Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There are a lot of things any random person can correctly assume about space. It’s cold, for one, and that’s probably the thing that Lance finds himself battling on a daily basis. Over the past months they’ve spent in space he’d accumulated a wardrobe’s worth of clothing from the swap moons and planet-wide markets they’d occasionally visit for supply runs.

Normally it didn’t matter much what he wore, ninety-nine percent of the time he was in his paladin armor out on the battlefield doing his job. But on the rare off days when they were lounging around the ship: researching, studying, doing repairs on the castle or the lions, or on the rarest occasion actually finding time to relax— That was when Lance broke out his collection of thick alien sweaters. He had them in all sizes, all colors, more than enough to wear a new one every day of the week. And if they couldn’t find time to relax? Those sweaters worked perfectly as pajamas for the freezing castle nights.

But in the moments when the universe crept in, when the hum of the engines felt far away and even the vents didn’t breath loudly enough to break the silence, that’s when the second easiest assumption to make about space shows it’s face:

It’s silent.

To be fair to the ship, it made about as much noise as was sonically possible given the gargantuan size of it’s engines and the impossibly long maze of ventilation shafts that squirreled through each room, filling them with breathable air. But as massive as the ship itself was, the engines were far, far away from the barracks. Again, for good reason. This was a reasonable way to build a ship, Lance told himself as he sat awake staring at this ceiling, the phantom ringing of tinnitus in his ears emphasizing every second of silence he was experiencing.

Humans were not meant to sleep in complete silence. Even if he didn’t have scientific data on hand to back that up, he knew it instinctively, like it was fused into his bone marrow. Humans were meant to fall asleep to the sounds of forest birds and ocean waves, not the silent, ever-present nothingness of the universe.

He flinched, holding his hands up an inch or two from his face in the blackness. He couldn’t see it, but a spike of pain radiated from his ring finger where he’d been anxiously pulling on a hangnail. It had finally come loose apparently, and as he licked the tip of his finger he could taste metal on his skin.

With a sigh he pushed his covers off and trudged blindly toward his bathroom, flicking the lights on to examine the full scope of the damage. Yep, that was bleeding alright. Not anything to cry to Coran about, he hardly even needed a bandage for it, but it stung all the same. The sound of running water was a welcome relief to the oppressive silence encompassing his room, and even after he’d washed his hands clean of blood he left it on for a few seconds longer, eyes drifting closed as he pictured a different kind of place.

The meagre flow of water from his tap transformed into a wide white-tipped river, moving fast and dangerous over rocky outcroppings in the middle of a dense evergreen forest. He squeezed his eyes tighter and imagined it. Being there. The water is ice cold and sprays on his skin, clinging to every strand of hair. He stands on a boulder overlooking the river and breathes in the misty air. The sound of the water is overwhelming, it’s all around him, he’s there, he’s there, he’s—

He opens his eyes, the trickle of the tap coming back into focus as he gently turns the faucet off, thrown once again into absolute silence. But as he flicked the lights off and staggered back to bed, the memory of the white water rapids stayed with him. Even as a memory, the sound of the water rushing in his ears was loud enough to ease him into a restless sleep.

———

“Woah, dude, are you okay?”

His gaze flicked upwards to Hunk as he stepped into the kitchen, staring at Lance with a depth of worry masked by fleeting surprise. Great, that was exactly what he wanted to hear just after waking up.

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special first thing in the morning, buddy.” He muttered, voice still rough with sleep.

“Sorry, it’s just— you don’t look like you slept well, that’s not like you at all.” He passed by the long dining table to step into the kitchen proper, opening the cupboards and cabinets to brew up the morning’s breakfast.

He sighed, propping his chin up on his hands as he watched Hunk work, eyelids still heavy despite having woken naturally hours before. “It’s just… too quiet out here for me. I can’t stand it. I don’t know how everyone does it man, when it’s like this I feel like my heads going to explode.”

“Well…” He trailed off, frowning as he glanced apologetically in Lance’s direction. “Normally I’d recommend sleeping somewhere else, but with us needing to be battle-ready at the drop of a hat and all…”

“No time to rush into uniform from somewhere else in the castle.” He finished his sentence for him, and Hunk nodded in agreement.

Just as he lowered his head to rest on the cool metal of the table top the doors swished open once more to reveal their team leader and mullet-brain walking in tandem. He was proud of himself for holding in the groan his body had wanted to express, swallowing it down as he let his eyes once again fall closed. They were in quiet conversation about something, probably dumb cool space-brother stuff. Stuff Lance had no business knowing anything about.

“Lance, are you feeling alright?”

Jeez, was it really that obvious? “Fine.” He muttered, more terse that was truly necessary. But he was tired of this topic already, couldn’t they move on to a different one? Like Keith’s hilarious bedhead.

“Who turned the gravity off?” He groaned, amused as the red and black paladins looked around in confusion. He raised an arm, pointing lazily in Kieth’s direction. “Your hair’s defying the laws of physics.”

Keith’s eyes went wide, his hands flying up to find a ridiculous cowlick gracing the crown of his head. He turned sharply toward Shiro. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Shiro beamed, his smile a little too wide for innocence as he held his hands up in defense. “I didn’t notice it!”

“Likely story.” Lance mused, squinting up at him. “At least someone in this castle got a good night’s sleep.”

“You couldn’t sleep?” Shiro asked, his voice twinged with genuine concern that made Lances chest bloom with warmth. It was nice to know their team leader cared enough to ask about something as simple as a good night’s rest.

“I’ll be fine after I get some food goo in my system, I’m sure.” He hummed, though even to him it sounded hollow. He’d slept for maybe two hours? But he’d hoped his skincare routine would keep his complexion bright and clear even after a restless night. Apparently he’d been wrong.

Despite his less-than-stellar reassurances Shiro let it slide, trusting Lance to know his limits. But even after he found his seat and pulled out his holo-pad, Kieth continued to stare at him from where he stood on the opposite end of the table. He squinted at him, trying to gauge what his deal was this morning, but Kieth’s face remained frustratingly unreadable.

“Do you need something from me?” He asked. He’d been aiming for neutrality, not wanting to waste precious energy on an unnecessary jab this early in the morning, but despite his efforts he somehow missed the mark, his tone ending up closer to annoyance than passivity.

Kieth’s lip tipped downward, his brow furrowing in what Lance could only assume was reciprocated agitation before he took a seat across from Shiro three seats down, apparently ignoring him completely. Fine. That was just fine. Keith could do whatever he wanted, that didn’t bother him at all.

Three weeks ago he’d been struck with an epiphany while venting to Hunk about his daily grievances with Keith. They’d been in Yellow’s hangar at the time, Hunk tinkering away at something within her panels as Lance paced, fuming a few feet away:

“Lance,” He sighed, voice echoing from deep within the lion’s circuits. “I know this is going to be hard to hear, but you need to hear it from someone you trust, and I hope you’ll take this in.” The sound of a socket wrench rang as he spoke. “All this time and energy you’re spending on Keith? Thinking about him, venting, getting worked up and stressed; that’s not doing anything to him, that’s doing something to you. At this point he’s made it clear how he feels about everything, right? He’s made his thoughts clear to you?”

