zhenqing

Zarkon was pissed. This, in and of itself, wasn't anything unusual for Zarkon was often pissed. In fact, it could be readily said that Zarkon spent 75% of his waking hours pissed off at something or other. Usually at Lotor. And that fact should have made the first one--that Zarkon was pissed--all the more unremarkable, for Lotor was, once again, the subject of his ire.

Except this time Haggar believed that Zarkon truly meant to kill his son.

"Tell me, witch, how could this have happened?!" A thousand credits worth of wine was wasted as Zarkon hurled his goblet, the thick liquid pooling on the stone floor like blood, the much abused metal ringing out in the cavernous room. "Was I too soft of the boy? Did I coddle him too much? Did I not teach him how to be a proper villain, a truly evil man? Tell me, witch, tell me what I did wrong!"

"Sire, this," Haggar gestured at the crystal which displayed the damning image, "could not have been prevented. It was unforeseen by us all. We all thought he was--"

Zarkon cut her off with a sharp slice of his hand and sighed before resting his head in his hands. For a long moment the dark room was quiet, tense with anticipation. Then Zarkon looked back up, flat eyes even flatter, black pupils empty of all light. "Kill him."

"Which one, Sire?"

"Does it really matter?"

Haggar nodded and smiled and took the crystal away, leaving the serpentine king alone with his depressing thoughts. Maybe she would make him a new heir--one that didn't come with the depressing fallacies that came with natural birth.

~~~

Nobody was supposed to know about their meeting, which was why they had arranged to meet in a clearing in the Haspur mountains--the center of a dead spot on Arus' radars. The thick iron deposits in the earth destroyed even the lions radio capabilities and the magnetic field that surrounded the mountains distorted even the most sophisticated satellite imaging equipment. The mountains were perfect for clandestine meetings and inter-planetary ambushes--had they not been so inhospitable to the large ships the Doom armada favored, they would have been used long before as a jumping off point for a land attack on Arus.

But inhospitable though they might be for the average Doom space craft, they were perfect for Lotor's the small, two person fighter ship. Keith supposed that it was extremely lucky that no one had seen him leave--to the uninformed, their meeting would smack of treason.

Of course, Keith's tampering with the security system probably aided their secrecy somewhat.

Perhaps that was why there was a strangely exciting feel to their meeting, an almost sexual current that ran through Keith's body; but Keith doubted that, crediting the feeling more to the fact that the 'clandestine meeting' had an titillating sexual context. Not that that was a good thing--after all, this was his brother he was with, not a lover--but it did add an extra spice to the already thrilling escapade. His brother. His brother. He had a family. He had a real, honest-to-God family. And it felt good.

"What're you smiling about, Kuro?"

Keith looked up through his thick bangs, the unconscious grin on his face widening as he caught sight of Lotor's amused expression. "I've got a family, Shiro. Do you have any idea just how cool that idea is for me?"

Lotor laughed and ruffled Keith's hair. "I think I can imagine." The smile faded from Lotor's face and he took on a serious mien. "Are you sure you won't reconsider running away with me? This stupid war would be over if we both left..."

"Shiro, this war will never be over so long as both Zarkon and Allura are alive."

"All right, we kill the both of them and then leave. I can take care of my father--rather easily, actually--and you have unrestricted access to Allura--because who would suspect you of all people?--and after we dispose of them, we can hop my private craft to Borneso where we'll assume the identities of Michael and Matthew Pilkington and--why are you laughing?"

"I'm sorry, Shiro. It's just, well, I think you've put a little too much thought into this whole thing." Keith flopped back onto the grass, an idiotic grin stretching his face, a little too happy to be out here than could be considered normal. He could see the sky and the clouds and wondered if they had ever watched the clouds back then, wondered what shapes Lotor saw in the sky. He was about to ask when he saw them. They would have been easy to miss, small silver specks that grew large too quickly, and glowed a dark, malevolent red in the front. So easy to miss against the white clouds, unnoticeable until they were right there, so close that it was really too late to do anything about them except take the few seconds before the lasers fired to regret everything that had never been done.

But Keith had never been much for regrets--not when there was time enough to prevent them.

Moving faster than he had ever thought he could, heart thundering in his chest, somehow going straight from his back to his feet and then across the air to where Lotor sat with a bemused expression on his face. Keith pushed, screamed out a garbled warning, then screamed again as the lasers that had been meant for Lotor hit him, fire blooming on his back and in his body and all around him and in him so completely and there was pain.

Oh God, there was so much pain.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't breathe.

A distant wail filled Keith's ears, like the wind over the battlements late at night, and he wondered if this was but a dream and he had fallen from his bed and imagined it all. Then he heard the words deep within the wail, and turned his head at his name to see his brother crouched at his side with tears that made his golden eyes shine bright, and the tips of his long, white hair stained red. Keith opened his mouth, tried to force words of comfort out, tried to raise a hand to touch his brother's, comfort in some minuscule way. But his limbs were cold and heavy and the image was already fading away as black crowded out his sight, until everything was cold and dark and silent.

Then even that was gone.

