Work Text:
It was water time.
This was Lance’s favorite time of the day. Being a waterbender in a firebender prison, there was a lot of wariness about actually allowing him any water, so it only happened one or two times a day. It sucked, not being around water, not being able to bend it, to just be with it. He’d always been one with his element, someone who could live in water if he was asked, and being so vastly separated from it left him weak and weary to the bone.
“Stand,” a guard demanded, and Lance pushed himself shakily to his feet. He did everything shakily these days, probably due to dehydration. They didn’t want him to be able to bend anything, so they couldn’t risk having him sweat. Even his use of the bathroom was monitored.
If Lance’s mouth could’ve watered, it would have at the sight of the bucket and ladle before him. His whole world revolved around this ladle, which was probably sad, if he stopped to actually think about it. Before, his world had been all about the resistance, all about doing anything to help the avatar, and now he was here. Now, he could care less about the avatar, about the Fire Nation. He just wanted a drink.
“Hold him,” the guard ordered, and Lance’s spine stiffened as he prepared himself. There were a few guards that rotated through this level of the prison, and Lance had grown used to them by now. There was the mean, gruff one that was before him now, and the multitude of silent and glaring ones that liked to rough Lance up, yanking him back hard against his cage as they held fast to his hands, keeping him from bending. As if Lance would ever bother, anyway. He liked his semi-regular sips of water, thank you very much.
But as soft hands wrapped around Lance’s wrists, a breath of relief escaped him, and he relaxed. He was pulled gently toward the back of the cage, the hands firm around his wrists but not painful, not unrelenting. There was only one guard like this, and he was Lance’s favorite.
He had a name, everybody had a name, but Lance had no idea what it was. He just thought of him as the gentle guard. Soft hands. Warm eyes.
“Drink,” the first guard ordered, and he spooned the ladle into the bucket sloppily and held it through the bars of the cage, water spilling over its edges, landing unnoticed on the floor.
Lance leaned forward, trying to get a sip of the water, but it was held too far out of reach, the bastard. The guard laughed, the sound echoing loudly in the silent room. Silent not because it was empty, but because the prisoners rarely spoke.
“You thirsty, little waterbender?” the guard taunted as Lance strained his neck, tried to lean forward enough to gulp the precious water so infrequently given to him. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to bend another element. Or even to bend nothing at all.
Waterbending was something Lance had always been proud of, something he’d always considered his best trait, and now he’d give it up in the blink of an eye, if only to be able to drink freely like all the other prisoners.
Lance’s lip barely touched the edge of the ladle, barely damped with the presence of water, before it was being yanked away from him and sloshed back into the bucket. A sob wrenched itself from Lance’s mouth, completely unbidden. In the first days, weeks, he’d been here, he’d been silent, stoic. He’d kept a hard face, not wanting anyone to think he was weak, even as he slowly grew more and more desperate.
Now, Lance couldn’t care less. Seeing the water leave him wrenched something inside him in two, and he collapsed against the bars behind him, gasping as he croaked, “No, no, please…”
The guard’s laugh was booming, and he turned sharply to leave, to leave Lance without any water. Being constantly thirsty was agonizing. His lips were cracked, and he didn’t doubt they’d break more, bleed, if he tried to smile. Thankfully, he hadn’t had need to smile in a long time.
“Let’s go, Keith,” the guard ordered, and Soft Hands — Keith — ‘s fingers twitched against Lance’s wrists, almost faltered, before he was letting go of him and following the superior officer. Lance collapsed to the floor of his cage, sobbing, though no tears came. They couldn’t.
On the ground before him, there were a few droplets of water, ones that’d spilled with the guard’s carelessness.
Save them, Lance thought to himself for a moment, feverishly, fervently. Use them.
But then Lance’s lips were pressed against the floor of his cage, and he was sucking those few drops of water into his mouth. There, his body curled inward, shaking as he reigned in the desire to continue sobbing.
He wasn’t being beaten, wasn’t being strung up or burned or cut, but this wasn’t any less of an evil brand of torture.
Lance had already resigned himself to spend the day like that, laying curled right there until he could find the strength to move again, when he heard the sloshing of water. Oh great, he was hallucinating now. Perfect.
“Waterbender.” It was said lowly, but still loud enough to get Lance’s attention. It was practically his name, in this place. He hadn’t heard his real one in months.
Lance’s eyes peeled open. Standing before him was the guard. Soft Hands.
“Keith?” Lance croaked, and the guard’s eyes widened at the use of his name.
“Just get up,” he instructed. “Hurry.”
Lance wasn’t one to disobey a guard’s orders, not anymore, so he used the strength of every weak muscle in his body to get back to his feet.
“Drink.”
It wasn’t until that moment that Lance realized the guard was holding the water bucket and ladle, the latter currently extended through the bars. He’d come back? Just to give Lance water?
Lance stumbled forward, half expecting the thing to be taken away from him again, but it wasn’t. His hands came up grip the ladle, and Keith stiffened, looking like maybe he’d realized this was a bad decision, but Lance just directed the thing to his mouth and drank. The water was gone in seconds, entirely consumed by Lance, and then he was shoving the ladle back at Keith, demanding gruffly, “More.”
“Waterbender…”
“Lance,” Lance said, because he’d kind of give anything just to hear his name again. Keith didn’t say it.
“I can’t,” he said instead. “You know I can’t.”
Lance’s fingers clenched around the bars. He wasn’t even looking at Keith, at his eyes through the slits of that mask; he was just staring at the water bucket, watching the water lick up against the sides.
His hands were free. He could waterbend that water directly into his mouth. The thought occurred to him, fleetingly, but in the same manner other thoughts did. The ones that sounded like, I could just refuse their water entirely. And then, one day, I won’t have to be in pain anymore. The kind of thoughts that seemed to make total sense, even if Lance knew he would never act on it.
