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It was a disappointingly regular excursion.
As regular as could be.
So regular, in fact, that Keith had lost the point of it the moment it flickered on their agenda.
They were meant to detect and locate threats to the universe, not boldly go where no one cared before.
Keith sighed and lowered his blade for a moment to listen, the castle ship looming beyond in a low layer of sunset orange cloud.
The bog planet’s biodynamic range was worthy of a particularly boring text book, its organic diversity something he might have yawned over in lecture at the Garrison not too long ago. Science was not his forte beyond aerodynamics and how to make going from point A to B faster, better and stronger. The exploration of space did not hold the same thrill for him as it did for Shiro and the others. Combat was his comfort zone. He could care less what lived here.
The planet’s surface was mostly damp swampland, reminding him of hot southern places back home. Its brightly colored fauna belied its dangers. The dense, murky stench by itself was enough to make him leave and never glance back.
“Back to fucking nature.” He grumbled.
Besides weird purple plants and the errant scurry of small mammals he hadn’t discovered a damn thing. There was nothing about the mission related to their attack on Galra or the liberation of its prisoners. Looking sideways, he pushed his blade hard into the damp dirt. Waste of time. Lance liked to call them police missions but he liked to call them distractions from the main objective-
"Ah!-" Keith slapped at a sudden sharp sting that had landed on his neck. A brief flash and it was gone. Keith grimaced.
Great. Now there were prehistoric mosquitoes.
TEAM --Shiro’s booming voice crackled over intercom.
Keith knew a regroup when he heard one.
“About time…” He muttered.
Rubbing absently at the now swelling patch of reddening skin, he clipped his deactivated Bayard back to his belt, nearly tripping over brambles in his haste to get back to the lions.
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"So I found a pond." Lance said over dinner. Lance said everything as though he deserved a medal for it.
"I found lots of ponds." Hunk muttered as he poked at his food goo.
"Yes," Lance announced, "But mine had a thing in it!"
Pidge groaned. Shiro, as tired as any of them, managed to wrestle up some feigned interest.
"A thing?" He raised one eyebrow.
"Yep. Very slimy. Very belligerent." Lanced sat back with crossed arms. "Took care of it, though. Hear that Keith?"
Keith was staring down at his food not listening. His black hair clung to his face in sweaty wisps. Lance frowned, his good mood flickering. It looked like it was only Keith's crossed arms that were keeping his head off the table.
"Geeze. Talk about belligerent…" Lance leaned over and pushed the bowl of untouched goo under Keith's face. "Try eatin’?”
He watched Keith slowly look up and squinted suspiciously at the glossy look in the usually sharp eyes.
"Not... not hungry." Keith’s words sounded like they took more effort than they should have.
"What?" Lance asked with a snort. "My story puttin' you to sleep?"
Instead of a cold reply, Keith just let out a strained sigh and lowered his face into his arms.
Everyone at the table exchanged a look. Lance hated that look. Loathed it even. The Here Goes Keith Again Look. No one guy deserved that many looks. Frowning, he and everyone else watched Keith stumble to a stand and leave the room. No food. No water. Probably off to the training deck. Lance’s frown swiftly caught Shiro’s notice. As the unlicensed expert in all of Keith’s moods, Lance was optimistic Shiro would have some explanation for this strange behavior. “Give him space.” Shiro made it sound like a warning, one the rest of them could respect but not Lance. “He HAS space! A whole galaxy of it...” He muttered into his bowl of goo. Seeing the others casually disperse, Lance decided to follow Keith.
Keith never was one to know when he needed help. He left that business to anyone else. He likely wasn’t expecting Lance.
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He stood back and watched for what felt like an hour. The ticks and seconds were still up for debate. Keith was trying to fight the good fight against a robot five times his strength. The clang and ring of battle echoed loudly up to the recess that Lance had hid himself. Lance was no expert, but he knew Keith's moves well enough that he could perceive when the strikes were not even close to making the mark. Yeah, the guy didn't appear quite the dish rag he was at the dinner table but the adrenaline of combat, perceived or not, could do that to a body. But as usual, Keith's skills were something to behold even at subpar. Even if Lance didn't like how much Keith was lagging.
The robot's blade came slashing down.
Keith was on his knee, sword ready to block.
He crumbled.
