Archive of Our Own ^beta

Keith stopped several feet away from the bench. Whenever he couldn’t find Kara around the Garrison, he always went to the Memorial Garden. As much as she enjoyed being around other people, she valued the quiet just as much. Besides, the look on her face when she entered the ballroom was downtrodden. When Kara looked like that, Keith knew she sought after the comfortable silence only nature can bring.

“Hey,” he said, hands in his pockets. Over the course of the evening he’d loosened his tie and opened the first few buttons on his shirt. “I was saving the last dance for you.”

Kara didn’t move. She remained sitting, elbows on her knees, chin cupped in her hands, looking downward. Usually by the end of a dance her curls were falling out and she’d taken off her shoes. Tonight her lavender flats still shod her feet. The barrette holding half of her hair back remained firmly in place. In the past, she’d always take it out and hand it to Keith to put in his pocket. It was their “thing.”

“What’s wrong?” Keith asked. Kara remained still. Brow furrowed, Keith sat down next to her. As he reached a hand toward her wrist, he said, “Something’s bothering -”

Kara smacked his hand away. The harsh crack of skin touching skin echoed in the night. Keith looked out over the dark garden. Ever since the Paladins returned to Earth, the air between them remained so tense. The war ended two years ago. Why hadn’t they made any progress in mending their friendship?

He turned when he saw Kara shiver. “Here.” Keith started shrugging his suit jacket off, but Kara slid to the opposite end of the bench, putting as much distance as she could between them.

Keith stared at her, helpless. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice laced with pain. He didn’t want this from her. At the Garrison, she’d been his only friend. Weird, sweet, kind, quirky Kara was the only cadet who never gave up on breaking his shell. When Shiro left on the Kerberos mission, she’d been his only solace until his expulsion. Keith hadn’t expected the six years he was gone with Voltron to create this big of a rift between them. Right now, it felt impossible to bridge.

“Don’t keep shutting me out,” he pleaded. A small breeze tickled his cheek. “I really hate this, Kara.”

She didn’t say anything. Keith folded his arms. He’d stay out here as long as it took.

Finally, after what felt like eons, Kara sighed. “I love you,” she said quietly. Keith dug the toe of his shoe into the ground. “I’ve been in love with you since we were cadets.”

This was the possibility Keith had feared the most. Over the last few months his instincts kept pointing to that reason. He’d wondered over and over how to approach her about it. Everything he thought of came across as nosy and insensitive, so he decided to wait for Kara to bring it up. A knot of dread and anxiety had rippled in the back of his mind since then. As much as he wanted to talk to Kara about this, at the same time he didn’t.

Keith looked down at his hands. “I care about you a lot,” he said quietly, “but … I ... I’m sorry Kara, I don’t feel the same -”

With a rustle of her lavender dress, Kara stood up and started walking away, wrapping her black wings around her. “Kara.” Keith stood up and followed after her. “It doesn’t have to be like this. It doesn’t have to change us -”

“We were already changed” - Kara turned around, her eyes burning, and shoved Keith in the chest - “when you said you hated me. Remember?”

Keith stumbled back, his heart breaking. How could he ever forget? Two weeks before his expulsion, when the Garrison announced the failed Kerberos mission, a grief-stricken Keith lashed out at Kara. She hadn’t deserved him dumping his anger toward the Garrison on her. She hadn’t deserved him accusing Karl, her father and one of the Garrison admirals, of lying and being a fraud. She hadn’t deserved him acidly saying, “I hate you” and then never speaking to her before he was kicked out.

“Kara,” he said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my feelings out on you. If I could change anything in my life, it would be that.” He reached for her again, but she stepped away. “I just want our friendship back,” he continued. “I don’t want things to change. I … I need you.”

“You did fine without me before the Garrison and during Voltron,” she said. “You’ve never needed me. And you never will.”

Keith wanted to hold Kara and wipe away the silver tears running down her face - just like she had done those few times as cadets when he couldn’t hold his emotions in. Instead, he watched, devastated, as Kara turned and walked away, folding her black wings around her.

“Are you sure this is all you need?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow at the one duffle bag nestled at Keith’s feet.

“Yeah. This mission is only three months.”

“Just make sure you wash your clothes.” Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna miss your mullet.” Lance gave Keith a quick peck on the cheek.

“Save it for the launch,” Keith teased, scrunching up his nose in mock irritation.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance waved a hand. “I’m going to the vending machines. Want anything?”

“No, I’m good.”

