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The Purity of Sin

Ten

Keith had never known the actual, physical pain of waiting.

It had started with his stomach clenching as the Mackans had surrounded Lance, reaching out to their blinded, wounded prey with smug grins as they closed in for the capture.

It had morphed into crescent moons dug into his palms as Lance tried unsuccessfully to strike them and they had brought him down, absolutely no remorse for someone who was clearly already in a lot of pain. They'd taunted him too, Keith had heard them use the word weak and his blood had boiled.

They were the weak ones. Four healthy, beyond dangerous wizards abusing a single injured boy. How dare they.

And then one of them had reached out and tried to actually pet Lance. Like he was some animal. Keith had seen red as Lance had stiffened, jerking his head away. Satisfaction had followed soon after as Lance bit her.

His veins had filled with ice after that as he heard their plans. They wanted him dead. And not in the sacrifice vein either. Dead, dead. He in a way understood. He had killed their kin. But it was either them or his own life and Lance's and he knew who he would always pick.

These Mackans weren't evil, not in the Galra sense. He recognized that. But their end goal was still to kill Lance and that was absolutely not okay. They may not be evil, but they were far from innocent. Keith couldn't even begin to imagine how many they had tortured and killed in this way and he felt sick.

A mixture of pride followed as Lance stood his ground with a resilience that Keith wasn't sure even he could have mustered in that moment. His hackles had raised though when the one Mackan had struck Lance across the face, three lines of blood trailing in his wake. He'd had to bite down on his lip to keep from making a noise.

And then the pain of waiting had been all consuming, teeth clenched and blood welling in his own palms as Lance screamed silently, writhing under the effects of some spell. He knew it was a trap. God, he knew it. If he blew his cover now it was all over.

And yet he wanted to. Copper filled his mouth as he bit down on his own tongue to keep from screaming in pure frustration and anger. He wanted them to stop. He'd never wanted anything more.

But then Keith saw something worse. He'd seen resignation cross Lance's face and he found that he couldn't draw a full breath. Had Lance given up on him? Did he think Keith wasn't coming?

No… it was more resolute than that. He'd witnessed it in Garrison classes as Lance turned the attention from a classmate under fire to himself, often landing himself in hot water instead. It was the same line of determination when Lance had taken a hits meant for others, oftentimes winding up in a cyro-pod to make sure they avoided that fate. It was the grim acknowledgement Keith had witnessed time and time again that Lance would do anything to help others even at the cost of his own safety and well being.

The realization had frozen him. Lance wasn't giving up. He was surrendering. Letting himself be taken so Keith would be safe, so he could get away while the Mackans were busy with their ritual.

Lance was trying to protect him.

And while the sentiment warmed him… No. No. Absolutely not. Keith had promised it was going to be all right and this? This was not all right. This wasn't even close.

He didn't know if they were honestly going to get out of this alive. The odds were not in their favor. But if they went down they went down together. None of this self-sacrifice bullshit. That wasn't how Keith wanted to survive. He refused to live at the expense of Lance's life.

The Mackans wanted to kill him? He snarled silently as down below they debated his fate. Let them try. But he sure as hell was taking them down with him.

Their backs were finally to the cliff now, two of them hoisting Lance awkwardly between them. He climbed to his feet, crouching right on the edge and fully silhouetted by the moon. But they didn't see him as they turned away. And besides. His grin turned feral. No one ever looked up.

He pulled his knife free with the barest hiss, blade elongating to catch the silver rays. He stood then to his full height, holding the sword out and pointed down.

And then taking a deep breath he jumped.

xxx

A scream of pain shattered the night air, cutting off before it even began with an all too-sudden silence of shock.

Something hot splattered against Lance's face and he flinched back.

More screams then; harsh growls and shouts. "Murderer!"

Lance hit the ground with a bone-jarring thump, feeling the hold on his feet give way and air rush past him. His heart was thudding too loudly, echoing in his head. What was happening?

"You coward!" came a high shriek.

There was that whistling again, a blade in motion. Keith, Lance thought dazedly. Keith had come.

"I'll kill you!"

More screaming. Chanting. Something smashed into Lance's side, sending him rolling onto his burnt and bleeding hands, wrenching a silent cry from his lips.

