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Keith raised his gauntlet to the prison door and activated it. With a flash of light, the lock override programming Pidge had installed earlier fed into the control panel. A few moments later the door slid open.
A huddle of alien slaves cringed away from the opening. They all wore the standard Galra prison uniform of a tight black undersuit and ragged purple top. Keith lowered his bayard at their looks of terror.
He stepped into the small room and spoke in what he hoped was a reassuring voice.
“I’m a paladin of Voltron. My team and I are here to rescue you. We need to hurry to get everyone out. Come on!”
The slaves cast fearful looks at each other, but obeyed the order. They joined the small crowd Keith was leading and hurried to keep up as the red paladin hurried down the sharp hallways. His radio crackled with voices.
“Lance what’s your status?”
“Already loaded up in Blue. Headed back to the castle now.”
“Good. Hunk?”
“Yeah... yeah we’re on our way. A few of these prisoners are having trouble walking though.”
“Hurry. I’ve already run across a couple sentries and they’re bound to know we’re here by now. Pidge are you ready to make an exit as soon as we’re clear?”
“Yeah. Standing by.”
Keith glanced behind him at the mass of prisoners following him. A few of them did seem to be struggling but there was no time to slow down. Wailing alarms confirmed the thought a moment later. A rush of fear and excitement caught in Keith’s chest. The ship knew they were here. There were only minutes left for the escape.
A quick, metallic clanging grew louder and louder behind him. Okay, maybe they didn’t even have that long.
Keith skidded to a halt and the rushing crowd almost collided with him.
“The Galra know you’re escaping. You have to get to my lion. It’s just down this hall and to the right,” he barked, pointing sharply.
“Go! I’ll hold them off. Be ready to leave as soon as I get there.”
The crowd shuffled, confused and scared.
“Go!” Keith snarled.
That did it. They rushed past him, around the corner and out of sight. Keith’s bayard flashed to life in his hand, the familiar weight of the sword steadying his buzzing thoughts. The sound of pounding metal feet grew closer and closer. And then he saw them. At least thirty Sentries were running toward him. Their pink face visors flashed in the dim hallway lighting and their guns lowered, pointing directly at him.
Keith let instinct take control. His shield appeared on his arm, blocking the incoming rush of gunfire. He ran straight toward the knot of metallic guards, breaking through their formation.
“Keith we need to go!” his helmet announced urgently.
He took a breath to explain his situation, but a hooked blow from a sentry knocked his helmet off. Keith whirled, plunging his sword through the chest of one robot then swiping viciously at another with his shield. Both went down with loud crashes, but there were too many to keep track of.
A blaster bolt clipped his leg, nicking the armor and tripping him. Keith hit the ground hard and rolled as metallic hands tried to grab him. Unable to get his footing again, he swiped at the snatching hands. Panic started to claw up his chest as he fought. He needed his helmet. He needed help!
And still the robots kept coming. Keith gave up trying to stab them and focused on fending them off with his shield. But the protective blue light was flickering.
No. no no no! Just a little longer! he thought desperately.
His back hit the wall. The sentries were closing in, cold masks and hands hovering over him. Keith struck out with the shield, trying to force and opening. He hit a cluster of them with all the force he could.
The shield flickered. It sparked.
And then it vanished.
Keith fell into the mass of robots, clawing and thrashing. The mass of metal buffeted him around in a confused whirl of glowing pink markings and harsh limbs and weapons. He was being pulled, yanked in several directions at once. His arm wrenched painfully as his bayard was ripped out of his hand. The next thing he felt was a blow to the back of his unarmored skull. A deep pulsing pain flooded his mind, blocking out everything. Blackness edged his vision as he struggled against the grip of dozens of cruel hands.
The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was his helmet, cracked and abandoned on the floor.
....................................................................
There were strange sounds. They were ebbing and flowing. It was like music but.. rougher. Not smooth or soothing. The beats pounded in his ears and head.
Keith groaned. He wanted them to stop. Why was everything so loud? And why didn’t the noises stop?
No. Not noises. Voices.
“-the mutt. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on this one for ages.”
“He doesn’t look like a half breed.”
“DNA test showed he is. Pitiful thing. Tiny, no fangs, no claws. Amazing he wasn’t drowned the moment he was born.”