Lance scoffed, his arms tight against his chest as he squeezed his arms. “He might as well be speaking another language man, I never know what he wants, or what he’s thinking! Even when I talk straight to him he’s always dodging me!”

“See, that’s what I’m saying. Not communicating is itself a communication. He doesn’t want to talk to you? Then you don’t talk to him. If he engages with you then that’s different, but with people like Keith sometimes it’s better to just let things lie where they lie.”

That had made him stall completely, nearly falling over himself as he came to a complete and sudden stop, sneakers squeaking against the smooth floor. “…But we’re a team, right? We should, y’know, try to work as a team.”

“I mean— yes, yeah, of course, but think of it this way: at the garrison, you had to work with people you didn’t like sometimes. Class projects and stuff like that, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Think of Voltron like a class project. We’re all working toward the same goal, we all want it to work out, we all want the same thing. But you can’t choose your partners. Keith didn’t get to choose this any more than anyone else did. If he was better at communicating I’m sure he’d tell you that, and I’m also sure that it doesn’t make him feel any better when you’re constantly antagonizing him.”

“I don’t—!”

“Lance.”

“…Alright, maybe I do.”

Since then his new philosophy had become ‘ignore Kieth as much as he ignored him, only participating when he initiated conversation’ which, all accolades to Hunk, seemed to be working well for all parties involved. He wasn’t worrying so much about every glance Keith sent his way. He wasn’t running to Hunk after every stilted conversation, every training session that ended a little too aggressively, to complain about Keith’s unknowable motivations.

It had been a full week since his last venting session, and to be completely honest with himself, he hadn’t realized how much of a strain those conversations had been having on his friendship with Hunk, completely aside from his own mental health. Hunk was ceaselessly patient with him, but until that conversation he’d been blind to what a crutch that patient nature had become for him. The only thing they’d talked about for the past two months at least had been all the problems he had with Keith. Since his epiphany they’d gotten back into competitive video games, and had even started watching movies with Pidge in the lounge again.

It wasn’t like all his problems were solved though, of course he still felt all the feelings when Keith got on his nerves, but when that anger rose up he paused, stepped back and asked: who’s in charge here? Who’s in control? And suddenly it’s like he was viewing himself from outside his body, watching the scenario from a few feet away, and he could shut it down before his emotions got out of hand.

He’d made the choice to commit to Hunk’s advice before he went to sleep and the next day felt like a fever dream as he consciously refused to interact with Keith. He walked right past him into the kitchen that morning to help Hunk in the kitchen, didn’t volunteer to spar Keith during training, didn’t snap or make comments during their debrief meeting that evening. As they were heading back to their barracks that night Shiro had stopped him and asked if something had happened between him and Keith, and he’d told him the truth: he’d decided to place all his focus on being the best paladin he could be. The universe was relying on Voltron, there was no room for his rivalry with Keith anymore.

At the time he thought Shiro would be thrilled to hear that. After all it was Shiro’s voice of reason telling him to knock off his rivalry antics during meetings and missions. It was Shiro’s warning tone that echoed in his head every time he considered snapping at Keith’s every glare. But when he explained his reasoning the crease between Shiro’s brows only deepened, the encouraging smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes as he told him to work hard.

Now as he rested his head on the kitchen table, not for the first time, he wondered what the hell the guy must be thinking. What he thought of him. How he felt about the new dynamic Lance was pushing between them. Hunk had congratulated him after the first few days, commenting on how much he could see the change in Lance already.

It felt good, he told himself. It felt freeing. He felt better.

He felt better.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Once again he flinched, head shooting up to see Pidge leaning against the wall a few feet in front of him, her eyes locked onto his, narrowed in scrutiny.

“Can everyone please stop commenting on my horrible, horrible ugly face this morning? I’m sorry you can’t have your essential look-at-Lance’s-gorgeous-amazing-face time, but I’m the one who slept like shit last night!”

“Language.” Shiro chided, although his tone was gentle. “I won’t lie Lance, today’s training isn’t going to be kind if you’re not on your A-game.” Lance whined, a look of complete tragedy crossing is face, “—But once we’re finished you can go back to bed and get some extra rest. We don’t have any additional plans until the evening.”

“What’s happening this evening?” Hunk called from the kitchen.

“Diplomatic meeting. Honestly, the princess might just take myself and Coran down to speak with this new planet’s leaders. They’re just outside the Galran’s current written territory, so they’re worried about an impending attack and reached out to us for support.”

“Wow, they reached out to us?” He asked, lifting his head from the table. “Word must be getting out that Voltron’s back.”

“Right.” Shiro nodded, a proud smile on his face as he looked around the room, his gaze lingering on every member of their team for a few moments. “You know what that means? It means the universe is starting to feel our presence. They’re starting to believe that change is real. That a world outside of the Galra’s rule is possible. That’s because of you.” His smile grew as he looked from Keith, to Hunk, to Pidge, to Lance. “You made that hope You are that hope.”

He sat up straight and lifted his head as Shiro’s gaze lingered on him a second longer, nodding once and returning that smile, if a bit subdued. “Voltron is hope.” He said quietly, glancing back at each of his teammates. “And we’re Voltron.”

“We’re Voltron.” Pidge nodded in agreement.

“We’re Voltron!” Hunk cheered loudly from the kitchen, breaking through the somewhat intense atmosphere that had settled over the table.

Breakfast passed in a blur of soft conversation as Lance forced his eyes to stay open, cracking a few jokes between Hunk and Pidge, who acted as a bridge between the two sides of the table. He and Hunk on one side, and Shiro and Keith on the other.

He wondered if that’s how she felt. Outside of the kitchen. He’d give anything to be the paladin Shiro voluntarily shared a breakfast conversation with, the natural flow of motion as he sat across from the team leader talking strategy, history… piloting. He wanted Shiro to value his thoughts as much as he clearly valued Keith’s—

He flinched, his teeth clenching together as his body visibly jolted in his seat. No. Stop that train of thought right now.

“Dude, you alright?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, resting his chin back in his hand without opening his eyes. Yeah, just bit my tongue.”

“Speaking of biting tongues,” Pidge started, pointing a shark-like smirk in his direction. “You’ve been avoiding Keith all week. Something going on?”

“The opposite, actually.” He muttered easily, taking a long sip from his glass. “I’ve seen the light, the error of my ways, you might say.”

“Lance as reached enlightenment.” Hunk smirked.

“Uh-huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.” She muttered, clearly unconvinced.

Again Lance sat up, his indignation rising above his exhaustion. “What, a full week of passivity isn't enough proof for you? I haven’t said a single word to the guy in four days. No arguments, no fights, nothing.”

“A week isn’t that long to go without fighting. Now if you kept this act up for a month or two…”

“What would you bet?”

Her smirk somehow sharpened further, gazing over the top of her glasses at him. “What are you willing to bet?”

“I asked you first.”



“I asked you second!”

She scoffed, leaning back in her chair as she thought, threading her fingers together behind her head. “I've got an old music player you can borrow. Even got a pair of headphones.”

Lance steeled his exterior, something he’d gotten very good at doing over the past week. “…You’re betting something on a borrow?”

“Yeah, you can borrow it until we get back to Earth.” She explained, waving her hand lazily to emphasize her words. “You’re having trouble sleeping, right? Some nice, soothing acoustic guitar tunes would help on those difficult nights.”