A choked gasp, a gurgling. The sound of a body crumpling.

"No! Sister!"

More hot liquid hit him, a macabre souvenir. A sharp inhalation sounded, broken by a cry that he recognized as Keith.

Spells. Words that sounded like growls flew hard and thick. He couldn't keep up with them. It was going too fast. Everything was too fast.

He felt sick.

Another cry. "Look out!" The harsh whine of metal on metal. A sizzle. Keith screamed again.

No. No no no no. Keith had to be okay. Lance struggled uselessly, bound hands and feet holding him captive.

His stomach rolled as another gurgling scream split the air. He had to help. He rubbed his bound hands against the rock. It hurt. Didn't matter.

Wailing. Claws scratched on the rock. Someone was gasping, breath a death rattle.

Keep going. Blood painted his wrists. He rubbed harder.

Stillness then.

Panting. A growl. "Just you and me."

A sword whipped through the air.

"Netale."

Screaming. Keith was screaming.

Faster, faster, faster.

A yowl of pain. Keith's screams stopped.

Almost there. He could feel it loosening.

Scuffing footsteps. And then a new pain burst behind his eyes as a claws dug into his hair, raking his scalp and dragging him up.

He thrashed silently in the hold, desperate. No! Not yet. He wasn't done yet. The rope was still there.

"I'll kill him." The voice sounded above, harsh and guttural. Wicyk, he recalled blearily, head spinning with pain and vertigo at the new angle.

Something sharp bit into his neck and he bit back the cry, afraid it would go deeper. He ceased pulling on his bound wrists. "I'll kill him."

"Let him go." Keith sounded like he was in pain, voice tight. But it was controlled. Strong. He was okay. Lance shuddered out a breath of relief.

Keith was okay.

"I'll kill him," growled Wicyk and Lance's head was pulled further back, exposing the bloody line he'd made. "You monster."

"You won't kill him. You need him." There was the swish of a blade cutting through the air. "Let him go and I'll let you live."

"No!" Panic. Desperation.

Fear.

Lance whimpered silently as the blade cut deeper, the sting now a burn. He shifted uncomfortably, body contorted in the hold, but stilled as more blood dampened his neck.

"Let. Him. Go."

"We're dead anyway." The words were but a whisper.

Lance could feel the intake of breath. The resignation. Sightless eyes widened. 'Keith' danced on his lips. His hands grew slack, rope firmly embedded around his wrists.

"I have seen my kin felled by your blade, Paladin of Voltron," murmured the Mackan. "Now you shall see yours."

It was all the warning Lance had.

He surged to his feet at the same time Keith gasped out a "no," metal sunk into flesh and the creature screamed, paw going slack.

But rather than slicing through his neck, the Mackan's knife cut an incision from Lance's collarbone down his chest and he cried out, stumbling on bound feet.

Then arms were there, catching him, and Lance struggled before he realized that these arms lacked in fur. Keith. Keith was there. He was safe. He was okay.

They were alive.

And for a single moment all of the pain disappeared as Keith's arms wrapped tight about him and his face was pressed into Keith's shoulder and he just breathed. "I've got you," Keith whispered, his own form trembling. "It's okay."

But all too soon the peace was shattered as the new wound covering his torso throbbed in anguish and Lance could feel his head lolling as dizziness caught up to him.

"Easy, easy," Keith murmured, releasing the embrace and instead gently lowering Lance to the ground. "Hold on a tick." He heard footsteps walking away and then a terrible squelch that made his stomach flip-flop. Lance tried desperately not to think of what had produced such a noise.

The footsteps came back and Lance found himself being rotated onto his side, startling at the sudden touch. Then there was the dull snapping sound of rope being cut and Lance's arms tingled painfully as they fell limply at his sides and Keith moved onto his bound feet.

Keith walked away again then and Lance could do nothing but lie there, pulse pounding in his ears and distorting his hearing. He couldn't move, as even just trying to twitch a hand up sent ribbons of pain through him and he groaned silently.

Something dropped onto his chest and he recoiled as much as he could, before realizing that there was no threat as Keith's soft tones sounded. "Sorry, sorry, that was stupid. It's just a piece of robe, okay? Lie still, I've got to see how bad this is."