A few seconds after Lance turned out the door, Keith saw Kara and another officer walk by. He stood, unsure for a moment. It’d been a week since the charity dance and their disastrous talk in the Memorial Garden. Keith had talked to Shiro long into the night about it, not knowing what to do.

“How can I fix this?” Keith asked, running a hand through his hair. “She won’t let me, Shiro. If she would just - if she would just let me talk to her -”

“Keith,” Shiro had interrupted gently, “Kara’s heart isn’t yours to fix.” 

He’d looked at Shiro, feeling like he’d been slapped. “How can you say that?” he asked angrily. “Kara’s my oldest friend - I’ve known her longer than anyone else -”

“You can’t force things,” Shiro pointed out. “You can’t push Kara into something you want but hurts her. You need to give her space.”

“But -”

“There’s a saying,” said Shiro. “‘Relationships are like glass. Sometimes it’s better to leave them broken than try to hurt yourself putting them back together.’” He put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I know you care about her, Keith. But maybe you need to let her be broken for a little bit.”

Now, though, his impatience started gnawing at him. Shaking off the conversation he’d had with Shiro, Keith hurried out of the room and down the hallway toward Kara.

Her face was pinched and dark circles under her eyes stood out on her pale skin. Her green eyes, usually sparkling and full of life, looked dull. She hugged a stack of files against her chest. Connor, the Communications Department Assistant Director, listened intently as Kara talked to him. He held a small box of datapads. Kara, Keith noticed, looked nothing short of exhausted. He regretted not asking Lance to get him pretzels from the vending machine to give to her.

Conner and Kara entered a conference room. “Kara -” Keith started to say, but Connor pressed a button and the door slid closed. A few seconds later a screen by the door’s outside control panel turned on. DO NOT DISTURB popped up in orange letters. Keith stood, stunned. All conference rooms were locked whenever those signs were turned on and he didn’t have the keycode to override it. The launch was in two hours. He wouldn’t be back until mid-December.

“I think the Blades' ship is at the other end of the Garrison.” Keith looked over his shoulder. Shiro walked toward him with a grin on his face. “I think you’ve been on so many Blades missions you’re starting to forget the Garrison layout.”

“What’s going on in there?” Keith asked, turning back to the conference room door.

“Oh.” Shiro’s smile faltered. “The Communications Department is in there. They’re working overtime to translate material for the Coalition. Some of the other planets are still having a hard time grasping English, so Kara and her team have been tasked with translating for the conference coming up.”

“That’s two weeks away,” Keith said, alarmed.

“I know.” Shiro shook his head. “They’ve all been pulling long hours. It doesn’t help that Kara doesn’t have a lot of staff. You’d think after two years, people would have warmed up to Valkyries. She’s done a fantastic job as Communications Director since the war ended. But a lot of people have turned down offers to be in the department because of her wings.”

“How long will they be in there?”

“I don’t know, but I’d guess the rest of the day.”

Keith’s shoulders sagged. “Will you tell Kara I said bye?” he asked quietly.

Shiro smiled sadly. “Sure,” he said, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’ll let her know as soon as I see her.”

The cold air knocked the breath out of Keith when the door of the Blades’ ship opened. He wrapped his arms around himself as the ramp lowered. In the distance he saw a light dusting of snow on the ground.

“Watch your step,” a voice crackled over the intercom. “We’re still removing black ice from the tarmac.”

The Blade members carefully hurried toward the Garrison. When he saw Lance, Keith made a beeline towards him. He was outfitted in a hat, a fluffy coat, mittens, and boots.

“What’s going on?” Keith asked. Lance handed him a thick coat and hurried them inside the Garrison.

“We’re having a weird winter,” said Lance. “We’re even getting frost in the mornings. I have some more warm clothes for you. I’ll have them in the mess hall with me and Veronica. Meet me there after your debriefing.”

They shared a quick kiss before hurrying off the tarmac. Keith still wasn’t fond of public displays of affection, which Lance didn’t push. As Keith took off his coat and sat down at the conference table for the debriefing, he felt lucky that Lance was willing to go at his pace.

Connor sat down across from him, datapad in hand. “Hey,” he said, smiling and nodding at Keith.

“Hey,” Keith responded, taken aback. “Are you and Kara tag teaming this?”

“No, she asked me to step in for her.”

Keith looked down at his own datapad. He navigated to the chat function and looked for the thread he had with Kara. Her status showed as offline. There were times, though, Kara made her status appear offline when she wanted to be left alone. Keith decided to bet on that.

Are you here?

