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“This is… quite the… workout,” Coran panted, words interspersed with heavy breaths.
Lance gave a faint nod of agreement, all he was capable of as he stepped on to what by his best count was stair number 4,239.
When the aliens had said tower they were not kidding.
Lance wasn’t sure how many more stairs there were to go, but Dios, he hoped it was nearing the end because his legs were burning and he was almost regretting his decision to accompany Coran on this part of the mission rather than joining forces with Shiro and Pidge and doing the opposite and traversing into the deep caverns beneath the city or Hunk and Keith’s foray into the bordering jungle all to find the partner gemstones each pair had been assigned to retrieve.
But nope.
Because the caves were dark and narrow and if that wasn’t enough after they reached the bottom they then had to conclude their trip by climbing back up the stairs and the jungle was super hot and sticky and full of bugs and Lance much preferred climbing now, going back down later, and at least having a set end rather than the jungle traipse and while the staircase wasn’t the widest it had plenty of light coming in through the whistling cracks between old stone walls and so it didn’t feel too bad.
Not like the cryo-pods.
Lance missed his next step at the sudden memory of the darkness closing in and light disappearing and he shoved his foot hard into the staircase with a breathless yelp in a frantic effort to catch himself.
A pair of arms caught him about his middle before he could fall forward and no doubt smash his knees into the stairs and instead Lance found himself tipping backwards, back braced against Coran’s chest.
“All right there, lad?” Coran’s breath was warm on his ear.
Lance managed a nod. “Y-yeah. Sorry. Missed a step.”
“Why don’t we take a little break?” Coran suggested. “I daresay these old legs of mine could use it.”
Lance wished he could say the flush on his cheeks could be blamed entirely on exertion at the offer because he knew it was mostly because of him.
That said…
He really could use it as the last thing he needed to do was actually take a tumble and then hurt himself and Coran and then they wouldn’t be able to complete their part of the mission. There was no time limit, no deadline to meet other than the task had to be completed in pairs without any sort of technology — so no armor, no weapons, and none of Coran’s super cool and useful gadgets — and each person could only participate in one of the tasks.
And better to go slower than faster because if someone did get hurt Allura was their only substitute and that meant they’d fail if more than one team needed to redo the challenge. And it’s not like this was a life or death mission by any means, more of an informality to prove their worthiness to the Fantians, whose planet they had landed on and had expressed interest in allying with Voltron if they could complete the assigned tasks, but they did still want to succeed.
They weren’t supposed to be impossible, but they weren’t meant to be easy either.
Slow and steady.
He gave a jerky nod and Coran’s arms shifted to give Lance the barest nudge forward back onto his own step.
Lance shakily sat down upon it, letting out a slow breath and willing his heart to stop its frantic beating from both the physical exhaustion and the still prickling memory that had been a couple weeks ago but still felt as recent as though it had been yesterday.
He shivered, hands curling into fists on his thighs.
He was fine.
Just breathe.
He cast his gaze up, noting the sunlight filtering in through the chinks in the stone and the curved but spacious stairwell and let out another breath.
He was fine.
“Water?” Coran offered, having shrugged off the small pack he’d brought with him and holding out a water pouch.
Lance took it with a breathless thanks and for the next few minutes the only sound was the faint whistle of the wind outside and crinkling as he and Coran emptied the water pouches.
“How many more stairs, you think?” Lance asked into the quiet.
They’d seen the outside of the tower and it hadn’t looked this tall from the outside, but clearly Lance had misjudged. He’d at one point thought the stairs were actually moving down like an evil escalator, but the wood planks were both very worn and very much installed with brackets into the stone and they were not moving.
Just one tired human and Altean, slowly but surely.
Coran chuckled. “I wonder if we should have packed sleeping sacks and camp provisions.”
Lance’s eyes widened.
Was Coran serious?
He, he couldn’t be serious.
“The Fantians use the challenges to compete amongst themselves and it seems as though their record for the tower is a little under four varga,” Coran mused aloud. “So while we are not breaking any records ourselves, I think given our pace and our height compared to the Fantians and calculating for a quicker return trip, we must be within a thousand steps or so from the top.”
“Only a thousand?” Lance grinned, straightening up and feeling a renewed sense of energy at the very doable number. “What are we waiting for? Let’s do this!”