“Ooh, Pidge, you’re demonic.” He muttered. “Alright, and I’ll raise…” He trailed off, weighing his options. “…I know! I’ve got that fleece-lined sherpa hoodie from the market.”

She gasped, jumping to her feet and slamming her hands down, their dishes clattering against the tabletop. “You bought that sweater?! You’re kidding, you’re kidding! The guy told me they were sold out!”

“They were.” He grinned. “I got the last one.”

“Deal. Oh so totally a deal, you are on! Get ready to lose!”

“In your dreams Pigeon.” He grinned, letting his eyes slip closed, tilting his head back against his chair. “I’m a master at ignoring Keith now.”

“What about me?”

His eyes snapped open, his gaze locking instantly onto Keith’s confused glare from where he stood frozen, just over Hunk’s shoulder. Shiro was walking out of the kitchen behind him, one last glance thrown over his shoulder at the group of young paladins before he disappeared, leaving only Keith’s face for Lance to stare at awkwardly. His throat dried up, his mouth suddenly uncooperative.

“…What about me?” He asked again, his tone slightly sharper the second time. More on-edge.

“Uh,” he looked down at his plate sitting on the table, a smidge of food-goo stuck to the edge. “Pidge was just saying how we haven’t— you and I, I mean, not Pidge and I— that we haven’t talked in-in a couple days.” He stammered, avoiding Keith’s lethal gaze.

“Oh.” He hummed, and if Lance wasn’t mistaken, his shoulders relaxed slightly, lowering an inch or so. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Yeah.” He agreed simply. “That’s all.”

A long beat of awkward silence fell between the four of them as Keith looked down at Lance, and Lance stared up at Keith.

Don’t react. He told himself. Don’t react.

“…Well, if that’s all.” He muttered, his eyes suddenly darting away to look at the floor, the table, the door. He watched Keith’s back in confusion as he walked away, tossing his plate haphazardly into the bin by the door before walking out, the doors swishing closed behind him.

Hunk whistled, slouching back in his seat with a groan. “Jeez, you two are impossible.”

“What!” He squawked, rising out of his seat and gesturing wildly toward the door. “How was anything I did in that conversation even remotely—”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Pidge chided, poking him in the shoulder. “Consider this strike one. You get two more. If you can’t stop yourself from complaining about Keith, our bet is off.”

He blinked, wide eyed. “Wh- that was not part of our deal!”

“It is now!” She cheered. “If you can’t keep your yap shut about Keith for a whole month, you can say goodbye to that music player.”

“Pidge!” He shouted, jumping from his chair as she bolted out the door. “PIDGE YOU CHEATER!”

“Brother, relax.” Hunk chuckled, lifting his plate and taking Pidge’s along with it to the bin. “You’ve got this, right? Don’t let Keith get under your skin, you’ve been doing just fine on that front this week. Keep it up and that music player is yours.”

He scoffs, brows pinched together. “Yeah but— I can’t even talk about him now? I’m not a robot man, I’ve got feelings.”

“I know, I know.” He nodded, resting a weighty, grounding hand on Lance’s shoulder. “How about this:” He reaches down into Lance’s jacket pocket, pulling out his data pad. “In case you’re unaware, you have access to a digital notebook on this. Write down anything that ticks you off over the month, and once this is all over we’ll have one final vent session, and then put this behind us once and for all.”

He took the data pad into his hands, tapping the screen a few times until he found a journal app he hadn’t noticed before. He smiled, looking back at Hunk with a determined smile before throwing his arms around him, squeezing tight. “Thank you, Hunk. You’re the best.”

“I try.” He grinned, squeezing him back. “Now come on, we’ve got a training session to get through.”

Down on the training deck, he and Hunk are the last to make it, but they’re still on time, so thankfully Allura doesn’t pester them about it.

“Are you all prepared for today’s training?” She asked, standing tall in front of the five of them.

“Depends on what it is.” He muttered, wiping a smirk off his face when the princess turned, her focus zeroed-in on him.

“As a paladin of Voltron you must be prepared for all types of battle, at any moment. Long range, short range, hand-to-hand, bladed. Your opponent will do everything in their power to keep you unaware of their next move, the tricks they might have up their sleeve.” She steps to the side, gesturing toward the training deck, which was outfitted with a complex but navigable obstacle course. Raised, angled platforms and hanging hand-holds glowed with the signature Altean blue of the castle while the floor burned with a bright red.

“This particular exercise will test your ability to use your surroundings to your advantage. The gladiator will pursue you across the stage. It may begin without a weapon and suddenly use one against you, or it may begin with a weapon before throwing it aside to engage in hand-to-hand. You must be prepared to change your priorities within a tick as you navigate your surroundings, without falling.”

“The ultimate game of the-floor-is-lava.” Lance muttered, grinning as his eyes flitted across each of the platforms, already planning his preferred route. “Sounds like a gas.”

Allura squints at him, confused. “A what?”

“N-Nothing.” He shook his head. “It just means a good time. Sounds like fun.”

She frowned, clearly unamused by his excitement. “We’ll see how fun you find it when you’re being pursued by an unpredictable opponent.” She took another step back, once again addressing all five paladins. “Take your positions and activate your bayards.”

“Wait— we’re all going to be training at once?” Pidge raised a brow as she activated her bayard, the green blade glowing in her hand.

“Of course, you’ll be battling alongside your fellow paladins against the Galra.” She explained, raising a hand toward the training deck. “Now please, paladins, take your places.”

Lance stood on one of the lower platforms, bayard weighing comfortably in his hands as he danced from foot-to-foot. He wasn’t feeling fantastic, but he could handle a training session. Honestly the exercise would probably wipe him out, making it easier to sleep through the rest of the afternoon.

Yes, he was looking forward to this session.

A deafening buzzer sounded and instantly he was on his back, an Altean training gladiator standing over him with a sword in one hand, shield in the other. Despite being caught off guard he raised his rifle with a swift motion, spraying upwards at the robot and watching as it spasmed with each blast of laser light before falling to the ground at his feet, limp. He spotted another gladiator at the edge of the ring activating, it’s single jewel-esque eye focused solely on him.

Above him he could hear Shiro crying out as he punched his opponent off its platform, the robot hitting the glowing red floor and shattering into dozens of pieces. Lance swallowed thickly as he stared at its parts. What would happen to them if they landed on the floor? It was… it was just lights, right? They wouldn’t, like, instantly combust like the robots, would they?

He didn’t get a chance to open his mouth and ask before the gladiator from across the deck was suddenly on him, jumping swiftly from platform to platform with ease. He grit his teeth, body tensing as he threw himself bluntly onto the nearest platform, landing on his side as the gladiator again loomed above him. This time his opponent was unarmed, reaching down with a cold steel hand, clamping it’s smooth fingers around his neck. He flailed, bayard laying on the platform under his feet as the gladiator raised him higher, his feet kicking the air uselessly as air— air, air, air—

Suddenly he was back on the ground, throat seizing as he coughed against the ground, fumbling for his gun. The robot was smoking, a hole burned through it’s midsection. He looked past it seeing Hunk up on his own platform going head-to-head against a radiator of his own. He made a mental not to thank him later, forcing himself back to his feet as he turned to the left and right, searching for the next opponent.

