Keith is seething by the time he gets to his lion. Between his thing with Lance earlier (and he refuses to acknowledge it as anything other than that right now), Shiro refusing to send any aid down to Lance and Pidge, and now the fucking Galra, he is at his absolute wit's end. He settles into the pilot's seat and straps in; he has Red fired up and out of the hangar before Hunk and Shiro even make it all the way to their own lions.
He rockets into space, pressing the throttle forward harder than he should. Red hums beneath him and he can feel her presence in the back of his mind. She's sending him light, soothing feelings, and normally that helps. On any other day when he feels like everything is just Too Much, Red is one of his best comforts out here in the cold depths of space. She is second best only to Lance, who always seems to know how to help him out of a funk.
Keith slams a wall up between he and Red in his mind to block her out. He doesn't need her patronizing him right now.
The Galra that snuck up on them is an outlying crew of scouts. They explore outlying solar systems with no active presence and scope out any planets with useful resources, then report back to the main fleet so the information can be put to use. The Voltron team has come across a few of these ships before and even though Keith knows they're an easy fight, he's still eager to take them down.
"You picked the wrong solar system to explore today!" he shouts as Red flies towards the ship. It is a huge cargo ship, slow and bulky; the space inside is mostly used for supplies gathered from varying planets, but there is still plenty of room for the small, fast fighter ships the Galra use. A cloud of what Keith guesses to be 50 or so rises from behind the ship.
He pushes Red straight towards them, fire running through his veins. Adrenaline is exactly what he needs to distract himself.
"Keith, I swear to god," Shiro shouts at him over the comm system, but Keith ignores the guilty feeling plucking at him and presses forward.
The Galra ships shoot towards him and he set his missiles to fire, not even bothering to aim. Fire spreads across his vision and several ships drop abruptly from their trajectory. Jerking the throttle, he dives after them, intending to swoop under and around the cargo ship to attack the ships from behind.
"Keith, on your six!" Hunk shouts at him, but he's already in too steep of a dive to alter his route. A laser strikes Red in the side and she goes tumbling. Keith grits his teeth and yanks on the controls, trying to force them back onto course, but more laser shots follow the first. Red falls into a spiral, leaving Keith's head spinning.
"Get it together, Keith," Shiro snaps, and suddenly Black is there to cover him while he gets Red back under control. "I know you're upset, but we are already down two paladins. I can't have you flying like a trainee, so focus!"
Keith scowls as he rights Red and takes a minute to orient himself. Hunk has Yellow landed squarely on top of the cargo ship, blasting away at any fighters that get close. A fighter passes overhead and makes a shot, but Yellow holds ground and absorbs the hit, aiming and firing a missile at it. A few second later it explodes in a burst of bright orange light. Shiro is still covering for him, the hulking form of Black hovering to his front-right, picking shots and landing them every time. The laser doesn't always drop the ships, but Keith can't deny that Shiro is a fantastic shot.
A memory comes unbidden to his mind. Lance had been on a need-to-prove-himself kick and had challenged the entire team to a shoot-off. After Pidge had given up because she had better things to do with her time, Keith had lost by two shots at 600 meters, and Hunk had lost by one shot at 800 meters, it was down to Shiro and Lance. Keith can remember the nervous look inLance's eyes as he and Shiro moved into their first stance. They had agreed on forty shots in each position - prone, kneeling, and standing - starting at 300 meters and going back 100 every time a round was successfully accomplished by both parties. The laser guns they were using had a max range of 1000 meters and Keith could feel himself sweating with anticipation when Shiro and Lance drew back to 900 meters.
The focus Lance had when he was shooting never ceased to impress him. Those sharp blue eyes and steady fingers as he stood, knelt, and lay down, firing shot after shot. The target pinged a sharp "happy" noise every time Lance struck a bullseye and when he finally finished with his last shot his score was at 119 out of 120. Shiro stepped up to the plate, but Keith had only had eyes for Lance. He was grinning from ear to ear; he knew that even if he lost to their leader, he had done a very impressive job of demonstrating his ability to shoot.
Shiro missed five shots. Lance won. "Sharpshooter," Keith had said teasingly, punching him in the arm lightly after Hunk had released him from the bone crushing hug he had wrapped Lance in. The nickname had stuck and Keith felt a swell of pride every time he saw Lance shoot after that.