“I agree,” Coran’s eyes crinkled with his smile. “Perhaps we shall even beat Voltron’s other teams back.”
Lance’s grin widened at the proposed challenge. He couldn’t say which task had been the hardest to really determine who should finish first (or last) but it would be pretty cool to beat the others — Keith especially — back and be the first one to present the beautiful Fantian princess with the tower gemstone and she’d smile at him and—
Lance cut the thought off before his face could form what Pidge called his “lovesick dope expression,” but the idea was putting literal pep back into his step.
“Heck yeah!” he cheered as Coran clambered to his feet. “Let’s kick all their butts! Come on, Coran!”
And Lance took to the stairs like a mountain goat.
He came to a rueful stop not even a hundred steps later as his legs reminded him that he had been climbing stairs for going on almost two and a half hours now and they were tired and maybe he could do that on the literal final stretch but the tortoise had had the right idea.
Coran appeared in a view where he’d been taking them at a steady pace a minute later and his moustache seemed to smile alongside with him at spotting Lance waiting for him.
“Lead on, Number Three,” Coran gestured. “I shall be right behind you.”
They resumed the trek in silence broken only by their footfalls and breaths. Lance hoped on the return trip down the stairs assuming Coran was up for it the man might share a story or two to pass the time as he loved Coran’s stories of Altea and Voltron and all of the amazing things he’d seen and done. It was different, but hearing Coran’s stories reminded him of curling up in Papá’s arms as he sang him to sleep or nestled against Mamá’s side as she read him stories or even sequestered in a blanket fort with his siblings taking turns sharing stories and jokes and giggling as only siblings could.
It reminded him of home and despite the homesickness it sometimes caused he craved that connection.
Plus, Coran was just a really, really, really good storyteller.
And eight hundred and sixty-seven steps later they reached the top where the spiral stairs opened up into a round room in the center of the tower where a pedestal with a soft blue slightly glowing gemstone was nestled and per the Fantians both partners had to touch it at the same time to activate it — supposedly it would get all shiny and sparkly and Lance was low-key excited to see it — and alert that the first half of the task was complete.
But there was one additional thing in the room that was not supposed to be there.
“Oh dear,” Coran murmured as he surveyed the room. “They appear to have a leak.”
Lance let out a soft snort at the complete understatement.
What he could only assume had been the result of a fierce storm had torn the roof nearly completely off at the top — and not visible at all from the ground — and the elements had made themselves right at home shown by the water puddles all over the wooden floorboards, some with spots of what had to be mold growth indicating it had been damaged for a while.
And of course the pedestal was directly in the middle of the worst of it.
“What should we do?” Lance asked, eyeing the floor warily. They were all still intact, but there was clear damage and he did not like the fact he could see where some of the floorboards, even accounting for distortion from the puddles, were warped and bowing slightly.
Coran hummed and took a careful step into the room, going around the edge to where the planks were solid and not disturbed to examine it from the back.
“The same damage here, I am afraid,” he called out from the other side of the pedestal. “Hang tight for a second lad, I just want to see if—”
A groan cut Coran off as Lance watched him step down on one of the slightly underwater planks and he hurriedly stepped back, frowning.
Lance felt his stomach clench.
That did not sound good and that plank wasn’t even at the center of the room where the worst damage was.
If, if they both stepped out there…
Would it collapse beneath their weight and they’d disappear into the dark below?
Almost like the cryo-pod had tried to bury him beneath the floor?
Lance swallowed thickly and gave the barest shake of his head to chase the memory away.
“I’d say we have three choices,” Coran said, meeting Lance’s eyes from across the room. “One: we return to the castle and explain the situation to see what accommodation may be allowed as,” and Coran’s smiled grimly, “I do not imagine the Fantians would wish to see either us or their gemstone come to harm. That said, they may, even though it would not be very kind, will see the attempt as a failure and that will be the end of our alliance.”
Lance bit his lip.
Safety for certain, but an unknown failure to the other and if it was because of his mission that Voltron failed to make a new ally…
“Two,” Coran continued, “and the option I advise most against, would be to attempt to rush out as quickly as possible so we may both touch the stone and then get to safety.”
Lance gave a small shake of his head to that.
No.
