strapped to an operation table, from his mind. And if Keith couldn't forget an image that hadn't inflicted any sort of physical trauma upon him, then what sort of evils did Lance remember?
The thought chilled him.
As Lance ran, he appeared to be looking for a place absent of life. A place where prying eyes could not find him. Except, this city, full of transparencies, held no such place. Finally, Lance found a restroom, and steered into it, chest heaving forcefully. Slowing down, Keith paused, wondering if he should give Lance a moment. As he hovered before the entrance, Keith made his choice after an awful retching sound reached his ears, and he rushed after Lance, heart pounding. He found Lance on his knees, vomiting onto the floor, which, here, was opaque. Lance's hand clutched the wall, his body vibrated violently, and sweat soaked into his clothing and drenched his hair. Sobs filled the still air, and blood dripped from Lance's clenched fists, where his nails bit unmercifully into his skin. Paralyzed, Keith stared at the boy collapsed on the floor, having never before seen him at such a low point. His ribs restricted, and he slowly moved to lay a hand on Lance's shoulder. Hesitantly, his skin touched the rough fabric of Lance's jacket, and Lance jerked his neck to look at Keith, suspicion and distress splayed across his face. His features rabidly shifted to fury and revulsion, and Lance stood, pushing Keith away as he rose to his feet.
"What are you doing here?" Lance demanded, vomit clinging to his chin and around his mouth.
"Calm down Lance, I'm here to help," Keith offered, painfully aware of how horrible of a consoler he was.
"I don't need help! Why does everyone keeping saying that?!" Lance snarled, voice full of a malice that Keith had never heard from his mouth.
"Because we care about you!" Keith snapped, wincing at his own tone.
"If you care so much, why can't you all just leave me alone?" Lance hissed, turning away from Keith, "Or better yet, why didn't you just find me sooner?"
Keith knew Lance was irrational. Keith knew Lance was traumatized. Keith knew that he should be calm, but he couldn't keep his grip on his emotions.
"You know that we tried! You know that we couldn't find you! It was like you dropped off the face of the Universe! Don't you think we tried everything? Don't you think we looked everywhere?! I didn't sleep for days," Keith snarled, scarlet shooting through his vision.
"You didn't sleep for days? I feel so bad for you," Lance replied coldly, sarcasm and tension lacing his voice.
"You know what, we need you Lance, so maybe you should suck it up and stop throwing a tantrum," Keith growled, stepping aggressively toward Lance.
"I'm throwing a tantrum?! Is that what you're calling it?" Lance exploded, his face vibrant with the color of fury.
"Yes, you are!" Keith hissed, inches from Lance now.
"Tell me, have you ever been tortured for a month and a half straight? Have you ever been subjected to hallucinations where you watch your friends die, or everything you've ever believed about yourself has been stripped away? Have you ever desired death because it was better than going through another session where they slice you open while you're awake?! If you have, then go ahead, say that again," Lance pushed Keith slightly, more an invitation for aggression than an outright action of it.
Keith, slightly shocked, couldn't react to Lance's actions, as his mind was still trying to process Lance's words. However, Lance's lust for a fight, and perhaps his desire for destruction, sent him into a rage, and he punched Keith square in the jaw, unleashing a raw strength that Keith didn't know Lance possessed.
When Keith still didn't react, Lance launched himself onto the Black Paladin, pushing Keith backwards and throwing bone-breaking punches. Blood spurted from Keith's nose and lip, and with it, came Keith's own emotions. Finally reacting to Lance, Keith ducked under Lance's arm and hit Lance in the ribs, and, pivoting, slammed Lance into the wall. Keith heard all of the air exit Lance's lungs, and as Lance gasped, Keith let go. He needed to walk away. If he didn't, who knew what would happen?
"I don't want to fight you," Keith said softly, eyes watering at the sight of his friend so broken. Turning his back on Lance, he made it to the doorway before he felt a force ram into him from behind. Twisting as he fell, Keith landed on the transparent floor outside of the restroom on his back, and using Lance's momentum against him, he propelled Lance clear over his head. Lance sprawled onto the floor as Keith got to his feet, and shouts began to ring out around them. Lance hopped upright and catapulted at Keith, adrenaline basically pouring from the both of them. Keith tried to jump out of Lance's reach, but Lance wrapped his arms around Keith and tackled him. Moving so that he pinned Keith down, Lance began to deliver blow after blow to Keith, pain flaring across Keith's face. Screaming in frustration, Keith shoved Lance off and tossed him as far across the floor as he could. Absently, Keith wiped the blood from his face and walked to Lance, hoping that his friend would cool down a little. However, Lance attacked Keith with renewed vigor, his eyes full of cutthroat viciousness.
"This isn't you, Lance," Keith told him, and in that moment, Keith finally understood Lance's pain.
He understood who Lance had become, and what was driving him insane. He could see it all, written like the pages of a book, across Lance's furious face and sorrowful eyes. Lance was angry, yes. But he wasn't angry at Keith. Keith was merely the catalyst and the recipient.
"Please, Lance. I understand now," Keith murmured, ceasing his struggling and releasing the tension in his body, also catching Lance by surprise.
Before either of them could react, forceful hands pulled the two apart, thoroughly separating them. And though they were physically forced apart, neither of their gazes left each other, confusion and clarity displayed in two very different pairs of eyes.