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The Purity of Sin

Seven

They ran for far longer than Keith wanted.

It couldn't be helped though. There were nearly no structures to hide behind, no cliff wall to offer even a pitiful hint of shade and they were sitting targets out in the vast plain of flat rocks and low hills.

They did have to stop their jog not too long after they got started, as Lance had near collapsed from dizziness. They were plodding along now and despite the extra heat, Keith had one of Lance's arms swung about his shoulders as otherwise the taller boy was no longer able to hold himself upright.

The only positive was that immediately following their retreat there had been a cliff that rose up and they had gone behind it, which blocked the Mackans from seeing them. Unfortunately such a location was still much too close to where they'd abandoned bloody bandages and their scent so they had to keep going. But there didn't appear to be any signs of pursuit and for that Keith was beyond grateful. He still hadn't come up with a good solution to fighting such an enemy.

They were trudging past a series of small rock mounds, Keith very carefully guiding Lance around them so he didn't trip, when the half-Galran could feel Lance's knees buckle and he barely managed to lower them both to kneeling before Lance collapsed.

He couldn't hear it, but Lance's chest was heaving and his breath was coming in heavy pants. He was trembling too as sweat covered him in a thin glaze. Yet, as Keith maneuvered them so Lance was sitting instead of kneeling, Lance's skin was not hot but actually cool. Clammy.

"Hey," Keith said softly. Lance didn't look at him, his eyes shut tight as she shuddered in Keith's light hold. "Hey," he repeated, voice harder as worry clenched his stomach. "Lance. Hey."

Exhausted eyes pried themselves open. Keith saw Lance's lips move, could interpret the gasped 'sorry' as Lance slumped even more, only remaining upright at this point because of Keith.

"Don't apologize." Keith shifted Lance slightly so he could get a better angle on Lance's right hand. What he saw made the already tight knot in his stomach worsen.

The wound was freely bleeding again, soaked through once more and crimson dripping down Lance's fingers. Lance gave another shudder in his hold and Keith realized it was official. Lance had lost too much blood.

Lance raised his trembling left hand and tapped it against Keith's cheek, getting his attention. He mouthed something then and Keith murmured back, "bad?" and Lance gave a weak nod.

"It's not good," Keith said and for some strange reason Lance's lips quirked upwards as if laughing at some inside joke. "It's really not good," Keith repeated, hating how he heard his own words getting choked. "Lance… you're…"

What did he do? Lance needed real medical attention. At this rate… at this rate…

Keith didn't let himself finish the thought. He sat fully back, adjusting Lance's near deadweight against him and put his hand down to balance them both. He yelped and lifted it immediately though as the hot rock beneath practically burned him.

He felt a new wave of guilt crop up as he looked to Lance's feet. They were faring better than before, but he could see from here that Lance's heels were burned and blistered and somehow he'd still been walking on them.

His respect and despair rose in equal measure, even as he pulled Lance's feet so they were propped up against Keith's leg and not directly touching the ground. As it was the pants Lance we wearing had to be doing very little to protect him from the hot ground and…

A sudden, terrible idea came to Keith then. He glanced at the ground to Lance's burned feet, to his blade and then to the blood-soaked bandages. He reached out a tentative hand to the luxite sword. The hilt was warm and somewhat damp from where he'd been clutching it, but the blade itself was hot to the touch and Keith knew if he set it on the sun-soaked ground and let it get the full effects from the suns it would become even hotter.

"Lance," he swallowed thickly. "I… I might have an idea. For your hand."

Dark eyes blinked back at him and Lance tilted his head ever so slightly from where it was leaning against Keith's shoulder.

"I…I think I can…" he swallowed again, "cauterize it. With my blade."

Lance's eyes widened, fear flecking them. But while it did not disappear a steely resolve crossed his face and he nodded.

"Are you sure?" Because Keith sure wasn't. He felt absolutely sick with the idea. He was going to burn Lance. Willingly hurt him. And he didn't even know if it would work against a clearly magical wound. He could burn him for nothing.

Another nod.

"It's going to hurt." And Lance did that weird smile again and Keith wondered if he'd missed any masochist clues in Lance's personality before this trip.

Lance reached with his left hand and placed it atop Keith's hand and gave it a faint squeeze.

"Okay," Keith whispered. "Let's… let's get set up then."