A chuckle greeted these words. Keith let the talk wash over him, barely understanding what was being said. His head throbbed and he felt cold and heavy.
“When will the druids get here to question him?”
“At least a couple of phoebs.”
A growling sigh met this announcement.
“Takes forever to get anything done around here. We might as well just kill him now. He’s only the red paladin. Probably doesn’t know much anyway.”
Paladin. The red paladin. Voltron. The mission! The sentries!
Keith’s eyes snapped open and he gave a sharp gasp. Cold air filled his lungs as he looked wildly around, head still pounding. He was bound to a metal table in nothing but his armor undersuit. Brilliant lights glared down at him illuminating every detail harshly.
2 galra stood next to him, apparently waiting for him to wake up. They turned as he looked at them, eyes flashing dangerously. One was wearing a sort of red and black smock along with a metal face mask. He had smooth, reptilian skin and a line of spikes running down his face. The other was a tall, broad soldier. He was wearing standard armor and a cruel grin on his striped face.
“Awake at last. I was starting to wonder if you’d even make it. Half breeds are notorious for being weak and sick little things.”
A twinge of anger lit in Keith’s mind at the insult, but he remained silent.
“What’s the matter? Can’t you even speak?” the soldier sneered, grabbing his face with one massive clawed hand. The nails dug into his cheek as the yellow eyes inspected him.
“Rosk look at this. I think it’s scared.”
The other Galra stepped forward, eyes crinkled into a smile behind the mask.
“It certainly looks like it.”
The officer squeezed his claws still deeper into Keith’s cheek. A little gasp of pain escaped him as blood began to trickle down his face.
“That’s it you little mutt,” the soldier breathed. “Cry. Call for help. Whine like the deformed disgrace that you are. Your pack isn’t here to save you now.”
Keith didn’t make a sound. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. A little flare of pride burned in him at the knowledge that the team was safe. They were safe and they would be coming for him.
“Come on. Speak!” the striped Galra hissed. Keith opened his mouth wide and sank his teeth into the hand clutching his face. The soldier howled. Blood ran into Keith’s mouth as he latched on, biting with all his might on the clawed fingers. Bones crunched as the Galra ripped his hand out of Keith’s mouth.
“You little monster! I’ll kill you! You’re dead!”
The masked doctor caught the officer’s arm and held him back.
“The druids won’t be happy with you if you kill their best source of intelligence,” he snarled. He examined his companion’s mutilated hand coldly. “3 broken bones, several muscle lacerations, and permanent skin damage,” he analyzed. “Get to medical. I’ll deal with the half breed.”
The soldier stood for a moment, clutching his hand and seething with rage.
“Make him pay,” he growled. “Muzzle the little beast.”
.................................................
Keith sat miserably in the corner of his tiny cell. His teeth pulsed with every beat of his heart, pressed together so tightly it felt like they would crack. He raised his hands for what felt like the millionth time, running them over and around every inch of the tight metal mask. Maybe this time... there would finally be a way to get it off.
But just like every time before, there was nothing. The muzzle was locked into place until it was time to eat. The skin around his mouth and nose was starting to chafe under the constant confinement. It was itchy and irritating. Even worse was the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it.
Keith sighed heavily through his nose. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, providing one more painful experience he had to distract himself from. He fell into the familiar mantra he had adopted in the painful darkness of the cell.
Just a little longer. Just a little more time and they’ll be here. They’re coming for me. They’re coming for me
Shiro, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, Coran. They would track him and find him. They’d come and get this horrible muzzle off his face. His stomach gave a loud growl and his face twitched painfully.
Think about them. They’re coming. They’re coming any day now. Any minute. Any second.
Hunk would make those delicious shellfish for him. Lance would laugh and joke around with him again. Pidge would help him get his armor back, better than ever. And Shiro would be there. He would be there like he always had been.
Keith slipped into a delirious doze, mind swarming with fantasies about his rescue, sure that when he woke, his friends would be there.
But the days kept coming. The muzzle dug deeper and deeper into his skin. The dreams grew less hopeful. The hunger began to eat away at him.
And still he waited.
------------------------
Keith’s face ached. The skin around his jaw and nose was chaffed and bloody, metal infecting the raw skin. His tightly clenched teeth pulsed with every heartbeat. Ragged breathing seemed to echo in the cell, amplified by the too tight muzzle.
