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The Purity of Sin

Eight

"They've retreated to the Plains of Hiruit, High Priest."

The High Priest blinked amber eyes slowly as the sandy-colored Brother Milnew appeared before him, a cup of steaming tea in his paws that he offered with a short bow.

The High Priest took the cup, hating the tremble to his limb, and took a sip, putting off that revelation for one more moment. He had spent the last several varga with the Council of Elders working to turn the sacrifice's armored helm into an appropriate substitute so they could continue the Purity of Sin. They had only just finished the first step, a long, painstaking process as this was the first time in generations that the ritual had needed to be completed in such a way, and he had excused himself to pray for a short time before they proceeded.

He took another heavy sip of the drink, resisting the urge to massage his brow. He had asked Brother Milnew to keep him informed of the search teams, but he had been so wrapped up it had been at least six varga since he had received an update.

And it was not a good one.

"The Plains, you said?"

Brother Milnew nodded. "And… that is not all, High Priest." He looked so distraught then that the High Priest felt his own face fall.

"What is it?"

"Sister Wilde and Brother Otic are dead."

The High Priest felt his short legs shake.

"They were found several varga ago, but I could not inform you sooner. They were…" and Milnew swallowed heavily, the fur of his ruff expanding. "Slaughtered, High Priest. Sister Wilde was found in two pieces."

The tea threatened to come back up.

"It is believed to be the work of the Red and Black Paladin, as we know he has some type of blade-like weapon. It has… it has made the search teams more hesitant to approach and I am afraid our hesitancy may have cost us a chance at an earlier apprehension. They have retreated now across the Plains and—"

"Follow them," the High Priest cut in.

"But, High Priest…"

"Time is of the essence, Brother. How long do you think a species like theirs will last on the Plains? There is no food or water for pylans and their bodies do not look to be made for the cold. We need the sacrifice alive or we are ruined."

The High Priest saw Milnew's ears flatten back and he looked away.

"What else is there?"

Milnew sighed. "The… The Purity, High Priest. Our teams have found in several places decent quantities of blood belonging no doubt to the sacrifice."

"The other Paladin of Voltron will keep him alive," the High Priest replied, knowing that fact despite the odds. "But the elements are their true danger and leaving them to the Plains will result in not just their deaths but all of ours. Do you understand, Brother?"

"Y-yes, High Priest. I will have a retrieval team assemble."

"Remember, Brother Milnew, we hold the advantage. This Red and Black Paladin of Voltron should be of no concern; he has but one blade that must be wielded at close range. But… if it will aid in the cause the Council of Elders and I will make post-haste to complete the purification of the second Sin."

"That would be most agreeable, High Priest, and will surely restore some faith to our brothers and sisters. I will notify them at once and we will move out shortly."

"Before the night is over we shall have the sacrifice back in our possession," the High Priest said with a smile. "Now go. We have no time to waste."

And with one last bow, Brother Milnew departed. The High Priest took the final sip of his tea and placed the mug to the side, eyes narrowing with determination.

It was time to finish the purification of the second Sin.

xxx

Lance had come to disoriented and in quite a bit of pain. His hand felt like someone had taken a burning knife and – oh. That is what happened. He'd felt a somewhat hysterical chuckle bubble up then, but it had disappeared as quickly as it had come as he heard another sound coming from above him.

Crying. Someone was crying. And suddenly his own pain was not all that important.

He'd moved then, trying to get a better look and the sound had cut off abruptly. By the time he'd managed to pry his eyes open everything had gone quiet. Keith was hovering over him though and Lance would have had to be blind to miss the redness of Keith's eyes or the tear that traced its way down his cheek.

And then the mullet went and asked him how he was feeling. Oh no. Lance might have felt like he'd gone up against the gladiator at level one hundred and had his ass kicked while shoving his and into a blender filled with burning hot liquid, but Keith was most definitely not okay himself and Lance wasn't going to let that go. Not this time.

