He'd taken the hit as they escaped into the thick alien jungle; hesitating too long on a shot when the plasma bolt scored a line of fire across his face and caused him to stumble backward, falling into darkness.
A blur of impressions followed, a mixture of being(more) carried and stumbling along, his arm in a firm grasp, and when Lance finally had the wherewithal to moan Shiro's hand covered his mouth firmly, the message clear. The danger had not yet passed.
He wasn't certain how long it had been when his senses finally started to return, when he felt Shiro press a cool, damp cloth to his face and murmur at him in a low tone. "Lance, can you look at me? Can you open your eyes for me?" and, oh, that hurt more than he'd ever expected, cracking his eye open through the caked, dried blood on his face.
He squinted at Shiro in the low light of an alien dawn, the first of the binary stars that illuminated this system creeping above the horizon, and Shiro's expression was strained and not quite as relieved as he had expected. Lance reached to wipe the dried blood from his face and Shiro caught his hand before he could, kissed his forehead and said, instead, "wait."
"That bad, huh?" Lance said, trying for cocky but only making it through resigned.
"The plasma bolt cauterized it," Shiro said as he wrapped the cool, clean bandage around Lance's head. It did nothing for the pain, but it made Shiro feel better as they waited on evac. "We'll get you in the cryo replenisher, fix you up good as new."
Lance touched the bandages that covered his left eye, and said with a self-deprecating smile, "the med-pods can't replace what's been lost, Shiro." (less)