He heard Keith shuffle against the stone and then there was a pressure on his chest. He gasped, jerking up, but Keith pushed his shoulder firmly back down, continuing his examination.

"It's not good," Keith said after a minute. And if he'd had the breath Lance would have laughed. It would have been hysterical, likely, but at least, no matter what happened he could always count on Keith to understate everything. He appreciated the second of familiarity.

"It's deep," and Keith's voice sounded small. "Lance, I…" A choked sounding sob. "I don't know how to fix it."

Lance managed to raise his right hand from where it had flopped on the ground, hoping Keith would understand. Even that small action exhausted him.

"Cauterize it? Lance that… that…"

And now that his head had stopped throbbing Lance heard something else in Keith's voice behind the worry and exhaustion. Pain. And he remembered that Keith had cried out not just once but several times, clearly on the receiving end of some sort of spell.

He mustered up what little strength he could and poked in Keith's direction with his left fingers, relieved when he actually hit something. A knee, maybe? 'Okay?' he mouthed and gracias a Dios Keith had been able to interpret it.

"I'm okay," came the reply. Lance managed another poke at that and tried to etch disbelief over his own pain.

"I'm a little beat up," Keith admitted. "Nothing… nothing major though. Promise. I'll be all right. You though… Lance, this is really bad." And that tremor was back and Lance couldn't do anything to relieve it. He was the one putting it there in the first place.

"We need to get out of here," Keith continued. "There's… there's blood everyw-where." And Lance did not miss the way Keith hitched on the last word. Lance reached out again, but this time Keith intercepted his fingers and wrapped his own hand tightly about the blood-stained digits.

"I'm okay. I'm okay." Lance didn't know who Keith was trying to convince, but he was doing an awful job of it. He squeezed back on their hands as best he could, wishing he knew how to make it better. He felt useless like this, but as he'd already told himself, there wasn't much he could do about it.

They sat like that for a few minutes, Keith's shuddering breaths gentling out while Lance wavered in between wakefulness and sleep, the latter only being prevented from the sharp ache that sprang up with every exhale.

"Okay," Keith repeated, and this time his voice didn't waver. "Here's what we're going to do." Lance blinked at him. Or, well, he thought he did. It felt like his eyelids moved.

"The Mackans have to have water flasks on them. And some food too, maybe. I'm… I'm going to wash the blood off of us," and Keith faltered again. "And… and try to staunch your bleeding. Then… then we need to get away from here. Somehow."

He didn't seem to know how that last part was happening and Lance had no suggestions. He wanted to volunteer to walk, but he could barely twitch a finger right now over the pain and he felt so dizzy even lying still.

Lance hadn't felt at all well before he'd gone to bed for the evening and it hadn't improved when he'd woken up screaming and blind. And now he'd managed to go and slice himself open and make way for even more blood loss that he knew he could not afford.

He was cold again too, but his body was too tired to make a complete shiver. Keith must have seen him try though because all of a sudden there was a hand coming through his hair and a soft shush. Lance inclined his head towards the touch, nothing like the cruel and mocking version the Mackan had tried.

"Hang tight," Keith whispered and Lance heard him rise. "I'll be right back."

Lance closed his eyes, even though it didn't make any difference at this point. He managed to swallow back the sob at the reminder as the deeper breath made his entire chest feel like it was on fire.

And listening to the sounds of Keith's boots scruffing against the rock and sounding absolutely nothing like the Mackans' claws, Lance fell into a restless half-sleep as he waited.

Keith meanwhile was navigating around the Mackans bodies as best he could, one of the glowing plants held aloft.

He felt sick, looking at the carnage he'd wrought. He swallowed heavily knowing he couldn't afford to throw up now. He fought like a Galran, Zarkon had said. Keith held back a shudder as he surveyed the bodies. Yeah. Yeah he did.

Everything had just been so fast. He'd slammed into the first Mackan that had been carrying Lance, luxite carving through the creature's flesh as though it was butter. His scream had been short-lived as Keith ripped out his throat, blood splattering himself and Lance.