He'd somehow gotten himself to sitting with Keith's help even as the swordsman protested he would hurt himself, and pulled him into the tightest hug he could. His hand wailed at the pressure and Lance had adjusted his grip, hugging Keith with mostly his right elbow and forearm instead.

And his heart broke when Keith didn't seem to realize what was happening. He'd frozen like a board, hands limp at his sides. Lance had been grateful when some neurons started firing again and Keith moved so Lance's arms weren't' quite so stretched and he could wrap them more fully about the smaller boy, dragging him closer.

And then finally Keith had returned the hug. Lance had burrowed his face against Keith's shoulder, not needing to muffle his own cries thanks to what the Mackans had done, but because his eyes were wet and he couldn't wipe them away with his otherwise occupied hands.

He wanted to tell Keith that it was okay to cry. Well, losing the body fluid wasn't good, but otherwise yes. It was okay to be upset. Lance had already cried enough this trip for both of them, but that didn't mean Keith wasn't entitled to his own bout.

His grip had tightened as he heard Keith finally give into a sob and then another.

They stayed like that for how long Lance wasn't sure, but Keith eventually pulled back and Lance let him. He cocked his head as Keith sat back on his heels and rubbed a sunburned hand across an equally red and tear stained face.

"Thank you," Keith said quietly. "I… I do feel better." Lance gave him a smile.

Those bright purple eyes turned more serious then. "And how do you feel? How's… how's the hand?"

With trepidation Lance glanced at the limb in question. He couldn't see it at all, covered up as it was by Keith's former sleeve, but he did see that there was no blood. That was a good thing.

It was the only good thing really, as the entire hand was absolutely pulsing with pain now and somehow bringing his attention to it had made it worse. He clutched it to his chest, hunching over it as though that would somehow make it feel better. It did not, for the record.

"I'm really sorry," Keith whispered.

Lance looked up and shook his head. It wasn't Keith's fault. He did what needed to be done. If anything Lance should be apologizing for having to put Keith through that, but he wasn't sure how to fully explain that. He settled for placing his left hand on Keith's upturned knee and giving it a squeeze.

Keith managed a small smile, but it fell soon thereafter.

"We're in trouble," he said quietly. Lance managed a look of mock surprise and he drew another smile for his efforts.

"I was calculating the time difference," Keith said. "We still have at least twenty-eight varga before the others get here."

Lance ran the number over in his head, stomach dropping. That meant…

"We have about two hours of daylight left for the Mackan's day today," Keith continued. "We… we need to make it to those cliffs there," and he jutted his chin their direction. "If… if they don't have water though, Lance, we…"

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Lance more than understood. Either they had water and the kept surviving or they didn't and… well, it wasn't going to be pretty.

Keith dug into the pouch he'd made and extracted two bugs, which looked no worse for the wear since that morning and somehow Lance managed to make a face at them, relieved when it garnered a low chuckle from Keith. "I know. But you need to eat. If you can. Just one, okay?"

He took it without even a feigned sigh. But even as Keith chomped down Lance stared at his meal, stomach rolling. He knew he needed to eat, but just the thought was sending his innards heaving and he sucked in a harsh breath instead, which devolved into a soundless cough.

"Lance?" Keith was there then, hovering and uncertain of what to do as Lance tried very hard not to cough up a lung. When he finally finished he held his untouched bug back out to Keith.

"No, you need to eat it."

Lance weakly shook his head.

"Lance, you need to eat." And Keith sounded scared now and Lance hated that he'd caused it, but he couldn't do what Keith asked.

He'd thought he'd feel better as time passed, but it seemed to be the opposite. His head was pounding now and the pulsing pain from his hand was traveling down his arm now and making his entire body throb. And the idea of eating that gross, nauseating bug… he wasn't hungry anymore. He wasn't sure he'd even be in the mood for a plate of garlic knots if they descended in front of him.

"Okay," Keith agreed after a few quiet moments. "We'll… try again later, all right?"

Lance inclined his head even though he was pretty sure later might mean never.

"Do you… do you think you can walk? I'll help. But we can't stay here."