Lance surged forward, seeing the blood flashing off the swung blade. Deactivate. DEACTIVATE. The robot sagged and collapsed into a heap, the lights on deck dimmed to red. Lance had Keith’s head under his arm. The cut was minor, only a graze. So why was he limp?
"Hey," Lance tipped Keith's pale face up. "I called it off. You should really try takin it easy-"
Keith shuddered in his arms, his body constricting and jerking. He wasn't just tired he was breathing weird.
"Keith?"
He let out a ragged sigh, his hand going to the back of his neck. "I can't....."
Lance went full out panic mode. Which meant everything in his head was suddenly blaring bright fluorescent lights with full on monster music. He followed Keith's shaking hand, slapping it away from his collar so he could see what he was clawing his fingers at. What the hell was that? A bite mark? An angry one too. It was red and swollen. Fuckin Keith.
"Lance... I...I...anghh!"
Oh god. Lance leaned over Keith when he started to shake. He put one arm out across his chest and another anchored over his thigh, bracing himself. The tense body beneath him shook and then froze, Lance's hand catching under Keith's head before he cracked it on the metal floor.
"Keith!!" Lance balked when Keith’s jaw slammed shut and locked. "Can you hear me???"
But his teammate was gone.
Keith thrashed under him, his hands tearing at nothing, pushing at Lance who was straddling him. Lance pulled him up a full foot from the ground and then slammed him back as hard as he could. "KEITH!"
Lance frantically searched Keith's face. A seizure? He'd never seen one before but if he were a bettin' man-
"K-Keith-Uh!" Lance got a stray elbow to the gut. "Okay-Okay-Just-"
Squeezing his eyes shut, he had no way of knowing just how long Keith’s body shuddered and jumped beneath him. He only knew he had to strain to hold on to him, making sure he didn't fracture his skull on the training deck. Keith’s muscles violently tensed, jerking sporadically until they relaxed. Lance blinked wide eyed down at him, his breath caught in his working throat.
Keith finally lay completely still and limp.
Terrified, Lance waited a few beats before he let himself collapse on top of him. For a few moments, he stayed there, harsh breaths mingling with Keith’s. He was waiting until the world stopped rocking and the buzzing in his ears calmed to a dull roar. Rolling off of Keith, he dazedly looked up and down his body to access any damage he could actually see. Besides being soaked in sweat, Keith looked rather dead except for the fact that he was gasping in a terrible ragged way. Lance pressed his knuckles to the side of his throat, moving frantically up to his cheek.
“Aw, no…!” He hissed. Keith's skin was on fire.
Moving gingerly up and away from Keith’s prone form, he darted to the nearest communication link, slamming the alarm with his fist.
“NEED HELP HERE NOW!”
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Shiro dragged the smooth metal palm of one hand across the back of his neck. His shoulders ached heavily with tension and fatigue. It had been a long and arduous day of digging for nothing but now he had much more complicated problems on his hands. His team had gathered themselves anxiously at the common table waiting for a status update he didn’t quite have for them.
When silence from his paladins was the first thing to greet him, Shiro just wanted to collapse under it.
The facts they had right now were not really helpful. Coran was stumped. There were too many gaps, too many variables. Blood had been drawn, scans and tests still ongoing in an attempt to identify and gather data while Keith writhed in agony on the observation bed. No one had been more shocked to find him like that.
Just like their mission this morning, their leads were few, far between and going nowhere.
“So…” Lance said, breaking the silence for them all. “…do we know anything?”
Shiro knew better than to tell the whole truth.
“He’s stable.” Shiro sighed into his seat, leaning his chin into folded hands. “We have him on oxygen support and some form of anti-pyretic. But until Coran knows more about what we’re up against....” His voice trailed off.
Waiting was not Lance’s favorite option ever.
“For what?” Lance demanded.
Shiro perked as though startled. "Hm?"
“What are we waiting for?"
"For Keith to respond to treatment.” His cryogenic hand whirred softly in a tight fist. “Or not.”
“But…I still don’t get it. What happened? One minute he’s being Keith, the next he’s in a coma!”
Shiro wished he had a better answer...meaning one at all. He let out a slow breath before speaking.
“We know that the seizure was triggered by something compromising his blood chemistry. The fever is an immune response. We can lower the fever and reduce his pain. But that won't solve the real problem.”