A familiar scrape told him his cell door was opening. Hands grabbed him roughly, prying the mask off of his face. He gasped as the cold air hit the tender skin, blood pulsing angrily to his wounds.
“Eat while you still can,” an uncaring voice commanded, tossing a bowl of colorless mush in front of him.
Keith didn’t stop to think. He fell on the food, hands digging into the flavorless paste. It had been so long since he had eaten. He almost wanted to cry with joy as he shoveled the food into his aching mouth. The raw skin around his face stung in agony as food and bits of grime settled in them. That didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the food.
“That’s enough you mutt,” the same voice announced, kicking the half finished remains of the food away.
Keith lunged after it. He had to have it. He had to! As long as he had food, he didn’t have the mask.
Hands descended on him before he went 2 feet. Rough hands. One of them held the muzzle up to his face.
“No! No! Get off me!” he screamed, thrashing in the iron grip that held him. They didn’t listen. They never listened. They forced the muzzle back over his screaming face, scraping it over his flaming skin. His teeth clacked as he shouted muffled insults at his captors. Unbidden tears streamed down his face. They burned as they reached his sore skin, blood and tears intermingling in a foul stream.
The mask clicked, locking in place. They threw Keith to the ground and left, slamming him back into darkness.
………………………………………………..
Keith sat huddled in a corner of his cell. He rocked back and forth repeating one line over and over in his head.
They’re not coming back. They’re not coming back. They’re not coming back .
Just like his father, leaving without warning in the night. Just like the hundreds of foster homes that had thrown him away. Just like the garrison had abandoned him. Just like Shiro had flown away to the stars.
Silent tears slipped down his cheeks. Everything was silent now. No one listened to his screams, his rage, his pleas.
Everything was cold and metal and painful. He curled into himself and shuddered with quiet sobs.
……………………………………………..
“Keith! Keith can you hear me?”
His glassy eyes slid open at the sound of a voice. A voice that knew his name. Blurred outlines rushed into his cell. But not the hooded outlines of his captors. Strange ones.
“He’s in here!”
“Oh quiznak.”
“I’m going to kill them! I swear I’m going to kill them! What did they do?”
Keith’s eyes welled with tears. It was too loud, too loud, too loud! He whimpered, curling into a ball. And suddenly there were hands on him. Hands gripping his face, his arms, his hair. Too many hands!
He struck out wildly, his fist making contact with a body. There was a cry of surprise more than pain at his weak punch. The loud voices and grabbing hands got worse. They were pulling him, dragging him up to his feet. Overwhelmed tears coursed down his face. He couldn’t fight them. He was too tired.
Too tired.
The world faded into disorienting flashes. Bursts of color. Hands wrapped around his back and legs, carrying his thin body easily. Voices shouted deafeningly. He jostled up and down. The flashes began to fade into darkness. He didn’t try to fight.
Fighting was too hard.
………………………………………
Shiro paced back and forth in front of the healing pod. His hands clenched and released over and over. Lance hovered nervously beside it, leaning around every few seconds to see if anything had changed. Hunk and Pidge sat on the ledge next to the pod, tense and tired looking.
Shiro finally came to a halt, stopping to stare in at Keith. His heart constricted in pain and rage every time he looked at the young paladin. He was skeletally thin, every rib clearly visible through the thin cryo suit. His cheekbones stuck out sharply through his pale skin. And his face…
Shiro resumed his pacing. He couldn’t look at that face any more. A thick ring of scar tissue stretched over the bridge of Keith’s nose and around his jaw. Clawmarks from his own fingernails decorated the edges of the scar. Shiro couldn’t stand to think about how many times Keith must have tried to rip the muzzle off his face.
They all stayed in the healing bay for hours. No one dared to leave Keith’s side. Not again.
“Good news paladins!” Coran finally announced, his overly chipper voice hiding the hurt that they were all feeling. “I think Keith is ready to come out of the pod!”
Everyone sat up straight. Shiro stepped forward before Coran could open the pod.
“I think we’ll need to give him some space. We don’t want to overwhelm him right now.”
They all nodded reluctantly, taking a step back.
The pod hissed open. Shiro stepped forward, catching Keith as he swayed dangerously on the spot. A fresh wave of anger flooded through him as he felt how light and fragile the boy was. But he fought it back, helping Keith step out of the healing chamber.
