(A very late) Day 2 of @voltronwhumpweek2017
Hypothermia! AKA Keith and Lance get lost in the woods
This a day late and a dollar short and I’m so sorry. I could NOT get this fic done done. It haunted me. It’s still haunting me. I lowkey hate it, but it’s mostly written and I think it would feel worse to just abandon so: TADA enjoy this clusterfuck.
“It’s getting dark,” Lance says.
“And we haven’t even heard her barking.”
“I know.” Keith repeats, snarling his words. He’s tired - they both are. They’ve been out searching for a half hour now and still, no sign of Blake.
Shiro’s going to kill me, Keith thinks. I lost his dog, and he’s going to kill me.
“I’m not going back until we find her.” Keith says, pulling his coat tighter.
“Yeah, no shit, me either.” Lance says, scuffing dirt up with the front of his sneakers. “But we didn’t bring a flashlight. And unless you happen to just carry one around like some sort of paranoid Bear Grylls wannabe…”
Lance takes a beat. “Which actually wouldn’t surprise me. In fact, it would really come in handy right now. Keith please, please tell me you carry around a flashlight.”
“No you won’t tell me, or no you don’t carry around a flashlight, because–”
“Well that sucks.” Lance says, trying to problem solve. “Okay, it’ll drain the battery but why don’t you use the flashlight on your phone.”
“Why don’t you,” Keith says tightly. He pushes a tree branch out of the way and it snaps back, just narrowly missing his eye. “Fuck!”
Lance shuffles behind Keith and hums nervously. So much so that Keith stops in his tracks and turns around.
“I didn’t exactly bring it out. We were in a rush!! You were yelling at me!”
“It was on the charging cable! It wasn’t high on my priority list!”
Keith stares at Lance. And stares and stares. Because…
“Oh no, Keith. No. Don’t even say what I think you’re going to say.”
“Carried my phone on me.”
They look at each other for a long time. The whole forest seems still and somber. Keith kicks a tree trunk, hard. Hard enough that it shoots pain up his foot and into his ankle.
It helps clear his head though so he does it again and again and again until Lance grabs Keith’s arm and tugs him back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Lance yells, pressing a finger to Keith’s chest. “You’re going to break your foot and I’m not carrying you back.”
Keith takes a long breath in. The cold air crackles through his lungs.
“Yeah, I know I’m right.” Lance says, back ramrod straight, brimming with bravado. It’s only a few seconds later that he slumps like someone’s poked a hole in his rib cage. “Any chance you know how to get back.”
Keith’s first instinct is to snap, ‘of course I know how to get back, I’m not an idiot.’ But Keith doesn’t have his phone. He doesn’t have a compass, or a flashlight. He looks around and his entire body tingles with dread. He has no idea where they are.
Lance tugs at his hair and spins around a few times. “Okay. Okay. We can figure this out.”
Keith nods and tries to orient himself.
“We can figure this out, right?!” Lance asks urgently, rubbing his hands together.
Keith doesn’t answer. He’s processing.
They’ve been walking for at least an hour. The sun’s almost set, they maybe have 20-30 minutes left of natural light. And it’s already cold. Without the sun, it’ll drop 15 degrees, easy. Probably more.
“Keith? You’re not inspiring a lot of confidence, man!”
“I’m thinking,” he says, looking around.
They need to get back to Shiro’s.
They can’t start a fire. Tree branches are damp from yesterday’s rain. They’re wearing coats but nothing insulated. No gloves, no hats, no boots – and thin socks, Keith adds to himself, wiggling his toes which are already aching and numb.
A jolt of panic cracks down his spine.
“Zip up your coat,” Keith says.
“Zip up your coat.” He repeats, searching his pockets.
There’s a receipt and a pack of gum, Shiro’s house keys, a quarter. His stomach gurgles with a sickly sweet nausea.
Lance zips up and puts his hands in his pockets instinctively.
“What do you have on you? Anything we can use?” Keith asks.
“No,” Lance says, voice low.
“We should keep moving,” Keith says. “Back - the direction we came from.”
“I thought you weren’t going back without Blake.” Lance says. He can tell something’s wrong – Keith’s posture has completely changed. His voice too: it’s lower than normal, and richer, in a way that commands attention.
“I..” Keith presses his lips together and debates the merits of honesty. “I think we have to go back without her.”
Lance’s spit goes sour. Keith isn’t just worried, he’s scared.
They walk for another half hour in relative silence, Keith marking tree trunks with the keys, making a jagged line at eye level, one deep enough that he can feel the gauges if he lays a hand down against the bark.
“This isn’t the right way, is it?” Lance asks.
It takes a while for Keith to answer. “I don’t think so.”
“I spy,” Lance says between chattering teeth. “With my little eye, something that is green.”
Lance huffs. “Maybe. But which leaf is it.”
Keith snarls, “It’s dark, how am I supposed to know.”
“You’re bad at this game.”
After another hour and a half of walking in contained circles, trying to find the right path, Keith admits (at least to himself) that they have to stop.
Keith’s shivering. Lance is too - Keith can see him shaking.
He knows they should keep moving, keep their bodies in motion, but the more they walk, the farther away they could be trekking into the woods. Keith doesn’t know the right answer. His hands wring together with guilt.
“I’m sorry.” He says quietly.
“Why are you apologizing.”
“You know why. Because we’re stuck out here.”
“I’m the one who let the dog escape.”
Keith laughs. “Now you admit it.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Lance says.
“It wasn’t.” Keith says, and he lets the air settle between them.
“Either way. We’re still lost.”
Keith’s teeth are clacking together and it sounds like Morse code. He clamps his mouth shut. His jaw bone aches.
“I’m so fucking cold,” Lance says.
“C’mere,” Keith tugs Lance closer.
