Archive of Our Own ^beta

Keith’s ragged scream of Shiro’s name had Lance nearly tripping over his own feet as he whirled to look at where Shiro had been fighting several yards away on the ship’s deck where their impromptu fight had begun as their “allies” were actually revealed to be their enemies and the entire fancy dinner aboard the king’s giant ship had been a giant trap.

Shiro was no longer there.

And it didn’t take a genius to figure out where he’d gone. 

Lance was sprinting for the railing before he’d even thought the plan out because not only was he near useless up on deck as his bayard was in his luggage as this was supposed to be a retreat so why on Earth would he have it with him — even if, to his embarrassment, everyone else had other than Hunk but Hunk was super strong and was a force to be reckoned with as he swung a chair like it weighed nothing — and his hand to hand was mediocre at best, but more importantly because Shiro…

Shiro couldn’t swim.

It was a fact that had come up just the other day during training where Coran had decided given Lance and Hunk’s excursion — which made it sound like a vacation rather than a near-death experience, but semantics — down under the sea and he’d had them jumping into the pool, where they’d all discovered that Shiro’s prosthetic literally weighed him down.

There had been a few moments where they’d all stood along the pool edge, Lance convinced Shiro was pulling a fast one on them, before they’d realized, no, there was a problem.

Which then led to the next one as Keith had jumped in with a shout of Shiro’s name and they’d all learned that Keith had no actual clue how to swim at all. 

Lance and Hunk had ended up going in after them both with Hunk hauling up Shiro and Lance pulling a kicking and squirming and then very embarrassed Keith to the surface and Shiro had breathlessly told them while he hadn’t planned on that aspect of the training… good job to them both. Keith had also been forbidden from jumping in water until he’d learned how to swim and Shiro had asked Lance and Hunk to tag-team teach him. Keith had only had one lesson so far and while he would be able to tread and hold himself above water there was no chance of him successfully diving and then bringing up another person and it spoke volumes that he hadn’t recklessly gone overboard in this actual emergency.

Lance wouldn’t give him the chance to do so either, pausing only to kick off the fancy dress shoes and rip the largest part of the cumbersome robe over his head before he was diving over the rail, body angled perfectly to the fading ripples.

And holy crow the water was freezing. 

Lance nearly lost the breath he’d taken as he dove at the sudden cold and instead gave a sharp shake of his head, pressing his lips firmly together and looking downwards.

The water was dark below the surface, but Shiro was easy enough at least to spot from the purple glow of his arm and it was there Lance directed himself towards with a powerful kick of his feet.

His path was impeded a few kicks in by something sinking far slower than Shiro in the water and Lance recoiled as he realized it was a body, still warm and, his hand wet now with something other than water, bleeding profusely.

One of their “allies” and no doubt the one who had shoved Shiro in.

He swallowed and went around it and hoped he managed to avoid it going back up.

Shiro was clearly giving it his all to surface as his arm was moving wildly in what should be powerful strokes up, but going nowhere, and as Lance drew closer he could see illuminated by the arm a panic and fear he’d never seen on Shiro’s face before and it made his stomach clench because no one should ever be that scared.

Especially Shiro.

He could fix it though.

Lance swam directly in front of Shiro to where the man could not miss him — he was not getting any closer as useless for swimming it may be, Shiro’s prosthetic was clearly lethal in other ways — in the faint provided glow and to his relief Shiro spotted him nearly immediately, a burst of bubbles escaping his lips as he drew his arm back before he recognized it was Lance and not something else down here.

And yup, okay, that was all the incentive needed to go back up to the battlefield rather than eaten by some giant space fish. 

Lance offered Shiro a little wave and his relief grew as while Shiro still looked scared he didn’t look as terrified as he nodded back and then he was swimming over and behind Shiro as best he could given he was sinking perpendicular on his right side and hooking his arms underneath the man’s armpits and with a heave kicked upwards.

It was far harder than it had been in the pool as the cold and the extra depth sank in and their dress robes dragged backwards, but Lance grit his teeth and kicked harder, aware of Shiro doing the same.

His lungs were burning in his chest, a tight feeling spreading through his lungs, and he could feel Shiro’s kicks and efforts starting to slow as his body — and he hadn’t even been prepared to go into the water like Lance had and he’d had to fight off an attacker — began to succumb to the water.

And Dios, this was not going to be their grave.

And with one last push Lance shoved them both to the surface, taking in a gasping breath that he immediately regretted as the air felt like icicles stabbing into his lungs while Shiro made a quieter, choking sort of inhalation and shuddered in Lance’s arms. 

But Lance could hear it because the ship…

It was quiet.

His breath hitched.

The, the others…

They hadn’t…

A dark head appeared over the side of the ship and Lance nearly choked that time on relief as while there was a bloody gash dripping down the side of Keith’s face the fact he was there meant the fighting had finished, but more than that…

It was the tears Lance could see forming in Keith’s eyes even as he blinked dripping water out of his own as his gaze went to Shiro, who was still taking small, shallow inhales.

