Author's note: This is sheer, unapologetic self-indulgence. I am a simple woman of simple desires and I just want my space sons to get along.

I've taken a few liberties with the Galra culture, I figure a lot of their culture is a lot like ancient Rome, what with the conquering,and the gladiator pits, so in keeping with that theme, I've decided that they all speak Latin now.

That being said, Lotor is a potty mouth when he's not restricted by Dreamworks and because the internet is a wonderful place, there are multiple websites devoted to naughty words in Latin, I'm using this one: latin/latin-profanity-how-to-swear-in-Latin/

On another note, I'm fairly certain that you can go temporarily blind from hitting your head? I'm bad about researching medical stuff, but I read The Cay in fourth grade and it happened there so I'm going with it. If I can't trust children's literature, what can I trust?

Hope you all enjoy!

DAY ONE

Pain flares in his shoulder, biting and sharp and Lance can't contain the gasp that descends into a groan. A voice mutters something, a curse, he thinks from the way its said. He knows that voice, his brow furrows as he tries to place it.

"Lie still, Paladin." The voice says and Lance feels his heart skip about fifteen beats, because yes, actually, he does know that voice.

"Lotor." His voice sounds like he's been thrown through a rusty meat grinder. He feels like he's been thrown through a rusty meat grinder. There's a sharp, persistent ache that starts in his shoulder and spreads out through the rest of his body with every beat of his heart.

That's not what's important though, he tells himself and grits his teeth. The important thing is that Lotor is close enough for Lance to hear the muttered curses he's saying under his breath. With a titanic effort, Lance braces himself against the pain and forces himself to move.

His right hand rises instinctively to cradle his left shoulder, where the pain is coming from. He has a brief moment to register warm slick blood and a lump of bone where there shouldn't be one before Lotor catches his wrist.

"Stop it." Lance growls. His throat hurts too, but whatever Lotor has planned will hurt more, he tells himself. The more he moves, the more he pays attention to reality, the more the pain seeps into him the icy water his mom had tossed on him when he wouldn't get up for school. He would give anything to be back in bed, warm and safe on earth, a hundred trillion miles away from everything going on right now.

His legs shift weakly instead of kicking the way he wants them to. Its so dark, he can't see so much as a speck of light. He tries to twist away from where he thinks Lotor is, but a heavy arm plants itself across his chest, just below his collar bone.

"Lie still!" Lotor snaps and the part of Lance that is apparently still living in the garrison immediately freezes. They are both quiet and still for a long second, waiting for someone to make a move, then Lotor lets up on the pressure on his chest. "Now then, if I had wanted you dead, I would simply have left you where I found you, paladin."

"I hope you don't think that's comforting." Lance says, and he tries to sit up again, but Lotor pushes him back to the ground easily.

Lotor sighs and mutters another unfamiliar curse. "Are all of you humans so very stubborn?" He asks, more to himself than to Lance.

Lance tries to pry Lotor's arm off his chest with his right hand. When he tries to move his left arm the pain explodes and for a moment he thinks he's going to pass out.

"Stop moving!" Lotor growls, and this time he puts a lot more weight behind the arm pinning Lance down. Lance gasps, trying to get air and surprisingly, Lotor pulls back

"Where are we?" Lance demands.

There is a long pause, then Lotor says: "In some sort of cave, I believe. We fell here when the ground collapsed."

Collapsed? Then he remembers, going on another razzle dazzle circuit, finding Lotor by accident, getting caught in the crossfire when Galra forces had found Lotor too. There had been a battle, he'd gotten separated from the others, caught out away from his lion, and then the ground had rumbled. Then nothing.

"Now listen," Lotor says, Lance can feel his breath against his face and he tries to turn his head away instinctively. Lotor grabs the top of his head and forces him to face forward, not that it does much good because it is still so dark. "I'm only going to explain this once, so. Pay. Attention." He emphasizes these last words with tugs on Lance's hair.