Keith yanks himself out of the memory, trying to reorient himself in the present. His heart is heavy in his chest as he maneuvers Red forward. He dives into the fray with a bit more caution, aiming and firing with intent instead of reckless abandon.
We left Pidge and Lance alone down there, he thinks as he makes a direct hit. They're all alone. My sharpshooter is all alone.
When Lance comes to, he is hot all over. Uncomfortably so. He jerks partially upright with a gasp, and he can physically feel the beginning of what feels like a bad, bad sunburn on his right cheek.
"Lance!" the strange face of the Wolkian who had been with him hovers above him. There is no expression on that eyeless face, but Lance can hear the panicky sound of rocks on ice past the translator. "You were unconscious. We must hurry!"
Groaning, Lance sits up fully, gloved hand pressing over the cracked face mask. The seal had been broken when he cracked the thick glass. "Pidge, do you read me?" When he doesn't get an immediate response, he knows he has to get moving. Head throbbing, he forces himself to his feet. The Wolkian with him must have dragged him back into the corridor from where they had come. "What happe-" he starts, turning and immediately dropping into silence. The room they had come from no longer has a floor.
Gulping back his panic, Lance walks forward on unsteady feet. The ground beneath him is still rolling, but not as hard as it had been when he had been knocked out. When he reaches the edge of the tunnel, he's only two feet away from the chasm that had suddenly appeared while he was taking his little nap.
Leaning forward, he looks down. He expected the bottom to be shrouded by blackness and shadow, but it isn't. Instead, there's a freely flowing river of lava no more than 100 feet below him.
"Oh god," he whispers, eyes locked on the bubbling hot brew. "Pidge? Pidge, come in! Allura? Shiro?" his voice, cracks. Panic bubbles inside of him, the feelings of doom and end washing over him like a tidal wave, cold even in the stifling heat. "K-Keith?"
He lifts his gaze and stares across what had once been solid stone.
"We have to go!" the Wolkian says behind him, and Lance turns.
They're so small, just barely taller than Pidge. The missing arm makes them look off balance and even though they can't express any emotion on their face, Lance can feel the panic emanating from them.
I'll have to figure this out, he realized. I have to get us to safety.
Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm down. "I know," he says. "I know. Let me think of a plan." He turns his back on the creature and looks back across the empty floor. The tunnel continues on the far side of the chasm.
Focus. Figure this out.
In his mind, all he can see is Keith's face. All he can hear is his voice, all the different variations: the slow, smooth drawl when he's teasing, the crisp cuts when he's giving directions, the sleepy whispers in the dark, under the stars. His laugh, god his laugh. Lance works so hard sometimes, just to get Keith to chuckle. His heart always soars when he hears that sound. He can see, the details so clear it's like Keith is standing right next to him, the look he gets when he trains, determined and focused. Lance would have given anything in the world to have that focus all on him.
I want to see him again, Lance thinks. I want to kiss him one more time.
But thoughts like this are going to distract him from getting out of this place. His cheek throbs in reminder, so he forcefully drags himself away from that train of thought. Without direct access to Allura, he can't backtrack them through the caves to the lions.
The only way out is through, he thinks, glancing to the right. There's a narrow ledge that circles the side of the cavern, at some points no more than a foot across. Taking a deep breath, he turns to the Wolkian. "Grab onto me. We'll go around."
With one last missile, Keith takes out the final fighter as it tries to retreat towards the fleeing cargo ship. Drained, he sinks back into the pilot seat.
"Any word from Lance or Pidge?" comes Shiro's voice over the comm system. "We have the situation handled out here."
"Nothing," comes Allura's reply, her voice stiff with worry. "We are still having trouble getting through the electrical storm. Coran can't get any readings on the planet's emotional state, either."
"Was that… was that a joke?" Shiro asks hesitantly, his voice betraying a tinge of amusement.
"Certainly not," she replies, her voice all seriousness. "It's scheduled for a meltdown, after all."
Hunk snorts and Keith can't stop the tiny smile that spreads over his face.
"C...in. C...h...me?"
The crackle over the comms causes Keith's heart to flip. He turns Red back towards the castle, eyes locked on the surface of Wolkan far above him.
"Come in, do you read? Can you hear us?" Allura says, her voice sharp with command again. "You're cutting out."