He might sometimes be a little reckless but he was not Keith levels of reckless and he would definitely never consent to endangering anyone other than himself and he would not allow Coran to get hurt.
Not for something like this.
“Or three, we attempt to knock the gemstone free of the pedestal from a distance without either of us touching it to start and proceed from there.”
Lance perked up at that option because there was a chance of success without the danger.
But…
“How?” he asked. “We don’t have any supplies.”
“Not quite,” Coran smiled at him. “We have more at our disposal than we think. Now, here is what we are going to do…”
xxx
Lance shivered as he rubbed his hands down bare arms, watching as Coran expertly twisted and knotted his shirt and jacket alongside Coran’s own jacket and undershirt to make a long, thick rope that they would use to knock the gem free of the pedestal and then essentially lasso it — or whatever the word would be to describe their attempts to do that without actually knowing how to lasso — across the floor to safety.
It sounded perfect in theory.
Lance just hoped it worked as well when they put it into practice because while he’d donate his pants to the cause too he was starting to get a little cold — the wind coming in through the busted up roof did not help on top of the sweat that had long since cooled from the staircase — and the idea of his pants being dragged through that gross, moldy water too.
Ick.
No.
Coran though seemed confident the weight from their jackets — tied at the end of the ‘rope’ — should be heavy enough to dislodge the gemstone and the length long enough by his estimate to reach.
“All righty,” Coran stood up with a groan and a crack of his back that had Lance wincing. “Shall we give it a shot?”
Lance gave an enthusiastic nod of his head and a, “Heck yes, go Coran!” and the man beamed.
“Stand back please,” he instructed and Lance retreated to the very top of the staircase as Coran lifted the impromptu rope up and began to rotate it in a circle about his head, gaining speed with every pass.
Lance shivered at the new breeze but watched with awe at the sheer momentum Coran was building, arm muscles bulging in a way Lance knew he would not compete with in a million years and Coran was much, much stronger than he looked, before he let the swept the rope forward in an arc at the pedestal with a yell.
It was a direct hit.
The elegant gold stand holding the gemstone up teetered back once, forward, back…and then hit the floor with a thump and a splash as it fell off the pedestal.
“Yeah!” Lance cheered, throwing a fist in the air. “Coran that was awesome!”
“Thank you, lad,” Coran tweaked his moustache. “Now all must do is retrieve it and we shall count this mission as a success!”
Unfortunately the retrieval proved harder than planned upon.
With the gemstone submerged in the puddle and lying near flush against the pedestal the actual lasso Coran tried to throw now kept missing the gem and the more he tried, each thwap of the rope hitting the water and the floor beneath it, Lance swore he felt the floor starting to tremble.
“What if we dragged it instead?” Lance suggested, watching as Coran tried again, tongue poking out between his teeth. “Like a fishing net? If we can get the rope between the pedestal and the gem could we maybe just roll it towards us?”
“Goodness, that is a brilliant idea, Number Three! Yes, let’s try that! Come here lad and grab an end and we’ll see if we can stretch it long enough across.”
It was admittedly a little closer of a fit than Lance wished it was as he and Coran both had to step more towards the center of the room than the safer, drier edges, but there was no dangerous creak like Coran’s attempt earlier so it looked like they were still far enough back.
Lance let out a slow breath.
Okay.
Slow and steady.
“A little more to the left; your left,” Coran clarified as they adjusted the rope. “That’s it now… and lower it down.”
The rope had a moment of resistance as it landed on the puddle and Lance twitched it slightly to get it to slide under and then along the pedestal and—
His breath hitched as he felt the tension of the rope as it impacted the gem.
They’d done it.
“Easy does it now,” Coran murmured. “We step on my count towards the stairs, one step at a time. Keep the rope nice and level, make sure it doesn’t go over the gem. And… one.”
The gem moved with them.
“Step.”
“Step.”
It was working.
Dios, it was actually working. His idea was working and Lance felt his grin growing again. He knew it wasn’t the kind of genius Hunk and Pidge were known for, but still, it felt pretty amazing.
The amazing Lancey-Lance.
“Ste—”
Coran’s count that time was interrupted by a different sound.
A creak.
Lance looked up from where he’d been focused on the gem…
To see that their shuffle across the room had led Coran’s feet not into a puddle but a darker section of wood slick with moss and as Lance watched he saw the cracks starting to splinter beneath the green growth, racing up and around Coran’s feet.