Pidge snorted. “That’s reassuring.” Shiro did not bat an eyelash, instead continuing his debrief.
“Allura’s been pulling files on the planet’s organisms and defenses so we can try to isolate the toxin. All we can do is cross match his symptoms with the medicines we already have and see if we can get his vitals under control.”
“And in the meantime?” Hunk questioned, slumping in his seat. “Are we supposed to just…sit here? What if the Galra attack? What if—?“
“Cross that bridge…” Shiro cut him off sharply. The last thing they needed was panic. “One issue at a time, Hunk.”
Lance stood up wordlessly and left. No one tried to stop him, they knew where he’d be heading. Hunk and Pidge turned back to Shiro. By the looks on his Team’s faces, Shiro knew they were right there with him.
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Lance always supposed anyone watching someone asleep was a crazy person.
He fidgeted in his seat that he had made in the med unit. Not so much a seat as it was a shelf--a numbingly hard cold metal shelf. Keith's face was tilted towards him. His mouth was covered by a mask to support his airway, his hands were bound to either side of him just in case he awoke in a confused state and tried to rip out his intravenous drips. There was a glisten of sweat on Keith's pale skin, his respiration hitching and starting. Lance watched him make and remake fists in his sleep.
Sleep?
This wasn't sleep. According to the scanner, Keith's heart was beating a million beats per second. So maybe that made Lance not a crazy person? Watching your friend languish in a bug induced coma was a perfectly natural thing to do. With a sigh, he leaned back into the curve of the uncomfortable shelf. It occurred to him that he was tired. Beyond tired. Checking his ticks he'd been up almost 2 days, more now since Keith decided to go on the crazy train. It was always so cold in the ship. He wrapped his hands into his jacket sleeves and hugged himself. No one else was going to do it. That made him laugh a little as he yawned. He'd stay here for a while. Keith might be confused when he woke up....
Lance felt himself going stir crazy as each second ticked by. He decided to talk to Keith. As long as he was a crazy person watching him sleep, might as well go all the way.
“So…guess you messed up good, huh?” It wasn’t funny but it sounded funny anyway. The slow hiss of Keith’s measured exhale was his only response. Lance sighed.
“You’re pretty sick, dude. Coran is saying we might have to replace you with a blind Yelmore…whatever the hell that is-”
Lance stopped when Keith suddenly flinched and started. Sort of like Lance's dog used to do when dreaming. Dreaming. Lance shivered a little and not from the cold. Geeze. Lance sure hoped he wasn't dreaming. He suspected dreams while high on alien bug poison probably sucked. He waited to see if it might happen again but Keith remained still.
“So.....," Lance cleared his throat. "Red’s been sending off wonky head vibes to the rest of us?" This conversation was boring even him now. His eyes wandered over to the display listing Keith’s vitals in a steady stream of fluctuating values. At least something was talking to him. He managed a chuckle. "I think she might be worried about you-”
Keith’s breathing changed again, chest heaving. Lance sat up waiting to see if that meant more bug dreams or a sudden dramatic awakening with Keith saying he was just fine complete with thumbs up. Keith resumed his state of nothing at all. With a sigh, Lance slumped back in the shelf and raked his fingers through his hair.
"This is gonna be a long night."
He half expected Keith to wake up and agree.
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He opened his eyes slowly.
Keith was under water. He could see light above him and he clawed for it, air bubbled bursting around him and buoying upwards. But he wasn't moving. He choked, the cold water sucking into his mouth, his lungs- A-Ahh AHHH! It was air. It was air. Not water.
Blurry. He smelled the strong scent of plastic. He squeezed his eyes open and closed but all he saw was a fog of bright white. There was something clinging to his face. That was the next thing Keith registered. It wasn’t heavy, but the slight placement of the thing came as a shock, and it became uncomfortable quickly. There was a gas blowing directly into his nose and mouth and Keith tried to move his hands to rip it off when he realized his arms were strapped to the sides of the table.
Terror seized him. His eyes watered and began to clear. Focus. Focus. He was a prisoner. He'd been captured. Before he knew what he was doing he drew all the air he could into his lungs and simply.... screamed. Then someone else did too. And much louder than he had. And it sounded like... it had sounded like... Lance? He could see the ceiling now. Light fixtures. The glow of a computer monitor looming over his head. Keith lay gasping, and gradually noticed Lance on the floor under a shelf.