The signal comes in more clearly. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes, you're coming through much clearer now. Please report."
Keith bites his lip hard and squints, murmuring, "Is that Green?" From the swirling pools of cloud he can see Pidge's lion making her way steadily towards them. Where is Lance?
"It got bad down there really fast," Pidge is saying. "We got all the Wolkians up and out, but Lance and I split up so I could help with the ships. He stayed behind because he was carrying one of their injured and was going much slower." She pauses, and Keith can feel his heart sinking in his chest. "Our connection got cut, but when I went back for him, the path leading to the ships was just gone."
There's a weighted silence and Keith feels like the entire universe has stopped around them.
Lance grips the Wolkian tight by the waist while it wraps its single arm around his shoulders. Their backs are pressed against the wall as they edge, inch by slow inch, along the ledge of the drop below them. He can feel his face burning and the arm around his shoulders is like a brand. Had it always been this hot? Surely he would have felt it scorching into his back during the long trek here. If he wasn't pumped full of adrenaline, he knows he would be in utter agony from the heat. Every time the earth bucks under his feet, every organ in his body drops; the ledge they stand on is precarious at best and every stone he accidentally kicks into the abyss feels like the sand in a ticking timer.
A particularly violent quake shivers underneath them. Lance presses them as close to the wall as he can, breath shuddering from his lips as his free hand scrabbles for a hand hold. If the very, very unstable ledge under their feet falls away, they'll be dead meat.
The way to the far wall is about fifty feet, but the curve around is only thirty, since the cavern is longer than it is wide, and then there's a wide, flat space leading to the exit.
Please be the exit and not the entrance to another lake of fucking lava.
At the end of the curve there's a thirty foot slope they could get across easy peasy, if they can just make it around this ledge.
As they get to the start of the curve around the pit, standing on a ledge that's barely two feet wide, another violent shudder begins. Stones fall from the wall behind them, tumbling down into the molten lava below. Lance turns his eyes towards the sky, trying to ride it out without succumbing to the panic clawing at his throat.
"Only a little bit further," he croaks. "A few more feet."
He tries to think of anything other than the situation he's in to soothe his nerves. He starts to think of home, of earth and his family and friends, but he can feel tears welling in his eyes at the idea. If he dies here, his mama will never know how he died. She'll spend the rest of her life wondering where he had gone. His little sister, only two years old when he left for the Garrison, will never know him. She won't remember his face or his laugh, only the stories his mama and dad tell her, only know his face by the pictures on the walls.
It's such a depressing train of thought, he can't handle it so Lance switches gears.
He thinks about Keith, even though he had been trying to avoid thinking of him. Keith is so real in his mind, so close. Lance misses his family and he wants to see them again, but they feel so distant sometimes. He has held Keith, whispered secrets in the dark, fought with, bickered with, adored Keith from up close, and all of the memories they had made together are sharp in the forefront of his mind. If he can just cling to the idea that Keith is so close, then maybe he can make it the next few inches. Maybe he can smother the fear with his feelings of love, his love for Keith. If he can just think of Keith, only Keith, he can make it the last few feet.
He tries not to think about what will happen to Keith if he dies. Maybe it's narcissitic of him to think so, but Keith relies on him. They're close because they need each other to stay grounded. With Keith by his side, Lance always feels like he can face all the scary things that exist in the universe. "I wouldn't be able to do this without you," Keith had told him once. They had been half asleep on the skydeck one night. Keith hadn't said anything after that and Lance didn't mention it again.
If Lance doesn't make it back from this, will Keith be ok? Will he be sad that Lance is gone? He hopes that the team would help Keith get through it, that they would be there for him like Lance has been. He hopes that Hunk would hug him extra hard and often. He hopes that Pidge would help him build that space bike Keith wants. He hopes that Shiro would be Keith's close confidant.
He hopes Keith falls in love with someone who loves him as much as Lance does.
As much as he hates the thought of Keith falling in love with someone else, he desperately wants Keith to be happy. Love isn't everything there is to life, sure, but Lance wants Keith to feel cherished.
An eternity later, they stumble onto the flat span of rock leading to the exit. "Ha," Lance lets out a breathy laugh. "God, we made it!" Panting, he forces himself to take the first steps towards the exit, towards freedom. It's so hot, they're so close. His head hurts, his cheek throbs, and all he can see is Keith smiling, soft and teasing.
