Stranded

Shiro could feel the others watching him, their eyes wide and scared as they waited for him to tell them that everything was going to be okay, that Allura and Coran were on their way, but Shiro couldn't lie about this, not to them. Instead, he bit his lip and focused back on the gaping wound in Keith's side, ignoring the way his heart clenched as a small, pained cry escaped the red paladin's mouth.

Shiro would never admit it, but deep down he was panicking. (Gen fic) (Broganes)

Keith is my favorite character, and thus he must suffer.

Gen fic, so no pairings. This takes place right before the end of season 2, so the team has already become allies withe the Blade of Marmora and rescued Slav, but Allura doesn't give Keith the cold shoulder. That or she's already gotten over it, your pick.

I do not own Voltron: Legendary Defender

Chapter 1—Awry

Shiro awoke to the sound of loud ringing in his ears.

Brow furrowing in confusion, Shiro slowly blinked his eyes open, and winced when he was immediately met with harsh, flashing, red lights that caused his head to throb rather painfully. Groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember where he was, ignoring the black fog that clouded his mind, threatening to lull him back under into peaceful slumber. Instead he focused on his senses, letting them ground him back to reality as he slowly became aware of his surroundings.

He was currently slumped over in a seat, his head resting on something hard and flat—the console he could only assume, judging by the cool, metallic surface against the bare skin of his jaw—but something was off. This wasn't Black. He wasn't inside his lion's cockpit. The seat felt slightly off, and even the sound of the blaring alarms was different.

Where was he?

Forcing his eyes back open, Shiro was grateful that the flashing lights didn't bother his eyes nearly as much as it did the first time, and he felt the pounding in his head recede somewhat. Slowly, his vision swung back in place. Around him, familiar Altean lettering flashed across the dashboard, and Shiro blinked in confusion when realized where he was.

A . . . pod?

Before he could ponder his whereabouts any further, a low groan arose from somewhere behind him, along with the sound of movement.

"Ugh. Did anyone get the number of that thing that hit us? I swear I'm going to be seeing stars for weeks after this."

Shiro's brow furrowed at the familiar voice. Lance. That was Lance. What was he doing here?

Someone scoffed.

"Quit being so dramatic. You're fine." Pidge snarked back, though her words were half-hearted at best, and lacked their usual fire. She sounded groggy, as if she had just woken up.

Lance huffed, grumpily muttering something under his breath, and Shiro could hear the solid clank of his armor scraping against the floor as he moved around.

"Hunk? Dude, you still alive?"

"Yeah, I'm . . . I'm—" Hunk paused, cutting his sentence short, and a moment later Shiro heard the distinct sound of someone puking.

"He's fine." Pidge said dryly, and Lance sighed.

"Peaceful my foot." Lance mocked irritably. "Next time Princess Allura sends us on another diplomatic mission we're taking the lions. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

At those words, everything suddenly snapped back into place.

With a start, Shiro gasped, jolting upright in his chair as the last remnants of sleep fled from his subconscious, clearing his mind as everything came rushing back to him all at once.

The mission.

Glancing past the pod's cracked and partly shattered windshield, Shiro stared at the lush, jungle-like environment before him, instantly recognizing the tall, knobby, yet twisting trees from the images Coran had shown them during the debriefing. They were on Agharia, home to the Agharians, a peaceful race and one of the last ones still free from Zarkon's reign. Allura had sent them here in hopes to gain more allies before their strike against Zarkon, but something had gone wrong. Shiro recalled entering Agharia's atmosphere peacefully enough, but once they had emerged through the clouds something must've hit them, because the last thing Shiro remembered was spiraling down towards the trees before everything went black.

They had obviously been shot down, and Shiro felt his stomach twist with a growing sense of dread, though inwardly he was kicking himself for being so careless. Eyes narrowing, his right hand clenched into a fist, and the metal gears of his prosthetic arm whirred softly.

Lance was right. We should have brought the lions.