“Please,” he said. “Just — just one more. I’m so thirsty.”
Keith looked on the verge of saying no. His fingers were tight on the ladle, his posture stiff and wary. But then his head whipped back and forth, checking that he was still the only guard present, and he splashed the ladle back into the bucket.
“Just one more,” he said, as he pushed it through the bars again, and Lance drank it gratefully, greedily. After that, Keith really did leave, but Lance was sated and happy as he watched him go.
Thus began the start of a great friendship.
Or, as great as a friendship could be, when one of you was a guard and the other his prisoner.
—
Lance still blamed himself for them getting caught. He’d always considered himself the leader of their group.
“You’re not our leader,” Pidge had scoffed one time when Lance had brought it up. “We make decisions unanimously. We have no leader.”
And that was true, Lance would admit. They’d spent nights under the stars, talking amongst themselves as they’d figured out where they would go next, how they could help the most, make the most impact. But when it came down to it, Lance had still led them. He’d commanded them in battle, coming up with and laying out plans in an instant, ones which everyone would follow without question.
It’d been him that’d come up with the idea of posing as Fire Nation citizens and trying to learn more from the inside in order to help the resistance. He hadn’t ever expected them to get caught, but they had been. And it was all his fault.
His only solace was the fact that he knew no one could possibly have it as bad as him. They were already in a big metal prison, so there’d be no extra precautions to take against Hunk, the earthbender in their group. And neither Pidge nor Allura could actually bend, so the three of them were probably all located on a lower floor with the regular cells. Who knew, they might even be next to each other. Might be able to talk to each other, to ease some of the pain of their constant boredom.
In the beginning, Lance had tried to inquire after them, had tried to demand answers about how they were, but the guards had always refused to answer him. Lance had learned to stop asking.
Now, though, he felt the curiosity come back. The need to know how they were, if they were doing okay, if they were still even here. They could’ve been moved to another prison months ago and Lance never would’ve known.
And now, finally, he was thinking he might be able to get some of those answers.
Keith quickly became Lance’s one and only ally in this prison. He’d always been kinder than the others, had always treated Lance with the respect one was supposed to be treated with in a prison, but ever since he’d come back to give Lance water, they’d shared these looks. And twice since then he’d given Lance extra water, even though Lance had been allowed to actually drink from the ladle when it was presented to him the first time. Somehow, some way, he’d managed to find the one person with a heart in this entire prison.
Logically, Lance knew every person in the Fire Nation couldn’t be evil. No one was born evil, after all, and everyone in the Fire Nation was taught that their nation was meant to rule, that it was taking over land and cities simply to push other civilizations into a similar time of peace and prosperity. Regular citizens weren’t privy to the knowledge that their leaders were commanding its armies to burn entire cities to the ground, to take in any non-firebenders they saw and punish them, imprison them.
But the idea of finding someone who wasn’t evil in the Fire Nation’s army? Someone who still had some semblance of morality even after signing up to join the people that threatened innocents?
That he’d never expected. Keith was like water in a desert, and not just because he brought Lance water sometimes. Just his presence in general was refreshing.
Always, one guard was left to monitor the prisoners, standing at the door impassively until it was their time to switch. Sometimes, if the guard was particularly cruel, they’d taunt the prisoners, would have one to pick on for the day. Lance seemed to be a favorite.
But when it was Keith, no one was ever picked on. Pleas were answered, moans investigated. Lance had watched Keith bring prisoners to the bathroom despite it not being their allotted time. He’d watched him refill their canteens and offer them bits of dried meat from the pouches on his hips.
However Keith had ended up in here, he wasn’t a bad person. Lance could tell that much.
And sometimes, he talked to Lance. It was wonderful, having a reason to use his voice again, a reason to express his thoughts and engage in conversation. One conversation with Keith could have him in a good mood for the rest of the day. The first time he’d actually said Lance’s name, Lance had laughed for the first time in months.
“Do you ever guard on the lower levels?” Lance found himself asking one day, as Keith stopped in front of his cell. He was polite with the other prisoners, but he never really stopped to chat with them. Lance wondered what he’d done to have made Keith take a liking to him.
“Not usually,” he answered. “They need the strongest firebenders up here, so.”
Lance blinked. He hadn’t realized they were specially guarded. Hadn’t realized Keith was one of the strongest firebenders here.
“Oh,” he said sadly.
“How come?”
“My friends are down there,” Lance said simply. “I just wanted to know how they were doing.” Keith’s eyebrows pinched together. It was that same look he got whenever he thought about how horribly Lance was being treated, though he never voiced it out loud.
All the other prisoners got to leave their cells, got to have yard time and actually talk to the other prisoners. Lance was too big of a risk, however. They couldn’t let a waterbender out, couldn’t chance having him attempt to escape. And so he sat in this cage and rotted, day in and day out.
“How long have you been here?” Keith said suddenly, and Lance looked up at him in confusion. It made sense that Keith hadn’t been here forever — Lance could remember a time when there’d never been a guard who’d handled him gently, who’d come back to give him water, but he couldn’t think of how long ago that’d been.
The only way he even knew how long he’d been here was because of the full moons. It would come, and Lance would feel the power of it surge through his veins, making sitting in a cell that much more agonizing, when he should be out there, making good use of his bending.
“Six months,” Lance finally answered. A door on the other side of the room rattled as another guard entered and Keith walked away from Lance, signaling the end of their conversation.
—
Keith was used to barbaric treatment.
He’d grown up with it, having been left in a basket on the stoop of St. Anne’s Orphanage when he was a baby. As one might’ve guessed, St. Anne wasn’t really a saint and the majority of kids that’d made it out of that orphanage were probably more fucked up than their adoptive parents had bargained for. They were used to being yelled at on the daily, used to being beaten when they were bad and starved when there wasn’t enough to go around.