The Wolkian, who had been frozen silent in fear up until this point, lets out a celebratory sound that doesn't translate in Lance's helmet, but it sounds like the ripples of a stream over rock.
"That's right, buddy!" Lance says in reply. "We're gonna make it!"
They lean against each other for support, stumbling their way upwards. The exit looms before them, twenty feet, fifteen feet, ten.
With a crack, the ground yanks out from under their feet. Lance screams and topples forward, losing his grip on the Wolkian. They slide downwards fast as the ground tips, and Lance only has the chance to act on instinct. His fingers sweep frantically over the wildly tilting earth,catching on a crack and holding. A hand is tight around his ankle and he sobs in relief.
The ground that had been at a slight incline when they had set foot on it has given up the ghost to droop down towards the river of lava flowing beneath them. It rocks back and forth as Lance clings to his meager handhold.
"Ok, ok," he says, his voice breathless and panicky. "I'm gonna reach down and grab your hand so I can pull you up next to me and then we'll crawl up."
If we keep our weight distributed, maybe we can keep it from falling further, he thinks. Or is that ice? Oh, shit I think that's ice, oh my god we are going to die.
Shaking hard and mind running in a million different directions, he carefully brings his leg up and his free arm down. His muscles stretch, and every ounce of his body screaming for relief from the heat, the strain, but he manages to wrap his fingers around the wrist of the Wolkian.
A rock comes out of nowhere, slamming into him and knocking his grip loose. They slide quickly, faster than Lance can keep up with. His body twists as it follows the weight of the Wolkian, their wrists somehow still grasped out of sheer panic. Lance digs his toes in, grabbing at any jutting stone he sees as they slide.
They're going to go over the edge, he can't stop them. They're going to die here in this black cave. There won't even be a body for his teammates, for his friends, for the love of his fucking life to find. The only thing left of him will be ash and memories.
The Wolkian slides over first and Lance can hear the terrified sounds they're making. He wonders if he's screaming, too, but he can't hear anything over the pounding rush of fear in his veins
His arm goes with the Wolkian, then his head, his chest.
This is it.
His leg wrenches hard and they stop, Lance's mind struggling to figure out why they had stopped sliding.
With a sob, half in relief and half in terror, he realizes his ankle is caught in between two rocks. Lance hooks his foot tight against the rock, chest heaving, and tightens his grip on the Wolkians wrist. He reaches out with his other arm, too, trying to keep as firm a hold as he can.
They aren't dead, for now.
"We have to send someone down after him!" Keith shouts, chest to chest with Shiro in the hangar bay. "He's one of us, one of our team! We can't just leave him down there!"
Out of the corner of Keith's eye, he can see Hunk hovering nervously. Pidge is next to him, the helmet of her suit tucked under her arm. Her hair is matted to her forehead with sweat and she looks bone weary and exhausted.
"As soon as we send someone down there, we'll lose communication with them." Shiro replies, his voice calm and firm and infuriating. "We can't risk another member of this team to go on a wild goose chase through caves that we aren't familiar with on a planet that is set to go off at any second."
"He needs our help!" Keith argues. He can feel his face flush with heat, anger in every line of his body. His blood has been replaced with rage. "We can't abandon him, it's our job to protect each other! We're all we have!"
The look on Shiro's face is sad, but cold. Keith can see him distancing himself from Lance already, tying up the problem as 'a loss.' He's being a commander, a good one, and what they need, but Keith wants to claw him open. Where the hell is the person he had once called brother? That's who he needs right now, not this command bullshit that he knows Shiro always hated.
Shiro opens his mouth to reply, to tell him what Keith already knows he's going to say, when the doors slide open and Allura walks in. "Where is Blue?" she demands, pausing only briefly when she sees the brewing fight between Keith and Shiro.
"She didn't come back with me, Princess." Pidge replies, her voice anxious. "When I got into Yellow, she stayed right where Lance put her."
"Stand down, cadet," Shiro says quietly, his voice stern. "If Blue didn't come back with you, then I would bet money that Lance is still alive."
"Blue won't abandon her paladin," Allura affirms, her lips pursed tightly and he gaze steady on Keith's face. "Her loyalty runs deep. She won't abandon him."