"If we're going to survive, we need each other. I don't expect trust between us, but we can have the next best thing."

"And what's that?" Lance asks.

"Mutually assured destruction." Lotor says simply. "You're injured, you won't survive this planet alone long enough for Voltron to find you, and I will not survive Voltron without you vouching for me."

"What makes you think that I won't turn on you the minute I'm back with my team?" Lance asks, like an idiot, because Lotor is right, if his arm is as messed up as he thinks it is, he won't survive long without help.

"Nobility is another of your species' annoying traits." Lotor grumbles, "if the Champion is any indication."

Lance snorts, but he doesn't say anything. He just needs to live long enough for the others to find him. "Fine. Deal or whatever. Is there a light?"

He sits up as much as Lotor will let him and peers around in the dark, for a moment he almost thinks that he has his eyes still closed, but he can feel himself blinking. Lotor doesn't answer.

"Lotor?" Lance asks, his voice is more hesitant that it should be, he needs to be a Paladin of Voltron, not the scared boy he feels like.

"...You cannot see?" Lotor asks quietly.

"No?" Lance says, and he feels panic rising up in his chest, "what, do Galra have some super special night vision that makes it look like daylight in here?" He laughs weakly, desperately.

"We do," Lotor says, "But I have a light right here, I was looking at your wound." There is the sound of something scraping lightly over stone as Lotor presumably picks up the light. His breath is on Lance's face again, but he can't see.

His fingers scrabble uselessly at Lotor's arm and his body jerks spasmodically. He needs to get up, he needs to get away and find the light. He has to get out of this cave, that's all, he just needs to get back to the surface, back to sunlight and his lion and the others. The pain in his left shoulder is burning through him but he ignores it, Lotor is trying to say something, Lance ignores him too. He's trying to trick him, he'll find some way to survive on his own, he just needs to see the sun.

"faex" Lotor says and swings a leg over Lance's waist, pinning him down. "Paladin, Paladin stop this nonsense, you will only injure yourself more. Let me take a look and perhaps I can find what is wrong."

Lance doesn't really believe him, but he's exhausted and Lotor's arm is cutting off his air again. He opens his eyes as wide as they will go like that will help, but there is still only darkness. A whimper wants to rise up in his throat. He's a pilot, he's the marksman he needs his eyes. He's useless without them. He can't be a bigger burden on the team, he needs to see. The universe can't do this to him, not when he's done so much for it. Doesn't it owe him at least this one thing?

Lotor let's up on his chest again and Lance takes a deep gasping breath. He takes another. Another. There isn't enough air. He's going to suffocate, blind and helpless with only his enemy for company.

"Paladin cease this foolishness." Lotor demands, but there might be a note of fear in his voice. "You are not suffocating, there is plenty of air here."

There isn't enough air on the whole planet. Lance gasps again, his head is swimming and if he could see he would bet that there would be blackness creeping in at the edges of his vision.

Fingers pinch his nose and the palm holds his jaw closed. Now he really can't breathe, he was right, Lotor is trying to kill him. Lance tries to thrash, but Lotor is pinning him again.

"Stop panicking." Lotor orders. "I'm going to let you breathe, do it slowly."

Then, miraculously, his hand moves and Lance can breathe again. He sucks in the largest breath he can manage and tries to buck Lotor off of his legs. Lotor covers his mouth again.

"What part of slowly are you having difficulty with?" He snarls. "Stop thrashing about like a newborn cub and let me help you." His hand doesn't move, Lance still can't breathe. A pleading whine rises in his throat despite his best efforts to keep it down. "Relax." Lotor says, his voice is calmer now, gentler. "I will move my hand when you stop fighting. You cannot attract attention to us."

Lance grits his teeth and makes his muscles go slack. He closes his eyes, for all the difference it makes. Slowly, carefully, Lotor lets up on his airway until Lance can pull in a deep breath and let it out.