“Lance!”

His head snapped toward the princesses voice, carefully stepping off the platform when he saw her waving him over, being certain to avoid the glowing red of the training deck.

He jogged over, breathless as he rested his hands on his knees. “Yeah?”

“What’s going on today? You’ve spent more time on your back than on your feet.” She scolded, voice stern as she watched the other paladin’s fight.

“Sorry.” He breathed, and he meant it. “Sorry princess, I’m not at my best right now.”

She made a noise of indignation, arms folded across her chest as she looked down on his hunched form. “There will be times we have to fight the Galra when we’re not at our best.” She turned, a scowl carved into her face. “Catch your breath and watch your teammates as they fight. Observe, learn, and then get back out there and do it again.”

He nodded, standing up straight and wiping sweat from his face with one hadn’t as he watched. Pidge was moving like a spider monkey, one hand gripping a hanging hand-hold as the other shot her bayard toward the gladiator reaching for her from the nearest platform. He shot toward it, tangling it easily and yanking it forward where it fell to the floor below, shattering into pieces.

It was amazing to see Shiro work too. He really held his own as a fighter, and it was easy to see why he was their team leader just from the way he fights. His motions were quick, efficient, and lethal against his opponents, overwhelming them before throwing the robot easily over the edge.

“Look at the red paladin.” Allura instructed, and he did his best not to roll his eyes, forcing his gaze to focus on the flitting figure of Kieth as he dodged the advancing swings of his gladiator opponent. “His movements are perfectly fluid, reacting intuitively to his opponents strikes. He isn’t planning, but feeling their movements—”

“Yeah, yeah…” He froze, feeling the princesses shocked gaze on him from his right.

“Excuse me?” She asked, her tone sharp and incredulous.

“I’m, I’m sorry.” He apologized. “I’m watching.”

“Is this exercise a joke to you?” She asked, once again raising a hand toward his teammates, each of which were facing incredibly harsh opponents and thwarting their advances successfully. “These training sessions are not games Lance. They are battles. Only in a real battle you won’t get a second chance to get up and try again. You don’t get to say ‘I’m too tired.’ ‘I don’t want to’—”

“I never said I didn’t want to do this!” He shouted, taking a step forward against his better judgement. He was in her face now, and he knew that wasn’t where he was supposed to be. It wasn’t where he wanted to be. But he was here now, and he had to get out of this somehow. “I never said I didn’t want to do this.” He repeated, controlling his tone.

The princess was fuming, her lower lip turned in as she bit down on it. “You have not been taking these training sessions seriously. The red paladin has been. He’s consistently focused, he consistently succeeds, and you—”

Something in Lance’s head suddenly popped, like a needle touching a record. Like a radio crackling to life. His eyes opened wide as he watched his hand move against his will. Against his better judgement.

No. No, no, this can’t be real. I wouldn’t do this. I would never do this.

He stared down at the princes where she sat on the ground holding her shoulder, his voice echoing off the training deck walls.

“STOP COMPARING ME TO HIM!”

The deck was suddenly far too silent as the robots fell to their knees, deactivated, and every paladin stared in shock.

“Lance.” Shiro warned from the platform above them, his brow furrowed in a scowl. “What—”

Before anyone could say anything more, before anyone could make him feel even more ashamed he turned swiftly, heart hammering as he ran out through the training deck doors, Allura’s voice echoing his name down the hall.

Chapter Text

The pool had always been a comforting place for him. Back on Earth his favorite place to go on the weekends had been the local YMCA, swimming laps or jumping off the diving board, playing games with his niece and nephew if there was enough space. When he first found out about the Altean swimming pool onboard he’d been relieved. He was no stranger to stress, and without a comforting place to decompress… he wasn’t sure how well he’d be coping with being away from his family, let alone shot into space.

After the castle malfunctioned it took a long time for the pool to feel safe again. Not just for the possibility of another malfunction but… the possibility of running into Keith. Thankfully though in all the times he’d come there to get away from everyone else, he’d never run into him a second time.

The floor was cool, and damp with humidity. He sat in his board shorts at the pool's edge, inches away from the water’s surface. He closed his eyes and imagined the rattling echoes of his niece and nephew’s laughter off the sheer walls, breathing deep. They would’ve liked it here. Not the castle, but the pool. Specifically the pool. The castle was too big for his family, which was hilarious to even think considering how cramped his house was. But he loved that house. He grew up there sharing a bedroom with two siblings, sharing a bathroom with five family members. The dining table was too small for them all so the kids ate in the living room, but the younger ones would always end up climbing into his mother’s lap, or his grandma’s.

His breath caught in his throat and— yeah, maybe it was time to stop thinking about his family for now.

“I was told I’d find you here.”

The voice reverberated around the room, barely decipherable once it met his ears. He turned sharply, surprised to see Shiro’s figure silhouetted in the dark hallway, the dim blue lights of the pool barely illuminating his face. “I thought you’d be planet-side by now.” He muttered, watching his approach. He wasn’t dressed like he was planning on being anywhere near a diplomatic meeting that evening.

Lance was far from the only person on board who’d invested in a new wardrobe, but it was rare to see Shiro outside of his paladin uniform. He looked so… normal. Which itself was incredibly strange given where they were.

“It’s been delayed. Some of the diplomats had problems getting to the capitol so it’s postponed for tomorrow evening.” He explained, taking a seat beside him at the water’s edge, a steady silence encompassing them as he took in the room. Lance wondered if he’d ever come to the pool by himself before, or if this was his first time.

“So. This morning.” He turned to Lance, his words filling the air with electricity, and he could hear Shiro sigh through his nose, long and low.

“…I’m already formulating an apology if that’s what you’re here to yell at me about.”

“Lance..” And ouch, the drawn out exasperation in his voice did not make the hole in his chest any smaller. Now he wasn’t just affecting his relationship with his teammates, but his relationship with their team leader. “Yes, you need to make an apology to the princess. A very formal, well thought out and deep apology.”

“Noted.” He mumbled.

“But if I’m being completely honest, there’s something else on my mind right now.”

“Before you say anything, I’ve sworn an oath of silence.” He muttered, a loose smirk lifting the corners of his mouth before they dropped, staring out at the pool’s wavering surface. It was a humorous defense at best. He wasn’t getting out of this conversation just because he promised Pidge he’d shut up about Keith.

He could feel Shiro’s eyes turn on him, the heat of his gaze raising the hairs on the back of his neck. But he’d gotten good at keeping his emotions in check. He wasn’t going to say anything he didn’t want to say, and right now he didn’t want to say anything, anything to Shiro.

“I know you and Keith have never been on the best of terms, especially since we all got shot into space, but—”

“If he wants to talk to me he can come in here and do it himself.”

“I’m not his messenger pigeon.” His gaze returned to the side of his face. Lance wondered for a moment if Shiro could see through him, see all his insides with how intense his eyes were. But he couldn’t look. If he looked, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He might punch Shiro, and he didn’t want to do that.

Keep control. He closed his eyes, tightening his hands into fists. I’m in control.

“You’re not exactly making it easy for him to reach you right now.”