"Yer awake!" Lance jumped up and dusted himself off. "Didn't mean to startle you by eh, yelling like that. Heh. I must have dozed off. To be fair you uh, scared the crap out of me first--"
"Wha...What's..." Keith jerked at his trapped wrists. "What's ...."
"Yeah, that." Lance looked as breathless as Keith felt. "You kinda went nuts. So...."
"Lemme go," Keith growled with startling violence, yanking hard at his restraints. "Now!"
"Ummmm," Lance looked apologetic. "No can do."
"Now..." Keith demanded and not liking how it was more of a whisper than a threat. Then it happened. The pain. Like lightening, it coursed through his neck, down his spine and left a searing burn that left him without air. "UnnnH! W-Why...?"
"Probably cuz of that." Lance pointed out.
Keith writhed, his back arched off the table, his wrists twisting and bleeding through the straps.
"Keith," Lance was talking beside him in a rush. "It's a toxin. It will go away after.... after a while.. ..shit.... Keith!"
Whipping his head from side to side, Keith just wanted to get his sweat soaked hair out of his eyes. His legs wouldn't move right. He felt his heels pound onto the bed, desperate to get away, back away, move anywhere. Oh god. No no no no..... Lightening again. His body seized in agony.
"Lance!" He whimpered. His voice sounded strained and weak. "Let me.... let me go...." He wanted to rip free and run or tear at his neck where the pain came from. He'd tear and cut until it was gone. His mind flew with visions of exactly how he'd do it.
Lance’s face was pale and he looked scared enough to imagine the violence thrumming through his brain. He turned on his heels and fled, leaving Keith alone with the lightening.
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His consciousness lifted and bled away in flashes of moving pictures, half-formed words and crushing pain. Invasive fingers were at his throat, his chest. He tensed, trying to shake them off but the mess of blurred voices above him only quickened, sounding more urgent. His body was no longer shaking with cold after the sudden sharp sting exploded in his shoulder, feverish heat rushing through him in waves.
Keith opened his mouth but the mask was in his way and his sluggish brain was not yet up to the task of forming full words, let alone coherent sentences. For some reason beyond his control, fluid familiar language drifted to the surface of his memory and he could not be sure if the words he heard actually came from him or not.
Hanashite kure…. let me go….
The voices ignored him. Stupid blurs, why wouldn’t they listen?
Something cool was placed over his eyes, calming the painful thrum in his head. Keith heard a low moan of relief as it slowed everything down. He could feel his own heart growing sluggish and erratic. His chest quaked, trying to claw his way back to the surface, prevent himself from going under again. No…no way…. he had to get out--!
“Nooo…” He groaned weakly.
“Ochitsuite. Ugokande.” Stop. Don’t move. A voice not his own returned the dream words. Rough diction sounds, a man’s placating voice. Who was it? More words drifted over him again, gentle pressure unwavering on his chest.
“Muri shinai ne.” Don't overdo it. Permission granted. From who? Keith’s turgid mind could hardly summon up who it might be but the voice was calm and steady, as he should be if he were not being held down, a prisoner in his own pain. Keith knew his options. Awake and fight? Or sleep and oblivion?
Keith’s body chose for him.
Without actually meaning to, he let the darkness in.
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“What he say?” Lance asked, frowning in confusion. “Is he delirious?”
“Maybe.” Shiro hummed, carding his fingers through Keith’s damp hair, ensuring the Red Paladin had fallen safely under once more. “Japanese. We spoke it at home before we entered academy.” His hand moved to rub gentle circles on Keith's chest when the boy moaned low in pain.
Lance raised a brow. “Sounds like Spanish.”
“Same vowels.” Shiro replied absently, moving to grasp Keith’s wrist, two fingers on his pulse. “His heartbeat is slowing down.”
“Well great, mine isn’t.” Lance took that moment to deflate, collapsing against his chair with all four gangly limbs sticking out in abandon. “Between him losing it on the training deck and all this craziness, my nerves are shot to hell.”
Shiro’s wan smile was not lost on Lance and he made sure Lance could see the relief played across his face.
“Thank you…for staying with him, I mean.”
“Someone had to.” Lance closed his eyes, feeling more tired than panicked suddenly. “So what now? I’m guessing whatever anti-toxin Coran dosed him up with is a no go?”