For the even unluckier kids like Keith, who’d remained unadopted and aged out of the system, the military was their only option. It wasn’t like they could afford anything else, and they weren’t allowed to work while they lived at the Orphanage — all their labor went to cooking and cleaning. The kids essentially were the staff. And so, with no other options left to them, they’d been carted off to the military the second they’d turned eighteen.
Since leaving the Orphanage, though, Keith had learned that it wasn’t just St. Anne that was barbaric. He’d learned of the Fire Nation’s success and glory and goodwill just like any other kid in the Fire Nation, but being a part of the military had shown him that this wasn’t true at all. For once, he was the barbaric one, expected to burn cities to the ground, to fight for the “good” of the Fire Nation.
He’d refused. His higher ups had tried to beat some sense into him, but that wasn’t really something that could affect him as much as it effected all the soldiers that’d actually signed up for this shit, having come from happy homes where a hand had probably never been laid on them.
With Keith refusing to fight, he’d ended up being sent here, to the prison. It was a threat. A demonstration of just where he’d find himself if he didn’t start following orders, didn’t start taking all of this seriously.
Somehow, Keith was pretty sure this plan was going to backfire on his commanders as well. It was insane how horribly the prisoners were treated, how little regard for human life the majority of his fellow soldiers had. It was like they were forgetting these prisoners were actually people.
Keith was trying to take a stand in his own way. He was kind where other guards were cruel, giving while others only took. He’d made it his personal mission to try to make a difference for these prisoners, to help them in whatever way he could.
Most horribly treated, however, was the waterbender. He was kept with the rest of the high-risk prisoners, the one’s who’d caused the most trouble for the Fire Nation, but he was treated even worse than them. It broke Keith’s heart every time he saw him, probably leaning against the wall of his cage, horribly dehydrated. It hurt to hear him speak, his voice grating on Keith’s ears when he knew it should probably be flawless and smooth. He just wanted to be able to do something for him, wanted to be able to make him feel better in some way.
Maybe that was why he was down here now, trying to seem casual on a floor he had absolutely no business being on. It’d taken a lot of snooping around and eavesdropping, but he was confident that Lance’s companions, whoever they were, were on this floor.
The difference between this floor of the prison and Lance’s was startling and disheartening. The low thrum of conversation was steady throughout the floor, and the guards here didn’t even mind it. Down here it was two to a cell, meaning everyone was even less bored and lonely. Not to mention the fact that they got fed and watered consistently and were let out into the yard every day.
Keith strolled slowly down the cell block, trying to look like he was supposed to be here while also trying desperately to figure out how he was supposed to know who Lance’s friends were. In the end, it was completely by chance that he found them.
“—ssible, would need someone on the inside. Not to mention Lance—”
Keith did an abrupt stop, glad there were no other guards around to comment on how suspicious he was acting. He stepped right up to the bars, interrupting whatever conversation the prisoners were having in order to say, “Did you just say ‘Lance’?”
The prisoners quietened immediately, sharing suspicious glances with each other. They were polar opposites, one of them absolutely tiny and the other huge, compared to her.
“No,” the little one said, the two of them having apparently come to a silent decision. Keith frowned, sure they were lying to them.
“Lance?” Keith further prompted. He lowered his voice, “The waterbender?”
The big guy let out a shuddering breath, demanding, “How is he?!” in a rush of words.
“Hunk!” the small one reprimanded.
“He’s… okay,” Keith said slowly. He wasn’t sure how much Lance’s friends would really want to know, considering the fact that there was nothing they could do to help Lance’s situation. “He wanted to know how you guys were doing, actually.”
“And what are you getting out of this?” the small one demanded.
Keith shrugged. “I’m just trying to make him happier. Are you two his companions, then? Can I tell him you’re doing fine?”
The two friends exchanged looks again, obviously wary and confused. Keith looked around anxiously, sure some other guard was going to happen to stroll down and question him any second now.
Finally, the small one reached out and banged her fist against the wall behind her. “Allura!” she said.
“What?” a voice called back.
“If Lance were to ask how you were, what would you say?”
“That he needs to stop worrying about us all the time,” came the immediate answer.
“There’s also her,” she said, angling her thumb over her shoulder. “And I’m Pidge. We’re all doing fine.”
Keith nodded, happy with the report he could take back to the waterbender.
“So…” Hunk said, making Keith’s feet freeze in place for a moment longer. He was wringing his hands together nervously. “Lance is really okay then?”
Keith hesitated. “Yes.”
“You hesitated,” said Pidge.
Keith glanced around impatiently once more. Still alone, he looked back at the prisoners. “He’s dehydrated,” he said simply. “They wouldn’t give him any water at all, if it were allowed.”
Immediately, Keith regretted sharing the news. He hated the way their faces shuttered, horror making itself known in their expressions. And they were right to be horrified — who wouldn’t be? Other than the majority of the guards in this place, anyway.
“He’s less dehydrated, these days,” Keith hurried to add, hoping it was true. He did his best to sneak Lance extra water when he could, but he had to be careful. If he was caught, he’d be thrown in jail right along with Lance, or possibly just killed to save everyone the trouble. Then Lance would truly have no one on his side.
With that, Keith was forced to turn and leave, sure if he stayed a moment longer he’d be caught. He couldn’t help feeling like he needed to do more, however. Couldn’t help that niggling feeling of worry and regret.
—
As usual, it was Keith who saved him.
He was being held back against the bars by one guard, the other holding the ladle before his face. Normally, seeing the ladle gave him reason to rejoice, the prospect of water always so exciting. Now, though, he was doing everything in his ability to avoid taking a sip, seeing as the firebender before him had brought it to a boiling before holding it out to him.