Shiro's thoughts were interrupted when someone rapped loudly on the thin, metal door that separated the pilot and co-pilot's seat from the rest of the pod, and Shiro winced when his head pounded slightly at the loud noise.

To his right, a low moan came from the co-pilot's chair.

"Shiro, Keith!" Lance yelled, a hint of concern in his normally easy-going voice. "You guys okay?"

"I'm fine!" Shiro replied back, closing his eyes. He didn't think he had a concussion, thank god, but he did have one hell of a headache. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he rubbed his eyes, hoping to alleviate the dull ache behind his eyelids. "What about you? Are you guys alright?"

"A little banged up, but we're fine." Lance said, and Shiro felt his shoulders sag with relief.

It wasn't until a moment later Shiro realized that Keith had yet to respond.

"Keith, you okay?" He asked, peeling his eyes open and turning his head to glance over at the red paladin.

And instantly froze.

From his spot in the co-pilot's chair, the red paladin's eyes were screwed shut, jaw clenched, and his head pressing into the back of his seat as a small tremor racked his lithe frame. His left arm was wrapped tightly around his torso, his left hand clutching desperately at his right side, and with a start, Shiro realized that his fingertips were covered with blood.

Before Shiro could even blink he was already scrambling out of his chair and moving to Keith's side.

"Keith!" He cried, his heart pounding as he dropped to one knee, his hands hovering over Keith's prone form.

"Shiro?" Lance's voice filtered through the door, sounding alarmed.

Shiro ignored the blue paladin, and instead focused on Keith—his little brother in everything but blood. Underneath his helmet, a light sheen of sweat had gathered on the red paladin's brow, and his breathing was slightly off, not quite wheezing, but shallow and uneven enough to send off another round of warning bells inside Shiro's head. Keith's already pale skin seemed a few shades whiter, and Shiro pressed his lips into a hard, thin line. Gently, he reached out and tapped the exposed part of Keith cheek with his right hand, hoping to rouse him.

"Keith?" He said softly, urgently tapping his cheek again when the teen didn't so much as stir. "C'mon, buddy, open you're eyes for me."

Keith's brows furrowed, a low moan rising in the back of his throat as his eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Shiro?" He rasped, voice dry and blinking sluggishly. Shiro felt his stomach sink at the rather dazed look in the red paladin's normally perceptive gaze.

"Yeah, it's me." Shiro whispered, moving his hand down to gently squeeze Keith's shoulder. "How're you feeling?"

Swallowing thickly, Keith opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when he broke out into a small coughing fit. Wincing as the rough action jarred his side, the red paladin's face contorted into a grimace, and Shiro had to place a firm hand on Keith's chest to keep him from folding in on himself as his body gave a violent shudder.

"Um, guys?" Lance called again, this time sounding more panicked than alarmed.

In the back of his mind, Shiro knew that he should probably answer, but at the moment he was too busy murmuring consoling words into Keith's ear as the red paladin leaned forward with a groan, his head dropping against Shiro's shoulder with a shudder.

"Easy, kiddo. Just breathe." Shiro instructed gently, rubbing the teen's back, and his brows furrowed with concern as he listened to Keith's ragged breathing. "Just breathe."

"S-shit," Keith wheezed once the fit passed, eyes squeezed shut as he sagged in his seat, his fingers curling as he gingerly held his side, "H'rts."

"I know." Shiro whispered soothingly, his heart sinking at the red paladin's words.

The fact that Keith—the most unshakable and tight-lipped of them all— was confessing his pain bothered him more than he liked to admit. Unease curling inside his gut, Shiro glanced down at Keith's injured side, and his mouth twisted into a frown when he saw the amount of blood staining Keith's gloved hand.

"I'm going to take a quick look at it, okay?" He stated softly, dropping his hand to the red paladin's wrist.

Keith nodded jerkily against his shoulder, eyes still closed as he tried to control his breathing, his chest heaving up and down. "Okay."

