A/N: Does anyone remember this story? Lots going on over here, sorry!
I think it's safe to say that the rules of this challenge are out the window, haha! But we will get to the end of this!
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Okay. Onward!
XXX
Keith does not trust easily.
He's always been this way, for as long as he can remember. The why isn't necessarily important, at least not to him, but Keith has been presented with plenty of reasons to always be on guard. No matter what people promise, no matter what services they can provide, at the end of the day they are only there for themselves. People just can't be trusted.
The Decibonians gifted each paladin with their very own guestroom. They are simplistic in nature but still very warm and welcoming. Keith is grateful for the offer and doesn't mean to be rude, but if he's going to sleep soundly it will be in the confines of his own room on the castleship where it is familiar and safe.
The city retires, the party over, and Keith makes the walk back where the gentle swoosh of his door welcomes him to his tiny secluded room. He sits on the bed. Observes his knife. Thinks. Runs a finger absentmindedly along the edge of his trusted blade, headspace in a fog even though he can't entirely place the reason. Keith's gut is an instinctive creature by nature, something that insists that he move. That he act.
For it to sit there in insistent unease without Keith having something to react to was troubling.
He thought about the party. The Glara. How many more worlds were they going to hurt before enough was enough? Or - Keith feels his face darken at the memory of a beaten, bloodied Lance - how many lives?
His grip tightens on the knife's hilt - he already knows the answer to that. He understands they are fighting a war. That doesn't make it any less pointless.
In a form of self comfort, Keith continues to run the pad of his thumb along the sharp edge with moderate pressure, skin too calloused to break and somehow the sensation is comforting.
That's when he feels the tremor. Slight, but he feels it.
The source is not hard to place, not when muffled through the castle wall he can hear the roar.
Being in space in a castle housing 5 magical, mechanical and yet very sentient lions for as long as Keith has, he can easily pick out the minor differences in the voices of said lions. The guttural but airy roar rumbling through the halls now is most definitely Blue's call, and a hard-wired distrust prompts Keith to leap out of bed and race for the hangers. Because logically, there is no good reason why any of the lions should be leaving the castle right now.
Not Galra, his mind tries to logic. If it were Galra they'd be taking the Black Lion. What, then?
His legs are burning when he makes the turn into Blue's hanger, but he's met with the sight of a missing lion and the chilly after-gust as the bay doors slide shut. Just missed it.
"Damn!" He pulls a 180 to make a mad dash to his own hanger. It had been stupid of them not to all sleep near the castle. In the castle. Leaving the lions unmanned was reckless. People can't be trusted.
Barreling into Red's hanger Keith dons his armor while running into the waiting maw with practiced ease. The controls are already humming to life as he throws himself into the pilot seat, lights casting an angry glow across the freshly buffed armor. He grips the flight sticks so hard he expects them to snap under the pressure. Through his teeth he gives his command. "Do not lose them."
Red shoots into space and hovers amidst the stars while Keith drags his fingertips across the board, bringing maps to life and summoning a blue icon to the holo-screen. Blue is fast, but Red has always been faster.
"I swear, Lance, if you're out on another joyride…" Because it wouldn't be the first time and Lance's lion is playful enough to grant him such pleasures. A beacon pops up on screen, already a fair distance away. Keith directs Red to it and pushes the handles forward before activating the comms. "Lance. Lance, can you hear me?"
No response.
Between frustration and worry, frustration wins. Keith finds himself audibly growling, even as he comes up to a strange, jagged planet that on his radar shows up as void. But there are purple lights illuminating it in patches, much like the city night lights of Earth when viewed from space, leading Keith to believe that it is, in fact, inhabited.
Ironically enough, or maybe not ironically at all, the Blue Lion's beacon has gone stagnant here.
Then he sees Lance, or what he hopes to be Lance. The Blue Lion is floating as if abandoned, floating close to the fringe of the meteor shower. Dangerously close.
"Lance," he tries once more through the comms, authority in his voice. As much of a goof-off as Lance is, he knows when to respond appropriately to authority. "It's Keith. Do you copy?"
Still nothing filters through the comms. Not even static. Blue creeps closer to the rocks. It's amazing she hasn't been struck yet. Maybe she's already been hit.
That last thought spurs Keith into action. Get in, get the Blue Lion, get out. Get in, get the Blue Lion, get out. Get in…
Keith jets forward, dodging random chunks of rock with agility he prides himself in, even if sometimes the sudden sharp movements flips his stomach. In just a few ticks he's on top of the Blue Lion, intent to snatch her up and carry her home.
"Come on… come on!"
But perhaps that gut instinct isn't always a blessing, because Blue twists at the last second as if startled, and Keith isn't ready for the altered position, or the resulting impact.