That spiked his anger, his brow creased in incredulity as he found his resolve and turned to Shiro, the air between them suddenly hot, and sharp as he met his gaze head on. His arms stayed at his sides. He didn’t want to find out what would happen if he punched two team leaders in one day.

”I’m not making it easy?” His lip curled as he raised his hands above his head, gesturing at the wide empty room around them. “You found me on your own. I’m in here sulking, wallowing in my misery. He has legs, the door’s unlocked. I don’t know how much easier I could—” He seethed, sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth as he cut himself off, turning back to the pool. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters.” Shiro whispered, insistent. Much too gentle for the reaming Lance was certain must be coming soon. Once he was done easing him out of his burrow of shame. “You’re teammates, and I know he wants to talk to you.”

“Then why isn’t he here?” Water dripped from a faucet somewhere in the room, the drip of it like a gunshot in the silence surrounding them. Shiro pushed his legs through the water, the sound of it rippling, hitting the tiles, the tiny waves nearly reaching Lance’s toes where they sat just over the lip of the pool.

“You wanna know what Kieth thinks?”

He sighed, the weight in his chest feeling heavy and hollow all at once. “No?” The sound of his voice make him chuckle, all dry and weak. “I mean— Damnit Shiro, I’m always wondering what he thinks.”

To his surprise Shiro laughed, soft and genuine. “He’s not taking it well.”

Lance shot up in surprise, eyes wide as he turned to Shiro, unbelieving. “What?”

“Mhm.” He nodded slowly. “Look, Lance. I’m not here to tell you how to talk to your friends. That’s none of my business, and I know whatever I say won’t make a difference to you or Keith. But I’m the leader of Voltron, so I have to look out for what’s best for the team. And you know what I think?”

His heart sank. Here t comes. His head fell back to rest over his knees, staring up at Shiro from behind his arm. “What?”

“I think you’re doing alright.”

Again, Lance looked at him in surprise, though this time he remained unmoving, only his eyebrows raising as he stared back at Shiro’s open, welcoming expression.

“Really, I do. You two have had this animosity between you since day one, but it’s never stopped you from working as a team. Whatever you’re going through right now, I know you’ll make it right. Despite what you might think he’s not impossible to get along with.”

Shiro chuckled, but the sound died quickly when Lance’s mouth didn’t so much as twitch upwards.“Maybe with you.” He whispered, the black hole widened, radiating pain throughout his chest, a shiver running up his spine. “Of course with you, Shiro. And Pidge. Hell, Hunk gets along better with Keith than I do. Everyone gets along with him better than I do.”

The air between them was vast and unnavigable. He reached a hand out, palm hovering cautiously above Lance’s shoulder blade before he thought better of the gesture and retracted it, fingers clutching anxiously at the hem of his shorts. “Lance.” He whispered. He winced at the caution in his voice, only heightening his hesitation. “Don’t compare your friendship with Hunk to your friendship with Keith. Or his relationships with the Pidge and I. We’re all different people, we all have our own feelings about one another.”

“Not him.” He whimpered, grimacing at the pathetic tone of his voice. He shook his head, scowling into the water’s rippling surface. “Not with me.”

Shiro’s shoulders sank, his face falling as he watched the pained pained of Lance’s expression deepen. His chin dimpled, the muscles of his cheek tightened into a grimace. “Lance, Keith cares about you.”

“No.” He snapped. It wasn’t aggressive, but it was immediate. A gut-reaction. An instinct rather than a thought. He scoffed, the sound harsh in the echo chamber of the pool hall. His face contorted, the angry, dejected grimace pulled into a dry smile. “It’s not even that he hates me, or even— doesn’t like me. Shiro, he doesn’t think about me.”

Damn it, the rawness of his throat was clear as he spoke, his eyes turning glossy as he blinked hard, hiding his face in his knees. “I just want to be a good teammate.”

Suddenly his lungs slammed into overdrive, fast hungry breaths puffing hot against his knees. He leaned forward, unwinding his legs to give himself more room. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders, nails digging in harshly to the skin of his neck. A whine escaped his throat against his will, and he pressed a hand to his mouth before removing it to speak. “That’s all I want, really, really it is—!” An exhale shuddered from his lungs before he sucked in another, scrubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Shiro’s hand, warm and comforting, rested on his shoulder as he leaned into Lance’s space, his metal arm reaching for his other shoulder to turn him toward him. “Lance, you’re fine. You’re a great teammate. You’re one of the best team players on this ship.”

There was a thread of panic under the soft, strong reassurance in his voice. The calm resolve of his team leader became muddled in his hot, blurred vision. Had Lance ever yelled in front of Shiro before? He couldn’t pick out a specific memory now, but his thoughts were running too fast for him to dig deep. His fingers felt numb and tingly, skin hot, the cool pool air doing nothing to ease his pain.

“Lance, come here.” And suddenly Shiro’s arms were pulling him in, his head pressed to his shoulder as hands braced solidly against his back. “Breathe, Breathe in. Don’t be scared.” He mumbled reassurances quietly, one of his hands lifting to cross over his shoulders. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

His brows pinched together in confusion as Shiro’s metal hand pressed to the back of his head. He wasn’t afraid… But he couldn’t deny the hammering of his heart against his ribcage, the shivers wracking his body.

“Don’t hold your breath, it won’t help, just relax now and breathe.”

His teeth grit together as he tried, his throat tight and muscles uncooperative. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath through his teeth, his exhale more of a growl than a breath. “Wh, Why—?”

“Easy, don’t worry about it right now, focus on breathing.” Shiro urged him gently, hands moving to the center of his back again. “I’ve been through this before, trust me. Just breathe for now. It can wait.”

He gave one jerky nod, squeezing his eyes closed to shut out the rest of the world. Behind his eyes the world was black, flashes of color radiating from the corners of his vision like blotchy shapes in a void. He heard it first, the sound of rushing water crashing over rocks. The static fuzz of mist spray splattering against his shirt, droplets clinging to every strand of hair.

He forced the real world away, drawing all his focus to the river. Bringing the vision to the front of his mind. He could feel the heat of the sun on his face, warming his shoulders through his shirt and radiating from the sun-baked boulder he stood on, slick with water. The mist clings to his clothes. The air is cool. He breathes in.

“Good.” Shiro whispered, voice bouncing hollowly throughout the empty hall, ringing in his ears. “Just like that again. Deep breath in.”

Slowly Lance relaxed against him, the tense line of his shoulders dipping to rest more comfortably against him. His hands, clenched into tight fists, uncurled to reveal deep ridges marking the soft meat of his palms. He pulled back, holding Lance in front of him. The blue pool lights reflecting off the planes of his face casting him in a crystalline glow.

“That’s better.” He whispered, another smile blooming on his face when Lance opened his eyes. “That was good, Lance. Good.”

“What happened?” He rasped, looking around the pool hall in confusion. Visions of the rapids still clinging to the back of his eyes.

“You’ve never had a panic attack before?”

He shook his head silently, brows furrowed. “That what happens when you… think about the gladiator rings, isn’t it?”

“It’s alright.” He reassured instead of answering, one hand still held onto his shoulder, a steadying force Lance thought he might float away without. “We’ve all been under a lot of stress lately, it’s only natural to let it out.”