“It would seem.” Shiro’s shoulders slumped, eyes scanning the readouts from the monitor. "Well...he's no worse? If these numbers mean anything. But Coran thinks he’ll have something more potent once we can collect tissue samples from the bug that bit him. Apparently, that jungle biosphere is famous for its venomous insects. I guess Keith was unlucky enough to piss one of them off.”
“Has that effect on most things.” Lance agreed. “So…is he not gonna explode for the time being?”
“The sedative will keep him stabilized for a couple hours, according to Coran.” Shiro briefly scanned the stats flashing on the biometric reader. “
“Don’t underestimate him.” Shiro replied wearily. “I’m up. You go rest.”
“Nah, s’okay. You need to get Pidge and Hunk ready for dispatch. I’m wired already, I’ll stick around.”
“You sure?”
Lance flicked his eyes across Keith’s pale face just to make sure there were no more jump scares in store for him.
“Nada prob, jefe.”
Lance turned back to Keith’s sleeping form. His limbs had become distorted from his struggle with the restraints. As though it might help the situation, Lance gently righted his arms and legs, tugging them loose from their taut mangling in the bindings around them. That accomplished, he brushed aside the damp bangs strewn across his face and made sure the oxygen mask was secured. Lance winced at the heat of Keith’s skin under his fingertips, the poor guy was still burning up! If that medicine was even working, it was clearly working too damn slow. Once Keith was righted, he found his shelf and stared into space.
Hopefully, this would be a very boring few hours.
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Lance was getting used to sleeping in the worst places.
Hard metal was now on his growing list.
He woke with an uncomfortable wetness on his shoulder. He’d fallen asleep in his own drool. Blinking awake blearily, he found his body had slid down awkwardly in the already uncomfortable spot, limbs cramped and heavy with sleep. He groaned and righted himself, blinking to clear his vision…
…when he noticed the gurney.
The restraints were made of fabric, tough but designed not to break bones when called for. They now lay strewn across the stuffed padding of the mattress in bloodied shreds. How Keith had managed to break free of them was a mystery but with a Paladin out of his mind with fever, anything was possible.
This crap was just getting better and better.
Slamming his fist into the lock mechanism, he ran past the infirmary door yelling his head off for Shiro.
Madman on the loose.
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Lance was not one to dramatize but two disasters on his watch in the space of ten hours gave him the right to orate about this sudden state of messy affairs. When he breathlessly reached the reconvened group in the central gallery, however, he found that Coran had already been briefed and had beaten him to the punchline of their latest catastrophe.
“This is terrible!” Coran groaned. “I never even thought to place a bio-tracker on him! He could be anywhere in the castle right now!”
Pidge spoke up, puzzled. “But…it’s still Keith, right? Why are we treating this like a code orange threat?”
“Potentially, it is.” Shiro countered. “Keith isn’t himself right now, he’s sick. There’s a chance he could get hurt.”
“Or hurt one of us!” Hunk was swift to point out. “Remember that time we played UNO and Lance slipped him a Draw 4--?”
“Focus!” Shiro growled. Allura’s steady demeanor snapped them all back to reality.
“Shiro, you know him best. Where is Keith most likely?”
Shiro closed his eyes. “If Keith believes he’s in a combat situation, he’ll be on the defense. He may not have always liked it but he got good at Garrison training. He’ll be quick to arm himself, utilize subterfuge tactics, get to--.”
Lance translated. “So find a shank, ninja himself to a safe place, then settle on a logical course of action.”
“Right. Logical. Keith. On a good day.” Pidge added. Shiro nodded. The team definitely knew their Red Paladin.
Shiro took charge again. “Our goal is to minimize risk. He barely recognized Lance and didn’t seem to register my voice when he woke so he’ll attack if anyone corners him.” Shiro said.
“Then we don’t have much time.” Allura said. “If he manages to gain access to his Bayard, we’ll have a security breach. If he’s going for the lions, we WILL have to take him down. He mustn’t be allowed to compromise the bonds.”
“Right.” With a brief slicing motion, Shiro’s hand glowed. “Change of plans. Pidge, fire up Green and get her ready for retrieval from our last coordinates. Hunk, you and I will go after Keith. Allura, keep watch over the rest of the lions, especially Red!”
“What about me?” Lance whined.