Lotor sighs. "There, was that truly so difficult?" But his voice isn't harsh enough for the words. "As I was saying, let me take a look and perhaps I will see what the problem is, and then I need to get back to your shoulder."

Lance nods, but he can't make himself do anything more. He's exhausted now, between the pain and the panic and the looming despair. He wants to go to sleep and wake up in the castle. No, he wants to wake up back home, with his sisters fighting over who got the bathroom first, and his mother calling breakfast.

Lotor's fingers open his eye and Lance can feel his breath on his face again he jerks instinctively and Lotor hums a warning note. "Do not start that again."

Its almost surreal, to feel Lotor hold his eye open but see nothing. Lotor looks in his right eye, then his left, then his right again, then tells Lance to open both of them. He doesn't say anything.

"Well?" Lance snaps.

He feels Lotor's muscles tense, offended, but Lotor's voice is calm when he says, "I don't see anything wrong with you eyes, but you hit your head when you fell, perhaps that has something to do with it. Such injuries are not unknown, it may be that your vision will return when your brain heals."

Or he could be blind forever. Trapped in the dark, helpless, useless.

Lotor taps his cheek firmly, if it were any harder, Lance would be tempted to call it a slap. "Don't. I still need to look at your shoulder and make sure you haven't made that worse with all this nonsense."

Lance can hear him shifting in the dark, and then his hands are at his shoulder. Lance jerks and then gasps at the fresh wave of pain. "Steady." Lotor intones, and his hand rests lightly on Lance's chest, ready to restrain him again.

Lance swallows and breathes deeply. "Do you think you could...talk?" He says. Its stupid, what is Lotor going to talk about? They're enemies, trapped and only working together to survive, this isn't a tea party, they're not bros. Lotor seems to be thinking the same thing because he's quiet and his hands aren't moving on Lance's arm. Just when he's opened his mouth to apologize and say forget it, Lotor begins.

"There is a legend, from Dibazaal, about the founding of the Galra empire." His voice starts out hesitant, but grows more confident as he tells the story of the twin brothers, Galus and Gaelus each conquering their own kingdom. "Eventually, the two brothers had conquered all of the warring tribes and the only enemy left to fight was each other." Lotor's hands shift of Lance's arm, gripping around the bicep in a way that makes his shoulder twinge. "And so their armies met on the field of battle and Galus struck his brother down." He clamps a hand over Lance's mouth again and jerks sharply on his arm.

Lance screams as pain explodes through his body, making him arch against the ground, trying to twist away from Lotor, who has apparently finished story time and started murder time. His boots slide over the ground uselessly his free hand claws at Lotor's arm, but his gloves just slide off of the armor.

It takes a minute, but eventually he realizes that Lotor isn't doing anything more than keeping him from screaming. Breathing hard, Lance makes himself calm down enough to gather his thoughts. He'd suspected that his shoulder was dislocated, and according to movies it was best to put it back in place without warning. He glares in the direction he thinks Lotor is.

"Wht t fkk" He growls through Lotor's palm.

"I couldn't risk you screaming." Lotor says calmly. "There might still be Galra soldiers out looking for us." He moves his hand though.

"Great story." Lance rasps, "Terrible ending."

Lotor chuckles, "my apologies" His hands are still on Lance's shoulder though, pressing gently but firmly on the skin. "The good news is that I won't have to tell it again, it seems your shoulder is seated properly at least."

"Great." Lance says.

"You should rest." Lotor says, "I do not think we should stay here for much longer. I will scout ahead."

Fear grips his heart and Lance wants to make Lotor stay, he doesn't want to be here alone, in a strange place, possibly hunted by Galra. Not while he's still helpless. But that's ridiculous, he is a paladin of Voltron, and Lotor is the son of Emperor Zarkon. They're enemies, they just need each other for now. This isn't a truce, at best its a temporary cease fire.