They don't stay tangled for long, but it's enough to throw them deeper into the throes of the meteor shower, where hit after hit begins to rain down on the mechanical exterior of both the Red and Blue lions. The strikes are not all too powerful but they are plentiful, enough to send them spiraling. The dizzying result gives Keith little time to properly react in the next few moments, even though time slows down and several things happen at once.
He is still spinning. A giant boulder hurtles towards him.
A burst of static registers before a screen flickers to life with Lance's wide-eyed, disbelieving face.
The boulder crashes dead-on into Red's nose, causing the lights to flicker and for Keith to be thrown bodily out of his seat. He hits the ceiling violently, accompanied by a crack that might be his armor.
There is a painful flash of white, followed by a painless black.
XXX
In his seat, be it from nerves or excitement, Lance trembles.
Pidge's satchel sits on the floor, propped against his leg. He'd stolen it from her favorite little leave-me-alone hidey-hole, where it had been predictably buried under a nest of thick blankets. Hopefully she won't be too mad to find it missing. His helmet sits next to it. There is currently no need to keep the lines of communication open, not when no one knows he's out here. Not when he'll be in and out before anyone even notices he's gone.
Blue hadn't hesitated to let him in and embark on his personal mission. He never doubted she would because Blue is a good girl. She reassures him very few minutes while he sits there bouncing his foot, nerves on end, mind on overdrive. There is no turning back now. No time for doubt. He made a promise.
Lance observed offhandedly that his hands were much smaller than Draxis'. It wasn't that strange; his hands were not small like Pidge's or thick like Hunk's. His fingers were long like a pianist would have, palms wide to help him push himself through water, fingernails trimmed and cleaned almost daily, but they looked puny when Draxis took them in his own to pull Lance closer with an almost alarming urgency.
He forced something into Lance's hands then, forcing his fingers around it before pulling away. Lance could see the faint purple glow through the gaps of his fingers.
Wasn't that…? Weren't they all…?
"I saved one," Draxi whispered, easily able to read Lance's thoughts as he rolled open his fingers to reveal a single, faintly twinkling Plexia Crystal. "It is alive, Paladin Lance, and it is not meant to be alone. It longs to reunite with the others."
So it was lonely. On a very deep level that he dared not broach, Lance could relate to that.
Lance tried to breathe an impressed 'wow' but it came out as nothing more than a rasp. The sound is strange and he doesn't expect it, but Draxis' fingertips press against his mouth to silence him before he can think further on the matter.
"I am afraid sacrificing our beloved crystals was all I could do at the time to save our people. For now we are safe, but we cannot be without the Plexia Crystals." He grabbed at Lance's hands again, easily able to enclose them around said crystal. "You seek redemption, I know. I can see it. I can feel it. It is yours; you only have to do this one thing."
Lance didn't dare speak again, too afraid it will come out in a wisp. He nodded instead, firm and a little desperate.
"Listen to it," Draxis continued, tipping his head towards Lance's cupped hands, where the purple glow was still seeping through the gaps and warming his skin. "It will tell you where to go. But please proceed with caution; it is a dangerous task. That is why I ask it of you, paladin of Voltron."
Lance gripped the crystal so tight it hurt. This was it. This was his moment.
Okay.
Lance breathes in, then out.
He can do this.
It's easy. Follow the crystal. Follow it to the others and bring them back before everyone even wakes up.
The single Pelxia Crystal vibrates slightly, longing to be reunited with the rest. It seems to glow at the sight of the only planet within view as if its isolation brings it physical pain. The planet itself is purple, ominous and surrounded by flying rocks.
Seems about right.
Steadily he inches Blue closer, searching for a gap. An opportunity to squeeze through and touch land. The spaces between don't seem to grant him much of an opening, however, so Lance remains stationary and thinks. Surely Blue could blast away a big enough cluster of the rocks to make an accessible path.
Okay. Here goes nothing.
Lance plucks his helmet up from the ground and secures it over his head. Could be a bumpy ride.
"Come on... come on!"
Lance blinks. Keith?
He turns to see, Blue following the motion, and he barely has a fraction of a tick to react to the sight of the Red lion flying at them with alarming speed.
The impact is harsh and jarring, throwing Lance off to the side of the cabin and sending Blue into the swarm of flying boulders. He tries to scream when his chest collides with the wall, stealing his air, and is deeply disturbed to find that he can't.
And while this should be the least of his worries, what with Blue being tossed around a meteor shower and all, he clutches at his throat in panic. When was the last time he'd used his voice, even? Maybe he just didn't hear it over the crash.
He wets his trembling lips.
'Blue.'
No sound escapes his mouth. Not a peep.