Gripping Keith's wrist, Shiro slid his hand up to gently pry the red paladin's trembling fingers away from his side, and slowly nudged his hand away so that he could see exactly what they were dealing with.

Shiro's chest lurched painfully at the sight.

At first glance the wound is ugly. A large, jagged piece of glass—which undoubtedly came from the now shattered windshield— is firmly embedded into Keith's side, tearing and slicing through both skin and muscle, leaving a long, and rather deep gash from his hip to just below the bottom-most part of his ribcage. Blood oozes slowly, but steadily from the wound, and now that Keith's hand is no longer blocking his view, Shiro could now see the large stain spreading across the black material of Keith's uniform.

This . . . this was not good.

Letting out a shaky breath, Shiro closed his eyes, struggling to keep his head as memories of his time in the arena threatened to burst forward—images of blood and death flashing in his mind.

Shiro gritted his teeth, his metal arm humming with barely restrained energy.

Focus, Shirogone, he chastised himself. He wasn't there anymore. He was with his team, his friends, on Agharia—far away from that god-forsaken arena.

Breathing slowly out his nose, Shiro recalled his training from the Garrison, silently urging his racing heart to slow. He had to stay calm. He was both their leader and senior officer. He couldn't afford to loose his cool and panic—not here. Keith, the team—they needed him with a level head if they were going to get out of this.

Keith's head shifted against his shoulder.

"Th't bad, huh?" The red paladin murmured, voice wavering, and with a start Shiro realized that he had been quiet far longer than he probably should have.

"It's not pretty," Shiro admitted slowly. Carefully, he ran his hand down Keith's back, and inwardly sighed in relief when he realized that the shard hadn't pierced him all the way through. "But you're gonna be okay. We'll fix you right up, I promise."

Keith nodded, but when he didn't say anything else Shiro felt another wave of worry wash over him, and he reached back up to tightly grip the red paladin's shoulder.

They needed to treat his wound, and quickly, but first, Shiro was going to need some help.

"Hunk!" He yelled towards the door, his deep voice reverberating off the metallic walls. "I need you up here!"

On the other side of the pod, small, hurried footsteps clapped against the floor, anxious.

"Shiro, what's going on?" Pidge asked nervously, her voice feeble. "Is everything okay?"

Before Shiro could reply, a loud, metallic screech rent through the air, and Shiro glanced over Keith's head to see Hunk slowly prying the door open with his hands. The yellow paladin grunted, and with one last shove the doors finally gave way, sliding all the way back, and both Pidge and Lance hurriedly ducked under Hunk's outstretched arms before dashing over towards Shiro, the yellow paladin just a step behind them.

All three of them skidded to a stop when their eyes landed on Keith, and the blood coating his side.

Pidge blanched, sucking in a harsh breath as her eyes widened behind her glasses. Behind her, Hunk swallowed loudly, looking torn between wanting to help and wanting to puke. Lance, the only one who seemed capable of speech, swore unintelligibly in Spanish, his voice low and fast.

"Dios mio, Keith!" Lance breathed, eyes wide as stared at his teammate. His gaze snapped towards Shiro. "What the hell? I thought you said you were okay?"

"Not the time for questions, Lance." Shiro said curtly, frowning as Keith moaned softly against his shoulder. Brows furrowing, Shiro glanced towards the other three paladins and began to fire off orders. "Hunk, grab the med-kit, it should still be under the control panel. Pidge, contact Allura and Coran. Tell them we need a pick-up and to have a pod ready when we get there. Lance, check the area. Make sure whoever shot us down isn't nearby."

For a moment, the three younger paladins merely blinked, seemingly frozen to the spot at the rapid speed he delivered his commands, and Shiro scowled, the barest hint of impatience filtering across his face.

"Now!" He barked.

The three jumped as if they had been slapped. Scrambling, Hunk began to search for the med-kit, Pidge right behind him as they darted for the control panel, already shrugging off her backpack and pulling out her equipment. Lance ran out the door as if a pack hounds were nipping at his heels, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process as he hurried out the pod.