"I will be back soon." Lotor says as though he's read Lance's mind, and then his footsteps are retreating somewhere off to Lance's right. To distract himself, he feels along his left shoulder, there's a deep cut just below the joint, but Lotor was right, it doesn't feel dislocated anymore.

"There's that at least." Lance mutters to himself. He hesitates for a moment, then waves his hand in front of his face. He can feel the air moving over his nose and cheeks, but he can't see his hand. He swallows hard and lays his head back on the hard rock.

Maybe Lotor is right and his vision will return.

Maybe it won't.

Lance squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to think about how tired he is. He can feel sleep rising up around him, tugging him down. Something shifts or cracks and suddenly he's awake and on full alert. He wishes he had his bayard, he wishes he could see so that he could aim his bayard.

"Lotor?" He calls softly. The air is still, there are no more sounds. His eyes are wide open like that's going to help. Maybe he was just hearing things, if it was a Galra patrol, they would have attacked by now.

Slowly, Lance lays back down and tries to fall asleep. He thinks he dozes for a while, but he wakes at every noise, real or imagined. He might dream, but they're vague, half formed things that he forgets as soon as he shoot back to awareness.

The sound is real the next time he wakes up, boots moving swiftly over stone. Lance pulls himself into a crouch, hands curling into fists. "Who's there?"

"Quiet!" Lotor hisses. "We have to move, now." His hand wraps around Lance's wrist so suddenly that Lance can't keep from flinching.

"What's going on?" He whispers.

"Galra." Lotor replies shortly. "They will be upon us before dawn."

"Its night time?" Lance says like an idiot. That was not the important part of the sentence.

"Could we just go?" Lotor growls and tugs at Lance's wrist until he's standing.

Laying down in a cave surrounded by enemy forces while you're blind is scary. Walking around in a cave surrounded by enemy forces while you're blind is absolutely terrifying.

He tries to go slowly, his free hand probing the air before him, but that doesn't do much when his feet catch in every dip and hole in the cave floor. He crunches over gravel and sends at least three rocks skidding loudly through the darkness.

"Are you trying to get us captured?" Lotor asks.

"I can't see" Lance hisses back.

Lotor pauses and Lance can almost imagine the considering look on his face. Lance tenses, will Lotor risk Voltron on his own and leave Lance here to be caught? Or will he try to pay his way through the Galra with a Paladin.

"I will have to carry you." Lotor says.

"What?"

"If we want to get out of here, we need to move quickly and quietly." Lotor tugs Lance closer and Lance resists the urge to dig his heels in. He knows Lotor is right, that he's going to get them caught like this, but the thought of being carried prickles at his pride.

Lotor doesn't give him any time to protest, the ground falls away from his feet and Lance instinctively reaches out for something, anything to grab onto. Vertigo swirls through his mind and turns his stomach. He swallows hard and tries to find something to steady himself.

The sensation doesn't last long, Lotor's shoulder armor digs into his chest and stomach, grounding him again. He can feel Lotor's hand holding his calves, keeping him from sliding off. For a second, he thinks this might work, then Lotor moves and he knows its a terrible idea.

With his head dangling upside down over Lotor's shoulder, the bouncing makes the world tip and spin like the worst kind of roller coaster. Lance feels the vertigo and nausea welling back up and the pressure of Lotor's shoulder in his stomach isn't helping. He tries to lay his palms on Lotor's back and push himself up but Lotor growls, "Stay down, do you want them to see us?"

"Do you want me to throw up?" Lance snaps back. "This isn't going to work, my head is spinning."

Lotor groans, but he comes to a stop and Lance feels himself being pulled down from his shoulder. He isn't returned to the ground, instead Lotor cradles him to his chest. "What the hell?" Lance hisses.

"Shut up." Lotor snaps.

Despite how utterly humiliating it is to be carried like a sleepy child, it does work better than dangling over Lotor's shoulder. He bounces less here and he can feel the solid wall of Lotor's chest against his right side. They move in starts and stops, pelting from one cover to the next. At one point, Lance can hear footsteps in the distance and the whirr of sentries moving.