~~~

There was fire.

There was fire, and there was metal and blood and dirt and rock and Lotor's world was framed between the blood that was the color of Keith's shirt and the orange light cast by the fire that consumed his craft. Maybe later he would reflect on the skill and intelligence of those unknown pilots, commend them on their decision to destroy his ship and fill the air with melting shrapnel. But right now all he could think about was Keith's blood and the stench of roasted meat and the panic that was growing so great within that it was all he could do to not just lie down beside his brother and die.

But Keith still breathed--if the wet, rasping noises could be called breath--and as long as Keith breathed he lived; and as long as Keith lived, Lotor would do everything to keep him alive.

But, God, there was so much blood.

What do I do? Please, somebody, tell me what to do? How can I take care of him? The ground exploded beside them and Lotor flinched, so grateful that the fire that trapped them prevented the pilots from seeing them clearly. They had to get out of there. But where?

Keith coughed and whimpered and from far away in the trees there was an echoing whine from an iron lion that was more real than any flesh or blood creature.

The lion!

Lotor swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of everything and especially this thin strand of hope. It was possible. Insane, but possible. Anything at this point was possible, except for letting Keith die. He'd just found his brother, and there was nothing in this world that could make him lose Keith again.

The lion whimpered again, softer and weaker than before and Lotor gauged the distance, trying to ignore the sharp fear that spiked his heart. It wasn't that far to the tree cover, but Keith needed to be carried and Lotor didn't want to touch Keith's back for fear of worsening the gaping wound. But the only other alternative was to leave Keith to die and it only took Lotor a second of hesitation before he picked Keith up and slung him barbarian-like over his shoulder and then made a mad, breathless, blurry dash across the burning clearing into the burning trees and then to the lion that lay silent amidst the destruction. Panting, grunting as he heaved first Keith and them himself into the lion's distant hatch.

Lotor made Keith as comfortable as he could, half carrying, half dragging Keith's limp form into the cockpit where he could at least keep an eye on the pale body and the blood that already bloomed crimson across the once sterile bandages hastily spread out over Keith's back. He found the key in Keith's pants, caught in the torn fabric, and he put it into the lion and turned and waited for the welcoming, delirious, wonderful warmth of light and sound that accompanied the waking of a craft.

But the lion was as cold and still and silent as its wounded, mostly dead pilot. Lotor stared at the unresponsive panel, ran his hands over the still controls, and cried as that delicate thread of hope broke.

~~~

Lance was mostly asleep, feet propped up on the console, eyes closed and only partially listening to the steady buzz of the constantly updating security system. None of it was really important--just the nicely reassuring sound of peace in Arus' space. To Lance, it sounded better than any lullaby his mother had ever sung.

"...don't do this to me you goddamned piece of shit!"

The voice was scratchy and distorted and shocked Lance so much that he fell out of his chair and right onto the floor. "Ow."

Lance climbed back into his chair and checked the monitors. Nothing. Not one single trace of anything that could possibly be construed as trouble. Maybe he was just picking up some random radio signals--a daytime radio drama or something. Or maybe he had just imagined the voice--

"...dying and you won't fucking..."

--or maybe not. The scary part about the voice was that it sounded so much like Lotor. But that was impossible, because there hadn't been any demands for the princess.

"Your master is dying and you just going to sit there and do nothing you stupid, fucking, worthless lion!" The distant, tinny sounds of rage being taken out on helpless machinery were almost buried beneath the static and it shocked Lance so much that all he could do was sit and listen. The rage was quickly replaced with sobs so soft and desperate that Lance could only wonder that they could come from a human mouth. "Please, God, he's dying. He's dying. Keith--" The signal died.


What?!

Startled into motion, the first hint of panic hitting him, Lance fumbled with the controls, trying to get the unseen speaker back, desperate find out what had happened to his captain. "Hello? Hello? Is someone out there?"

"--lo? Who...help, please..."

"Where are you?"

"...tains. Haspur I thi...Please...dying!"

"Stay right where you are. Help is on the way." Lance slammed his hand down on the alarm, praying that they would be in time. Oh Gods, Keith, what have you gotten yourself into now?