Keith wasn’t even supposed to be there, Lance was pretty sure. He just walked into the room and catalogued the situation in a second, striding casually forward to avoid looking out of the ordinary and saying, “Do you guys really have nothing better to do?”
“Not really,” the guard behind Lance said.
“You gonna stop us, Kogane?” said the other.
“If I have to,” Keith responded.
Then, everything slowed. For one, blissful second, Lance thought they were going to listen to Keith. But then the guard before him was sneering, and his hand was jerking, and he was splashing the boiling water all down Lance’s front.
A scream tore out of him, and he somehow managed to wrestle his arms out of the guard’s grasp to instead yank the gray shift all prisoners wore over his head, panting and sobbing as he tried to get the heat away from his skin. His chest was already an angry red and hearing the laughter echoing around him wasn’t helping in the slightest. Lance sank to the floor of his cell with a whimper, his fingers fluttering around his burned skin, unable to do anything to help the pain.
“You guys are sick,” someone said angrily, and there was some more jeering, but then it grew quiet again, Lance’s labored breathing the loudest thing in the room. He flinched when he heard footsteps by his cell again.
“It’s just me,” Keith said, and then he was opening the cell, stepping in to join Lance. Nothing like that had ever happened before.
He came closer, ladle in hand, and started pouring water over Lance’s chest. The relief was instant, the water dribbling down his stomach and soaking into the hem of his pants, running off his sides and snaking toward the drains. The thought of waterbending didn’t even occur to him. It never did.
Keith dipped the ladle back in, repeating the action slowly, as if by doing so he could continuously pour water onto Lance’s burn instead of having to stop after a few seconds. It felt better when the water was on it, but the second the ladle ran out, it grew hot and painful again.
“Can’t some waterbenders use their bending to heal?” Keith asked quietly, his third scoop of water now running down Lance’s chest.
“Yeah,” Lance said. Before he’d been captured, healing had been something he’d spent a lot of time practicing. He hadn’t gotten very good at it yet, only really able to heal small injuries, but even that would probably be enough to reduce his current pain monumentally.
“Can you?” Keith asked, and then he gestured with the ladle towards Lance’s chest. “I’ll let you,” he said. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Lance blinked up at him, something in his chest growing stupidly warm, and this time, it wasn’t the burn. But he shook his head. “I can’t,” he lied, because the thought of waterbending made his fingers curl into his palms, made his lungs constrict, his entire body tighten. Sometimes he wondered if he’d still even be able to waterbend at all, if he tried.
“That’s too bad,” Keith sighed sadly. “I’ll bring you a healing salve later tonight. I don’t think I can get it to you any sooner, unfortunately.”
Lance just nodded, overwhelmed with some unhelpful emotion. He couldn’t help wondering why Keith was so nice to him in the first place. Why he went out of his way, risked his position, for Lance.
Keith pulled out the ladle again, but this one he directed to Lance’s mouth, which Lance sipped gratefully. By the time it was returned to the bucket and Keith had stepped out of the cell, he said, “Also. Your friends are all fine.”
Lance’s head whipped up to look at him so fast something in his neck cracked, but Keith was already looking both ways and walking casually away, totally oblivious to the way Lance’s heart was thundering in his chest, adrenaline racing through his veins. His friends were fine. His friends were fine.
God, knowing them, they were completely restless locked up in there. Lance wouldn’t be surprised if they had a million half-formed escape plans going on, occupying them when nothing else could.
His chest hurt a lot less, then. Instead of concentrating on it, he spent hours thinking about his friends, reminiscing over their adventures together and making himself huff with laughter a few times when he remembered something particularly funny one of them had done. A sudden, fierce pang of longing came over him, a desire so deep to be with them that it ached.
Fantasies started playing through his head. Not ones where they all escaped or were never even captured in the first place, but ones where Lance displayed especially good behavior in the prison, ones where the prison guards decided he was a good prisoner, worthy of being kept on the same floor as his friends. It was sad, maybe, but right then it was all he really wanted. What he wouldn’t give to hear Hunk’s laugh, to listen to Pidge rant about anything that made her angry, to plop his head down on Allura’s lap and convince her to play with his hair.
Lance hadn’t realized he was hydrated enough, through Keith’s ministrations alone, to cry again. Not until it started happening accidentally, the tears running down his face as he imagined simply being with his friends, even if they were still in this awful prison.
God, if there was only some way this could all be over. Some way that they could actually escape.
Unfortunately, even the idea of escaping felt impossible. Not unless the rebel forces actually defeated the Fire Nation and liberated all their prisons. Lance had felt a lot better about the rebels’ prospects when he’d been on the outside with them, performing raids and picking apart the Fire Nation in whatever ways he could. Now, everything just felt kind of hopeless. Go figure.
It was hours later that Keith returned with the salve, finding Lance sitting in the exact same position he’d left him in. Lance sat still and pretended his entire body wasn’t desperate for pleasant human touch, like he wasn’t tempted to pull Keith closer and hug him tight when he slathered the salve onto Lance’s chest for him, his fingers gentle yet methodical against his burns.
“You’re gonna be all right,” Keith promised, his voice low and as comforting as the healing salve on Lance’s chest. “We’ll figure something out.”
Lance’s eyes flickered open, because at some point they’d fluttered shut, and he found himself staring into Keith’s eyes, inexplicably believing him. The idea that Lance could ever be all right again, that anything could be figured out, was laughable. Unless he were to escape, of course.
Except Keith had this hardened, determined look in his eyes, which made Lance wonder.