He managed to coax Lance into a slumped sit while he arranged a flat-ish rock next to them where he'd have Lance put his hand. His sword he left on the ground to get every bit of sun it could, blade as large as he could make it. He theorized that if the larger blade took in heat, when he converted it to its smaller form it would be even hotter.

They were out of bandages though, he frowned. The only piece they had left was the thoroughly soaked piece on Lance's hand, which had to go as it was likely going to turn into a Mackan beacon, and then the small scrap he'd tied about his own neck, but there was no way he was going to risk cross-contamination even if his was mostly unsoiled.

Keith would happily cut up more pieces of his own outfit if it would help, but the material wasn't designed to keep moisture in. Still though, maybe he wouldn't need it for that purpose anymore, if this worked out as planned.

Decision made, Keith stripped of his shirt once again and set to work hacking at this other sleeve. His body cried out in protest as one arm was already ripening to red and he was sure his unprotected face was not faring much better. Still, a little sunburn was nothing compared to what Lance was going through.

And even with Lance's darker tone, Keith could see that he too was starting to look a little pink. They needed to find shade again and soon. He scanned the area again looking for anything that looked like it could provide even a hint of protection.

About a quarter mile away there seemed to be a small rise. Nothing like the towering cliffs they'd previously sheltered next to, but it was the only thing he could see in the immediate vicinity that could help. A rise of cliffs did jut out, but Keith estimated them to be several more miles and Lance couldn't make that distance right now. Maybe once night had fallen they could try.

A few hacks later he had decimated his right arm sleeve, keeping the little tubes again with the hope he could slide it over Lance's hand and protect the wound. He gratefully pulled his shirt back on, feeling his back already prickling uncomfortably at the unforgiving rays.

He retreated back to Lance, who was still hunched exactly where Keith had left him. "Are you ready?" He hoped his voice didn't waver as much as he imagined it to. They still had a few minutes at least, Keith thought as he put the blade down on the ground again to regather heat.

Lance looked up and gave another small nod, although he couldn't hide the fear.

"I'll be quick," Keith said, really hoping he could be. "Um… put your hand up here." Lance guided his right hand onto the rock, wincing at the bare heat on his arm but otherwise making no other movement.

Keith deftly unwrapped the bloodied bandage and tossed it as far as he could in the direction they'd already come from. They had no water left to clean the injury, but at this point Keith doubted it mattered. He did wish he had some though for after he was finished, because even lukewarm anything would have to be better than nothing.

"Okay," Keith breathed, trying to tamp down his nerves as his hands shook worse than when he'd made his play with the Mackans. "Okay."

Lance reached across the rock and placed his left hand atop Keith's again, giving him a small smile.

"I don't want to hurt you," Keith admitted.

Lance said something to him and Keith felt the vice around his heart loosen just a little. "I trust you," he repeated, getting a nod of confirmation. "I… I don't know if I trust myself. I'm going to burn you."

Lance winced at the reminder, but repeated his words. He did trust Keith. He trusted him with his life and although this was going to hurt – and Dios, why did this mission involve so much burning? – he knew it needed to be done. He wasn't blind – haha, yet, and oh Dios, he was losing it, the effects of both heat exhaustion and the blood loss taking their toll.

He wouldn't be able to keep moving at even the slow pace Keith had set. And if they stopped moving they were dead. They had no good way to counter magic spells and nothing to defend them from distance. They had to evade until rescue came and that was still over a day out.

If… if sealing his hand could help then Lance would go through that pain. It was nothing the cryo-pods couldn't fix later, he was sure. Assuming he made it back to a cryo-pod. He shoved the dark thought away. He couldn't think like that. If he started down that track then there was no going back. Losing his voice was one thing; losing his actual life was another entirely.

That, and he couldn't do that to Keith. He knew Keith would hold himself solely responsible if Lance were to die here. He'd blame himself even though there was nothing he could have done. And Lance could never forgive himself if he hurt not just Keith but the rest of his space family like that. No. No way.

They were getting out of this and that was that.

Lance squared his shoulders, trying to project a strength he didn't entirely feel. He could feel Keith's own nervousness and fear and he didn't like that at all. He squeezed Keith's hand again, trying to offer what comfort he could.

"Okay," Keith whispered. "I'm… I'm going to…"

He hefted his sword back into his hand, wincing as even the grip was beyond warm now and it stung his still raw hands, that he hadn't even really given thought to this entire time. They paled in comparison to everything else. The black blade seemed to nearly glow and Keith stared at it, mesmerized.