~~~

First there was relief as the lions appeared on the horizon and then awe as they destroyed the murdering crafts from Doom; a new sensation for Lotor who had never been on the rescued end before. But then the Voltron Force took Keith away and they put chains on Lotor's wrists and took him to a dark room where they asked him questions. Lots of questions. Questions that he couldn't answer.

"What were you doing on Arus?"

"Why were you with Keith?"

"How were you able to land on Arus undetected?"

"Did Keith get you on planet?"

"Has Keith been giving you information on Arus and the lions?"

"Has Keith compromised the security of Arus?"

"Is Keith your lover?"

"Is Keith a traitor?"

So many questions, thrown at him so quickly. But Lotor would stay silent--it wasn't his place to reveal the truth about Keith. That was entirely between Keith and his friends; Lotor wasn't worried. They were a family, now. Nothing could shake that. And families protected each other, kept the other members of the family's secrets. Family was about trust, and how could Keith trust him if Lotor told their secret--their secret--to those that Keith had chosen not to include.

He wouldn't compromise that trust. Not even if it would save them both.

~~~

"Um, sire, we have a problem." The robotic soldier was very good at simulating fear, groveling before Zarkon's thrown in abject terror. Haggar had often wondered what was the purpose of giving these creatures the capacity for fear, but after seeing the carefully veiled pleasure her lord received from the machine's cowering she wondered no more. A typical Zarkon move, making the unfeeling feel fear. Never love. Just fear.

"A problem?" Zarkon was enjoying himself, Haggar could tell. He ran a clawed finger around the lip of his goblet, a faint smile distorting his face.

"Yes sire. They, um, escaped. Both of them. We think we got the Voltron pilot but I'm afraid that Prince Lotor got away completely unscathed."

"I see." The finger stilled and Zarkon's hand tightened on the goblet. "And how did this happen, pray tell?"

"The remaining lions of Voltron showed up and--"

"Voltron? My elite fighters were defeated by four measly lions? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Yes sire. I'm sor--" The rest of the robot's words were reduced to garbled nonsense, which Haggar suspected wasn't all that startling considering the current state of its head. It was going to take the slaves hours to pick the little shreds of metal and synthetic skin out of the carpet.

"Well. If you want something done, do it yourself, eh witch?" Zarkon was standing and grinning almost maniacally, the metal goblet in his hand slowly crumpling. "Arus has been a thorn in my side for too long. Summon my full armada, witch--we'll destroy that planet so thoroughly that there won't even be space dust left."

~~~

Allura sighed and flicked the microphone off. She looked tired--she was tired--and Lance couldn't help but sympathize with her weariness. He, too, was filled with a deep, bone aching exhaustion, but he doubted that the cause of his fatigue was the same as Allura's.

How could he have done this? How could he have gone over to Doom? How could he have chosen Lotor over me? Didn't you know that I would have been yours if you asked, Keith?

"He's never going to say anything." Hunk's words echoed Lance's thoughts and the pilot of the red lion looked up in shock, afraid that he had said that last thought aloud. But the groups attention was focused on Lotor who sat silently in the next room, separated from them by a pane of glass and bright lights. "He's protecting someone--probably Keith. I think we're just going to have to wait for Keith to get better."

"If he talks. You know Keith--he can be as stubborn as a jackass when he wants to be." Allura pinched the bridge of her nose and slowly stood. "But I agree with you Hunk. We should just wait this out. So, who wants to take Lotor to his cell?"