“Arm yourself and head back to med bay.” Shiro said, tossing him his Bayard. “In case he doubles back.”
Lance looked down at the ion blaster in his hands and gulped. Was he supposed to use this to subdue his own teammate?
“Set to stun, Lance. Should not be a problem for you.”
“I can subdue that Mullet with my eyes closed.” Lance said, hoping he wouldn’t have to.
Coran took that opportunity to ply them with lightning-fast pertinent information.
“Speaking of subdue! Hunk, Shiro, you’ll want these.” Pulled seemingly from nowhere, Coran held out what looked like bunches of small white flowers in a netted bag. Hunk balked.
“Coran, this is a rescue mission, not a wedding—“
“Similar to what you humans call chlorophorm.” Coran explained. “These blooms give off quite a powerful scent. If Keith gets bitey, you’ll find these handy in subduing him. The sedative effect won’t do him any harm. Whatever you do, don’t inhale them. They’ll put you in sleepytime faster than a--”
“We get the picture. Thanks Coran.”
Shiro was skeptical but accepted the weird bag of flowers.
“Okay, let’s move out.”
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Keith found a room. It was deeper than where they lived, somewhere at the base of the structure, a subterranean alcove of sorts. No telling what would be behind the door. He braced himself for danger, even as his limbs trembled weakly and dizziness threatened to knock him back down. He pushed the door open and fell onto the floor. He crawled, his arms giving out, he used his forearms.
The only light source came from a dull bulb that throbbed with a pale green light. Piles of military grade uniforms and arms were stored, their musty smell making him cough. Where were the soldiers? Had they already been killed?
There was no time to waste then.
He'd hide here for now, fight the exhaustion clawing at his vision, threatening to take him back under and find a way out. By any means necessary. He’d need to arm himself somehow. If only he could figure out where he was? His head buzzed too painfully for him to gather his thoughts effectively. He needed to rest a few minutes. He was so cold. He was too hot. Sweat dripped in his eyes. He swiped at it.
Keith crawled under the table low to the ground as he’d been trained, his mind easily shifting into that coded set of rules and maneuvers. Once concealed, he curled into a ball and took slow measured breaths, tried to get his thoughts to quiet down so he could pin down his next priority. He was so cold.
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He wasn't sure what woke him. But his senses were screaming high alert. Raising himself painfully off the freezing floor, he stayed poised on one knee and one hand in the sickly green light of the storage room. Footsteps. He realized over the dull hum and drone of the structure he was located he could heard the steady tread of someone approaching his location. Two someones. Cocking his head he crawled out from his hiding place, his bare feet silent as he moved quickly as he could to the wall beside the door. The door he had left open.
He swore, vehemently and silently, his hands curled into shaking fists.
Useless soldier. Leaving a door open and letting the enemy know exactly where he was? Gritting his teeth he heard the enemy come closer. It was the exhaustion, he told himself grimly. He had been over confident in the distance and seclusion he had placed himself. It had been a reckless underestimation of his captors and now he had no option but evasive action.
"Ship didn't lie," a voice echoed down the hall. "Old equipment room unsealed. Around the time Keith took off."
"It's pretty damp down here." Someone else said. "Smells like a rotting green house."
"There's some water condensers on this level too."
"So, which room got accessed?"
"Two hatches down," the response. "Should be right down there--"
Keith’s breath halted. They were right on top of him.
Keith bolted in the opposite direction down the hall and into the dark. He heard their startled voices behind him as he ran, his muscles burning with half the speed he wanted. Groaning he made a quick turn down a parallel corridor, the air growing colder and even more humid.
"KEITH!" The deep voice sounded familiar. "W-WAIT!"
"I got 'em Shiro!!!"
They were gaining on him faster than he wanted, he took another turn and another, losing himself in the dim red auxiliary lights that lit up only intermittently down the dank passage ways. Another turn and he skidded to a halt, panting, panic rising as he saw he had failed even further. He had run into a long and narrow room, swinging left and right he saw he was closed in. It was lined with low laying tanks of open water, lit dully the wavering blue ripple of the disturbed surfaces reflected on the walls and ceiling. No. No. No.
"Gotcha!"
With a growl, Keith swung around and faced a large man who had a grin on his face. He didn't appear to be armed. Backing away slowly, Keith assessed his chances of getting by the behemoth of a man and to the only exit. There came the shadow of another imposing figure in the doorway behind him. Keith's heart sank and thudded madly in his chest.