“Look—” He huffed a breath in one sharp exhale, pulling away from Shiro’s comforting presence to clear his head, focus his thoughts. “A-About training today, I, I’ll make an apology to the princess t-tomorrow, I—”

“I know you will.” He interrupts, pushing himself to his feet. He offers a hand to Lance, their palms clasped against once another as Shiro pulls him up alongside him. “I’m not worried about your apology to the princess, Lance. I’m worried about why it happened in the first place.”

He withdrew his hand, tucking both into his pockets as Lance folded his arms around himself. With the panic gone, exhaustion took it’s place, and he was suddenly very ready to go to bed. They walked together to the pool’s entrance, Shiro’s hand once again resting on Lance’s back as he led him forward through the thin hall.

When they reached the elevator the doors swept open, the pod waiting patiently for them to step inside, but Shiro stopped him, holding him by the shoulder for a moment longer. “Just— promise me one thing: Next time you start to feel this way, you’ll come to me instead of letting it overwhelm you like it did in the training deck today, okay? We’ll talk it out.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it almost immediately. Shiro was the team leader, it would be different than talking to Hunk about everything, right? Shiro was the oldest member of the team, he knew more than anyone else. And despite being closer to Keith, he was a level-headed third(ish) party. Or at least, he was good at playing devil’s advocate in Lance’s favor.

“Thanks.” He said instead, smiling over his shoulder. “For, just, everything. Thanks for not being mad at me.”

“Don’t be fooled, I’m not exactly thrilled you shoved the princess.” He admitted as they stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind them. “But even she understood how out of character that was for you.”

“I promise I’ll make a really, really good apology.”

He sighed, smiling that warm, open smile as he reached up, ruffling his hair. “I know.”

———

He stands in the center of a sun-baked rock, gently curved, mist collecting on its surface from the roiling waterfall surrounding him. The river, wide and deep, water raging against his skin when he stands too close to the edge, whipping the backs of his hands and neck.

His shirt and shorts are damp with mist, hanging off his frame. The darkness of his skin showing through the fabric of his chest and arms where it touched him, hair curling around his ears as he breathed in, and out.

The rest of the world was so far away, he could hardly see the valley through the foggy atmosphere, and he wondered if maybe this place was from some forgotten family vacation. It had to be, it felt too real. He must’ve been here before. The stoney shore was a dozen yards away, separated from him by a depth of rushing water that would be impossible to cross on foot. A small cove surrounded by towering cypress, the ground covered in stones and fresh needles from the trees. He breathed in again, slow and deep, the scent of pine so intense it stung his nose.

The sun beat down on him, its warmth radiating through his body, water glistening on his cheeks, droplets falling from his lashes. As a cool breeze brushed him from behind he shivered, raising his arms in the wind.

“LANCE!”

His heart stammered, arms dropping to his sides as he looked toward the shore in shock.

”LAAANCE!!”

Keith’s hands cupped around his mouth, face contorted with fear, eyes wide, he stood with one foot in the water.

He took a sharp breath, stomach muscles tensed as he prepared to yell, to warn him away from the water’s edge, but before he could even try to scream it was like his breath was pushed from his mouth. No sound escaped his mouth. He took another breath, cupped his hands mirroring Keith’s pose, and screamed.

“—AAHHH!”

He hit the floor hard, heart battering his ribs desperately to escape his chest and limbs tangled in his covers.

His bedroom door hissed open, two pairs of sneakers squeaking against the floor as Hunk and Pidge ran inside, Hunk in his night clothes and Pidge wearing her leg armor, clearly caught off guard in the middle of changing into her armor.

“Lance!” He cried, apparently relieved to see his best friend tangled in his bedsheets on the floor. “Jesus man, what happened?!”

He groaned, kicking his covers away as Pidge offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet. “You were screaming.” She muttered softly, out of breath.

Shit, he was? The image of Keith stepping into the rapids was burned into the backs of his eyelids. His pulse threaded as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry! Sorry, It was just a nightmare, no big deal.”

Pidge sighed, her arms dropping to her sides as she pushed a harsh breath through her bangs. “Dude, you were scream-ing.” She said again, the word dripping with emphasis. “Not nightmare screaming, like—”

“I thought someone snuck onto the ship somehow.” Hunk breathed, his posture slumping as he lowered his unactivated bayard back to his side.

“Shit, guys, I’m sorry.” He muttered, offering an arm to Hunk who hugged him quickly, pulling him in. “I’m alright. I didn’t mean to freak you both out like that.”

“What the hell were you dreaming about?” Pidge turned to him, her voice grave with an even mix of intensity and curiosity.

He brought a hand to his face, palm pressed to the side of his cheek. “It was—“ He froze, Keith’s terrified face flashing in the back of his mind again. “I was drowning.” He muttered quickly, rubbing his hand across his mouth.

Pidge’s expression spasmed suddenly in confusion, her nose wrinkling as she and Hunk shared a side-eyed look. “…Seriously?”

“What!” He squawked, leaning to his right to swipe the pillow from his bed. “Just because I can swim doesn't mean I can’t also dream of drowning.”

“Yeah, but—” Hunk caught himself, a worried look flashing across his face. “You think it might have something to do with the lions? You’re the blue paladin, didn’t Allura said something about being sensitive to water or something?”

“Sensitive to water?” He repeated with a ‘tsk’. “Dude, Blue loves me, if she was pissed about something I’m sure scaring the shit out of my with a drowning nightmare wouldn’t be her first choice.”

“They’re psychic metal lions Lance.” Pidge folded her arms, staring at him over the edge of her glasses. “You have no idea what she’d do first.”

“Would you two get out of my room?” He snapped suddenly, tossing his covers back onto his bed in a pile, looking back at them with a twinge of annoyance. “Go, finish putting on your armor. We’ve gotta get down to the main hall before Allura’s starts her debrief.”

Pidge scoffed, rolling her eyes as she followed Hunk back out his bedroom door. “Whatever, whatever! Glad you’re not getting attacked by the Galra.”

“See you in ten minutes!” Hunk called, his voice cut in half as the door swished shut behind them.

He sighed, slumping against the wall. His knees knocked together as he slid to the floor. He closed his eyes, and there he was again. Wide eyes staring straight into Lance’s soul, like he was terrified of him. One foot in the water.

“Shit.” He thumped his head back against the wall. The rapids were supposed to be a calming, imaginary exercise. A safe space he could go in his head when he needed to Not Be somewhere. Not a nightmare scenario where he watched his garrison rival dissolve in a white-tipped river.

He shook his head, pushing his hands against his knees as he stood, shaking out his hands as well as he pushed a stiff breath through his teeth. No matter. Keith was fine. He wasn’t drowning, or dissolved. He was somewhere in the castle right now probably chatting it up with Shiro or Allura. The thought of it doused the fire in his chest, leaving him with a cold, lonely feeling that he shook off too before pulling his armor from the wardrobe.

Today was supposed to be a rest day for everyone, no training or meeting scheduled, but they held a daily debrief in the main hall that Lance was determined not to be late for. He’d been on time to every meeting this week, he wasn’t about to break that streak on today of all days.

The main hallway stretched before him, occasionally interrupted by an outlet hall or pair of sliding doors. Hunk and Pidge were already gone by the time he’d finished getting his own armor on, so he’d be arriving by himself, but that was alright. There was nothing wrong with arriving alone so long as he was on time.