Throughout the meeting Keith kept checking the thread. Nothing - not even a Read notification. He bounced his leg up and down underneath the table. All he wanted to do was say hi. Maybe these three months had been enough for her to open up to him again.

Keith decided to take a detour on his way to the mess hall. He saw a faint light coming out from under the door to Kara’s office. A sharp pang of irritation flared up in him. Why was she ignoring him?

He rapped his knuckles on the metal door. “Kara?” he called. Nothing. “Can I come in?” Keith waited a few more seconds before punching in a keycode. Right after the war ended, Kara took it on herself to find the Paladins counselors and psychiatrists to help them process their trauma. When popularity of the Paladins began growing and fan clubs started popping up, Kara was the one who fielded intrusive questions about their personal lives at press conferences. At the time, she’d given the Paladins the keycode to her office so they could use it as a way to escape or decompress if they felt overwhelmed. As Keith hit the “enter” key, he realized he’d used her invitation only once.

The light on the keypad blinked red. Keith stared at it in surprise. He punched in the code again and hit enter. The light flashed red again. He had the code right - it was her guinea pig’s name, Galileo, spelled out with the numbers that corresponded with the letters on phone keys. Keith tried one more time. The door remained shut.

“Kara?” he called again. “Kara, can I talk to you?” More silence. “Kara!” he barked. “I’m sick of this! Open up!” He banged a fist on the door.

After a few moments the concern gave way to concern. Kara never left the light on when she wasn’t in her office. Had something happened to her? Her plaque was still above the keypad. He dropped to his knees and peered through the small space between the door and the floor. He couldn’t see much - just what looked like the bottom of a box, the legs of her desk, and the carpet. Keith pressed his ear to the space. He didn’t hear anything. With a sigh, he pulled his head back after a few seconds. Maybe she really did forget to turn the light off.

Keith perched on the balls of his feet and rubbed a hand over his eyes. How long did he need to leave the shards of their friendship on the ground?

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Lance asked.

“No.” Keith unbuckled his seatbelt. “I think it would be best if it’s just me.”

“Alright. I hope it goes well.”

Keith stepped carefully on the walkway to avoid any potential black ice. The unusual winter weather hadn’t let up. Small snow flurries continued to fall, frost covered everything in the morning, and the sky remained constantly gray. This wasn’t ideal for Kara’s seasonal depression. A few days before Christmas Keith had a long discussion with Lance about his worry for Kara. “Maybe some flowers would make her feel better,” Lance suggested. “We can get some colorful ones. Those always cheer up my mom.”

Shifting the clear, glass vase of easter lilies and galaxy orchids, Keith rang the doorbell to Kara’s side of the small duplex. He peered through the window and squinted, trying to see if Kara was coming. The inside was dark. Keith rang the doorbell again, then knocked. He jumped when the neighbor’s door opened.

“Oh, Keith.” Mrs. Lyons smiled at him. Her gray bun looked as pristine as ever. “How are you, dear.”

“I’m alright.” Keith looked back at Kara’s door. “Have you seen Kara?”

“She left this morning.” Mrs. Lyons left her hand on her doorknob. “I’m not sure where she went, though, or when she’ll be back. Are those for her?”

“Yeah.” Keith looked down at the flowers. “I didn’t want to bother her on Christmas - I know she does a lot of family stuff.”

“She’ll love them.” Mrs. Lyons smiled. “Do you want me to hold them in my house until she comes back?”

“No, that’s okay.” He set the vase on the ground near the door. Before standing up, he ran his hand over the small card he’d made and attached to one of the easter lily stems with a purple ribbon. He’d spent about ten minutes carefully writing out I’m sorry in the simple, italic font that Kara loved to use for invitations. “Thank you, though.”

Keith parked Lance’s car by the curb and turned it off. Normally he would have ridden his speeder instead, but it was still too cold. He shoved his gloves on before getting out of the car and walking up to Kara’s door.

He still hadn’t heard from her. Hunk was throwing a New Year’s Eve party - the perfect social activity Kara enjoyed. Keith knocked on the door and tapped his foot impatiently. The curtains were closed this time, so he couldn’t look through the window. After a few more knocks he decided to try the back door.

Something tinkled under Keith’s feet when he reached her back patio. He looked down as he lifted his foot. Shards of a broken glass vase littered the ground. The galaxy orchids and easter lilies, covered in frost, laid haphazardly on the snow-dusted stone. Keith knelt down and picked up some of the broken pieces of the vase. He tried to fit them together. Even when they were nestled together, he noticed the several gaps that needed to be filled with smaller pieces. He looked back down at ground. How would he ever find them?