It, it was going to—
“Coran, watch o—!”
The floor collapsed without any further warning.
Lance felt the rope go taught as Coran disappeared beneath the floor and he frantically backpedaled while holding onto it as tight as he could and feeling it burn against his hands away from the growing hole as more and more flooring went out and he could feel Coran swinging his way as the momentum dragged him towards Lance and yes, yes, he could pull Coran up and—
And then the pedestal — the heavy, giant pedestal — tumbled in too.
And Lance found himself stumbling completely backwards, crashing into the stone outer wall as the rope’s tension went abruptly slack.
It could only mean one thing.
The pedestal had hit Coran.
And Coran had let go.
The man’s name tore out of his mouth over the sound of the floor falling and crashing as Lance scrambled to his feet, heart thundering in his throat and oh Dios, oh Dios.
The only sound a few seconds later as the rest of the weakened floor collapsed was the faintest trickle of water as puddles shifted to fall into the now gaping hole.
No Coran.
“C-Coran?” Lance’s voice shook as he inched forward on hands and knees, well aware the floor was still compromised. “Can, can you hear me?”
No answer.
Lance made it to the edge of the hole.
Blackness stared up at him.
But, but there was something else there too.
A faint blue glow, maybe about twenty feet down.
The gemstone.
And faintly illuminated by it…
A hand.
“C-Coran,” Lance choked out the man’s name, staring at the unmoving hand. “Coran.”
Coran did not move.
Was, was he…?
Dios, no.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
They’d been so careful.
But, but Lance’s stupid idea had just…
Just…
“Coran,” Lance whispered. “Pl-please…”
Nothing happened.
Lance could see nothing else beyond the faint glow from the gemstone to see where anything else had fallen, what the chasm below even looked like, but…
But there was clearly some sort of ledge, probably another floor to act as a support for the tower and Lance would bet they existed every twenty or so feet up. But… but he hadn’t seen a single door on the inner tower walls. They weren’t accessible.
Coran was trapped.
And the only way to reach him…
Was through the hole he’d fallen through.
Lance whimpered, heart thundering in his chest.
He could go get help. If, if he sprinted down the stairs he could maybe make it out in a little over an hour and then he could go to the castle and get help and at that point they would let them use tech to propel up to the top and then get Coran.
But…
But if Coran was really hurt leaving now could condemn him to death.
Assuming he wasn’t dead already.
Lance squeezed his eyes shut at that.
No.
Coran couldn’t be dead. He wasn’t allowed to be dead.
And, and the only way to know, to make sure that didn’t happen…
Was to go down there.
In the hole.
In the dark.
Where no one would be able to hear him scream through solid stone if and when they did come looking if they didn’t return by evening.
Just like the cryo-pod.
But, but Coran.
He needed help.
Lance was the only one here.
So…
So…
Lance first went backwards from the hole, entire body trembling.
He couldn’t be reckless.
If he fell too…
What did he have?
The rope of their clothes had stayed with him, probably about fifteen feet long. Assuming Lance’s guess of twenty feet to Coran it was too short still.
He glanced down.
His pants it was.
It took longer than it should as Lance’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking and he didn’t know knot tying as well as Coran so he hoped what he had done between tying one of his pants legs to the rope and the other he’d tied through Coran’s backpack handle— he’d left it by the stairwell entrance — and then secured the backpacks traps around a protruding stone in the doorway as best he could using his shoes and shoelaces as additional knots, his experimental tugs at least holding tight.
He jammed a water pouch in each of his socks and he knew it looked absolutely ridiculous — better than his boxer shorts though and that was the last stitch he had on him — but depending on how long they were trapped down there if Lance couldn’t get Coran out on his own they might need them, plus maybe he could use it to flush any wounds Coran might have sustained.
Lance shook his head at that.
Might.
He knew Coran was hurt because the man still hadn’t said anything and his hand hadn’t moved and Dios, please let him be hurt because if he wasn’t hurt then he was…
He was…
“Okay,” Lance whispered as he inched himself back towards the hole, “you, you’ve got this.”
He didn’t feel like he did.
But he had to.
Coran needed him.
Lance dropped the rope over the edge, watching it disappear into the darkness below.
He swallowed.