Lance wished they could. He just wanted to lie back down and try to sleep until he felt even a bit better. But that thought made guilt fill him instead of nausea. He'd had plenty of rest while Keith had barely managed two hours.

He mimed sleeping with just his left hand, but Keith got it. "As soon as we get there you can sleep."

Lance shook his head though and pointed at Keith.

"I can't sleep. Not now," Keith said, although Lance could hear the longing in his tone. "It's not safe."

Lance mustered up the best glare he could and repeated his motions.

"If… if we get there and there's still daylight I'll rest. For a bit," Keith finally agreed.

And that provided the motivation Lance needed. He nodded and accepted Keith's assistance in getting to his feet. The world spun nauseatingly around him and he'd have fallen right back down if Keith hadn't caught him.

"Take a minute," Keith murmured.

Lance ended up taking several and even then he didn't feel very sure-footed. Stepping back onto his burnt feet and putting his full weight down was an obstacle all itself, but Lance knew that he had to do it. Keith couldn't carry him, or at least not for long, as he'd gotten to wherever this was without any recollection.

"We'll go slow," Keith said, looping Lance's left arm about his neck and putting his own left around Lance's back. "It's maybe… two miles. Not too bad, right?"

Two miles on a good day was nothing at all, but with way he was feeling it might as well be twenty. Lance appreciated the encouragement though and he took his first step of many.

The full effects of the sun when the stepped out from the shade nearly made Lance falter again and he heard Keith inhale sharply. Within minutes Lance could feel his exposed skin starting to ache and everywhere Keith touched him was stifling. But without the support he'd fall.

The first hour was near torture, but as the suns started to set it became a bit more bearable heat-wise. Lance was dizzy, blinking back dots on his vision multiple times and often moving forward a chunk of distance without even being aware of it as Keith just short of ushered him robotically along.

Keith didn't say much of anything, not that Lance could blame him. His own throat was aching and parched and no doubt Keith's was the same. Besides, what was there to say?

"Almost there."

Keith's voice was so loud in the otherwise silent world and Lance nearly tripped in surprise. He lifted his head for the first time in a long while, blinking as the cliffs loomed in front of them. They were nowhere near the grand size of the canyon from the previous night; perhaps only fifteen feet or so tall and they stretched at most for fifty yards. But they provided something to the otherwise flat canvas and just having them at their backs provided the slim comfort that no one could come up that way.

Keith all but hauled him forward the last hundred feet, lowering Lance to the ground before he collapsed next to him with a quiet oomph. They both lie there for several minutes, Lance's head slowly coming to a stop from its carousel ride as he breathed in the stillness.

Keith was the first to recover, sitting up with a groan. "I'm going to go look for water," he said. "Stay here, okay? I'll be back in a few minutes." There really weren't that many places to look and Keith had a sinking feeling he was going to be disappointed.

And five minutes later after scouring the base of the cliff structure he hated that he'd been right. He had located a few of the seaweed plants and had plucked them for light, but otherwise his search had proved fruitless. He didn't run along the back of the cliffs, but given that they weren't too wide he'd walked the width of the structure to see if anything appeared different from that end. But no luck from what he could see; just more dry rocks.

Lance was exactly as he'd left him, lying on his back with his hands pillowed on his stomach and eyes closed. The pried themselves open though as he approached and Keith shook his head. He hated seeing the despair slide onto Lance's face.

"We'll stay here tonight," he said hoarsely. "Tomorrow we've got to get out of this desert. We… we can't go back the way we came, but we've been heading north the entire time. If… if we keep going we should reach the end."

Although getting out of these plains didn't mean the danger ended. The land all over Macka was the same rock environment and unless they got lucky enough to encounter a water source that the Mackans hadn't yet staked out they were still at risk.

And that was assuming they made it out. Keith ignored the ice in his stomach and instead settled against the rough cliff face with a sigh. Lance pushed himself somehow to sitting and waved at Keith to get his attention. Once he had it he mimed sleeping again and pointed up at the sky, where the suns were still casting their dying rays.