In all his time here, he’d never thought of escaping. Sure, when he’d first been dragged in in chains, still kicking and screaming, it’d been on his mind. A constant undercurrent of this isn’t permanent. I’ll get out of here. I’ll get us all out of here. But that hope had been quickly crushed, and ever since, Lance hadn’t dared to dream of it.
Sometimes he wondered if his friends still thought of escape.
“Don’t lose hope, Lance,” Keith said, his hand momentarily reaching out to squeeze Lance’s. Not for the first time, Lance wondered why Keith bothered to be so nice, why he even cared at all, why he didn’t seem to be on the opposite side of the war. And while Lance had already lost hope, had watched that flame sputter and die months ago, he thought he felt something like a spark. Felt just a little bit warmer inside.
—
Lance could say with confidence that Keith was his ally. At first, it’d been tentative, neither of them really trusting the other at all. In the back of Lance’s mind, he’d always associated Keith with the other guards, thought it was only a matter of time before he turned on Lance and hurt him too. And Keith had been thinking similar things of Lance, convinced he was taking advantage and planning to attack Keith once he’d gotten enough strength again.
They were both wrong, thankfully.
Keith had a vendetta against the Fire Nation, Lance soon learned in whispered conversations, and Lance revealed that he was too scared to waterbend, didn’t even know if he could do it anymore, if he were to try. Keith encouraged him all the time, tried to make him take control of himself again, but Lance couldn’t. He wouldn’t even try.
From their friendship came the next biggest installment of crazy-new-things-happening-in-Lance’s-life: his friends had very much yet to lose hope and were already in the midst of planning a new escape. The only problem was, Lance was on a different floor full of different security protocols with much stronger firebenders than the rest of them, which was where they always got stumped in their escape plans. They could think of a way to get themselves out, especially now that they had Keith’s inside help, but figuring out a way to free Lance was still seemingly impossible.
Keith was sure the answer was getting Lance to waterbend again. He wanted to get Lance back up to strength, get him back to the point where he could take out rows of soldiers and firebenders alike all at once. Lance could hardly believe he’d once been able to do that, though.
He usually didn’t even think about bending unless it was the full moon. He couldn’t help it, then. Power flooded his veins, his entire body yearning to do what it’d been born to.
On those nights, he let himself imagine it. Let himself think about using any water he could get his hands on.
He’d never really thought he would have another chance. And it wasn’t a chance, not really, because it technically wasn’t even water, but...
A rat scurried into his cell.
On the night of the full moon.
Normally, this wouldn’t make Lance bat an eye. He might’ve shooed it away, or tried to play with it if he was feeling especially lonely, but tonight was the full moon. Without his brain’s volition, his hands raised before him, hanging in the air between him and the rat.
It was a crazy thought, right? That he might be able to control the rat.
But then, was it? Lance had bended other things before that weren’t explicitly water. He could bend coffee. Juice.
So why not blood? It was made up of mostly water, right?
Lance had never heard of anyone doing such a thing before. But then, if he’d never heard of it, then there was no way any of the guards would ever think of it either. No way Lance could be caught or have suspicion cast upon him. Hell, he still wasn’t even sure if it was possible.
But he was suddenly sure of one thing — there was no harm in trying.
And so, feeling like he’d probably been cooped up long enough to have finally gone crazy, Lance held out his hands, his fingers spread. He felt for the water like he always did. When he was little, it’d been hard, and he’d always had to be looking at the water to make it do anything. The first time he’d managed to do it with his eyes closed had been a feat, and learning he could take water from the things around him — the plants, the air — was mind blowing.
And now, despite having gone months without attempting to bend even a drop of water, the rat obeyed.
Lance could feel himself controlling the blood in the animal’s veins, moved his fingers and hands accordingly to force the rat to move across his cell. It was grotesque, surely, and gruesome too, but it was working.
The rat did whatever Lance told it to do, forced it to do. Power flooded through him, tantalizing and irresistible. He imagined what he could do with this, realized that blood ran through every living being, every person. He could force a firebender to open his cage. He could force the guards to the ground as he simply strolled out of the prison.
Ideas and plans previously fathomless flitted through Lance’s mind, and with every passing hour he grew more and more sure of himself. He let the rat go eventually, feeling confident in his abilities, even as the feeling of strength and power leaked out of him as the full moon set again.
That morning, when Keith came to start his shift, Lance gestured him over. “I know how we can escape,” Lance said, his voice low and excited. And he truly meant we. Not just him and his friends, but Keith too, who was as much a prisoner in the Fire Nation as the rest of them. And, Lance thought tentatively, he one of Lance’s friends, now, too.
Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. “How?” he said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lance said, an uncomfortable shiver passing through him as he imagined telling Keith what he’d learned he could do. “But it needs to be on the night of the full moon. Can everyone else be ready by then?”
Keith was staring at him with wide, surprised eyes, but he shook his head to snap himself out of it. “I mean, yeah. They can be ready. They just need me for their part of the plan, but what about you? I can’t unlock the cages on both levels at the same time.”
“I won’t need you to unlock my cage,” Lance promised. He knew he couldn’t bloodbend now, in the day without the full moon lending its power to him, but he still felt all-powerful. “As long as a guard’s here, I’ll be fine.”
—
The full moon was slow approaching. Knowing his escape was finally on the horizon was hardly good for him, as it seemed to make time slow down to half its usual speed. And it didn’t help that he was seeing Keith a lot less often now, too. Keith was spending more and more time sneaking away to talk plans with Lance’s friends, and it wasn’t like Lance could really complain about that, seeing as they’d be escaping because of it.