He'd had to though. That's what he kept telling himself as he rummaged through the utility pouches each Mackan had been equipped with. He couldn't afford to go easy on them or show mercy when he knew they would show him none.

His left arm trembled, clenching and unclenching as aftershocks of the same spell they'd used on Lance slowly dispersed. He'd been hit with several over the course of the fight that had felt like forever but had really just been a couple minutes.

As he'd noted before, once the caster was dead, or severely disabled, the spell died as well. He'd used that knowledge, managing to take out next the Mackan, the one that had tried to pet Lance, as she had managed to freeze his right leg and send what felt like tendrils of fire snaking up his arms.

He stopped to hack off a large swathe of robe from the third Mackan, whose throat he had run through. There was no blood to be found on the lower half of her robes and he relieved her of them for bandages and blankets.

Still, he'd had to hurry away as her sightless eyes, wide with grief and horror, seemed to follow him. Keith suppressed the acid tickling his throat.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, so softly he wondered if he'd even spoken at all. He hadn't wanted to kill them, but they'd left him no choice. He would always pick Lance.

The last Mackan he'd killed… this one he felt no pity for. This one had tried to first bargain with Lance's life and then, seeing that he was not getting away, had tried to end it. He was the one who had cast that lightning spell on an unarmed, wounded opponent to try and draw Keith out.

This one was evil. And he had deserved to die, a luxite blade thrown through his head. Keith honestly couldn't believe that had worked. He'd nearly struck Lance, not expecting the other Paladin to move, but he realized now with horror that if Lance had not done that then Lance would be dead.

He felt suddenly light headed and thumped to the ground next to Lance, his pilfered supplies clanking around them.

Lance would have died.

For all his skill and for all his assurance to Lance that they'd be okay, he'd almost lost him. His knife had flown straight and true with more accuracy than Keith had ever managed before, almost as though someone were guiding it.

But it would have been too late. The knife at Lance's throat would have torn right through that soft flesh and Lance would have been dead in an instant. By moving though the knife blade had been jerked and although it had still cut much too deep for comfort into the base of Lance's neck and then down and across his chest, thinning as it went, it was not fatal.

Not yet, at least.

He swallowed back the sob that threatened to release itself. He couldn't go to pieces. Lance was counting on him and now was not the time for him to dwell on what ifs. He needed to do what he could.

Instead he forced himself to take a few deep breaths and take inventory so he could see what he had to work with.

Four water flasks, each about half full. Some type of… energy bar? Keith sniffed one of the brown food things he'd found and took a tentative bite. He was not surprised in the least when it tasted vaguely of onion, but otherwise it seemed to be a bit grainy and sweet. Not bad, actually, and significantly more edible than the bugs. He counted eleven in total.

The one Mackan had had a sword on him, which was interesting as Keith had assumed they only fought with magic, but it was of no use to him as he had nowhere to carry it, and he wasn't taking the knife that had almost killed Lance, practically justifying it with again, nowhere to carry it. One of them had a roll of parchment and Keith pulled it apart, eyes widening. A map. It was a map. He almost kissed it.

He looked it over quickly, stomach lurching as he realized that based on the markings he and Lance had wandered into a large, flat plain that stretched for miles and miles. It's not that the whole planet wasn't this dry wasteland – although if he was seeing right there was some type of vegetational area to the far north, assuming green meant trees – but they'd went into the area with no structures and therefore no shade.

However, they were nearly out. The cliff they were at was on the very edge and if they went a little further east they'd get out of here and back to another winding set of cliffs. Cliffs were much better protection and had the element of surprise. Keith nodded to himself. They would go there.

The cliffs were still walking away from the Mackans' base and if he was figuring this right – not able to understand all of the Mackans numerical units – it looked like they were heading in the direction back to their Lions.

Keith counted that they had about twenty-three varga minimum for rescue and five more hours of darkness, although it was more of a hindrance than cover as the Mackans seemed to see just fine. Keith had only made out so well in that battle because, like it or not, the spells they'd employed had lit up the area.

And that meant they really needed to get out of there. He didn't know how close the next Mackan team was, he prayed not close at all, but the lightshow if anyone had seen it had to be attracting attention.