Keith turned his gaze to the plains, seeing only the same barren wasteland. They had a good view again of anything encroaching. And… it's not like they could run at this point. If the Mackans did come they were going to have to fight back, somehow. Keith snorted. Fight. Right.

But if he did get some rest, even if it was only an hour, that had to help. And Lance could still keep watch. For now, anyways.

"Okay," he sighed. "As… as soon as it gets too dark to see though you wake me. Understood?"

Lance gave a sloppy salute that somehow dispelled some of Keith's worry. If Lance was still up to making gestures and faces he had to be okay.

Although, he'd seen Lance smile when he could tell he wanted to cry or laugh to cover up a hurt. But Keith supposed that was who Lance was. Even when he was bad off he still wanted to comfort others. Keith appreciated it more than Lance could possibly realize.

Lance pulled himself over to the cliff face and settled himself against the rough stone while Keith curled up next to him. The temperature had entered that nearly almost pleasant stage and the sun warmed rocks felt nice instead of torturous.

It was the most comfortable Lance had felt since he'd gone to sleep the previous night. But unlike then he forced himself to remain awake and keep watch. Keith had drifted off near instantly as soon as he'd curled up just a short reach from Lance and their safety was now in Lance's hands. Hand.

He looked at his right hand again, grateful that Keith had covered up the wound. It hurt to even flex a single finger, no doubt as the connected skin pulled against what had to be second degree if not third degree burns. But still, there was no nearly familiar feeling of blood pooling and Lance let out a breath.

He'd had his doubts it would work, given the fact it was as magical wound, but it had. The vain hope he'd clung to that by sealing his hand his voice would return though was not to be. His left hand tentatively touched his throat, massaging the base of it.

A whispered hello yielded nothing and Lance didn't know whether the lack of disappointment and fear he felt over that was good or bad. Probably good, he settled on. At least he wasn't going to break down crying again over it, although at this point he didn't think Keith would hold it against him.

He tried to go back to his mental debate as he had just earlier that afternoon, but the pounding in his head – dehydration, his body told him helpfully, compounded still by blood loss – and the constant ache of his hand kept distracting him.

He kept his gaze straight though as the suns continued to sink, counting the ticks in his head. He was nearing about fifty dobashes, although it could be slightly off as he'd lost track a few times, when the final sun sank from view.

Prior to that Lance had seen absolutely no movement on the plains, so he counted out another twenty dobashes, figuring that there wasn't much Keith could do anyway with his hearing from that far out.

A varga later though he reached over and lightly jostled Keith with his foot, careful to make sure it was just the toes as the heels were beyond tender. He was so, so glad that Keith had thought to make him the shirtsleeve socks, because otherwise he knew he wouldn't be walking at all at this point.

A few more nudges and Keith finally stirred, picking his head up with effort from the ground. He forced himself to his hands and crawled the few paces so he slumped up against the wall with Lance. The lighting was beginning to dim and the moon had not yet come out to make the plants glow, but it was hard to miss the exhaustion nearly painted onto Keith.

"I'm okay," Keith mumbled, catching Lance's worried eyes. "Really."

Lance wasn't sure who Keith was trying to convince, because he was not buying it and he frowned.

"Fine, okay. I'm really tired," Keith sighed, tipping his head back on the rock. "But nothing we can do about it. You should get some rest though."

Lance shook his head. He was tired, but he wasn't tired enough to leave Keith alone like that. Even if it was just sitting in shared silence that was better than nothing.

"Up for trying to eat again?" Keith asked after a few moments, freeing the pouch from his belt and holding it out.

Lance grimaced.

"You need to eat."

The sharpshooter placed his left hand over his stomach and shook his head again. He wanted to. He knew he needed to. But just the thought made him want to heave up the two bugs he had managed to get down earlier.

"Lance, please."

But he couldn't and he turned his face away from the offending meal.

A second later he felt a rough hand descend on his forehead and he could only blink owlishly at Keith.