"I'll do it." Lance surprised even himself with his offer; he hated Lotor almost as much as Sven, more now that it appeared that Lotor had stolen away the thing Lance coveted the most. Still, it would give him a chance to do some private interrogation, using methods he was sure Allura wouldn't approve of.

"All right. I'll go get Sven--we'll need him. Hunk, can you look at Black? And Pidge, I need you to fix whatever it was that Keith did to the defense system." Allura stood and cast one last look at Lotor before turning and walking quickly away. The rest of the team stood as well, but none were in a particular hurry to leave the room. Here, with the lights off and the door locked, all the myriad problems outside the room seemed distant, like they were the problems of a different time and a different place and they could all delude themselves into pretending that it could be forgotten.

Hunk, ever the pragmatic one, was the first to break the delusion and in a manner so bluntly that it made the knot in Lance's stomach twist so much that he felt sick.

"Do you think Keith's a traitor?" Hunk's eyes were trained on the silent form on the other side of the mirror. "Do you think he's gone over to the other side?"

"I hope not. Shit, do you have any idea just how much trouble we could be in if that happened?" Pidge shook his head. "It wouldn't be pretty, I can tell you that."

"He didn't do it." Lance tried not to look at his team members, all too aware that his loyalty would be destroyed if he had to look at the disbelief on their faces. "Not Keith. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Excuse me." Lance slid around Hunk and out of the door, presenting a strong front that crumbled once he was outside and away from their disbelieving eyes and he could lean up against the corridor's wall with his knees weak and his breath shaky. It took a long time before he felt strong enough to move away and he didn't know why he was so shaken.

Keith was Keith and he would never betray them. It just wasn't in his genetic code to turn traitor. He was right and they were wrong and Lance tried to reassure himself with these thoughts, because if he was wrong and Keith had turned his back on them, then Lance didn't know what he would do. He had to believe in Keith.

He had to, because that was all he had.

~~~

They had just passed into the old castle, the one made of stone and catacombs and flickering torches, when the first explosion hit, rocking the castle and throwing Lance into the wall where his head hit with a wet thud and blood from an invisible cut welled out in such great quantities that it stuck his hair together in large clumps. Lotor, who had been walking before Lance with his head bowed and shoulders rounded in submission, kept his feet only slightly better, stumbling into a wall that scraped his chained arms.

Lance had managed to get to his knees when the second explosion hit them, sending the Voltron pilot sprawling on the ground once more, covering his head to protect himself from the flecks of stone and ancient mortar that drifted down from the ceiling. The floor continued to shake and larger bits of the old stones fell, hitting his head like hail. The dust filled his lungs and he coughed, choking even as he forced the dust out. Distantly he heard the clink of chains and then a warm, beating, heavy weight was pressing down on his back, driving him further into the stone, and the rocks stopped rattling on his head. Lotor's breath was hot in his ear, and suddenly Lance could see a reason behind Keith's defection.

When the rattling stopped, Lance wasn't sure if he should be glad, for he knew, deep inside, that the silence signaled that the defenses had been breached and Doom's troops were inside. His comm shrilled with the varied reports and Lance reached down to turn it off. A hand captured his and pulled and there was a soft chink as a set of metal cuffs closed around his wrists. And just like that, Lance found himself chained to an ancient wall scone and Lotor was standing over him, free of his restraints.

"What--?!"

"Shh." Lotor placed a finger on Lance's lips and grabbed the still squawking comm. "I'm sorry to do this to you, Lance, but I have to get to Keith before he does. I'm sure you understand. After all, you love him too."

Lotor smiled apologetically and took off and Lance was left alone, wondering.

~~~

There was blood and death and pain and suffering and Zarkon was loving every minute of it. His forked tongue darted out in an almost constant blur, tasting the bloodied air with all the relish of a wine connoisseur, sword tip jerking slightly as the excitement of his body released itself into the metal weapon. He was rapidly becoming drunk off of the fear that wafted about him and the blood that filled his senses. This was more fun than the last time he had destroyed Arus.

Deciding to let his tongue lead the way, Zarkon made his way out of the now destroyed throne room and down the corridor. The faint taste of ammonia and sterilization was becoming stronger, as was that special tang from blood he knew so well.

Strange how even after all these years he remembered how her blood tasted in the air.