First things first. Clean up the blood so it wasn't a neon sign to the Mackans. Keith ripped up a scrap of robe – and at least they had plenty of those now – and poured a tiny amount of water onto it. His throat chose that moment to remind him that it had been hours since he'd drank anything and he was starting to feel a little light headed now. He took two small sips then, forcing himself not to guzzle the entire thing.

Once done he went back to carefully wiping up the blood that he could feel splattered across his face and some on his right arm. None of it was his. He'd escaped that battle with only magical injuries, and even the last tremors were fading away now.

But of course Lance didn't. Guilt flared up as Keith looked again at the cut, covered right now by a piece of robe, and the small cuts and likely going to be bruises that dotted his shoulders and upper arms where they'd grabbed him. Bleeding scratch marks were etched into his cheek from the backhanded swipe and both of his knees were bloodied and raw from being dragged across the hard ground.

Lance seemed to be asleep for the moment and Keith let him be. He grabbed a new scrap of fabric and wet it, intending to wash the blood from Lance's face. But as soon as he'd made contact Lance's foam-covered eyes were opening and he tried to sit up, panic clear.

"It's just me, it's Keith."

And Keith felt that weird warmth bloom in him as upon hearing his voice Lance settled back down immediately.

"I'm getting the blood off your face," Keith explained as he gently wiped at the splatter from the first Mackan's death. "Almost done."

Once he was finished there he carefully made his way further down, dotting at the line of blood the knife had made and managing to work a strip of cloth around it several times much like his own.

Then came the real injury that they could do little about right now. Lance was right, Keith realized. They'd likely need to cauterize it – his own stomach flipped at the sheer amount of pain that was going to cause – but that couldn't be done until they had sun again.

So for now he dabbed at the edges of it and then placed a clean strip of robe folded several times over the injury and then prepared more strips by tying them together to make a long bandage. Through it all he could feel Lance's ribcage rising up and down rapidly, no doubt in a lot of pain. And it wasn't over yet. "Can you sit up?" he asked gently. "I'll help."

Lance managed a nod and between both of them Lance made it to a hunched over sit, body trembling at the exertion. Keith awkwardly fed his bandage rope under Lance's arms, knowing that asking him to sit straight and with his arms up was not going to end well. Still, he managed well enough and tightened the last knot with a good tug.

Keith used a little more of their water to wipe the blood from Lance's now exposed knees and then a bit more for his feet, which at this point Keith wasn't sure how he was walking on even with the wraps, as they were no real substitute for proper footwear.

Lance endured all of it silently – and it took Keith longer than it should have to realize why that was – and he hurriedly glanced back up to Lance's face, which was angled down.

He put gentle fingers under the chin and tipped it up, not surprised to find new tear tracks. Lance turned his head to the side, arms too tired to lift and wipe them away and Keith felt his heart break.

"I'm sorry," Keith whispered, swinging Lance's face back to him. "I did this."

Sightless eyes widened and a protest formed on chapped lips.

"No," Keith said firmly. "Let me finish. First though, drink. You need it." He brought one of the canteens up and Lance took a careful sip and then another. Keith could almost hear the whine when he tugged it away. "You'll throw it up. You can have some more in a bit."

Before he continued he grabbed one of the largest pieces of robe he'd commandeered and draped it over Lance's shoulders, this one long enough to brush the top of Lance's pants and cover his entire back. Keith knotted it again, leaving it loose though so it didn't pull on any of the new wounds on his neck.

And then, before he could think on it any longer, Keith sat flush at Lance's side and brought one of his arms carefully over Lance's shoulders, tugging him towards him. Lance sank gratefully into the half embrace, his head finding a familiar spot on Keith's chest.

"I did this," Keith repeated quietly once Lance was settled. "I thought I could take them out with an ambush. I didn't… I didn't think they would hurt you. I'm… I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

He felt the shake of Lance's head and somehow Lance lifted his left hand and Keith caught it with his own, their fingers interlacing to spare any additional pressure on the newest sacrificial wound. Lance squeezed Keith's hand and Keith returned the gesture, finding the comfort now in it.

"I'm sorry," he said again, knowing it was still never going to be enough. His actions had almost gotten Lance killed. He wasn't sure he could forgive himself.