"You're burning up."

Lance was pretty sure they were both rather roasted at this point.

Keith looked even more worried now as he sat back and Lance closed his eyes again. Had Lance gotten an infection? Was there bacteria in the water? Was it just from the dehydration and sun? Keith admitted he didn't feel so well either, but he was still capable of scarfing down needed nutrients.

He wished they had water. Wishing was pointless though. He never understood why so many placed their hopes and dreams on the impossible. If you wanted something to had to take it, not wait for it to come to you.

Still, he would not be opposed for a freak rainstorm right now because he hadn't even a clue as to where to start looking. They could survive the night, he was certain, but come the suns again in eight hours?

Speaking of night, already the heat was leeching away from the rocks and there was a nip to the air. Keith wasn't sure if it was just the temperature or the sunburn, but he felt even colder tonight than last, and Lance gave a full body shiver next to him.

Without any hesitation Keith wrapped his arm about Lance and pulled him flush against his side. As much as Lance was shivering, he outwardly felt warm and Keith was reminded of the hot corn bags he'd sometimes slept with.

Lance relaxed easily into the half-embrace, tucking his head up on Keith's shoulder and hot breath ghosting across Keith's neck. After a few minutes Keith's left side was actually feeling rather warm. But Lance was still shivering.

"Hey," Keith murmured, and Lance cracked open an eye. "Um… Are you… still cold?"

He got a small nod, accompanied by another shudder that Keith felt all through him.

"Would… would it help if you sat here? In front of me? I could um…" He wasn't good with this sort of thing. He may have gotten more than a crash course in physical contact in the last twenty varga, but it still wasn't something he was wholly comfortable with, even though he could admit it was nicer than he had thought it would be.

Lance though had no such reservations and was already pushing himself over Keith's extended leg. The former Red Paladin hardly had a second to unfold his other one where he'd tucked it under him before Lance was there and dragging his captured arm as well.

Not even sure how it had happened, Keith found Lance's back pressed fully against his chest and both of his arms had been commandeered to wrap about Lance in a loose hug while his legs were outstretched and Lance curled his up, pressing both of his feet against Keith's inner leg.

Lance finished off his spot by pillowing his head against Keith's shoulder, hair tickling Keith's chin. It was all very close and much more intimate than anything Keith had ever been subjected to in his life and he could feel his cheeks warming that had nothing to do with Lance's additional body heat.

"Um… are you… um, comfortable?"

In answer Lance snuggled more against him. As the minutes ticked by Keith felt the small shudders that had been running through Lance come to a halt. The seaweed plants were glowing now too and Keith freed one of his arms so he could pick it up and tuck it in next to Lance, easily illuminating the pain-lined face.

"So… you do this… often?" Keith asked as Lance shifted again so he was more on Keith's shoulder and they could make out each other's faces in the light.

Lance gave a nod and mouthed something. Keith frowned. "Can you repeat that?"

Ah. "Siblings," he realized. "You guys are… close?"

A fond sadness overtook Lance's expression and he nodded. Keith knew that. He knew Lance was always talking about his family and his siblings, but he'd never really listened before. He couldn't relate to siblings or what it was like to have a family that was there for you and hearing Lance go on and on about them had always made him feel even more like an outsider.

Lance interrupted his inner thoughts by holding up his left hand with five fingers. "You have five siblings?" Keith interpreted and he got a nod. Lance pointed then at Keith and tilted his head slightly.

"Me?" Keith shook his head. "I don't have any."

Lance's eyes looked sad at that.

"Well, I had foster siblings," Keith offered. "But they… well…" His eyes widened at himself. He didn't speak about his time in the homes. To anyone. Only Shiro knew. The words had just come out and he blamed it on the lack of sleep.

Lance wormed his left hand free from where he'd pillowed them in his lap and pressed it on top of Keith's. A reassurance. Comfort. Keith hated that he was somehow so transparent now to Lance. Their sharpshooter had sharp eyes indeed. He knew he could stop now and Lance wouldn't press, but whether it was the exhaustion or the desire to further this growing bond, to be open with someone other than Shiro, Keith found himself speaking.