There were three pitiful humans cowering in a corner, their fear thick in the air. Zarkon smiled slightly as he strode past--he would deal with them later. Business before pleasure, as it were.

The boy was stretched out on his stomach, tubes leaning in and out of his body. His breathing was raspy and slow, lips tinged with blood that burbled out pink and frothy. Zarkon smiled at the sight. The boy looked so peaceful. So helpless. So easy to kill. It really was too bad that the young bastard wasn't awake to see his end.

Zarkon was humming something to himself as he raised his sword high, planning on making this death a quick one for he had wasted enough time here anyway. Besides, the boy was going to die quickly anyway, and the first lesson that Zarkon had learned early on was to never leave loose ends--it might take a few years, but in the end everything was always neatly tied up in the end. Like this boy's death. Eighteen years in the making, but it was finally happening. Zarkon felt that something should be said--after all, this was the longest a loose end had every managed to escape.

Pausing for a moment, the tip of his sword lowering slightly, Zarkon looked down at the limp, unconscious form and smiled in an almost fond fashion. "Good bye, child. I should have done this the day you were born." The rate of the boy's wheezing, rasping, stubborn breathing increased as if he could sense that his end was near.

"Stop!" Lotor's voice rang out loud in the sterile room and Zarkon turned slightly, surprised by the authority in his son's voice. "Get away from him!"

"Ahh, my son." Zarkon smiled, proud and paternal and vicious, knowing that proud smile always dug the knife a little deeper. "You're just in time. I'm about to rid us of a little thorn."

"No. Leave him alone." Lotor took a step closer and Zarkon raised his sword high, the threat silent but still powerful.

"Lotor, Lotor, Lotor. Have you learned nothing? When there is an obstacle, it must be removed. And this--" Zarkon poked the still body, smiling slightly as Lotor flinched "--is an obstacle."

"I'm not going to let you do it, Father. I'm not going to let you hurt him." Lotor's voice was low and threatening, and it almost masked the tremor deep in his throat, the shaking in his body as he approached his father. "I don't want to do anything to you, Father, but I won't let you hurt Keith. I'll kill you first."

"Hah! I'd like to see you try. You're pathetic, Lotor, no better than your whore of a mother and her bastard. Well, if you won't kill it, then I will." Zarkon raised his sword high, then brought it down in a sweeping arc, the blade whistling as it sliced through the air.

"No!"

Lotor lunged forward, throwing himself on his father with unthinking fear, sending them both crashing into the mess of monitors and tubes that surrounded Keith. Zarkon's sword bounced on the edge of the hospital bed before spinning out of his clawed hand and skittering across the floor to clang against the legs of Keith's bed. A cacophony of shrill alarms cried out in counterpoint to Keith's harsh wheeze that was quickly growing more and more distressed. Lotor untangled himself from the mess of pipes and fluids and metal and Zarkon, scrambling to stand beside Keith's bed, hands fluttering about uselessly as he tried to take in the disaster he had caused.

"Oh Gods!"

"You fool!" Zarkon laughed as he stood, slowly, leisurely. "You've done my job for me."

"Oh Gods, Kuro, I'm so sorry!" Lotor turned, madness in his eyes. "This is all your fault, you bastard!"

"Oh ho, the kitten shows its claws. Are you going to do something about it, boy? Or are you too weak?" Lotor screamed, an inarticulate, primitive howl that made Zarkon laugh. He wanted to make his son hurt, wanted to destroy him. The howl cut off abruptly and Lotor dove in for another attack, wild and unthinking in his rage. Zarkon caught him with a heavy right hook that sent the young man sprawling, five neat cuts blooming red on his cheek, face slamming into the metal legs of Keith's bed. Lotor looked up at his father, eyes slightly out of focus and Zarkon laughed again and walked over to the prostrate boy, heel coming down hard on Lotor's groin. His son gagged and doubled over, a sharp hiss of air escaping his mouth. Zarkon ground his heel in deeper, sneering at Lotor's pain. "Come on, you whoreson bastard, let's see what you're made of!"

Lotor's hand closed on the hilt of Zarkon's sword, and he whipped it up suddenly, the keen edge biting into the soft folds of Zarkon's leg. Zarkon gasped, a sharp cry of pain at the sudden wound escaping his lip less mouth and he stumbled back in shock. Lotor stood, still crouched over in pain but determined, madness and rage and tears making his eyes shine like molten gold.