But Lance didn't seem to bear any type of grudge, butting his head up more so that dark locks tickled Keith's chin and Keith could feel the soft sigh against his neck. Keith hugged him a little tighter.

"Why did you do it?" Keith asked after a few moments. Lance inclined his head slightly. Keith continued. "I saw it, Lance. You… you stopped fighting them." He felt Lance stiffen ever so slightly. "Why?"

Lance shifted, enough so that his face was visible now propped up on Keith's shoulder and he mouthed his answer.

"Safe?" Keith repeated and he received the barest of nods. "You wanted to keep me safe?" Another nod.

"Damn it Lance!" And that came out harsher than Keith intended, based on Lance's flinch, but he couldn't take it back. "Why would you do that?"

And God help him, Lance actually looked confused at the question. Confused and hurt. 'Safe,' he repeated, accompanying it with a barely-there squeeze of their hands.

Keith tried to soften his expression, not that Lance could see it he realized after a second. He lowered his tone instead. "I want to keep you safe, Lance. I promised."

And Lance shook his head. He weakly raised his right hand, and pointed a shaking finger at himself and shook his head again.

"We're both getting out of this," Keith said. That, or they were both dying, but no need to touch on the more morbid outcome. He knew Lance was more than aware of it. "Both of us," he emphasized. His voice broke then. "Lance, I don't… I don't want to survive because you sacrificed yourself. That's not living. And I won't do it."

He saw the protest of his name on Lance's lips and he shook his own head, the action going through his entire body. "No. No more of that. No more thinking your life isn't as valuable as anyone else's," and he felt Lance cringe at the observation. "It is Lance. And I won't let you give it up like that. Do you understand?"

And after a few too long seconds Lance nodded.

"Good," Keith said brusquely, feeling the vice clenched around his heart loosen. "Now that that's settled…"

He dug into the utility bag he'd put all of the food bars in and removed with two. "You need to eat." Lance paled even in the wan moonlight. "It's not a bug. It's… some type of food bar. And you need it."

The swordsman realized a slight problem though; Lance had no hands really to eat with. His right was wounded and burned and his left, while not terrible, was still shaking and wrapped up in Keith's and he highly doubted Lance would have much dexterity even were he to release it.

Keith broke a small piece off and pressed it against Lance's closed mouth. "Open up. I promise, it's not bad." Reluctantly Lance accepted it, chewing cautiously, expression slowly giving way that it really actually was tasty.

The spent a few dobashes eating, Keith providing Lance another piece whenever he stopped chewing. He knew it still wasn't enough; not for all the blood Lance had already lost and was still losing, but anything was better than nothing. And he'd bet these were packed with nutrients too.

"Want some more water?" Keith queried, already unstopping the one nearly empty canteen and taking a sip himself. Lance nodded and Keith guided it to him, allowing him to finish it off.

"We do need to get going," Keith said. "The Mackans had a map on them. We're going to head east towards a cliff line and towards the Lions. We'll hopefully be able to make camp there until the others come."

Keith was also hoping that once the Mackans stumbled upon the grisly scene they were leaving behind they would be more hesitant to approach.

That, or they'd be sending in an even larger group. If that happened Keith honestly had no idea what they were going to do. He'd been beyond lucky this time and he knew it.

He retrieved his hand from Lance's, patting it gently as if in apology for the loss, so he could condense the rest of the canteens to two full ones and slipped the long straps connecting them over his head. The bars were all contained to one of the utility pouches that he managed to hook to his belt and the rest of the robe pieces he'd cut were rolled up and placed in a second pouch, bulging. Good; the more the better.

Now… how did they get moving, exactly?

Keith glanced down to where Lance was slumped next to him, blank eyes fluttering with exhaustion. He was in no condition to walk and Keith couldn't ask him to try. He knew Lance would. The Mackans of course hadn't come with any type of transportation and there was nothing of use for any type of sled for him to pull.

Looked like he was going to be carrying Lance again. Keith's shoulders already ached, but they didn't have any other choice. They needed to be well away from this area before the scent of blood attracted more Mackans. It was most likely easier to smell now too without the sun baking it into the stone.