Shiro sighed. Under normal circumstances, he would've apologized for snapping at them in a such a harsh manner, but time was of the essence. Keith was hurt, and needed proper medical attention, and soon.

Keith shuddered, his hand once again moving to curl around his injured side, and Shiro grabbed his wrist, stopping him when his fingers began to stray too close to the glass shard embedded in his stomach.

"Don't touch it." Shiro warned. Keith grunted, and the black paladin could feel his hand shaking slightly within his grip.

"Sh'ro," Keith murmured, his chest hitching, "Out. I can't—"

Shiro shushed him, his thumb running across Keith's wrist in slow, comforting circles.

"I know, kiddo. Just tough it out a little bit longer, okay?" Shiro whispered, his chest constricting painfully as he listened to the red paladin's uneven breathing. Frowning, he glanced over towards the control panel, his eyes landing Hunk as the yellow paladin dug through the cupboards. "Any luck, Hunk?"

"Not yet—oh, wait!" With a triumphant cry, the yellow paladin held up the blue colored med-kit. "Got'chya!"

Moving to his feet, Hunk quickly darted over towards the co-pilot's chair, wordlessly handing Shiro the med-kit, and the black paladin gave him a grateful nod.

"Thanks, Hunk." Shiro said, before glancing down towards Keith, who was still leaning against his shoulder. He grimaced. The red paladin would need to move in order for him to treat the teen's wound.

"Think you can hold him for me real quick?" Shiro asked.

Hunk nodded, his expression solemn as he eyed Keith with quiet sympathy.

"Sure." Hunk replied, stepping closer before gently placing his large hands on the red paladin's shoulders.

Slowly, he eased Keith off of Shiro, and flinched when Keith let out a loud hiss at the movement, his eyes slamming shut and face twisting with pain.

"Sorry, sorry." Hunk apologized quickly, looking almost stricken as he and Shiro leaned Keith against the back of the chair.

"'S fine," Keith croaked, his shoulders trembling as he let out a shaky breath. Blearily, he opened his eyes, and looked at Shiro, his jaw tightening. "Jus' get it over with."

Grimly, Shiro nodded before thumbing the med-kit open. As he searched its contents for the proper medical supplies, Hunk began talking, his voice low and soothing.

"Don't you worry, dude, we'll get you fixed up in no time." The yellow paladin said with a comforting smile, his voice bright despite their situation. "And when we get back to the castle, I'll make all your favorite foods whenever you want, for a week! How's that sound?"

Keith huffed, though Shiro suspected it was supposed to be a laugh.

"S'nds great, Hunk." Keith murmured, voice wobbling slightly, but still strong enough to sound amused.

The worry in Shiro's chest eased somewhat, and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

He was going to okay, Shiro told himself as he pulled out some gauze and a roll of bandages. Keith was hurt and he was bleeding, but he was going to be okay. Once they were back in the castle he would be placed inside a healing pod and today would be nothing more than a bad dream.

He was going to okay.

For a moment, Shiro almost believed it himself, but knowing their luck, his especially, he really should've known better.

"Um, Shiro . . ." Pidge's voice filtered in from the control panel, her voice wavering and uneasy.

Shiro glanced up from the med-kit, frowning at the girl's tone of voice. Turning his head, he spotted Pidge kneeling before the control panel, her helmet held loosely in her hands. His heart pounded slightly when he saw the faintest hint of fear in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Pidge?" He asked, tone wary. The girl swallowed nervously.

"I can't reach the reach the Castle of Lions."

Shiro knew from that moment onwards, that today was going to be a long day.

So thoughts? This my first try at hurt/comfort fic, so let me know how I did and what I need to improve on.

And I had every intention to finish the second chapter of Red and Green this weekend (just one more scene to go!) but then this happened, and yeah . . . I just had to write it down. But I'll try to finish it soon, I promise!

Please review! For the most part, they determine if I continue or not.

Thank you,

Iscea