“A ladder would be great, mullet,” Lance called up, legs treading furiously to support both himself and Shiro, Shiro at least having his arm resting on the surface and buoying it the barest bit and trying not to let his own exhaustion show.

“R-right,” Keith nodded and disappeared from view.

Lance concentrated on treading and breathing, aware of Shiro’s inhales starting to grow deeper, straightening ever so in Lance’s hold.

“Thank you.”

The words were quiet and still a bit breathless but the gratitude behind them was clear. 

“No problem,” Lance said, tone as light as he could make it so he didn’t dwell on the weight of what had almost just happened because now, without the adrenaline and the need to save Shiro he was realizing how truly close it had been.

If, if he hadn’t been right there, able to disengage from the fight…

Shiro…

Shiro would be dead.

“Lance,” Shiro tried to crane his head around and tone a mixture of proud, exasperated and still a touch of fear, “this wasn’t just s—”

He was interrupted as a rope ladder came hurtling over the side of the ship and bonked him right atop the head and Lance tried and failed to bite back his laugh at Keith’s horrified sounding apology.

“Come on,” Lance took the moment of levity for what he could, “let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Shiro muttered as he reached to grab hold of the ladder and Lance backed up so Shiro could get his feet on the underwater rungs. “But Lance?” He managed to turn that time, soft charcoal eyes meeting Lance’s dark ocean. “Thank you.” 

“Always,” Lance said quietly that time, holding Shiro’s gaze, putting all he could into that word.

Shiro nodded, satisfied, and began to haul himself up the ladder with a groan and Lance swam to hold onto a rung himself to hold it as steady as possible as it swayed as Shiro climbed.

“GUN!” 

Pidge’s shriek and warning was accompanied by a sharp crack splitting the air…

And then there was pain.

It was burning and consuming and someone was screaming — Shiro, Lance faintly realized, as his hands slipped from the ladder rungs, hot blood, his blood, coating his face where it was spurting out of his shoulder, his chest, Shiro was still screaming — and then Keith was screaming and it was so loud and everything burned.

And then it was silent and freezing as Lance splashed backwards into the water and went under, cold and fire stealing away his breath.

And the last thing he saw was his blood and air bubbles dancing around one another towards the surface.

xxx

“Lance!”

Shiro clung to the swaying rope ladder, body pressed against the side of the ship and stared down in horror at the water rapidly turning red at the surface where Lance had just disappeared.

Except not all of Lance.

His foot had gotten hooked in the ladder as he tipped backwards and it was the only thing keeping him from disappearing beneath the surface completely and the moment Shiro tried to descend he had the sickening feeling it was dislodge Lance’s foot and then…

Then…

Assuming of course, he wasn’t already dead.

And then assuming he wasn’t drowning to death. 

And all of it was because Shiro had needed saving because thanks to his arm he couldn’t fucking swim.

Shiro tried not to move as a shudder ran through him, his chest still tight and a sick, coiled fear he couldn’t seem to shake knotting his stomach, the ladder swaying with even that movement and it made Shiro’s stomach heave as he needed to make a decision and he needed to make it now. 

Help was not coming — Keith pulled back to a fight on the deck and the others no doubt involved too — and so he needed to do something on his own or Lance was dead but if he messed up and didn’t manage to grab hold of Lance and he sank beneath the water… 

Shiro could not follow.

Otherwise they’d be pulling two bodies out of the lake.

But Shiro could not live with himself if that count was one.

And so…

His arms shook on the ladder as he sucked in a painful breath.

One shot.

One chance.

For Lance.

And Shiro disengaged his feet and pushed back off the ladder, left hand burning as it skidded down the rope in a near freefall as he plummeted as quickly as he could for Lance.

His worst fear was realized as the ladder shook and he saw Lance’s bare foot slipping out of the hold and no, fuck no, this was not going to be how it ended.

And with a desperate lunge, holding onto the rope with just his prosthetic now, Shiro snagged a hand around Lance’s ankle just as it slipped under. 

Shiro hooked his right arm through the ladder rung and praying the rope held heaved on the limb, churning up bloody water as he dragged Lance towards him, his right hand reaching out to grab at Lance’s calf and then his thigh and then, finally, the waistband of the boy’s pants.

Gritting his teeth as the water seemed to be acting as a suction Shiro gave another heave, frantically trying to pull Lance’s head out of the water.

It emerged with a shower of freezing cold spray to reveal closed eyes and a slack, pale face that had little to do with the temperature of the water but the gaping hole torn through Lance’s right shoulder.

And despite the pain the tugging should have caused, the pain the wound should be causing, the introduction to air…

Lance didn’t move.

He…

He was…

“Lance,” Shiro gasped, dragging Lance towards him and securing his arm around the boy’s waist to keep him upright. “L-Lance.”

No reaction.