Then reality crashed back and he shrunk it to the size of a knife, the black now really glowing with sheer heat. He gulped and he saw Lance do the same.

Keith removed his left hand from Lance's and instead placed it around the base of Lance's right wrist, pinning it to the hot stone. It hurt him just as much as it seemed to hurt Lance based on the resulting wince.

"Okay I'm… I'm going to put the blade h-here," and his voice was shaking as much as the blade. Keith took a steadying breath, willing his body to cooperate. "Try… try not to move, okay? It'll be over soon."

Lance gave him a weak thumbs up with his left. He stretched his right hand open as much as he could, a new rivulet of blood rolling down his palm at the action.

Keith took one more breath, hovering the knife above Lance's hand. He could do this. It was for the best. It was going to help Lance.

It was the only thing that could save him.

That last thought spurred him into action and without any more delay Keith pressed the knife down flat against Lance's palm.

Lance immediately jerked backwards and Keith had no choice but to throw his entire weight forward to hold him there as the scent of burnt flesh wafted into the air.

Lance was screaming silently, his head tossed back and tears pouring down his cheeks, as he thrashed under Keith's grip, blinding agony taking the place of any coherence.

"I'm almost done," Keith promised, voice breaking. "Just a little longer."

He had no idea how long he was supposed to hold it there, but he'd rather only have to do this once. Thirty seconds, he chanted at himself. Twenty left. It felt surreal though. There was no noise other than the faint sizzle of burning skin and scuffs as Lance kicked against the ground.

It was all sorts of wrong and the back of Keith's neck was prickling.

Lance was scrabbling with his left hand now, weakly trying to push himself away using Keith's shoulder as leverage.

"I'm so sorry." His voice was too loud in this silence of agony, not that Lance seemed to take any notice. Keith felt his own eyes misting and blinked them away. Ten seconds. "I'm so sorry, Lance."

Lance stopped fighting him then, body going limp as he passed out. Keith was beyond grateful.

Keith forced himself to keep pressing on the wound, the smell curdling his stomach and only through sheer will did he tamp it down.

Finally, finally, he pulled the knife free, dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, and looked at the results, praying it hadn't all been for nothing.

Where the open wound had been was now a strip of burnt flesh that covered nearly all of Lance's palm. The wound though… the wound was a shine of pink and red and it was not bleeding. Keith collapsed to his knees with relief, suddenly shaking even more than he had been before.

But it wasn't over. He had to pull himself together. Lance still needed medical attention.

He had to pry his left hand off of Lance's wrist, wincing as the marks of his fingers were embedded in the thin limb. Lance was definitely going to have bruises.

He grabbed the sleeve tubes and pulled one over Lance's unresisting hand, followed by two more to keep it snug. The hand up to the Lance's knuckles were now covered and Keith dearly hoped that would be enough. He had no other supplies to work with.

Keith put the remaining tubes over his own hand and scrunched them up to his wrist, as he needed his sheath back for the blade. As loathe as he was to put it away, he was going to have to carry Lance and he didn't dare risk cutting him; this was going to be awkward enough without the addition of a weapon.

How was he going to do this? Keith knew his limitations. He was decently strong, yes, but Lance was much taller and Keith didn't dare hoist him into a fireman's carry; all of that blood rushing down would not be good.

Piggyback, maybe? It wouldn't be far, just about a quarter mile to that rise. Then, once Lance woke up they could make for the cliffs.

After sheathing his knife, Keith made his way over to where Lance had slumped against the rock. He wormed his way in between Lance and the rock and pulled both limp arms over his shoulders. Lance's breathing was incredibly shallow against his neck and he tried his best to ignore what that could mean for now.

If he hunched forward while walking gravity should keep Lance from falling backwards. The biggest challenge with that was overbalancing, especially as Keith wasn't going to have use of his arms. Speaking of which, he wasn't quite sure how to maneuver them to best hoist Lance up.

He'd never actually given anyone a piggy back ride before. He'd seen it in action – normally Lance hanging off Hunk or Lance carting Pidge around – but the actual process was lost on him. That, and Lance was unconscious and wasn't going to be assisting in any bit of it.

He ended up maneuvering them so Lance was draped across his back and then tucked his arms under Lance's knees, pressing them to his sides. Taking a deep breath of preparation, Keith then rose.