He keeps moving his head like he's trying to look around, even though he knows it won't do any good. He can smell wet earth and something that might be plants, its hard to tell with alien worlds. He can hear the chirping of insects, or possibly birds all around them and he reaches a hand out into the darkness and his fingers touch something wet and smooth.

"Is this a forest?" He asks after they have moved away from the sounds of the sentries.

"Yes." Lotor replies. "We will make camp soon and I will see if any of it is edible."

"I could-" Lance starts to say, but he stops himself, what could he possibly do? He had to be carried out of the cave, he can't wander around in the middle of a forest with roots and plants to trip him up. Not to mention who knows what kind of predators to take one look at his dumb ass stumbling around bumping into everything and decide 'yeah, that looks too stupid to live'.

He misses Red, he misses Blue. Not just because they would mean safety and supplies, he misses the quiet presence of someone older and larger than himself in the back of his mind. Lending him their stability, their knowledge, letting him hide his insecurities in the confidence that comes from living thousands of years.

Lotor comes to a stop, and Lance almost thinks that they're setting up camp, but there is a tension in Lotor's muscles.

"What's going on?" Lance asks in a whisper in case there's Galra nearby.

"We have reached a ravine." Lotor replies, he is speaking at normal volume. No Galra then. "There looks to be fresh water at the bottom, but I see no easy path down. We may have to climb."

Fuck.

"There's no way I can climb like this." Lance says.

"Do you think you could cling to my back?" Lotor says like he hates even suggesting it.

Lance shifts his left shoulder, a dull flare of pain follow the motion, but dies down quickly. "Yeah, I think so."

Lotor lowers his feet to the ground and Lance runs his hands through the air around them. He doesn't think that Lotor would set him down right on the edge of the ravine, but his instincts scream that if he takes a step in any direction he'll fall off the edge. His fingers brush against Lotor's arm and curl themselves around it automatically.

Lance tells himself that he isn't clinging to him, he's just making sure that if he does fall off the cliff, Lotor will come with him. Mutually assured destruction.

Lotor pries his fingers off his arm and Lance has to bite his tongue to keep from making a sound. A second later, he can feel the edge of Lotor's shoulder under his fingers. He feels along with his right hand until he finds the other shoulder and then grits his teeth and hooks his left arm over Lotor's chest.

A low groan escapes him as the pain boils up, but it dims to a low simmer once he stops moving.

"You are in pain." Lotor says.

"Life is pain, highness." Lance quotes. "Anyone who says otherwise is selling something."

"A wise proverb." Lotor says after a moment of consideration.

Lance snorts. "Its from an old movie."

"Movie?"

"A story, sort of like a play, except recorded and played for people on a screen. The quote is from The Princess Bride. It was my sister's favorite movie. We used to watch it every weekend before she went to college." He hooks his right arm around Lotor and tangles his fingers together. "Ready."

Lotor stands and Lance wraps his legs around his waist. Lotor twists and stretches, making sure he can move properly. "I have told you a tale of my home, I believe it is your turn." Lotor says, Lance can feel his steps as he walks to the edge. They were a good ten feet away from it, he notes.

"How far down?" Lance asks.

"Not far." Lotor replies. "Now, I wish to hear of this 'princess bride'"

Some part of Lance recognizes that Lotor is just trying to distract him from the fact that he's about to dangle off the edge of a cliff, without any safety equipment, with only his injured arm to keep him from falling down into the endless dark. The rest of him is happy to forget about the terror and the pain and sink back into the simple story where true love wins out and everything ends happily.

He's only gotten to the part where the man in black tricks Vizzini when he feels Lotor's weight shift and he realizes that they've reached the ground. "We're down." Lotor says a second later and crouches so Lance can get down from his back. His left shoulder is stiff and painful when he tries to move it, but Lance is so glad to be back on solid ground that he can't bring himself to care.