“If you wanted to take me on a date Keith, all you had to do was ask.”
“Shut up.” Keith says, and pulls Lance between his legs. They’re both trembling. Keith tries to rub Lance’s hands, but his own fingers are slow to respond.
“Uh…we’re gonna be okay, right? It’s not even winter. It’s not cold enough to - to…I mean we’ll be okay right?” Lance asks.
Keith’s breath comes in small pants. I don’t know, he thinks. I’m scared, he thinks.
“We’ll be okay,” Keith says, instead.
“Cool, yeah.” Lance says. His body is vibrating against Keith’s. “I spy, with - with my little eye. Something that is brown.”
Keith doesn’t even realize at first. His mind is drifting. Things have gone soft around the edges.
It reminds Keith of being high. It’s easy and nauseating. He feels once-removed, like everything is only real if he concentrates.
I’m Schrödinger’s cat, Keith thinks. Things are only real if I can see them.
Lance’s head falls onto his shoulder, and it jolts Keith back to the present.
“Lance,” Keith says again, louder this time. He goes to pat Lance’s cheek but his hands are heavy and uncooperative. His fingers will barely bend. “You gotta stay awake.”
Keith can hear his own voice slurring, consonants and vowels softening around his tongue.
“Mmm ‘m tired.” Lance says, eyes blinking awake slowly and drifting closed almost immediately after.
“Lance please,” Keith says, desperation clearing some of the fog that’s wrapped around him.
“Where are we, we still…? We’re still in the woods?”
“We’re still in the woods,” Keith says. Lance isn’t shivering anymore. He’s confused. That’s - not good. That’s - Keith’s entire body floods with panic. It makes every part of him tingle. He pushes Lance to sit.
“We have to get up. We have to move.”
Lance smacks his lips together once, twice, and frowns. He tries to stand up, but can’t get his arms and legs to move properly.
“I don’t think I can do it,” he says, head cocked.
Keith is more afraid than he’s ever been. His voice is ragged with it.
“My legs. They don’t wanna move.” Lance says mildly, his words mushing into each other.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix it, okay Lance?”
“Mm, okay.” Lance says, sloppily patting Keith. “I trust you.”
“I got you,” Keith says. “Can you - can you hold onto me?”
Keith crouches down, and Lance grasps onto him around the neck.
I can do this, Keith thinks. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. His legs tremble, but he stands. He’s breathing shallowly, white puffs of smoke bursting in front of his lips. Keith’s entire body aches and pulses with cold. But he’s standing.
Keith walks and walks and walks until his knees buckle under him and both he and Lance hit the ground.
“I’m sorry,” Keith chokes out. “I can’t - I can’t keep going.”
“It’s okay,” Lance says. And then “ ‘m not that cold anymore.”
It’s so stupid, Keith thinks, this is so fucking stupid. This can’t be happening. It can’t it can’t it can’t.
Keith unzips his coat. It takes five tries. He can barely feel his fingers - he tries to grab the metal zipper but it keeps slipping. When he finally gets his coat off, he clumsily lays it on top of Lance.
He doesn’t know what to do. He - he can’t do anything. He closes his eyes.
There’s a noise and it won’t stop.
It’s loud. It’s loud and it hurts.
Keith can’t open his eyes. He can’t move.
There’s something wet on on his face and neck.
It’s Blake, Keith thinks again. We found her.
And then Keith slips away again, into the warm, dark place behind his eyes.
“-eith can you he - Ke - please op - eyes.”
Keith thinks he’s awake. It’s hard to tell.
He can’t feel - he can’t feel anything. He can’t feel.
“Please, please - please buddy I need you to - I need you to open your eyes. I need you to wake up. Can you hear me?”
Keith tries but his eyes won’t budge.
“C’mon Keith. C’mon, you can do it. I know you can do it.”
It’s - Shiro? But how? He’s away. He’s supposed to be away.
There’s someone else calling Lance’s name. It’s familiar. All the voices are familiar. Hunk?
He tries and tries and finally cracks his eyes open enough to see painful slashes of light.
“Oh thank god. Thank god - that’s it, you got it.”
But everything is sliding away again.
“No no no no no, Keith. C’mon stay with me. Keep your eyes open. Please, Keith.”
Keith wakes up and everything is bright.
He’s gasping. It hurts his eyes and - where is he? Where’s Lance? What’s…?
“It’s okay! You’re safe, I’m right here.”
“Shiro?” The sound of his own voice is surprising. It’s ground glass and gravel.
“You’re in the hospital. You’re okay. You had –”
“Lance!!” Keith’s entire body sings with panic as he sits up. The room wobbles in front of him. His stomach swoops.
Shiro presses a hand to his shoulder and lowers Keith back to the bed.
“Lance is fine. He’s here too. You’re both going to be fine.”
“Where is he?” Keith asks, struggling against Shiro’s grip. Each movement is like fighting through wet cement. It’s hard to keep his eyes open.
“Keith, hey. Relax. Relax. He’s in the bed next to you. He’s fine, see?”
Keith looks to his left and sees Lance curled up, chest rising and falling evenly.
“He’s okay?” Keith asks. He sounds very young.
“Yeah,” Shiro says. “He is.”
“Oh my god,” Relief shudders through Keith, so much that his body jolts. Something wet drips down his cheek and over his nose. He’s crying.
“How did - how did you find us? How long were we..” Keith has to fight for each breath. He has to think, breathe breathe breathe, or he might just pass out.
“Shhh, alright,” Shiro puts a hand on Keith’s forehead and pushes his brother’s hair back. “You need to rest.”
Keith wants to argue, wants to demand answers, but he can barely keep his thoughts tied together.
“I’m so tired,” Keith says, and his eyes blink, slow and swollen.
“Go to sleep, I’m right here. Lance is right here. It’s okay.”