His eyes fluttered open. They were still tired and heavy. But this time he seemed to truly see who they were.
“Sh… Shiro?” he whispered.
“Yeah it’s me. How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, guiding Keith toward the huddled paladins.
Keith swallowed.
“Hhh-hurts,” he croaked.
“Where?”
“Voice.”
He turned to look at the others. Lance hurried forward, draping a blanket over his shoulders.
“Here you go buddy. Gets cold in those pods,” he said in a choked voice. And before anyone could stop them, all the paladins rushed forward into a hug. Keith tensed against the contact. He broke out in shivers as they all pressed close. His breathing grew quick and shallow again.
“Guys, he needs space,” Shiro reminded them, pulling Keith away from the mass hug.
“M’sorry,” Keith mumbled taking deep gasps of air. And to their horror tears filled his exhausted eyes. For a moment they all stood in shock as the stoic red paladin shook with croaking sobs. Then Shiro pulled him into a gentle hug. Not tight. Not restricting. Keith collapsed into it, shuddering and sniffling against his chest. His scarred face tucked into Shiro as he sobbed.
The paladins cautiously stood around the 2.
“Hey man, it’s okay. You’re safe.” Hunk choked, tears welling in his own eyes.
“We’ve got you,” Lance agreed.
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” Pidge chimed in, cautiously resting a hand on Keith’s shaking back.
They stood like that, in a protective circle, until Keith cried himself into exhaustion. No one left as they carried him to his room. No one would leave him for a long time.
---------------------
“Should we wake him up?” Hunk whispered anxiously. “He needs to eat something soon.”
“Let’s give him a little more time. He could use the rest,” Shiro replied softly.
The gathered paladins’ eyes fell on Keith’s huddled form. He was limp with exhaustion, even his breathing sounding tired and heavy. His thin body was motionless except for the occasional agitated twitch.
The time stretched by. Hunk and Pidge eventually left the room to start some soup. Shiro and Lance remained by Keith’s bedside in silence. Allura looked in on them frequently, but she never stayed for long. It was hard to see so much worry and suffering.
Finally Keith stirred. His bleary eyes opened slowly to the dim blue lighting of his room. Lance and Shiro leaned in, their faces anxious.
“Hey Keith. How are you feeling?” Shiro greeted quietly.
“Hungry,” Keith rasped.
“Hunk and Pidge are making some food. I’ll go tell them you’re up,” Lance replied, getting up and slipping out of the room.
“Let’s sit you up. It’ll be hard to eat soup lying down,” Shiro said, his hands slipping beneath Keith’s neck and back. Keith tensed at the touch, but allowed himself to be pulled upright. This simple movement seemed to take what little energy he had regained. He closed his eyes and coughed weakly.
After a few moments he settled back against the wall. His eyes opened once again when Hunk, Lance, Pidge, Allura, and Coran re-entered the small room. They greeted him in quiet voices, settling themselves around his bed. Keith managed a small smile at the sight of them.
Hunk stepped forward and placed a warm bowl of soup in his hands.
“It’s not the best I’ve ever made,” he said nervously, handing Keith a spoon. “I was going for a chicken noodle soup substitute but ran out of noodles. But I did add some nice spices so-”
He cut off in surprise. Keith was practically inhaling the soup. The spoon lay forgotten as he raised the bowl to his lips and drank the hot liquid thirstily. Some of the golden broth ran over his chin. He ate desperately fast, clutching the bowl like it might be taken from him.
“I think he likes it,” Lance laughed nervously. They all watched as he swallowed the last dregs of the soup. Keith finally stopped and took a breath. He immediately began to cough furiously. His thin body trembled as his lungs and throat rebelled against the warm soup.
As quickly as it had begun, the deep rattling coughs stopped. Keith looked around, panic building in his eyes as a hiccup escaped his throat. Pidge seemed to know what was coming. She lunged toward the room’s garbage can and passed it hurriedly to Keith. He leaned over it, gagging painfully. Shiro took the empty soup bowl and began to rub Keith’s back.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Just get it up,” he said with a calm he didn’t feel.
Keith shuddered, saliva dripping from his mouth. The soup he had just eaten quickly followed. His trembling body expelled the desperately needed food in painful heaves. The bitter smell of vomit filled the room. Lance quickly opened the door to let fresh air in. Shiro continued to rub Keith’s back, muttering a steady stream of comforting words. Keith continued to heave long after his stomach had emptied. The movement sent his already weak body into bouts of uncontrollable shivering.