Turned.
And before he could second guess himself and how reckless this was as if the rope didn’t hold and he fell too, Lance lowered himself over the edge.
The rope, for now at least, held, as he shifted his weight to it and Lance let out a breath.
Okay.
Step one.
Now to go down.
Lance did so like a turtle.
He could feel sweat sliding down his face at even that pace, each shift of the rope making his stomach clench and Dios, it was so dark.
He kept going.
And to his absolute relief as he drew even with the glowing stone across he way his foot touched down on something solid.
There was a floor here.
Nice, solid floor.
Lance bit his lip as he amended that slightly as his toes stubbed into what had to be a broken plank from above and his other foot went into a puddle and okay, he still had to be careful. He kept hold of the rope as he picked his way gingerly over to Coran, raising his feet high so he hopefully didn’t roll an ankle stepping on something unexpected.
“Coran?” he whispered, hoping somehow his proximity now would rouse the man.
Coran still didn’t move.
And even as he drew closer Lance realized he had a major problem: he couldn’t see anything. The gem was the only thing emitting light but it was so faint and—
Lance’s breath caught.
The stone.
It was supposed to sparkle if both people touched it at the same time.
If, if he held Coran’s hand to it, lying just a few inches away… would that work?
Lance knelt down next to Coran’s visible hand and there was a sick sense of relief as he picked it up at the wrist and the arm was clearly connected to Coran based on the weight and the fact he wasn’t holding a limb on its own.
But it was cold.
Lance didn’t let himself dwell on it.
One chance.
He threaded their fingers together, rationalizing if their fingertips were equal distant they had to touch at the same time, and taking one last breath reached their hands out to the stone.
Lance let out a yelp of pain as a sudden, blinding light flashed directly in his face, squeezing his eyes shut. As he peeked them open his breath caught.
It had worked.
The stone was still glowing blue, but it was at least ten times brighter and there were shimmering glitter-like ripples shifting through it with a comforting sort of pulse.
And now he could see.
And…
Oh Dios.
The pedestal was lying across Coran’s back and there was something glistening on it that didn’t match the water puddled around them. Lance reached out with his other hand and picked up the gemstone to hold it aloft to see.
His stomach clenched at the red shine decorating the gold.
Blood.
His eyes traced it back to Coran where he could see its match on the back of the man’s head, while Coran’s face, half-visible where it was smushed on the ground but turned in Lance’s direction, was completely slack and his eyes closed.
“Coran?” Lance whispered his name again, freeing their conjoined hands and giving the man’s shoulder a gentle shake.
Nothing.
Lance brought shaking fingers up to Coran’s neck even as he belatedly realized he didn’t even know if Alteans had pulses or if they did where they—
A soft thud landed against his fingers.
Coran was breathing.
He was alive.
Lance’s eyes welled up with tears.
But there was no time for crying. Coran still needed help.
Lance used the gemstone to look once more around the new floor they’d found themselves on. It was solid at least, no signs of damage other than the debris all over it. It would hold.
His next steps needed to get Coran free of the pedestal and the other haphazard floor pieces so then he could work to get him out of the hole and back up to the top level and then somehow down over 5,000 stairs.
Start small, Lance told himself as he felt the beginnings of panic begin again. Free Coran first.
The debris was easy. The pedestal, as Lance had feared, was not and it was super heavy and honestly it was amazing it hadn’t caved Coran’s head in.
Lance hurriedly tried not to think of that image again.
But it did have some leverage being partly on top of Coran and a lot of huffing and puffing and back straining and socked feet slipping in the moss and water, Lance had it rolling off Coran with a clang and he straightened up with a relieved gasp.
Coran still hadn’t moved.
And Lance discovered a few moments later there was no way he was going to be able to do so either.
Not only was Coran deadweight — and, and not like that, just, just heavy since he was unconscious — but Lance had no idea if the man had any type of spine or back injuries and if he moved him and made it worse…
The smart thing to do would be to go get help below. He’d confirmed the floor was stable, there was nothing else he could do for Coran medical wise — he had removed the water pouches from his socks and carefully squirted one on the back of Coran’s head but all that had seemed to do was make more blood run down and Coran hadn’t moved and Lance had abruptly stopped — and Coran wasn’t in further danger.