The grand hall doors slid open quietly, revealing the main deck with its cathedral-like floor-to-ceiling windows showing the depths of space beyond the glass. The rest of the team stood at the front of the room with Coran and Allura addressing them from the control platform.

His stomach plummeted, a wave of nausea reminding him that he hadn’t eaten dinner last night, or breakfast this morning. No, no, he knew he wasn’t late. He wasn’t—

“Lance!” Coran beamed, the tips of his mustache curling upwards. “Good of you to join us lad, Shiro was just telling Allura and I a wonderful Earthian tale!”

Instant relief. The nausea quieted in his stomach as a dizzy, lightheaded feeling replaced it. Maybe he should sit down. “You haven’t started yet.” He breathed.

“Not quite! But since everyone’s already here we might as well get into the day’s events, what do you say Princess?” He turned to Allura, who have him a small nod before straightening her posture, addressing the five paladins in a more regal fashion.

“There have been a few changes to our plans for today.” She began. “Before you get your hopes up, no, we haven’t planned any additional training for today.”

“Yes!” Pidge cheered, bumping Hunk’s fist.

“But,” she continued, raising an amused brow at the two, “Our diplomatic meeting with the Ortackas was rescheduled for this evening. That means that Shiro and I will be down on the planet’s surface for just over thirty two vargas for the scheduled events and a small honorific ceremony the following morning.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to split up the lions?” Keith asked, his eyes darting toward Shiro at the center of their aligned group before glaring back at the princess. “If Shiro’s going we should all go.”

From the opposite side of the group Pidge, Hunk, and Lance’s faces all leaned precariously to peer beyond Shiro’s broad shoulders to send their own laser-beam glares in Kieth’s direction. “Yeah, teacher, you forgot to collect the homework too.” She hissed, her glare only subsiding when Shiro moved the three of them back into line.

“Unfortunately for everyone here, the Ortackas have specifically requested to meet with only myself and the Black Lions paladin.”

“Oh, that is so shady.” Lance muttered, shaking his head.

“The Ortackas have an intense culture of championship. The fact that they’ve reached out to us for collaboration is already going against everything their culture honors. Their species has an intense inclination toward expressions of pride.” She explained, a slideshow of blue-hued images flashed behind her showing a large, hairy species of quadruped people draped in long swaths of fabrics that reminded Lance of Tibetan monks back on Earth. “This isn’t going to be an easy mission for anyone involved. For Shiro and I, we’ll be arguing the benefits of working together to a planet of people who have historically devalued collaboration. For the four of you, paladins, you will be standing guard here in the control room, keeping watch for any Galra activity in the system.”

“Wait— we’ll be watching for Galra activity across an entire solar system, nonstop, for thirty-two hours?!”

Lance swallowed, adams apple bobbling as he side-eyed Pidge’s outburst. He would’ve done the same thing too, if he wasn’t so keen on staying silent until his apology. Still, he was grateful someone was voicing his concerns.

“Pidge, let the princess finish the debrief before you ask anymore questions.” Shiro chided, nudging her shoulder with his elbow.

Allura glanced at each of them, regaining what modicum of composure she’d momentarily lost before continuing, “I won’t dictate your exact motions, but I’d highly suggest you perform your duties in shifts. Preferably two or three at a time, or perhaps you can cycle breaks— it’s not my concern how it is done, only that the castle and the lions within it, as well as the safety of the Ortackas are not left unattended in our absence.”

“—Er, yes princess.” Hunk nods, responding for the group when Shiro stayed silent.

Lance glanced toward their team leader, surprised to see his focus was somewhere other than the princess. Though it didn’t take long to figure out where it was. He straightened his back and stood facing the princess and Coran once more, determined not to say a word about any of it. It doesn’t matter that Keith is distracting Shiro, or that he spoke out of turn, or that he was the reason he had anything to apologize in the first place—

Nope. No. No, keep it cool. Everything is cool, and fine.

“With that all said, our meeting is adjourned. Until Shiro and I depart the ship this evening you’re free to spend your time as you wish.”

He blinked, his thoughts brought slamming back to the present as he looked up to see the rest of the team meandering toward the doors. Hopefully he hadn’t missed anything important, it was a rest day after all, but now was his opportunity. He had to make things right.

“Princess.” His heart began to race, his voice a touch louder than he’d hoped for, stopping the other paladins in their tracks They all turned back to look at him. Crap, okay, this was it. Go time.

“I want to apologize for my behavior during our group training yesterday.” He took a step forward separating himself from the others to stand solely in front of her. His hands flexed at his sides. “Yesterday, I let a fleeting feeling of anger overcome my better judgement and I lashed out at you in the process, which was just— just wrong. Unacceptable.”

Allura stood above him, her face frustratingly stoic as he trembled through his apology. He hoped his next phase wouldn’t be too dramatic, but it felt appropriate given the circumstances. He knelt down on one knee and hung his head, staring at the ground between them. “I’m asking for your forgiveness, and if you’re willing to, I want to attempt the training I was unable to complete yesterday again, today.”

The room was completely silent for seven, horrifying seconds before Allura spoke, soft enough that only he could hear her. “Rise, Lance.”

He did, pushing himself to his feet immediately. Shit, that had been too much. But when he heard the princess chuckle he looked up in shock, her expression one, not of anger or disgust, but… kindness. “I’m learning very quickly that you make excellent apologies.” She said, again low enough that only Lance could hear, and with her smile coloring each word.

He laughed, the sound abrupt and breathy as a relieved smile split his own face. “Yeah, I, I’ve had a lot of practice over the years.” He joked. “But this… what I did was out of line, princess, and I, I really am asking if you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“If I can find it in my heart?” She whispered, and as she said the words her hand raised to hover over the center of her chest.

He swallowed thickly, all humor fading from his face as he nodded once more. “Please.”

“Paladin Lance.” She announced, sending a spike through his nerves as he stepped back, addressing the other paladins as much as she was addressing him directly. “You are forgiven. And I’ll be very eager to see what you can accomplish on the training deck today.” She raises a hand to them, gesturing toward the rest of the ship. “To the rest of you, you are indeed dismissed. Lance and I will be found in the training deck for the remainder of the afternoon.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he turned to the others, pride swelling in his chest as he saw Hunk giving him a a thumbs up, Pidge saluting him at his side as they walked toward the doors. Shiro stood near the doors, close to leaving, but turned back with a proud smile of his own, nodding once to Lance. He made sure to snap a mental picture of that for later, when he was feeling low. Shiro was proud of him. Hunk was proud of him. Even Pidge seemed proud of him too.

“You’ll need someone to train with.”

He turned toward Keith in shock, trying hard not to let his eyes bug out of his head. Was this a joke? Keith would never, never willingly offer to train with him on anything, especially not a one-on-one scenario like what he would be going into. He’s probably just pissed the training deck will be occupied for an hour or two, nowhere for him to blow off all that gloomy loner-type steam.

“No, I won’t.” He said instead, keeping his arms down at his sides. No need to react to him.

“Lance is right, this exercise will be to test his skills alone. Besides, you completed this training yesterday alongside the other paladins.” The princess explained, her slender hand coming to rest on the shoulder of Lance’s armor.