He brushed some of the snow aside as he searched for the smaller shards. An ivory colored paper stuck out of a small mound of snow. Keith pulled it out. It was the card he'd made. The moisture from the snow had made some of the ink run down the paper like tears.

“Oh no, Kara’s flowers.”

Keith looked over his shoulder. Mrs. Lyons stared sadly at the broken vase in Keith’s hands. She held a broom, the bristles up like she had been in mid-sweep. Several small piles of ceramic shards and dead plants sat on her back patio.

“That winter storm we had yesterday must have knocked them off the windowsill,” Mrs. Lyons continued. “They were so pretty.”

“Have you seen her today?”

The older woman shook her head. “I haven’t,” she said. “I know she’s been busy with her family and work. She might be sleeping.”

Keith looked back at the glass in his hands. Shiro’s words from three months ago echoed in his mind: Sometimes it’s better to leave them broken. Reluctantly he let the glass fall through his fingers onto the ground. “If you see her, will you let her know I stopped by?”

A sad smile tugged at Mrs. Lyons’ mouth. “Of course, sweetie.”

The beginning of a new year always felt a little odd to Keith. For the first few days it felt like the world was struggling to come out of a deep sleep. Everything felt groggy and it set him on edge.

He walked down the hallway of the Garrison, his footsteps loud because of the emptiness surrounding him. A handful of officers worked in their offices. Most were slowly coming back from holiday vacations. The Richardsons were here - he’d seen Karl and Jeremy around - so Kara must be in her office. Keith stopped in front of her open door.

Aside from the furniture, it was empty.

Keith didn’t register the sight for awhile. Empty? Why empty? He glanced at the keypad. The plaque above it that read COMMANDER K. RICHARDSON was gone. Maybe they moved her.

He turned in the direction of Karl’s office. Karl might be the admiral over the Garrison’s school, but if they moved his daughter he’d be able to tell Keith the office number. His pace quickened until he was running down the hallways. After turning a corner, he skidded to a stop. Had he really seen that in Connor’s office? Keith scrambled back around the corner.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked. He gripped both sides of the doorframe.

Brown moving boxes sat on the floor and Connor’s desk. He looked up. “Oh, hey Keith,” he said, smiling. “I’m moving offices.”

“Where?”

Connor adjusted his glasses. “I’m taking Kara’s old office. I’m the new Communications Director.”

Icy bile churned in Keith’s stomach. “What?”

Connor blinked. “Kara resigned,” he said. “Her last official day was December thirty-first. That’s why she’s been having me stand in for her at …”

The sound of Connor’s voice became nothing more than a faint buzz to Keith. Numbness snaked its way through his body. He dropped his arms to his sides. Dazed, Keith made his way back to Kara’s - or what used to be her - office.

A faint hint of lavender still hung in the room. Kara always smelled like lavender. It was her favorite scent - she used it for almost everything. Everything that displayed Kara’s had been stripped from the room. The photos of her niece and nephew, the books on the bookshelf, the little dart board, the small pot of succulents, the purple mug with colorful pens and her “yum” straw - all of it was gone. Only the binders related to the director’s position and the In/Out trays for paperwork remained.

Keith sat in the chair behind the desk. He looked around the abandoned room. A deep heaviness, more than he’d felt up to this point, settled over him. He opened a few drawers in the desk, hoping he’d find something of hers, but knowing that he wouldn’t.

After staring vacantly inside her drawers, Keith turned his eyes to the two trays on her desk. Unable to stop his itching fingers, Keith began looking through the small stack in the Out tray. Most were interoffice envelopes. He pulled out two relatively thick white envelopes. The first was addressed to the embassy in Austria. When he turned over the second, a thinner envelope was stuck to it. Keith stared at the address. It was to Kara’s best friend, Emma.

Keith carefully pried the envelope off. The address Kara used was for her parents. His hands trembled as he looked at it. When was it written? How long had it been in this tray? Kara and Emma had been best friends since kindergarten. Kara told her everything. Everything.

Impulsiveness won. He ripped the envelope open, yanked the letter out, and began reading.

December 28

Dear Emma,

Ever since you and Ben moved to Colorado I’ve felt so lonely here. I’m really happy that Ben got such a great job at the children’s hospital and that you love the elementary school you’re teaching at. But if I’m being honest … I wish you were still here. It’s not the same anymore. It hasn’t been for awhile.