"My mom left when I was young. I don't remember her and my dad never talked about her. He… he died when I was little. Cancer. And I wound up in the foster system."

He gave a self-depreciating chuckle. "You know how I am. I didn't fit in. At all. I bounced around. A lot. I don't think I was ever with the same family for more than a few months. I just didn't connect with anyone. I missed my dad. I wanted my mom. I… I think now that I now I'm part Galra that explains a lot why I never really fit."

He trailed off, and Lance gave his hand another gentle squeeze. And Keith continued. "I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't met Shiro, honestly. He was part of a Big Brothers program I was forced into as a last resort before I…" he trailed off, recalling the last warnings of the agency that if he messed up with his most recent family he'd be back to the group home. He barely suppressed the shudder at remembering how horrible that family had been and what he'd put up with to avoid an even worse option.

"We got paired together," Keith said quickly, pushing past the memory and focusing on the good. "He saw something in me, I guess. He was the first person since my dad to tell me I could do anything. That he believed in me. And I…." Keith hated the tightness clogging his throat. "I miss him. We don't even know what happened to him. What if he's hurt? Or the Galra have him? Or…" A sob interrupted him. "What if he's dead, Lance?"

Lance's hand squeezed Keith's own before he entangled their fingers and brought their conjoined limbs up to his own heart, pressing them there.

"He'd be so disappointed in me," Keith whispered, blinking back a tear. "I'm a horrible leader."

And all of a sudden Lance's grip on his hand became painful and Keith found own hand being forced to hit the bottom of his chin. Lance was glaring at him, an anger etched in his features that Keith had rarely seen. 'Idiot,' he mouthed at him.

"An idiot and a horrible leader," Keith said, gaze dropping. His chin got another hit and when he looked back at Lance he was the recipient of a firm head shaking.

"Just an idiot?" Keith whispered and earned a nod and a small smile to show that even that Lance didn't mean it. Not that way. He sighed. "I know. I know."

The lapsed into a shared silence, Lance maintain a firm but comforting grip on Keith's hand, but moments later Keith could feel Lance yawn on his shoulder, hot breath tickling his skin. He looked exhausted, Keith thought. And still in so, so much pain that he had no way of easing.

"Get some sleep," he said gently. "I'll wake you when it's light and we'll find water then."

Lance nodded and mouthed 'good night,' before turning his face so he was facing forward and the back of his head was now directly under Keith's chin. He did not relinquish his grip on Keith's hand and Keith didn't pull away.

Instead he leaned his own head back against the wall, eyes closed but ears straining for any sound that did not belong in the still night, and pulled his other arm tighter about Lance.

And in that quiet stillness he listened and he prayed that it would remain.

xxx

Author's Notes:

Sorry for all the updates, guys. We're going to get off because of Christmas on Monday and I've got that looming deadline, so you will just have to read more. Is anyone actually upset? :p

The Mackans are on the move! This probably isn't going to bode well for our boys, but hey, at least Keith's deadlines has kept them from being apprehended up until this point. They're in real trouble though; Mackans incoming, no food or water and both of them are quickly deteriorating from injury and elements and exhaustion. Also, I am enjoying writing kitty body language way too much xD

Thanks as always to the reviewers. You guys are the best! You shall get a delicious mug of tea from Brother Milnew. Mmmm. Mugs of tea to: hobbes101, WhiteTails, Jennyfish26, PaintedWings45, Subtle Shenanigans, Guest, MandyRaccoon, imagine forevermore, Oliviadbell, Violinworld, nigil1017, wingedflower, Berrybanana05, Adrianna Agray, Guest, Justanangryfangirl, geekyglamour413, yazbk2988, Pfeh, migraine, LishaChan and Alexa!

I'd love to hear from y'all below! A review is the best way to tell an author 'thanks' for the story if you've been enjoying it. Thanks everyone! Hope to hear from you.