Blue tries desperately to right herself in the onslaught. Lance knows he needs to make his way back to the pilot's seat. Help Blue land. Find Keith and Red and make sure they're alright. Why is Keith here?
Over the chaos he can hear Keith calling out through the comms and Lance tries to stifle reignited panic when he realizes he can't respond back. Something like muscle memory has him slamming a fist down on the video feed, where he gets a short glimpse of Keith's cabin before the image pixelates and cuts to black.
The sight outside makes him dizzy as Blue pinwheels towards the planet's surface, seemingly caught in it's gravitational pull. Vaguely he can make out dying trees and the vast blue blur of water.
He has the mind to make a grab for the backpack just before crash landing, hugging it to himself with all the strength he can muster.
It is anything but gentle, knocking him around like a marble in a pinball machine and reminding him that it would be wise to push Pidge to instal some sort of safety harness system. When he finally feels things go still, aches and bruises already screaming for attention on his body, he is still curled up tightly on the floor with the bag clutched close.
He stays there for a long while, feeling pain and exhaustion and letting himself breathe because apparently it's all he can do. After a few moments, he tries again to call out to Blue verbally, just to hear his own voice and prove to himself that it isn't actually gone.
Then he nearly bursts into tears because it is. For absolutely no reason, no sound comes out of his mouth because his voice is gone. Had he been injured somehow? Something on the planet, maybe?
Blue's lights flicker, the poor girl. Lance reaches out a quivering hand to stroke her cold floor. It's the only thing he can reach.
That's when he sees it. Out the window past the hairline crack, a blur of red hurtling towards the planet's surface. As it comes closer, Lance is able to identify the Red lion. He watches it tumble through the air, smacking against the branches of impossibly tall, black trees and snapping them in half before smacking into the nearby lake with an enormous splash.
The ripples subside. The bubbles stop. Lance waits and waits, eyes wide and expecting something to break through the surface but nothing does, so Lance moves.
He climbs into the pilot's chair and grabs at the handles, delighted to see the lights try to flicker back to life under his touch. Blue still manages to roll to her feet with a disgruntled growl and dive into the lake. Her movements are smoother (and happier, Lance thinks) now that she is water-bound. She swims into the depths, seemingly knowing exactly where to find her fallen friend.
The lake isn't deep, much to Lance's relief. Already he can see Red sitting at the bottom, lights out. Blue already has her jaw open to scoop the slightly smaller lion up. Lance can feel the added strain that comes from the extra weight, but Blue persists and Lance has every bit of faith that she will get them all back to land.
As usual, his lion does not let him down. She drags Red away from the water and sets him gently onto the soft soil. Lance eyes Red's underbelly compartment, waiting for the door to slide open and for a cranky Keith to stumble out, but he never does. The door stays shut, and after a moment, Lance realizes why; the metal is warped and bent in a way that prevents it from opening.
Oh, quiznack.
Blue feels his concern, nudges him in the back of his mind and begins to rev up a shot. She fires at the compartment door, blasting it clean off, which allows a small flood of water to rush out that had been trapped inside.
Lance cringes. They'll have to make up for the damages later. For now, though…
Lance grabs Pidge's backpack as he rushes for the exit, not even hesitating to hop into Red's now-busted entryway. It's difficult to see but he finds Keith's prone body right away, completely soaked and totally slack.
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.
Keith doesn't react, doesn't even make a sound as Lance drags him out into the open by his armpits, where he lies Keith flat on his back and drops to his knees. He palms dark, wet hair away from Keith's face and pats his cheek, hoping for a response. A curse. A twitch. Anything. Please, oh please.
Nothing.
Shiro had gone through the trouble of making sure everyone knew a thing or two about CPR, with good reason. But it's a skill already under Lance's belt thanks to a part-time job as a lifeguard back home before the Garrison. Trembling hands hover over Keith's far-too-still chest as he tries to recall the information. Okay. First things first; remove the chest plate so it doesn't get in the way.
His fingers fumble with the latch but he eventually gets the hunk of armor off and tosses it to the side. Then he laces his fingers together, positions his palms atop Keith's chest and—oh god—begins compressions. He tries to pump to the beat of a song but all his brain can conjure up is the thought of going home with Keith's death on his hands and he almost forgets to stop to give air. He hiccups an unsaid apology for his less-than-gentle touch as he pinches Keith's fine nose between unsteady fingers to angle his head back, then leans in to connect their mouths. It's difficult to push air into Keith's mouth instead of sobbing into it, but he manages to do so at a steady pace.