He can hear water trickling to his left, and the air seems cooler down here. "What time is it?" He asks, crouching down and touching his fingertips to the smooth sand of the bank.

"Almost mid day, I believe." Lotor says, his boots crunch over to Lance and then go a few steps farther. He hears Lotor's hands plunge into the water and lift some to his mouth. Lance feels his way over until he's next to him and touches the water. Its moving, that's probably good, he thinks he remembers something about still water being more likely to have diseases. He doesn't think they can risk a fire, and even if they could, they probably don't have anything to hold the water over the flame.

He leans forward, his left shoulder is still stiff and painful, so he cups his right palm and reaches out over the water. The sand shifts beneath his weight and for a terrible moment, he imagines himself loosing his balance and falling into the water. He has no way to know how deep it is, how far he would sink, and what if there's a current deeper in? He pulls back without getting a drink.

"How deep is it?" he asks Lotor.

There's a splash, Lotor dipping his hand in? Lotor throwing a rock in? Are there even rocks around?

"Not very." Lotor says, "You would be able to stand, I think."

Still, Lance plants himself firmly on the bank and his left hand finds Lotor's arm again when he leans out over the water. Just in case Lotor tries to push him in. The water is cool and refreshing, and Lance can't taste anything nasty in it at least.

"It looks like we can follow the creek." Lotor says, "Perhaps it will lead us out of this forest."

Lance nods so he can feel like he's actually helping instead of siting there like a concussed duckling, following his enemy around cheeping in distress. "Do you think there's fish in there?" He asks. He's helping, he's got good ideas, that counts.

Lotor is silent for a moment, looking in the water?

"There aren't any here, but perhaps further downstream."

Lance nods and pulls away from the water, even though he knows it isn't too deep, he can't get the thought of falling in out of his head. A shudder wracks its way down his spine, reigniting the pain in his shoulder.

His fingers brush against something solid and thin enough to wrap around. He feels the texture, a stick maybe? Its a bit longer than his arm, mostly straight, it feels sturdy. He'd seen blind people back on earth, could he use a cane like them?

Part of him recoils from the thought, somehow he feels like fashioning himself a cane will make this more permanent. He shakes his head to get rid of the thought. The future isn't important right now, he tells himself, right now all he has to do is make sure he doesn't get his head blasted off by Glara, and having a cane will help with that.

"Your tale," Lotor says, suddenly right behind Lance. He jumps, his fingers tightening around the stick. "You did not finish it, we should keep moving, but I would like to hear the ending. This man in black is a cunning foe and I would like to know his goal."

"The Princess Bride," Lance says, and there's a smile on his face, "Beloved through all cultures."

He walks for a while, feeling out the ground with his new stick and holding onto Lotor's arm. Eventually though, they come across the aftermath of a rock slide, and there are too many bumps and holes for Lance's stick to find before he sticks his foot in them. Lotor carries him over it, leaping from boulder to boulder like a gazelle or something.

"We will need to stop for the night soon." Lotor says a few hours later. Lance's stick gets caught on something and it slips out of his fingers.

"Damn it." He hisses and crouches, fingers searching the ground. There must be about sixteen other sticks though, or maybe they're vines, whatever they are, Lance can't find his stick.

"Here." Lotor says and presses it into his hand. "It gets cold at night, it wasn't as much of a problem in the cave, but it will be out in the open."

"How long was I unconscious?" Lance asks, he hadn't considered that before, too distracted by everything else going on.

"A day, perhaps." Lotor says.

Shit. Lance thinks, that means its been almost two days. Where are the others? The Galra are clearly still around, had they driven them off? Had they left him?

He wants to immediately cast the thought away, but its persistent, humming around him like a fly on a hot summer day. They have enough Paladins for all the Lions now, they don't really need him. He's useless anyway, without his sight, why would they bother coming.

They don't know about that though, he tells himself. Its a weak reassurance.