I finally settled on a name for that non-profit organization I’ve been working on: the Valkyrie Legion. It’s finally ready to take off. We found a planet for our headquarters just outside the solar system. Surprisingly it was completely uninhabited. It’s small and desert-like, so that’ll help with the homesickness I know I’m gonna feel. Everything has come together so fast to start building what we need there, so I’ll be leaving much sooner than I expected. We want to get things going as quickly as possible because there are still a ton of refugees from other systems that need help. Plus, I think once we’re set up Valkyries will be more comfortable in coming out of hiding. People on Earth are still too scared of us. I hope that this little place can become a safe haven for people. We still need to think of a name for the planet, though. Any ideas?

I turned in my resignation letter to the Garrison and Coalition. When I asked for there to be no announcement or fanfare, I was relieved when they agreed. I think it’ll be best if I just quietly slip away and pretend like I was never here. Connor is going to be promoted to director. He’s going to do so well. The past few weeks he’s been slowly taking over the reins. The handoff is going to go smoothly that I don’t think many people will care to ask questions.

I can’t keep going on like this, Emma. I’ve tried for two years after the war ended to move on, but I can’t. Seeing them all - Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Shiro - reminds me just how much things have changed. I get why they’re all so close - you can’t go through something like Voltron and not be bonded for life. But at the same time, it’s a reminder to me of how our friendships have changed. I feel like a ghost that’s part of their past. I don’t think we can ever get a semblance of what our friendship was like again. That’s why I want to disappear. I think they’ve all moved on and I don’t really matter anymore. I mean, that’s life, right? We grow older and move on. But you know how I am - I hold tightly to people and friendships. So while they’ve moved on, I can’t; not completely.

You already know everything about Keith, so I’m not going to say much on that. I want, so desperately, to be happy for him and Lance. For the first time Keith looks genuinely happy. But, because of my selfishness, I can’t. It hurts knowing that, even as friends at the Garrison, I could never give him that kind of happiness. I don’t think I can move on unless I leave. 

I don’t want to be stuck anymore. I need a fresh start. I need to feel like I belong somewhere again.

I don’t know when or if I’ll ever come back to Earth permanently. Definitely not for the foreseeable future as we get the Legion more established. I’ll come back for holidays and birthdays, and once things are running smoothly I’d love for you and Ben to come visit. Hopefully the tech will get better in the near future so we can video chat when we’re lightyears away.

LYLAS,

Kara

Keith sat back in the chair. I could never give him that kind of happiness. It played over and over in his head, weighing him down. 

“But you did,” Keith whispered. He looked down at the letter again. The words blurred together. “You did, Kara.” How did she not see that she was the first person his age to care about him? How did she not understand how much her friendship meant to him? A tear splashed onto the paper. Aside from Shiro, she was the first person he knew would never walk away.

And now she was gone.

The letter fluttered to the floor as Keith set his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands. For the first time in ages, he cried.

The cold still had its grip on the desert well into March. Keith sat on the sofa, one knee tucked up to his chest, and stared at the window across from him. Despite the afternoon sun shining in the cloudless sky, the icicles and snow around the window refused to melt.

Keith jumped when the front door opened and shut. A few minutes later Lance walked into the living room. He made his way to the window and set a clear, simple glass vase on the windowsill.

“What’s that?” Keith asked, surprised, as Lance made his way to the sofa.

“Forget-me-nots and lilies,” Lance responded. Keith shifted and Lance sat beside him. “I wanted to get easter lilies, since they’re Kara’s favorite, but they only had lily of the valley.”

Keith swallowed as a lump formed in his throat. “You remembered,” he said quietly.

“How could I forget Kara’s birthday is today?” Lance draped an arm over Keith’s shoulders. “Remember at the Garrison how she always quoted that ides of March dialogue from Shakespeare? I’ve never seen someone so happy that they were born on March fifteenth.”

They fell into silence. “I miss her, too,” Lance said after a few minutes. Keith heard the sadness in his voice. “And what hurts the most … she didn’t say goodbye. She just disappeared, like a ghost.”

Keith thought back to the letter for Emma he kept in his nightstand drawer.  I feel like a ghost that’s part of their past.

“She’ll come back.” Lance squeezed Keith’s shoulders. “Someday.”

Someday . Who knew when someday would come. 

It should have been a beautiful sight: clear sky, bright sunshine, and the window and vase so perfectly clean with the vibrant, fresh flowers. But all Keith saw was flowers framed with frost.

"Frost" - Vertical Horizon