After what seemed like an eternity he slumped back against the pillows, body covered in a cold sweat. The gathered paladins all let out a breath they had been unaware they had been holding.
“You’re going to need some water Keith. Don’t want to get dehydrated,” Coran announced, breaking the awful silence.
“I’ll go get another bucket,” Hunk suggested sadly. He took the empty soup bowl from Shiro and followed Coran out of the room.
Keith didn’t watch them leave. His gaze was locked on the trashcan still clutched in his hands. He sniffed miserably, looking at the rejected food.
“Sorry,” he croaked.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Allura reassured him, stepping closer.
“Yeah, we shouldn’t have gone so fast,” Lance agreed.
Keith’s lip trembled.
“I’m hungry.”
“It’s okay. We can try again later,” Shiro assured him, continuing his steadying backrub.
Coran and Hunk returned shortly. Shiro helped Keith drink the glass of water Coran had brought, only giving it to him in small sips. He managed to keep it down this time, though he did succumb to a few more coughing fits. Once the glass was drained, Keith collapsed back into his pillows. His eyes fluttered open and closed as he tried to relax.
“I’ll look after him,” Shiro whispered the group. “You should all get some sleep.”
They trickled out of the room in silence. Soon it was just Keith and Shiro in the semi darkness. Once they were alone, Keith’s eyes opened tiredly.
“Hey. We should get you cleaned up,” Shiro suggested gently. Keith looked up at him, exhaustion haunting his pale face.
“Come on. You’ll feel better,” he promised. “Do you think you can walk?”
Keith shook his head.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
He lifted the smaller boy easily out of his bed and into the room’s small bathroom. He helped Keith undress, trying not to focus on how thin and bruised he was. Warm steam filled the room as he helped Keith get into the shower. Supporting Keith with one arm, Shiro worked shampoo into his hair with the other. Snarls and matted clumps met his massaging fingers.
Keith faded in and out of sleep the whole time. He didn’t seem to notice the water sprinkling his scarred face, nor did he seem embarrassed as Shiro helped him wash up.
Soon he was settled back into bed in clean clothes, a fresh glass of water and a bucket close at hand.
“Told you you’d feel better,” Shiro said quietly, pulling a blanket up to his chest.
Keith’s nodded sleepily. Shiro pulled up one of the blankets left behind by the paladins and settled himself next to the bed. Just as he felt himself slipping into sleep he heard Keith’s quiet voice.
“Shiro?”
“Yeah? What do you need?”
There was a long silence. Perhaps he was just checking that his guardian was still there. But then,
“Why did you leave me there for so long?”
Shiro felt his heart break at the hurt in Keith’s damaged voice. He didn’t want to talk about this. It was all too raw, too fresh in his mind. But Keith had asked. He felt like he had been abandoned and needed to know. Shiro took a deep steadying breath and began.
“Do you remember the prison transport mission?”
“Mostly.”
“We had all split up to open the cells across the ship. It was a simple mission. Things were going smoothly. But something went wrong with your radio. We lost contact,” Shiro explained, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Pidge and I went to go find you. But the Galra called reinforcements while we were looking. There were too many. We had to go get our lions or else we… we would have been captured. Red wasn’t responding. We pulled her back to the castle before the Galra could get to her. But while we were gone they… they went to warp speed.”
Shiro squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head against the wall. He had replayed this scenario over and over every day since Keith had gone missing. He knew every moment by heart.
“We lost you. There was no signal on where the ship went. We tried to follow but it just disappeared.”
He didn’t mention what had happened to the team. The way Pidge worked herself to tears to find any sort of clue. The way Lance had withdrawn from everybody, silently blaming himself. The way he often found Hunk wandering aimlessly down the hallways, looking as lost as he felt.
“After a couple of days, Red reactivated. She just took off to find you. We all followed her. She lead us to a secret Galra outpost. But it was hidden. They were using a space time pocket like Ulaz’s communication outpost. But it was more… advanced. We got through and got you out but.. the time was… it… we only lost you for a couple of days! But according to the ship’s log you had been there for months.”
Shiro thought back to the horror of finding Keith. The shock of realizing how much time had passed for him. It had seemed impossible that the terrified muzzled boy was the friend they had lost only days ago.