He can hear the intention in her voice. Lance isn't alone. Blue is protecting him. It doesn't make him feel much better, but he does stand down. If anything, he has to wait for Shiro to be distracted to go save Lance by himself. He doesn't need backup or permission to get this taken care of.
Shiro rests his hand on Keith's shoulder, an intense look in his eyes. "Why don't we talk?"
Keith scowls at him, but nods, letting Shiro guide him towards Red.
The Wolkian's fingers are a brand around Lance's wrist. His body feels stretched out and thin; every fiber of every muscle screams from the strain. It's hot, so fucking hot inside of this heat proof suit, but since he isn't a baked turkey yet he can assume that it's still functioning. He can feel blisters forming on his cheek.
If he doesn't figure out how to get them out of here, they really will die.
"Ok," he huffs out. His chest is tight, his breath constricted. The earth is shaking beneath him, vibrating his bones as the Wolkian swings in his grip. "Ok, I'm gonna try to pull you up. Just hang on tight, ok? Don't let go."
He pulls, trying to scrabble backwards while maintaining his grip, both on the hand in his and the rock he has his ankle wrapped around. In his head, he imagines skittering backwards like a crab on the beach, but in reality the downward angle of the rock shelf they are dangling off of, gravity, and the weight of the Wolkian are all working against him.
With a gasp of breath that sounds like a sob, he stops. This isn't going to work. He isn't strong enough for this to work. If he had trained harder, put more of an effort into being fucking prepared, maybe he wouldn't be here right now. Maybe he would have been able to carry the Wolkian at the same pace as the others and he would be safely on Blue headed back to the castle. He could tell Keith he loves him over and over again, he could tell Hunk that he is his best friend and that Lance appreciates every single thing he has done to support him, he could tell Shiro that he is brave and amazing and his absolute hero, he could tell Pidge that she is smart and talented and worth so much.
His eyes burn. He wants to cry, to scream. This is so unfair. What had he done to deserve dying like this? He can feel the weight of his life on his shoulders, can feel every decision that he could have done differently, done better. He would give anything for just one more moment with the people he loves.
"I don't know if I can get us out of this," he tells the creature gripping his wrist. "I wish I could pronounce your name." He lets out a choked laugh. He will die with this creature and he can't even say their fucking name.
The creature is looking at him; even without visible eyes, Lance can feel its gaze. "You are a kind humanoid, blue paladin of Voltron," it says, and Lance squeezes their wrist in response. "Why don't you just let go? Then you would be safe."
Lance stares open mouthed. "I can't let go!" he bursts out. "My job is to protect people like you, not sacrifice them to save my own skin. Just… Just give me time, I'll figure this out."
There is a brief moment of silence and then, "We can't both live through this. Let go, Lance."
"No!" Lance shouts, indignation welling inside of him. The rocks shake around them, but Lance can't tell the difference between that and the shaking of his own body anymore. "You deserve to live, I can't let you die like this."
He gazes into their face. He feels like they're looking into his mind, reading his thoughts and experiences, seeing him for who he really is. The backdrop is a river of lava, hot and boiling far below, moving like sludge. Each shiver of the earth around them causes a simmer of bubbles to pop, bursting upwards in a shower of heat and light.
"It's ok," the Wolkian finally says, "it's ok to let go. I have lived long and fully."
Lance is panting now, panicked at the thought of just letting someone die. He won't let go, he can't. That's not how this is supposed to work.
"Can anyone hear me?" he shouts into his helmet. "Blue, now would be a good time for a rescue. Pidge? Help! Please, we need help!"
"If you won't let go, I will." The Wolkian says to him.
"Don't let go! Don't let go, just let me figure out a way to get us out, don't let go!" He's screaming, his throat raw, his entire body tense with dread. He clenches his fists hard, gripping the Wolkian with all his strength.
It lets go. Dangling limp in his fragile grip, it keeps looking up at him. He can feel them slipping from his fingers now that there is no counterpoint gripping him, no shared strength keeping them both alive. He clutches tighter, but he can feel what little energy he has left escaping him.
"Grab onto me," he sobs, "you can't let go, we can still make it."
"Let go," it tells him. "Let go!" it says louder, and Lance can hear the sound of its native tongue. It sounds like waves washing against the rocks of a stony shore, soothing and light and rhythmic. "Let go, Lance."
In the end, Lance's body fails him. The Wolkian slides through his fingers and falls.