"Calm down, dude," the giant said shakily. "No one is gonna hurt you. I hope."
“Get away from me!” Keith growled, knuckles white in tightly clenched fists.
With a small whimper, Keith felt his thigh hit something. Glancing quickly down and behind him he saw he'd backed into one of the tanks of water. Mistake. He'd made another mistake. When he looked back up the man had taken the moment of his distraction to rush in on him. Large hands like vices clutched the front of his medical shirt and he automatically kicked up and out sending himself backwards and the man back onto the floor.
“Son of a quiznak!” The large man groaned, clambering roughly back up to get another hold on him. Keith twisted his body away but the man was faster, pinning him down on his stomach hard. Keith kicked and flailed but it was no use. He felt something heavy clamp down firmly on the back on his neck as he struggled.
“Careful! Don’t hurt him!” Another voice cried.
“GAR! I’m trying!” The large man pleaded breathlessly, momentarily easing the weight of his knee on Keith’s spine. “He’s—UNGH—he’s a slippery little devil!”
Keith took that moment to aim a forceful but poorly aimed kick into the large man’s side, scrambling away from underneath the weight.
Victory lasted one moment before he was roughly grabbed around the middle, and none-too-gently plunged down into one of the vats of icy water, so cold it made the breath stop in his lungs.
No! Keith thought fiercely through his panic. He was not going to be killed this way!
He thrashed to the surface only to sink back, his arms finding nothing but water. Chest hitching he remembered waking like this, it hadn't been a dream, he'd been drowning all this time, he'd been drowning forever, he was lost in the shallow glitter of blue light--something strong grabbed him under his arm and suddenly he was wheezing for air, coughing and spitting metallic liquid. Still somehow he managed to swing a punch at the viselike grip around him.
He was being wrenched up and out of the frigid water, rivulets running in streams down his face, into his mouth. He tugged weakly, tried to break free, but the hold on him was firmer than ever now.
A serious, if not exasperated voice said. "Now, whatever you do, don’t breathe this in."
Keith blinked rapidly at the water in his eyes and glimpsed.... white flowers? His mind was still hallucinating. He tried to heed the warning but breathing deeply and desperately was his job at the moment. Sputtering and fighting the grip on his arm, he got a hand full of flowers in his mouth and his eyes. To his horror, he immediately started to slip.
"Good job."
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“You didn’t have to dunk him!” Shiro grumbled.
"He left me no choice!" Hunk shot back, limping slightly backwards to get out of Shiro's way. "He's like a souped up ninja or something!"
Shiro knelt over Keith’s drenched passed out form, checking his pulse. After a couple frightening moments of preliminary gagging, Keith’s ragged, soggy breathing had returned to something like normal.
“YOU try sedating a wet cat next time, ok?” Hunk groaned while he gingerly worked his jaw. “Am I bleeding? It feels like I’m bleeding."
“You’re fine.” Shiro said, hefting Keith in his arms. “We should get him back to med bay.”
A low moan rose from Keith and Shiro winced in sympathy. Poor kid. He’d been having a bad enough day without getting half drowned in ice water.
Hunk had finished examining himself to make sure he was still in one piece. Once assured of this, he clicked on his communication link with Allura.
“We found him in the....er basement.? On our way up.”
“Thank goodness!” Allura sounded relieved. “Is everyone alright?”
Hunk opened his mouth to respond but Shiro quickly usurped him.
“We’re in one piece. All of us.”
“Good work, you two. Pidge just returned with the tissue samples Coran needs. Be quick! He’ll need to be scanned and stabilized before the vaccine can be administered.”
“Roger.” Hunk clicked off and joined Shiro down the long gloom of the tunnels leading back up to the surface levels and the excited shouts from Lance rushing to meet them. “He really does kinda look like a wet cat tho.” Hunk mused.
Shiro huffed a tired laugh at the thought. “Fights like one too.”
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He was running.
The cold wouldn’t stop. No matter where he dodged, it followed. No matter where he sliced it, it pursued. Keith pushed on though his lungs felt like breaking at any moment. This place would be his end and he refused to go out like this. There had to be a way out.
He kept running for the outside. A dim golden shimmer appeared in his line of vision. He needed to reach it more than anything.