"So do we need to make a fire?" He asks Lotor to distract himself.

"That would be best," Lotor replies, "But I fear our enemies would find us if we tried."

"Damn. What if we like, put a branch or something over it," Lance says, thinking back to the survival shows his mom had loved to watch. "Break up the smoke or whatever."

Lotor hums, "that would do for during the day, if there are fish in this water, but at night they would be more likely to follow the light of the fire than the smoke."

"We could-" He doesn't want to be the one to suggest it. He really doesn't want to do it at all, but it would be better if he could at least say it was Lotor's idea.

"What?" Lotor says.

Damn it all. "Body heat." Lance says.

Lotor is quiet for a long moment. "I suppose that is the only way." he says.

"Looks like." Lance replies.

They're both quiet after that, and Lance hate's the quiet, he can hear all things moving and even though he knows its still light out, he can feel the sun on his skin, the constant darkness makes him think its night. "So, I think its your turn." He says to keep the sounds of rustling leaves away. Who knows what was moving through the foliage.

"Hm? Ah, yes." Lotor says. He tells a story about a warrior named Scaevola, who apparently stuck his hand into a fire to prove his loyalty to the Galra empire. Lance supposes its meant to be inspiring.

He counters it with the plot of Transformers, because Optimus Prime is a much better role model.

"That is utterly ridiculous." Lotor tells him.

"So is sticking your hand in a fire." Lance replies. Lotor doesn't have a comeback for that one.

They walk for another hour after that, until Lotor comes to a stop. Lance keeps going for a couple more steps until he realizes Lotor has stopped.

"I believe this will make a serviceable camp." Lotor announces.

Lance can hear the water moving beside them, but there's a different tone to it now, something deeper, like there's more now. Is it a river? There is gravel under them, it crunches as Lotor moves. Lance follow him, his stick sweeping out in front of him. He's pretty sure there's an art to doing this, but he has no idea what it is. Mostly he just waves it in the air and hopes that it hits whatever is in front of him before his face does.

"This is gonna be a treat to sleep on." Lance mutters to himself.

Lotor huffs a laugh, "It will be better than the cave floor."

Lance crouches down and feels the stones, they're mostly smooth, like those playground rocks back on earth. "True. How deep is the water?" He can still hear it off to his left, he's thirsty, but he can't bring himself to go near it.

"It is deeper than the last place we stopped." Lotor says, "I think we are getting closer to its source."

Lotor doesn't say anything, but he guides Lance over to the bank and takes a drink first. Lance holds onto his arm again. Mutually assured destruction. He tells himself. That's all it is.

"The sun is going down." Lotor says.

"Right." Lance replies. "How cold does it get again?"

"Cold."

"Great." He isn't looking forward to this.

They settle down fairly far apart, given the point of this little exercise is to share body heat. Lance can tell Lotor is still awake from his breathing, he thinks Lotor knows he's still up too.

The stones beneath them are actually fairly warm, having absorbed the heat of the sun all day long. Its a few hours before Lance really starts feeling cold. "Are there stars?" He asks when the sounds of the river and the shifting foliage start getting to him again.

"No." Lotor says, "there are clouds over the sky."

"Oh." Lance shifts his fingers, trying to bury his hands in the lukewarm rocks as quietly as he can. Beneath the surface, the rocks are cold and damp though and he covers the spot back up. He shifts a half inch closer to Lotor.

They're both laying on their backs, even though Lance is really a side sleeper. Sharing body heat is bad enough, he isn't going to be Lotor's little spoon. Or big spoon.

He dozes again, this time he isn't woken so easily by the sounds, at least part of him trusts that Lotor will wake him if there's any danger. Instead he keeps waking up from the cold, or the uncomfortable rocks, or the unpleasant ache in his stomach. The water hadn't really helped fill him up like he'd hoped it might. Instead it seems to have woken his stomach and now he's hungry.

Its a long night.