Lance’s head tipped bonelessly against Shiro’s chest as gravity took hold, limp and cold and…

And…

God, he couldn’t be…

And Shiro wouldn’t let him be.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he did it, a twist of acrobatics he knew Lance would have appreciated, but he managed to drape Lance over his shoulder and back and Shiro scaled back up the rope ladder with a speed he didn’t know he possessed, uncaring of any danger on deck as Lance’s only chance lied there as Shiro could do nothing about CPR or addressing the blood loss dangling off of the ladder in the frigid lake.

There was still fighting, Shiro discovered, as he cleared the railing, but it was across the deck and Shiro had to trust the team to keep it there and contained as he could not spare it a thought.

He had Lance rolling off his shoulder and onto the deck with a wet thud and was kneeling at his side in the next breath, hands hovering as his eyes darted between the wound and Lance’s blue-tinged lips with no right answer as to what to address first.

CPR, he decided on in the next second, as blood loss didn’t matter if Lance wasn’t breathing anymore.

Shiro turned his hands onto Lance’s chest, feeling blood and wet cloth squelch in tandem as he ripped open Lance’s shirt, and pushed down to begin compressions.

On the third one he felt a snap as a rib went and Shiro let out a breathless curse as while he knew rib breaking was normal in CPR that had been because of his prosthetic.

God damnit.

God fucking damnit.

He couldn’t stop now though, didn’t dare try to adjust in case the pressure wasn’t enough.

On compression eighteen he felt another.

Lance didn’t react.

“Come on, Lance, come on,” Shiro pleaded. “Come on.”

Nothing.

Nothing nothing nothing. 

Shiro turned to rescue breaths.

Lance’s lips were freezing as his own descended, pushing air into the boy’s lungs.

A glance downwards revealed no movement to Lance’s chest after two and with a curse Shiro sat back up and returned to compressions. 

Another rib fell to Shiro’s onslaught and he couldn’t hold back a choked sob as he could feel it, deep down, that it was too late.

Lance was…

But…

Shiro turned back to rescue breaths.

He couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t do that to Lance. To the faint hope that somehow…

Still nothing.

Back to compressions.

Another crack.

But that time…

Lance twitched beneath his hands.

Shiro barely had a second to tilt the boy onto his side as he vomited up water and…

And blood.

But he didn’t wake up.

Shiro looked to the violent wound that covered Lance’s front and back that no longer appeared to be bleeding but it wasn’t in any way because it had clotted.

Lance had no blood left to lose.

And there was only one thing that right now, in this moment, would stop him from losing another drop.

Shiro swallowed, eyes darting to his cursed prosthetic that had been the cause of all of this.

And now it was going to save Lance’s life.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro whispered as purple light danced along his hand and arm.

And he pressed the heated, glowing appendage atop Lance’s chest.

Shiro was sickly relieved when Lance gave a breathless shriek of pain, body jerking on the deck as the scent of cooked meat wafted in the air.

Shiro’s eyes watered as Lance let out another gasping wail, trying to pull away and Shiro only pinned him down more.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out as Lance spasmed weakly, unable to go anywhere even as Shiro rotated him onto his side so he could reach the exit wound.  “I’m so sorry.”

Lance let out a sob.

Flesh burned. 

Blood dried.

Skin crackled.

And Lance…

Went limp.

Shiro forced himself to finish, heart in his throat and God, God, please, let it be from the pain.

And not…

Not…

But as he lowered Lance onto his back he could see the faintest rise of the boy’s chest.

He, he was…

God, he was…

But…

Shiro swallowed.

It wasn’t over. And, and if he’d gotten to Lance too late, if he’d been cut off from oxygen for too long, then…

Lance let out a low moan, face screwing up with pain, and Shiro made the decision to pull the slender form to sitting so he wasn’t lying directly atop his wounds and into his arms, well aware now too of the deep chill settling into him and no doubt Lance from the water and made even worse by the blood loss.

He rubbed a hand as gently as he could on the left side of Lance’s back for what little warmth he could offer in the moment and Lance shuddered again with another moan. 

And as Shiro watched Lance’s eyes opened.

Half-lidded and full of pain and a bit dazed looking but…

But they met Shiro’s straight on.

“Sh-Shiro?” Lance whimpered before they squeezed shut again, a tear squeezing itself out.

Shiro could have cried.

Lance wasn’t…

He hadn’t…

“Right, right here, buddy,” he managed, voice hoarse and clogged with his own tears. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Lance whimpered again as another tear dripped down his cheek. 

Shiro was faintly aware of movement behind him, of voices and a sob of Lance’s name, but for the moment he was focused only on Lance as the boy trembled in his arms, sagging more and more.

“I’ve got you,” Shiro murmured, rocking him slightly. “I’m here.”

“All,” Lance choked out, “always?”

“Always,” Shiro promised, just as Lance had done for him.

Lance’s lips curved into a small but genuine smile before pain overtook his features once more.

It was enough to set Shiro’s heart at ease.

And around a sob of relief, of fear, of exhaustion, of how close it had all been…

Shiro smiled too.