Not having Keith around was still tough, though. Especially since the other guards had seemed to realize that Keith was the only reason any of them had ever acted anything less than cruel, so Lance was facing far more abuse than usual. The guards got a real kick out of dehydrating him even further than he already was, walking casually around the entire room and refusing to even stop by his cell. He knew what they were doing, but even so it still felt horrible and frustrating. And without seeing Keith so often, he wasn’t even getting that extra water Keith always made time to give him, so he was back to being as dehydrated as he ever remembered being, sat against the wall and staring despondently at the bucket and ladle in the guards’ hands.
And then they’d walk by, and a desperate, broken sound would slip out of Lance’s lips.
“What was that?” one guard said, cupping a hand around his ear and leaning toward Lance mockingly. Lance didn’t give him the satisfaction of begging, instead turning his head to the side and rasping out a pathetic breath. Only twelve more days until the full moon.
That had become a mantra of his. A countdown that he clung to desperately, treasured and held close to his heart, like one might with a favorite memory.
On the day of the full moon, Keith made sure to make time for Lance, actually giving him some water in the morning, though that was all he could manage all day, seeing as he had to start putting their plans underway. He had to be at specific places at specific times, making sure the right locks were unlocked and the right systems uploaded with Pidge’s viruses. After giving him water, he reached out and held Lance’s hand for an intense moment, his skin soft against Lance’s as he squeezed his hand one last time before leaving.
That day, Lance struggled to his feet and stood upright in his cell as the guards walked around, playing their usual taunting game. They stopped in front of Lance’s cell, sneering at him.
“Thirsty, little waterbender?” one said, wiggling the bucket and making the water slosh against its insides.
“No,” Lance croaked. He was thirstier for vengeance than water, honestly. And he memorized their faces now, took a moment to carve them into his mind as he mentally prepared himself for the night.
“What do you mean, no?” another guard demanded.
“No,” Lance repeated, before taking a step back and sitting casually right in the middle of his cell.
The first guard scoffed. “He’s losing his mind,” he decided, and the two walked off down the cell block without giving Lance any water.
From then on, all Lance had to do was wait. It was easy, given how long he’d been waiting already, and it seemed like no time at all before the full moon was rising, power slinking through Lance’s veins with its presence.
Which meant the first phase of their escape was beginning.
Lance had told Keith that he wouldn’t need any help on his leg of their escape. Had chalked it up to the full moon, guaranteeing him that he would be able to get out on his own. Keith had been disbelieving at first, but in the face of Lance’s confidence, he hadn’t been able to argue much. And right about now, Keith should be sneaking around on the lower level, getting ready to release Pidge, Hunk, and Allura from their cells.
Putting his plan into action, Lance began coughing loudly. Nonstop.
He recognized the guard on the other side of the room, one that Lance knew had a short temper and grew annoyed quickly. After about thirty seconds of straight coughing, the guard growled, “Shut up!” from across the room.
Lance didn’t shut up. In fact, he redoubled his efforts. It wasn’t hard, because once he’d gotten started, his throat really protested how dry it was, and putting an end to his coughing seemed pretty out of the question.
He would’ve smirked triumphantly as the guard shoved himself out of his chair and began stalking across the cell block, but Lance’s mouth was still otherwise occupied, though he tried to calm it down now.
“That’s right,” the guard said, coming to a stop directly in front of Lance’s cell. “Stop your hacking.”
Lance quietened himself immediately, straightening up. The guard continued to glower at him, and Lance finally allowed himself to grin, feeling overwhelmed with power, with the ability he now knew he possessed. The guard’s expression faltered, a flicker of fear passing over his face, but before he could even say a word Lance’s hands were in the air, his fingers spread and curled as he held the firebender in place.
“W-what?” the firebender gurgled, fear evident in his voice, but Lance didn’t bother with a response. He just moved his hands, forced the guard to pull the keyring off his belt, and Lance pulled him closer and snatched it from his hand.
He didn’t bother with the guard as he unlocked the cage and stepped free, dusting himself off as he looked around with a new air of freedom. The guard was paralyzed with terror beside him, but he summoned enough courage to blubber, “Y-you’re a freak of nature!”
Lance turned to look at him, raised his hands, and flung the firebender away, his blood obeying Lance on command. Then, he strolled casually past the other cells, stopping by the main exit to pick up the bucket of water and chug as much as he desired. Water sloshed down his chest, dripped down his wrists from the rim of the bucket, but he ignored it and continued on his way. After all, by now the rest of his friends should be out of their cells and closer to the exit, where Lance needed to meet them.
He strolled through the prison, only knowing where he was going due to Keith’s instructions. He passed a few guards along the way, though none of them had a chance to raise the alarms, finding themselves shaking on the ground instead.
Lance found his friends before he was expecting to.
“...didn’t think this would happen!” what sounded like Pidge’s voice hissed, and something in Lance’s chest throbbed. God, he’d missed her. He’d missed everyone.
“Well what are we gonna do?!” Hunk demanded, sounding just as panicked as he always did when a plan went awry.
“Everyone calm down, we’ll figure this out,” said Keith.
And then Lance turned the corner, stopping behind the five people (wait? Five people?) crouching in the shadows and looking up at the control room above the giant doors, in which they could see several guards currently sitting. Looked like Pidge’s virus hadn’t worked, after all.
“You guys hoping that guy’s gonna open the doors, or what?” Lance said, hands on his hips. Hisses of fear and surprise emitted from his friends as their heads whipped around.
“Lance!” Pidge whisper-shouted, launching herself to her feet and into Lance’s arms. He laughed quietly, hugging her back before pushing her off, making her squat back down and remain hidden with the rest of the group.
“Lance, how did you escape?” Allura asked, her eyes wide with awe and confusion, and Pidge and Hunk murmured their assent to the question.
“Not important right now,” Lance said. “Who’s the new guy?” he asked instead, gesturing towards the man squatting beside Allura. He had a scar across his nose and his hair was white at the front.