“We never meant to leave you,” he swore. “I’m so… I’m so sorry Keith.”
Neither spoke again for the rest of the night.
………………………………………………..
The paladins took it in turns to spend the night with Keith. At first Shiro insisted on staying, but they beat him down by pointing out that he needed rest too.
Hunk volunteered first. He seemed encouraged by the fact that Keith had managed to keep down most of his meals, and was slowly regaining the color in his face. His friend was already sleeping lightly by the time Hunk checked in for the night. He made sure that there was a glass of water by his bed, then climbed into the cot they had brought in earlier. He was asleep in minutes, lulled by the soft even sounds of Keith’s breathing.
The sound of much different breathing woke him up hours later. Hunk blinked blearily. Shallow panting breaths were coming from Keith in the darkness. A slight metallic smell met his nose. He got to his feet and flicked on the dim nightlights of the room.
Keith was frantically clawing at his face. Bloody fingernails raked at the skin around his scar. His eyes were open, but he didn’t seem to see any of his surroundings. Hunk hurried to his side and tried to shake him awake.
“Keith! Keith it’s okay! You need to stop; you’re hurting yourself,” he begged, prying Keith’s hands away from his face. But this seemed to make things worse. Keith fought against at Hunk’s touch, thrashing and flailing in bed. Hunk desperately fought to pin him down. Thankfully Keith was still pretty weak. He managed to hold him still against the bed. His body shook with tension but despite his obvious terror, he didn’t make a sound. His jaw was clenched and rigid.
“Keith! You’re safe! You’re back in the castle remember?” Hunk reminded him. “You need to wake up!”
Keith’s wide crazed eyes fell on him. His jaw relaxed and the tension bled out of his limbs. He was panting nearly as hard as Hunk. Thick, sticky blood ran down his face in jagged tracks.
“I had to get it off,” he whimpered.
“Get what off?”
“Muzzle. There was no air. Couldn’t breathe!”
Hunk pulled him into a tight embrace.
“It’s okay. It’s gone. We won’t ever let it come back,” he promised.
………………………………………………..
Lance was on duty the following night. They were all still shaken from hearing about Keith’s panic attack the other night. He only hoped it would be better tonight.
Keith was sitting up when Lance entered the room. He ducked his head slightly, trying to cover his new face bandages with his hair.
“You don’t need to stay with me,” he told Lance defensively. “I’m fine.”
“I know,” Lance assured him, plopping down on the cot. “But I always sleep better when someone else is in the room. Is it okay if I stay?”
Keith nodded, seeming relieved that Lance hadn’t accepted his offer to leave. Neither of them fell asleep for a long time that night. They talked quietly for awhile. Lance brought him up to speed on the team’s activities. Thankfully the Galra hadn’t launched a large attack lately, so they were doing smaller missions while Keith got back on his feet. He told Keith about the aliens they had met, the cool things the paladins had done in battle, the planets they had visited. His quiet rambling voice finally nudged Keith off to sleep.
Lance lay awake, watching his friend. The scars left by the muzzle were beginning to fade in small patches. He would always be marked by his captivity, but it was becoming less and less noticeable.
After a few hours, Keith began to toss agitatedly in his sleep. Lance watched him warily. Thankfully Keith made no move to hurt himself. But small noises of distress began to escape from him. Lance sat up, watching him nervously. Should he wake him up? His fears begged him to, but his instinct told him to let Keith sleep it off. His heart gave a painful throb as he saw tears begin to slide down Keith’s tight face. He was having another nightmare.
Lance couldn’t take it any more. He crouched down and shook Keith’s shoulder gently. Keith gasped, his eyes flying open. He cringed away from the touch, confused and disoriented.
“It’s okay. It’s me,” Lance reassured him. “You were having a nightmare.”
Keith sat up in bed, his eyes clearing. He took a deep shuddering breath and drew his knees up to his chest. Lance hesitated, then sat tentatively next to him.
“Sorry,” Keith muttered, wiping tears hurriedly from his face.
“Don’t be. We all get nightmares sometimes.”
“Lance?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for staying with me.”
Lance smiled in the darkness, wrapping his arms around Keith in a protective hug. They sat like that for a long time. Long enough for Keith to truly feel what they had all been telling him.
That he was safe.