Somehow, over his own frantic heartbeat, he hears the rustling in the distance, accompanied by hushed mumbling. He glances to the trees, to Blue, to Red, to Keith. Repeats. He's on Galra territory. Galra, who love the thought of nabbing lions as a peace offering to those in higher power, who also won't hesitate to take advantage of a paladin out of commission. Galra, who have the absolute worst timing on any given day, like showing up when trying to drag a teammate back to life.
A silent whine crawls out of his throat. He's not off to a good start. He promised Draxis he'd make quick work of getting the Plexia Crystals back from the Galra and here he is about to get found out before stepping ten feet away from his lion.
Leaving his lion-
The rustling gets closer, the voices louder. Lance swears he sees movement.
-he'll have to.
Once more looping his arms under Keith's, Lance commands his aching body to drag the other boy towards the woods. Keith is heavy and awkward to tow around and his heels are tracing lines in the dirt. So with a wheeze Lance stops, tightens his grip and, thanks to adrenaline or anxiety or both, activates his jetpack in short bursts to carry Keith through the air. He keeps low and every short landing disturbs the dirt, but its better than the heel-trails they were leaving behind before.
He does this until fatigue makes Keith too heavy to carry, so he finds the nearest cluster of foliage he can and seeks refuge there. It'll have to do.
He flattens Keith along the forest floor and tries again, quietly as he can, to bring him back. Please wake up, he thinks as he once more pushes down on Keith's chest. Please.
Because suddenly Lance doesn't want to do this alone.
XXX
Everything hurt.
His chest outright burns when he inhales and for some reason he's spitting up water, hacking it up as someone or something manhandles him, rolling him over and then sitting him up against something scratchy and hard.
He groans, trying to swallow another round of coughing but doesn't get the chance as something clamps over his mouth to silence him.
Instinct kicks in, an impulse to protect himself, prompting Keith to swipe at the offending hand, catching it by the wrist. He twists it without a second thought.
He expects a scream or a retaliation but only hears a sharp, broken gasp, followed by a shaky exhale.
Keith opens his eyes then, confused by his surroundings. Dead trees, plants he doesn't recognize. The air tastes like ass. Directly in front of him, Lance is staring at him, unshed tears welling up in his blue eyes.
"Shit. Lance, I-"
But he is stopped short when Lance covers his mouth again, this time with his good hand, and rapidly shakes his head back and forth. Keith tilts his head, perplexed, because something is… off.
He reaches out to him but Lance just keeps wobbling his head back and forth. Lance's lips move as if trying to explain, but nothing comes out.
"Lance," he attempts to speak through the other boy's fingers. "What-"
Lance pushes even harder onto Keith's mouth, his face pinched in guilt. His eyes dart to the side, then back to Keith, and for whatever reason, Keith understands to look that direction. So he does.
In the far distance, their lions are sitting there next to the water's edge, Blue on her haunches and Red sprawled on the ground. Blue has her shield up with a wide berth, big enough to protect herself and Red within it's protective walls. In front of them, poking at said barrier, are two giant, well-armored Galrans.
What the hell?
He rotates to sit on his knees to face Lance, who now has both of his hands rubbing tenderly at the base of his throat. Keith grabs Lance by the back of the head and shoves him lower to the ground. "Shh," he hisses harshly. "We need to move."
He expects an eye roll or maybe some smartass comment, but under his hand he can feel Lance nodding shakily. He grabs Lance by the good wrist to drag him to his feet, taking the lead and tugging Lance behind him through the trees for a good, long while and only stops once the Galrans and the lions are well out of sight.
Then he swings Lance around angrily to face him, overwhelmed with questions, but he stops short when Lance keeps his head bowed, shoulders shaking.
And it dawns on Keith that Lance, for whatever reason, is scared.
"What the hell is going on?"
But Lance doesn't look up at him. He holds his injured wrist to his chest, shoulders hunched forward and forcing the bag draped across his torso to slide to the front. He keeps silently shaking his head back and forth like it's all he can do.
Keith tries to soften, even though it doesn't come to him easily. It isn't like Lance to be so shaken to be on enemy territory. It isn't like Lance to crumple under the weight of danger. "We're safe now. Tell me what the hell you were trying to do?" Because none of this would be happening if Lance had just stayed put and went to sleep like a good soldier. Honestly, how does someone screw up going to bed? When he receives no answer, Keith grasps Lance by the shoulders and shakes him. "Lance."
Lance looks up at him finally, eyes wet and wide. He returns Keith's hold by grasping at his biceps and just like that, Keith's anger dissolves, because it hits him then just how tangible Lance's anxiety is. How Lance has been favoring his throat and having nothing to say even though he's has the opportunity to bicker or call the shots. How he has yet to utter a single sound this entire time, even after having his wrist injured.
"Lance," Keith says again, quiet this time. Soft. Careful. "Say something."
A beat passes. And then Lance sobs.