“This is Shiro,” Allura explained. “My cellmate.”
“He insisted on coming with us,” Keith interjected. “Allura really should’ve warned me about that part of the plan.”
“I thought Lance might’ve been wary if he’d known!” Allura protested, sounding as if she’d already had this argument. There wasn’t time for it to be had now, though, despite Allura being right. If it’d been up to Lance, he probably would’ve tried to convince Allura not to add any more unknowns into the equation of their escape. But it was too late now and getting out was more important than putting the stranger back.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lance said, putting an end to their argument. “What’s happening here? What are we waiting for?”
“I thought the instructions I’d given Keith would be enough to fry their systems,” Pidge said, sounding downtrodden. “Except I guess it didn’t work, seeing as the gate’s still closed.”
Lance hummed, nodding. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go open it.”
Pidge made a spluttering sound. “If it were that easy, we would’ve done it already! There are probably tons more guards up there. We’d all need to go to chance taking them on, and by then the alarms’ll sound and escaping will be a lot harder.”
“Yeah, so you guys stay down here,” Lance said, getting back to his feet and walking away from them, sticking to the shadows along the wall. “I’ll be right back.”
“Lance!” someone hissed behind him, but he ignored them, ducking into the door that held a staircase behind it, likely leading right up to the control room. None of his friends were stupid enough to try to follow after him, so Lance made his way up the stairs, feeling much calmer than he would’ve had it not been the full moon.
He came to the door before the control room and flung it open, stepping inside before it could swing back shut. There were a lot of guards in the room, though less than Lance had honestly been expecting.
One of them let out some weird, strangled sound, everyone else too busy staring at Lance with wide eyes, and then one of the guards stood up, reaching for a big, red button on the wall.
Lance went for that guy first.
His hands were in the air before he knew it, fingers crooked as he bended the guy’s blood, forcing him to the ground as he moaned in either pain or confusion. Everyone else was frozen watching this for a moment, and then the fighting broke out in earnest.
Fire flung across the room, threatening to scorch Lance, but he jumped out of the way, forcing firebenders to the floor as he did. From then on, he started bending the blood away from their heads, keeping the oxygen out of their brains for long enough that they collapsed on the floor, passed out.
It was chaos. None of the guards seemed to know what was going on except for the fact that people were collapsing all around them, letting out cries and struggling to speak as Lance controlled them from the inside, forced them to the ground and then to sleep. The alarms remained unsounded and Lance remained unburned, soon enough alone and surrounded by bodies in the control room. From there, he picked his way through sprawled limbs to the control panel, which he used to open the giant doors below him.
They groaned open loudly enough to give Lance a fresh burst of anxiety, and then he was sprinting down the stairs to rejoin his friends and escape before anything else could backfire.
But when Lance emerged from the stairs, it was to find everyone already standing in a half circle, gaping at him. All at once, he remembered the giant window up in the control room. His friends had likely seen the whole thing.
“Come on,” Lance said, jerking his head through the doors before his friends had a chance to demand answers. Just like that, they were racing through the tail end of the prison, bursting out into the yard and sprinting for the barbwire fence.
From there, escaping was no problem, a giant chunk of land breaking off underneath them and thrusting them over the fence at Hunk’s insistence. He continued to bend them away from the prison, the rest of them standing or sitting shakily on the rock as Hunk swept his hands through the air again and again, the earth roaring beneath them as he propelled them away faster than they ever could’ve run.
“What… was that?” Pidge said, sitting down next to Lance and bumping her shoulder with his. Keith was on his other side, his fingers nudging Lance’s hand, and Lance reached out and intertwined their fingers without thinking.
Lance swallowed. “Blood bending,” he answered, staring up at the full moon still high in the sky above them.
—
It was a long time before they stopped, everyone wanting to get as far away from the prison as they possibly could be before they took the chance to rest. Hunk was sweaty and exhausted, collapsing onto a patch of forest floor with a groan as he let his eyes slip shut.
Allura and Pidge both raced toward the river Hunk had parked them by, jumping in without regard for their clothes getting wet and laughing and shouting as they played in the water, celebrating their freedom.
Shiro, surprisingly kind and thoughtful and not at all like the terrifying prison-buff Lance had expected him to be, went about collecting plants and berries to prepare them a meal. And Keith just stayed right by Lance’s side, who was still sitting on the rock.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his shoulder bumping into Lance’s. Lance couldn’t help leaning into him, huffing out a sigh as he did.
“I’m fine,” he said, not entirely sure if it was true. The odd amount of power within him had drained away as the full moon had set, and after it, guilt had set in. Honestly, he’d do it all again if he had to, but now he kind of hoped he never had to use bloodbending again. In the moment he’d felt all-powerful, invincible, but now he just felt plain evil.
“Lance!” Pidge shouted, splashing out of the river and coming to a stop before the rock, panting. “Dry me off.”
It wasn’t an odd request. Lance had never been opposed to doing it before, always sucking the water right out of everyone’s clothes whenever they ended up getting wet. So of course Pidge would think to ask that of him now. Of course it seemed like it wasn’t a big deal — it probably wasn’t a big deal — but it felt like one to Lance.
He froze, his hands clenching in the material of his pants as he stared wide-eyed at Pidge, trying to figure out how to tell her he couldn’t. Keith’s hand came up to rest on his lower back, just pressing against him there, a silent comfort. Keith probably wanted him to waterbend as much as Pidge did, having been encouraging him to ever since they’d become allies, friends, in that horrible prison.
“I— I can’t,” Lance muttered, his hands wringing together anxiously in his lap. Pidge blinked in surprised, looking confused and then angry.
“What did they do to you?” she demanded, her voice low. “Did they take away your bending somehow?”