"You bastard! You fucking bastard! I hate you!" Lotor swung the heavy sword around, attacking the off-balance Zarkon with no thought other than to kill. He slammed the keen blade into Zarkon's body again and again, hacking away at the scaled flesh in bind rage. "I fucking hate you! Why won't you die and leave me alone! Why can't you just fucking die!"

Zarkon fell, body little more than a bleeding husk, and still Lotor kept hacking away, stopping only when he was too tired to swing the sword, too tired to even stand. He collapsed gracelessly, bonelessly, pulling his knees up and wrapped his bloodied arms around his legs and tucked his head into the hollow between his chest and his knees and wept.

"I hate you. I hate you so much. Why didn't you love me?" The whispered words echoed in the suddenly silent room and nobody could answer him.

~~~

First there was blackness. And then the black lightened to grey, and there was something tingling down at the bottom of the blackness, something whose name escaped him but he knew it was important to remember whatever it was.

The grey continued to lighten, and the tingling sensation grew stronger until suddenly he remembered that it was called pain and that he didn't want it and he wanted to go back into the blackness where the pain couldn't live. But it was too late to go back now, for the grey was quickly becoming more white then dark until there was only white left. And the pain centered itself somewhere in the middle and he could feel something take shape and he realized that it was his body and the pain was so bad that he had to scream but all that came out was a weak, whispery groan that made his throat ache.

He croaked out his pain again and this time it was louder and there were colors seeping into the white that surrounded him as his eyes finally opened to focus on more white except this white had patterns of off-white flowers swirling through it and a pool of drool near his mouth. He tried to move his hand up to wipe the drool off of his cheek, but stopped and whimpered as the dull pain in his middle suddenly spiked and consumed in and overwhelmed him and brought stars and the black back before his eyes.

This time he really did scream.

"Whoa! Hey! Stop that." Hands gently gripped rubbed his back and a sudden pulse caused the vein that popped out of his hand whenever he clenched his fist to jump and a sudden shot of something that deadened the pain and made his head spin hit his blood stream.

Drugs.

He hated drugs.

"N-no..."

"Shh, it's all right, Keith." A fuzzy head came into view and he thought it was an angel at first and then he had to blink a couple of times before it became Lance and that was just as good. "It's just to stop the pain."

"Lance," Keith swallowed, forced his eyes to focus on the face and ignore the numbing liquid that coursed through his veins and the thick feeling in his tongue, "wha' happened? I 'member fire."

"You were attacked by some of Zarkon's ships." Lance busied himself with mundane tasks: straightening Keith's sheets, checking the pipes that were attached to his body, checking the dressing on his newly grafted skin. Anything was better than looking at Keith while praising Lotor. This way, he wouldn't have to see if Keith's eyes lit up at Lotor's name, see the unshakeable proof that he had lost Keith. "Lotor saved you and brought you here. Then Zarkon attacked and tried to kill you personally--I think that may be a compliment--and Lotor killed him to save you; if I were you, I'd think about giving him your first born child as payment."

The numbness was making him sleepy and it was hard for Keith to keep his eyes focused on Lance and he forced his slowly sinking mind to stay awake, be coherent. "Funny. Where is he?"

"Talking with Allura and the Alliance heads." Lance took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was coming. "Do you want me to get him?"

"No." Keith reached out to grasp Lance's hand, biting his lip through the pain that accompanied the action and the drug won a little more ground, took a little more of his consciousness away. "Stay. Don' leave me 'lone."

"All right." Lance stretched out and grabbed the chair he had been sitting in earlier, pulling it closer to Keith's bed. "I'll stay here for as long as you want me to."

"'ank you." Keith smiled and squeezed Lance's hand. His eyes closed and his breathing evened out as he let the drug do its work. He was tired all of a sudden, and unguarded, and the only thing he could really think of was Lance's hand in his, a life line to keep him out of the dark. "Wan' you t' stay forev'r."

Lance smiled but said nothing, busying himself instead with the rhythmic stroking of Keith's forehead and concentrating on the lovely warmth that flooded his body and started at their joined hands.

~~~

It was easy to wake up this time, for there was a lifeline between Keith and the real world now, something that he had to hold onto and never let go--

"Lance?"