He stumbled forward a bit as Lance weighed on him like an incredibly bulky backpack, but he managed to brace his feet after a few short steps. Okay. He had this. Just a quarter mile. He adjusted his grip on Lance's legs. Time to go.

Nearly twenty of the longest minutes of his life later, Keith all but dropped to his knees as he reached the hill. The flat plains were either really messing with his depth perception or he had been going much slower than he thought. But it was over now and that was all that mattered.

There wasn't much shade; about the same cover they had during Keith's short nap earlier, but it was an immediate relief from the blistering heat. He carefully lowered Lance and settled him as comfortably as he could, pillowing both of his hands on his stomach.

But Lance did not look comfortable. Even in his unconscious state his face was tight with pain and his breathing was still coming in much too shallow of pants. After a moment's hesitation, Keith settled himself against the hill and then shifted so that he got his legs up underneath Lance's head to function as a pillow.

He then gingerly lowered his hand to Lance's head, sweeping the sweat-slicked bangs back. He repeated the action a few times, surprised at how soothing he found the gesture himself. It seemed to be working a little too, as some of the sharpest lines were softening in Lance's face.

It was odd, Keith mused. Prior to this mission he didn't think he'd ever engaged in so much willing physical contact with another. He had never understood what the others seemed to find so endearing about it – and the only person he'd ever actually wanted a hug from was gone now and he pushed away the image of Shiro smiling softly before he could dwell on it—but there was something... not just comforting, but fulfilling, about it. It made him feel a little less alone.

"It's going to be okay," Keith reassured them both quietly, his voice cutting through the still air. "You're okay."

Lance's breathing eventually deepened, slipping into slumber, and Keith wilted with relief. Unfortunately the deep breaths reminded him of just how tired he was too. He could feel his eyes slipping closed against his wishes.

He shook his head to clear it. He couldn't sleep. Not now. He'd gone through worse before. Even if he had to stay awake until the rescue he could do it. He hoped. Under normal conditions he was sure he could manage, but the heat and then the frigid cold with the lack of water was taking its toll. He'd grown up in a desert, but even that experience could not prepare his body for these kinds of extremes.

Keith made the decision they could rest there for another half-varga, but then they did need to get moving. He had no idea how quickly the group of Mackans he'd seen traveling and he did not want to get caught out in the open like this.

He looked up at the three suns, which were ever so slowly moving across the sky. He'd already determined based on staying up all night the previous evening that the days and nights here were shorter than earth's and shorter even than what Allura had dubbed Castle Standard Time (CST) of about a 22-varga day.

He gave this planet a sixteen hour cycle with equal sun and moon exposure. That meant, and he scowled, they still had two "nights" to go, which ruined his original guess that they had just a day and a half from yesterday.

If they landed on this planet at say 1300 varga then that meant, according to Allura's time clock they had forty-four varga to meet up, and add about another two to that for the team to get worried and come looking. So forty-six total.

Keith had no idea how long they'd been unconscious for, but given the fact they'd spent about three retreating and night had fallen shortly thereafter it couldn't have been for long. He'd give it an hour. Once they'd settled down they'd had maybe two varga before Keith had heard the Mackans approaching and then he'd spent the next six awake. He was up to twelve varga now.

He kept his timeline going. They'd walked for about two and then Keith had gone to sleep. He wasn't quite sure how long he had been out - definitely not the three that he'd instructed Lance to keep track of - but maybe two? He'd go with two. They'd been moving for a varga after that looking for some semblance of shelter and then… his stomach clenched at the memory. If he counted it as an hour between that and the rest now that was another two total bringing it to six. That meant they had about two hours left of daylight, and it should wane in about an hour in as the suns sank.

That was what… eighteen varga in so far? Eighteen out of a minimum forty-six? That… that couldn't be right. That meant they had to last still for twenty-eight varga with a rescue in the early morning hours. Two more nights. Another day and a half of sun. Twenty-eight varga of Mackans hunting them.

They were going to die.

The fact was cold and hard and Keith felt something icy settle in him. He was a realist. And realistically there was no way they were making it off this planet alive. Lance was already suffering from heavy blood loss and even if that problem had been remedied for now (and Keith prayed that it stayed sealed because he could not do that again) the damage had been done.

They had almost no food (three bugs left) and Keith had no idea if they would be lucky enough to get more. They had no water source and it was too dangerous to return to their old one. He had no doubt the Mackans had made it there already and had secured it.

