Marked For Death | klangst

Twenty-One.

Later that day, Keith finally emerged from his solitude, sporting the same disheveled appearance Shiro had seen earlier. If Lance wasn't improving, he was going to spend as much time as possible with him. It didn't matter that he was never going to answer one of Keith's many questions, or open his eyes in response to Red's voice -- it just mattered that they were in the same room, that Keith could feel Lance's presence.

He slowly made his way to the medical wing, his weariness dragging him down. When was the last time he'd eaten? He couldn't recall, but it was long enough to make him feel like liquid lead was running through his veins. Not that it mattered, anyways. He couldn't eat -- not with Lance essentially fighting for his life in an alien pod.

The infirmary arrived before his vision sooner than anticipated. Am I prepared for this? Keith asked himself. Can I really let Lance go? He already knew the answer to that question, though. It was a solid no, and that would never change anytime soon.

The doors slipped open. Hunk and Pidge were in there, bobbing their knees anxiously whilst staring blankly at the pod supposedly healing Lance. When they heard the doors, they looked up, their eyes devoid of any hope and light.

Hunk stood up when he realized it was Keith who entered the room. "Hey, man," he said scratchily, his voice lower than it usually sounds. "I'm guessing that Shiro told you about his condition?"

Keith nodded. "I just wanted to see if I could do anything to help..." he trailed off, just then realizing how stupid his task seemed.

Pidge looked up from her place huddled next to the main control panel. "Same here. I thought at first I could rewire the pod to work more efficiently, but that would mean shutting it down temporarily, and that would also mean moving Lance to a different pod, but Coran said that might end up being more harmful than helpful, but I still wanted-"

"Pidge, you're rambling," Hunk interjected softly, registering the pain she was trying to mask in her voice.

She locked eyes with Hunk, moved her gaze to Lance's resting form, and then buried her face in her knees. "I can't just sit here and do nothing! I feel powerless, and I hate that. There's nothing I could do when Lance went missing, and there's nothing I can do now. I'm useless..." she muttered in her arms, her voice choked with grief.

Keith strode to her and crouched down next to her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, "You're not alone, Pidge. We all regret what happened, and we all feel like there's nothing we can do. I'm probably the last person that is fit to be giving advice on the matter, but Lance wouldn't want us feeling this way. He wouldn't want us to be giving up on ourselves. He would believe in us through and through. He's the one that always gives us hope, but now it's our turn to have hope. We need to have enough for ourselves and for him. That's what we can do, and that's what we need to do -- for him." He moved his eyes, brimming with unshed tears, to Lance's pod, hoping -- praying -- that his condition would change. But of course, nothing happened.

Pidge removed her hands from her face and unfolded her body from itself. She peered first at Keith and the followed his gaze. She couldn't contain her emotions anymore. Tears slipped down her face, and,  finding the nearest person that would comfort her sadness, she hugged Keith around his waist, clinging to his jacket for reassurance. Keith looked down at her in stunned silence, but then returned the embrace, folding his arms over her shoulders protectively.

"Lance was the closest thing to a brother I had here. Yeah, he could never replace Matt, but that doesn't mean I don't care for him. He's more than just the team goofball, more than just the comedy needed when things are hairy. He's the support we all think we have, but don't. He's always there, always ready to jump in and be the hero, even if that means sacrificing himself. I can't even begin to count how many times he's taken the brunt of the blow in combat for me. And I don't think I even told him how much I appreciated his presence, his reassurance, his comfort. He made me feel at home even though that's hundreds upon millions of miles away..." Pidge confessed, crying into Keith's jacket. "I hate that he's always been there for me, but now, when he needs us -- me -- the most, I can't be there for him."