"Hey," Keith murmured, giving Lance a gentle nudge. "I'm going to carry you, all right?" Lance's nose wrinkled and it tugged a smile from Keith's mouth. "You aren't walking. Come on, I'll need your help. We're going to do piggyback, okay?" After a few ticks Lance nodded.

Keith gave all of the supplies he'd attached to himself one more check and placed his knife, clean of any blood, into the sheath that he shifted so it was on the front of his hip rather than his back. At least that way he could access it since Lance was going to be covering it otherwise. He jammed a piece of the glowing plant into the belt as well. It wasn't the best, but it did illuminate his feet and should prevent him from tripping over anything in the immediate area.

Once he was certain they were secure, he got up and knelt then in front of Lance, who had tipped forward without Keith's support. "All right, hop on," he said, bracing his feet.

After a few seconds of waiting he turned around, the frown disappearing in an instant. Lance did have a hand outstretched, but he was slightly off, turned more towards the left, and Keith could see the wavering of fear as his hand moved more and still didn't encounter anything.

"Hey, right here." Keith gently took the quivering limb, hating how Lance still startled. "I'm right here. Just follow my arm."

He felt Lance trace his arm up to his shoulder and then to his neck where he settled his left arm and then his right followed soon after.

"Good," Keith murmured, inching back a pace so Lance's arms could fully encircle him without strain. "Can you pull yourself to kneeling?"

The arms tightened, almost painfully as Lance used him as leverage. After a few ticks, where Keith could feel Lance's hot breath on the back of his neck coming in short gasps, he'd managed. Keith couldn't see in the darkness but he'd bet the movement had really hurt what with the newest wound.

"I'm going to pick you up now, all right? One sec."

He shifted his own arms to brace around the back of each of Lance's thighs and then pushed himself up, wobbling slightly. Unlike the first time though he was more evenly balanced as Lance was holding up some of his own weight and Keith didn't have to bend near double to keep him from falling off. He did wonder how Lance's hands were faring as the gripped one another, but there wasn't anything to be done.

Keith adjusted his hold to more comfortably grasp Lance's legs beneath his knees and bring his own arms together in the front, securely latching Lance to him. And despite Lance's extra height, he wasn't terribly heavy. Keith nodded to himself. He could do this. Just a couple miles.

"Are we good?" he asked as Lance settled his head over Keith's shoulder. A slight nod.

"Okay, we're going then. Hold on tight."

Keith took one careful step and then another, picking up the pace as he settled into a gait. It was by no means fast, but it was better than a plod. He felt a little more refreshed now too with the food and water in his stomach even as the adrenaline from the battle faded.

Just a few miles, he reassured himself. Find shelter. Find water. And then wait for rescue.

Twenty-three varga to go.

He hoped they made it.

xxx

Author's Notes:

Look at that, I gave them rations and a chance! Oh Icy, you're so good to them! *curtsies while nudging all of the shit she put them through out of sight* Our poor boys, seriously. Fighting (I rewrote that scene a few times, uncertain whose perspective I wanted it from but ultimately liked it best this way), then some bonding and now off we go with a Plan (and yes, that is a Plan not a plan :p). We're at about the halfway mark now (and whoot, still on word count schedule for that!) so the fun is still just beginning ;D

This time I'm handing out the actually pretty yummy food bars to the amazing reviewers. You guys enjoy! Here's one for: Kate, Subtle Shenanigans, PaintedWings45, MandyRaccoon, Guest, Oliviadbell, TheTheoryofFangirling, dragoscilvio, LeNolaNamiko, yazbk2988, Ralyssene118, momoluvr11, WindGemini, Supergurkan, wingedflower, The-Angst-Chronicles, hobbes101, BarricadesDemon216, imagine forevermore, Justanangryfangirl, Alexa, LishaChan, migraine and Adrianna Agray!

Enjoying the fic? Please do drop a comment! And just because you review once doesn't mean you must ride off into the sunset never to return like some beautiful action hero; you are more than welcome to post again and again (and again and again, you get the picture :p). To those of you who come back week after week, you can have water in addition to your food bar because that's how much I love you! Thanks guys, look forward to hearing what you thought of this chapter!