Lance was wearing next to nothing and was going to be suffering sunburn and heat exhaustion at this rate not to mention the frigid temperatures at night. Keith was down both arm sleeves now and he could feel the skin prickling beyond unpleasant on the back of his left arm and his face ached too. They weren't equipped at all for either the day or night extremes.

And that didn't even take into account the Mackans tracking them. Keith didn't claim to know and didn't want to understand their sacrifice ritual, but he would bet his luxite blade that they needed Lance back. He had no idea if they could enact the rest of their ritual from here – and he couldn't even stomach the thought of Lance being blind and deaf too – or what complications could still arise from what they had done.

The Mackans had all of the advantages… and they had absolutely none.

None of that mattered though. At this rate neither he nor Lance were going to be sacrifices for the Mackans because they were going to be dead from elements.

They were going to die unless some miracle happened or Keith had a brilliant plan, but all his mind did was run in useless circles. He needed an answer. He needed something. And so he turned to the one person who had never truly let him down.

"Shiro... what do I do?"

The whispered question went unanswered, just as he knew it would.

Keith buried his face in his hands.

"P-please. I don't know what to do."

A sob wracked his shoulders and he hunched over, even in his misery being careful so as not to jostle Lance's head.

He knew that crying as not the answer. It wasted time and fluids he couldn't afford to lose, but in this moment he wanted to do nothing else. He didn't know what else to do. He'd failed. He was supposed to be the team leader and protect his team and instead he was going to get both of them killed.

"I'm so sorry," he whimpered. "I'm so s-sorry."

He felt Lance shift then and he hurriedly straightened up, rubbing at his eyes that were no doubt beyond red and watery.

Dark ocean orbs blinked open, hazy with pain but coming to focus as ticks went by. And Keith watched as they zeroed in on his face and then met his gaze.

"Hey," he whispered, throat still choked. "How are you feeling?"

In answer Lance lifted up a trembling left hand, right lying limp across his stomach, and brought it towards Keith's face. Keith shook as Lance lifted away a wayward tear.

Lance moved then, struggling to sit and Keith hurried to assist. "What are you doing, you idiot," he scolded. "You're going to hurt—"

He broke off as Lance, now upright, leaned sideways and wrapped both of his arms snug about Keith.

"W-what are you…?"

He knew what it was. A hug. But his brain didn't want to seem to process that.

Robotically he shifted so that Lance's arms weren't so stretched, maneuvering himself nearly in front of his fellow Paladin and sitting awkwardly on his knees as Lance's legs tucked off to the side. All the new position did was make Lance tighten his embrace.

Keith hesitantly brought his arms up and copied Lance, twining them about the bare back. The action stirred the tears back to life and he swallowed down the sob. He couldn't cry.

But Lance had other ideas. He somehow pulled Keith even closer, burying his face against Keith's shoulder and chest and Keith could feel the dampness of tears soaking into the material.

Lance didn't try and reassure him. He didn't tell him it was going to be okay. He just hugged Keith and let him know that he was there and alive and Keith felt another tear – of relief? Fear? Sorrow? – slip down his cheek and then another.

And with his head bowed over Lance's and secure in the embrace, Keith allowed himself to cry.

Author's Notes

I debated if y'all should get an update today and was going with a 'no', but since Christmas is going to get us all off again I figured may as well. So enjoy the little bonus update and say thank you to those who left comments who ultimately gave you this chapter early.

This was a fun one to write. For me. Not for the boys. I hurt them both. #socruel Also, I am being so anal with this timeline and I apologize. But we are literally counting hours because the perfectionist in me requires it. So here is the typical Mackan day and goes to show you just how crappy this situation is.

Huge thanks to the amazing reviewers. Um, I will... not cauterize you? Oh! You all get a hug from Keith. How's that? Better? Hugs from Keith to: geekyglamour413, Ralyssene118, Subtle Shenanigans, Kate, yazbk2988, Oliviadbell, WhiteTails, Violinworld, wingedflower, MandyRaccoon, imagine forevermore, Alexa, LishaChan, Justanangryfangirl, Guest, Adrianna Agray, JellydiAngelo, Berrybanana05 and PaintedWings45!

Enjoy the chapter? Drop a comment below with your feelings, favorite part, etc. Also? *twirls hair* It's kind of my birthday (well, it's on Saturday but close enough). Reviews make lovely presents so if you'd like to help me celebrate... *winkwinknudgenudge* Thanks everyone!