He barely noticed when the chill gave way to dry heat, when the ground beneath him shifted from cold steel to sunbaked clay. All he knew was that he had to keep running.
He was back.
Keith liked the desert. It calmed him when many things did not. It was the silence mostly. The lack of any meaning of time. Not knowing what calendar date it was or even the name of the day. Life carried on in a calm predictability that required nothing of him but just being.
He ran until he reached the house. This came from memory too.
The house he found on the border had been abandoned for a while but it was solid. Enough for him. He watched the sunset on the rocks, blazing red and purple. Absently, his hand drifted to the back of his neck when he felt an echo of pain there. Clutching the burning sting, he watched the red turn pink, then purple blue. It calmed him. His breathing slowed and his pain gradually faded.
He stared at the wall for a while before shutting his eyes. He timed his breathing. One minute gone. Two minutes gone. He got lost at a hundred. But then he heard something. Impossible. There was no one around for miles and miles. Nothing to hear but the wind. But he heard it again.
Someone was saying his name.
"Keith?"
He heard his name. A hand was lifting his face from the hard stainless steel table. The hand was warm. A shiver ran through him, he was so cold.
"You are okay now."
Keith tried to talk. Say anything. He couldn't. He flexed his hands and found them numb. Cool wetness at his wrists made him grimace. Blood? Sweat? He moaned his frustration. It hurt to think.
"Just one more day."
The voice sounded very assured. With a gasp he was surprised to hear himself laughing. It was a breathless weak laugh but it was what it was. "Shiro..."
"I'm here."
Where was here? Everything was so confusing. His memories were hazy, being immersed, drowning in frozen water. He felt panic clench his throat, his chest hitching. Where was he? The walls here were too bright and too white. The chemical smell made him nauseous. Voices were chattering overhead again, making him tense.
"I think he's had enough of med bay." Shiro's voice spoke over them all. "I'm taking him with me. I'll alert you if there are any changes."
"Uh, is that the best idea?" Another voice, a younger voice--Lance? "You saw what he did--"
"He'll be isolated in my quarters. I'll monitor him from there."
"I don't.... I don't feel good...." Keith felt himself being pulled up, eased gently against a solid frame. His face was resting on a warm shoulder.
"Understatement of the year buddy."
"I think... I think..."
"Try not to talk."
Keith knew he was lifted after that. Strong arms took him up and walked, steady and slow. It was quiet in this place. Quiet, dark and warm.
He felt the bed and the hand under his head as he was laid down. His hands ached, his wrists burned. He made a frustrated groan and tried to thrash away but was stopped by a steadying hand.
"Not yet." Shiro said. "Take it easy."
“What…happened?” Keith swallowed, eyes closing. His throat felt dry as paper. He felt so restless, his heartbeat refused to slow down, there were too many questions. Shiro sensed his uneasiness and began the recount.
“You’ve been giving us quite the scare.” Shiro’s wearied voice wafted over him like a soft blanket. “The bite on your neck went South. Pidge went back to get the right compounds to mix up an anti-venom for the sting. We administered the first dose about an hour ago.”
Keith felt Shiro’s presence sink down on the bed beside him. It smelled like him, likely his bed. Shiro’s hand slid beneath his neck, supporting him as he was lifted up. A cold glass was pressed beneath his cracked lips.
“Drink. You haven’t had any water for the last fourteen hours.”
Keith did as ordered, swallowing a few measured gulps of the cold water. Attempting to turn his head away in exhaustion, Shiro gently followed it. “All of it.” He urged. Keith exhaled and drained the glass, feeling better when he was set back down against the pillow.
A folded cloth dabbed gently at the sweat gathered at his upper lip and forehead. Keith breathed slowly, trying hard to regain himself and put in order everything Shiro had said. Pain shot through his temples and he let out a soft noise of frustration. It was too hard to think. A metal hand glowed dimly, oddly cool and solid against his too warm chest. Keith began to drift under below the pain and lingering fear. His body shuddering as he felt finally there was no need to run or fight. The cool metal moved to his shoulder and lingered there, a thumb absently stroking below his jaw to the base of his throat.
"I'm right here, Keith." Shiro’s voice cut through the silence. "I'll watch over you."
Keith stilled. His heartbeat slowed.
"Go to sleep."
The last thought he had before he faded away was to obey his captain's order.