"No, Kuro. It's me."

"Shiro."

--Except that it was Lotor's face he woke to, not Lance's and though that was a Good Thing, it wasn't the Best Thing and Keith couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

And then he felt worse because Lotor's eyes were clouded and there were dark patches under his eyes and his hair was lank and flat and he just looked worn out. All because of Keith. And he couldn't even feel glad to see his brother, because his brother wasn't Lance.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Lotor let out a sigh and smiled and the clouds in his eyes disappeared. "I was so incredibly worried about you, Keith. Gods, I think my heart stopped when you were hit."

Keith smiled at that, first at the tone and then he grinned, big and dopey and happy, as the words hit him. Lotor looked at him funny and touched Keith's forehead. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Then why are you grinning like that? Did they give you more drugs? They did, didn't they. Gods! I told them how you felt about drugs, I told them not to give you any. You wait right here, Keith, I'll go sort this out right now." Lotor stood, knocking the chair back and strode toward the door.

"Shiro. Shiro, hold on!" Lotor stopped and turned back, eyebrows lifted in question. "They didn't give me any more drugs." The grin broadened and Keith turned his head until he couldn't turn it any further, just so he could look at his brother. "It's just...you called me Keith. It, well, it feels good. You probably think it's silly, and I never should have mentioned it but it means a lot to me because you're my brother and it's nice to hear you say my name and, and, and..." Keith trailed off and his smile turned shy and he lowered his eyes, focusing them back on his pillow. He heard Lotor's footsteps coming back to him, his brother's hand gently caressing the back of his head, gently urging him to turn and look up and into those golden eyes.

"I don't think it's silly at all." Lotor smiled and knelt down, eyes locked with Keith's. "I love you, Keith. No matter what happens, I love you, and I'll take care of you. You're my brother. Don't forget that, okay? "

"I won't."

"Good." Lotor kissed the top of Keith's head and stood. "I need to go, now. I have to talk with your boss some more."

"All right." Keith smiled up at his brother eyes tracking the prince of Doom as he crossed the room. "I love you too, Lotor."

Lotor turned back, and smiled with sudden heart-breaking warmth. He turned away again, and exited and then stopped when he saw Lance lurking in the shadows of the doorway. "Lance."

"Lotor. I, um, I have too--Good-bye." Lance turned away and the light from the room caught his face, illuminating the heart-break and despair that ravaged his features. Then he was gone, heels clicking out in a harried staccato against the hallway. For a moment, Lotor wondered what could have caused such despair, then he realized and cursed silently, berating himself for being so tight-lipped about his relationship with Keith, and hurried after the pilot.

"Lance! Lance, wait. It's not what you think!" Lotor grabbed Lance's shoulder and spun the younger man around. "He--I--we're not, um, you know." Lotor grimaced and hit his forehead. "Stupid--No! Not you, me. Look, let me start over." He took a deep breath, tried to get out of his happy, giddy place he had been thrust into at Keith's words and regain some control over his mouth. "Keith and I--we're not, um, sleeping together. He's my brother. Half-brother. And we just found each other again, so--"

"Brother?" Lance blinked, open face shifting rapidly through anger to confusion to relief. "You mean you and he--"

"Same mother." Lotor shrugged, smiled, then turned serious. "Look, Lance, I need to talk to you about something."

"Can it wait?"

"No. Now look. I know you care for my brother. And I know that he cares for you. And that's great. But if you do anything to hurt him, I will hunt you down and hang you by your own entrails. Understand?"

Lance swallowed. "Yeah."

"Good. Take care of him for me, okay? He doesn't need me anymore; but he definitely needs you."

"All right." Lance smiled shakily as Lotor released him and straightened his jacket. "Lotor...Thank you."

Lotor rolled his eyes, the giddiness surging in him, and made shooing motions with his hands. "Go to him. Now. He needs someone to sit with him, and I'm certain that he'd prefer you over me."

Lance smiled again, firmer, more certain, and rushed off down the hall to Keith. Lotor watched him go, lips curled up, happy for his brother. But more importantly, happy for himself. A weight had been lifted, and the truth found out and nobody could be more content than Lotor because now his slate was clean and there was nothing to stop him from making a new beginning.

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