Lance shook his head. “No,” he said. “I just—” He imagined bending, and ideas and images assaulted him. He could see himself being punished, burned. Starved and dehydrated. Shivers of fear wracked through him as his hands clenched into fists in his lap, his entire body stiffening with anxiety.
“He’s conditioned,” Keith said simply, answering Pidge. Lance barely paid attention, though he leaned into his touch, let his shoulder press against Keith’s side. “Even though he knows he’s safe now, he can’t help thinking he’ll get hurt if he waterbends.”
Pidge frowned, but she reached out and took one of Lance’s hands, squeezing it lightly. “It’s okay, Lance. You’ll learn to bend again in time.”
Lance murmured his thanks, but he didn’t really believe it.
After that, Keith seemed to make it his personal mission to help Lance bend again. The entire team was invested, wanting it for Lance as much as themselves. They could surely remember the way Lance had used to be, when he’d played in and with water at any chance he’d gotten instead of slinking away, seeming to watch it only out of the corners of his eyes. Plus, there were a ton of benefits that came with having a waterbender in their group, though of course they couldn’t use any of those benefits now. Lance had used to be extremely helpful with the laundry, with gathering their drinking water, with drying off his friends. Now, he just helped everyone do things the hard way, feeling pathetic and stupid all the while.
Lance could at least admit to himself that he wanted to waterbend again. Wanted to feel that light and happy feeling he’d always gotten, wanted to dive in and swim and be free. It was as if part of him was still in that prison. Maybe he’d lost it when he’d used bloodbending.
Of course he was wrong. Of course it was just all in his head, his brain the only thing keeping him from doing it. And of course it was Keith who finally got him out of his funk.
They were miles and miles from the prison, and with there being no signs of being followed by a legion of firebenders, they were finally letting themselves relax. They’d set up a little camp for the day, had built a fire and everything. Or, well, they’d gathered wood. And Keith had lit it on fire with his firebending. But it was the same thing, basically.
They were also, conveniently, still right along the river’s edge.
“Come on,” Keith said, and Lance knew what he was doing but decided to let him do it anyway as Keith dragged him to the bank of the river. There, they undressed to their underwear (“Strip! Strip! Strip!” yelled Pidge) and stepped into the current, walking out until it was up to their waists.
“How do you feel?” Keith asked quietly, once they were far enough out to no longer be heard by their friends.
Lance pursed his lips. “Wet,” he decided.
Keith scoffed, but he reached forward and grabbed Lance’s hands anyway. “I think you just need to be with your element,” he said, his voice as soft and serious as his eyes. He had beautiful eyes, which Lance struggled not to blurt out practically every day.
Still holding Lance’s hands, he moved them around under the water, pushing and pulling the tide together. “Now how do you feel?”
“Like a kid,” Lance said. He could remember splashing around in water before he was actually good at waterbending, only able to do anything with a few drops at a time. He would jump in rivers and sprint through the water, pretending he was doing everything himself. He’d smack at the current, watching droplets fly through the air, unable to curb his excitement for when he’d be able to do it for real someday. Now, some of that excitement creeped back into Lance’s chest, making a smile curl at his lips.
Keith dropped Lance’s hands, using his own to bat at the water just under the surface, making it jump upwards with bubbles. Pseudo-bending. Lance copied him, their fingers occasionally bumping under the current.
“How do you feel?” Keith asked for the third time.
“Like I could bend, when I’m touching you,” Lance answered honestly. And he just meant holding his hands, had felt safe and almost full of confidence when they had been, but Keith’s eyes widened, his lips parted, and he stepped into Lance, pressing their bare chests together and wrapping his arms around his waist.
“Then do it,” he instructed, his lips brushing against Lance’s neck. Lance wondered if he could feel his heart thundering, what with the way their chests were touching.
“O-okay,” Lance managed, and with one hand on Keith’s lower back, holding him closer, he held out another and concentrated. He moved it over the water, trying to push and pull the current, and between one moment and the next, the current around them shifted. It was no longer rushing past them, but pulling against them, and then rushing and pulling as Lance bended it, again and again.
“Keith!” Lance said. “I’m doing it!”
He was hugging Keith even harder in his excitement, moving his free hand through wider motions, pulling more and more water into his grasp, dizzy with excitement. And then he was just dizzy in general, because, caught up in the moment, Keith grabbed the sides of Lance’s face and kissed him, making Lance drop all the water around them so he could instead hold Keith close with both hands.
“You did it,” Keith panted against his lips, in between kisses. One of Lance’s hands had shoved itself into the thick of Keith’s hair. He’d so rarely seen it before, always hidden under those stupid masks Fire Nation soldiers wore, and now he was kind of obsessed with it, despite having made fun of Keith a few times for having a mullet.
“‘Cause of you,” Lance managed to answer, before kissing away from Keith’s lips, down his jaw and against his neck. Suddenly, he heard whooping. Loud and obnoxious cheering coming from the bank, and Lance wasn’t trying to have an audience for his first kisses with Keith at all.
So he dragged Keith under the water, keeping it away from their faces with one hand, bending it away from them and creating a little haven under the water for them to kiss in. Keith spluttered, looking around in amazement, glancing down at the rest of their bodies still submerged under water.
“Wow,” he said breathlessly. “You’re a really good waterbender, Lance. This is amazing.”
“I can show you something else that’s amazing,” Lance said suggestively, and Keith laughed as Lance pulled him back in for another kiss.
It wasn’t his fault that Keith was really good at kissing, and that Lance could get distracted pretty easily. And it was pretty hard to bend and make out at the same time, okay?!
Basically, what Lance was saying was, he totally wasn’t to blame when their bubble of air popped and they both choked on water, rushing back to the surface to cough and cling to each other, their audience bursting into laughter.