But it would still take Lance well over an hour to get down the tower and then still to the castle and Coran might not have that kind of time.
What did he do?
There had to be some way to get a signal out, something that would alert the Fantians there was trouble.
His eyes widened.
The gemstone.
It, it was so bright, practically a beacon, that there was no way someone wouldn’t see it if he got it outside the tower and they’d know clearly it wasn’t supposed to be there and they’d send help.
But if he did that it then meant going back down into the hole without any light if he wanted to wait with Coran and there was no way he could in good conscience leave Coran down there by himself.
“I’ll, I’ll be right back,” Lance whispered, reaching a hand out and brushing it against Coran’s cool cheek, mentally trying to commit exactly where the man was so he didn’t step on him coming back, as he made his way to the rope.
At least that continued to work as Lance pulled himself out of the hole and back into the tower room.
The only exit out was the hole in the roof. Lance walked the perimeter as best he could, trying to remember what direction the castle was so it had the best chance of someone seeing it.
Otherwise…
Otherwise it would be at least a few hours more until they came looking and wondering where they were.
Lance took a breath, cocked his arm back and threw.
The glowing gem sailed up and out of sight.
“Please,” Lance whispered. “Please work.”
He went back to the rope now dangling completely into the dark abyss below and Lance paused, trembling.
But Coran was down there.
He might not be able to really do anything but he’d sit with Coran, comfort him the same as Coran would do for him, and make sure he wasn’t alone, just… just in case.
A few minutes later Lance was sinking down onto the cleared spot of ground he’d made next to Coran, feeling out and then picking up a cool hand and holding it beneath his own.
The darkness pressed in.
Lance closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see it.
And humming quietly and stroking the back of Coran’s hand, Lance waited.
xxx
Lance perched eagerly on the edge of the chair at Coran’s bedside as the man stirred, hope fluttering in his chest.
He was waking up.
It had been almost a day since the rescue — Lance’s plan working nearly perfectly as a guard had seen the falling gemstone, alerted the Fantians, and in barely twenty minutes since he’d thrown it there had been a rescue team peering down at them.
Coran had sustained a pretty nasty headwound, a broken arm and had been covered in bruises and he’d definitely be looking for the cryo-pod to fix those once he was up and able to calibrate it — none of Voltron had felt confident enough to do and so the Fantians’ healer had provided treatment for now and Coran was at least resting as comfortably as possible — but he would be okay.
Even with that reassurance though Lance wouldn’t be able to relax until Coran woke up and assured Lance he was all right.
He hadn’t even been able to enjoy the accolades bestowed upon him by the king and queen and their daughter for Lance and Coran not just completing the mission but demonstrating ingenuity and a clear devotion to one another that had secured the alliance without any further negotiations.
Not until Coran was awake.
And, and now…
Coran’s eyes slowly blinked open, shifting jewel-toned eyes duller than Lance was used to seeing and he felt his heart skip a beat.
But hazy as it was Coran’s eyes landed upon him and a small smile pulled up the man’s face beneath his moustache, expression clearing.
“Lance,” he murmured and Lance started at the sound of his actual name before his own lips pulled into the first smile he’d managed since the incident.
“Hey, Coran,” Lance whispered. “How, how’re you feeling?”
Coran let out a weak chuckle. “As though I fell from quite a distance and my head was acquainted with a lovely but rather heavy piece of furniture.” Coran’s expression became more solemn then as his eyes held Lance’s. “You saved me, lad,” he murmured even though there was no way he had any context of the events that had followed.
“You got hurt because of me,” Lance cast his eyes down. “Because of my stupid idea. I—”
“Shh,” Coran interrupted him. “Poppycock. I was hurt because of some poorly designed flooring and a roof leak. Your idea was brilliant and,” Coran’s hand — warm this time, not cold at all — gently pushed up on Lance’s chin so he was forced to meet Coran’s bright gaze, “so are you. Thank you for everything, dear boy.”
Lance’s vision blurred with tears.
And before he could stop himself he was lunging forward with a soft sob, pressing his face against Coran’s chest and arms wrapping as best he could around him.
“There there,” Coran murmured, hand coming up to rub comfortingly on his back. “Everything is all right.”
Lance let out a soft sigh, relaxing in Coran’s embrace.
Yes.
Now everything truly was.