For a second all he did was stare, dark eyes darting from Lance’s face, to hers, and back before eventually he turned, already walking toward the exit as he mumbled some poor excuse for a goodbye.

Something hot and angry pooled in his stomach. Here he was, groveling on his knees to the princess for daring to act out in anger once, meanwhile Keith can disregard any order, dismiss anything and anyone without so much as an acknowledgment of their existence, and he’s never, not once, expected to show an ounce of shame or remorse.

He flinched hard, jolting himself out of the thoughts as his fingers flexed at his sides, breathing slow. It doesn’t matter. It doesn't even matter. Nothing Kieth does matters.

“Lance?”

He sighed as he turned toward the princess, a look of confusion, maybe even concern?— on her face. She regarded him for a moment, her gaze shifting from his armor to his neck, and face. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” He answered immediately, hating the anxious twinge of his voice. He clicked his jaw shut, forcing himself to relax his shoulders. “No, I’m fine.” He reassured her, “I just… It’s nothing. Let’s head to the training deck, I’m ready.”

Chapter Text

“Do you remember my instructions?” Allura’s voice echoed across the training deck as they entered, the sound of the doors sliding shut behind them reverberating around the vast, hollow room. The training course was set up in exactly the same arrangement as the day before: angled platforms, hanging tethers, and the glowing red floor. He wondered absently if that was a setting they could switch on, or if Coran had to manually set it up each time.

“It’s a lesson on improvisation.” He began, doing his best to recall the brief run down they’d received before the previous day’s training. “If we’re fighting on the ground, the enemy can lose or gain a weapon just like we can. So it’s important not to get too used to one combat method.”

“Very good.” She smiled, offering an approving nod before turning toward the training deck. “You’re already a great fighter Lance, your entire team knows that. But just like your teammates you specialize in one type of combat. Especially in your case it’s important to know the fundamentals of close range and hand to hand. As a long-range weapon wielder you’re incredibly vulnerable in close quarters.”

He nodded, taking in her advice as he surveyed the deck, imagining all the possible angles an opponent could come at him from, and what routes he would use to escape them.

“For your first run through the course I want you to use your bayard sparingly. Feel the presence of your opponent and react according to their movements.”

“Yes, princess.” He responded, straightening his back and taking a steadying breath, stepping into the arena.

The sound of the doors swooshing open behind them caught him off guard and he spun around in surprise, as did Allura. His stomach sank at the sight of not only Shiro, but Keith entering the deck, both wearing their paladin armor. “Paladins!” She called in surprise, confusion coloring her tone. “There’s no scheduled training today.”

Lance back stepped, standing beside her as they watched the two approach. A sinking feeling gnawed at the lining of his stomach.

“No worries! We’re just here to observe.” Shiro replied, that same honest, open smile on his face that he’d shown Lance the night before in the pool hall. Yet now that he was encroaching on his private training with the princess, it didn’t feel as warm. “If it’s alright with you Lance, I’m interested to see how you’ll fair in this training module myself.”

‘Great, so even the team leader is giddy to see me fall on my ass.’ He simmered, though even Shiro’s presence alone wouldn’t be that much of a weight on his shoulders. He was their leader after all, and some one-on-one training with Shiro was something he’d personally look forward to given the opportunity.

“That’s fine.” His tone was curt, clearly showing his discomfort with the situation, but still open for them to stay. There was no scenario where he could get Keith out of the room without compromising the entire reason he’d apologized to the princess to begin with. He was a mature, humble paladin of Voltron. This was his chance to prove how much being a part of the team meant to him, and if Keith was going to watch then— then that was fine. Good, even. Let him watch.

“One piece of advice before you get out there.” He looked up to Shiro, forcing the ball of nerves in his stomach further down. He addressed him with his full attention, and he was determined to show him the same respect. “During our training yesterday I was keeping an eye on you,” electricity rocketed through his veins, but he kept his expression as neutral and attentive as possible, “and I noticed you spent all your time blocking, not making any offensive maneuvers. As much as this is an exercise in feeling the motions of your opponent, you have to make your own moves too, got it?”

“Yes Shiro.” He nodded, letting some of his excitement show on his face. “I’m ready. I won’t let you down.”

A twinge of some strange emotion tugged at the corner of his mouth, but the training deck was already raising to accommodate the higher platforms, so he turned to grab the edge of the lowest platform, hoisting himself onto it in the most agile manner he could muster.

On instinct he activated his bayard the moment he got to his feet before freezing in place, remembering what the princess had instructed. She wanted to see him fight hand to hand, or at least see how far he could go before relying on his weapon to finish an enemy. He let his hand fall to his side, the bayard dissolving back into the suit as the sequence began.

A dozen unactivated training bots stood at attention behind the training deck, the first in line coming to life with a glow as it lunged for the nearest platform. He tensed, lowering his stance and raising his arms as it approached, still maybe twenty feet away. ‘Focus on being more offensive’ Shiro had said.

Well, maybe making his own moves could wait. The gladiator sprung toward him, missing his chest by a few inches with an elongated baton as he dodged out of the way. It stabbed the air where his head had been moments before, and again as he darted to the left, and then to the right. Back and forth as he backpedaled, dodging every advance. Even so, dodging wouldn’t stop the attack.

‘You’re avoiding now. Don’t avoid. You have to attack. Shiro wants to see you attack, so attack!’

His heel hit air as he stepped further back, so he drew his back foot in and crouched low, his center of gravity teetering over the edge. He planted his palms firmly on the ground and pushed out with his legs, kicking the robot forcefully off the platform.

“Nice Lance.” Shiro whispered, a proud smile on his face as he watched the deactivated gladiator crumble into parts on the training deck floor.

“He’s still only acting in defense.” Allura muttered from his side, worrying her lip between her fingers as she watched, engrossed. “He had every opportunity to engage and still waited until the last second.”

“Give him time,” he reassured her, his confidence unwavering, “it’s only been a minute.”

“Why isn’t he shooting?”

He turned to Keith, who he was surprised to see genuinely invested in the training, watching Lance’s motions intently, his brow creased with concentration.

“I instructed him to use it sparingly.” The princess replied from Shiro’s other side.

Keith leaned forward to peer at her, shock clearly evident on his face, and a hint of anger too. “Allura, are you serious? He fights with a gun, he can’t do hand to hand.”

“Precisely why this exercise is extremely necessary.” She kept her gaze firmly set on Lance, not wavering in the slightest as Keith stared openly at her. “His skills with long range combat are not being tested here. We’re all very well aware of his abilities with his bayard, but should any paladin lose their weapon they’ll need know how to defend themselves.”

Defeated, Keith turned back to the arena before them, watching as Lance jumped to another platform, both gladiators approaching his position high above the training floor. “Lance..”

Just as he pushed himself to stand he had to duck, the second gladiator’s fist impacting the wall where his head had been seconds before. It shook their platform as he stared in surprise, the gladiator struggling with it’s hand now trapped in the wall beside him. He wasted no time, taking the opportunity to switch platforms before it had a chance to escape.

The training deck was littered with floating platforms, but despite the abundance the space between them was rarely jumpable. He took what opportunities he had to gain distance, checking over his shoulder until he slammed headfirst into the chest plate of another robot, eyes wide as he jumped backwards again, avoiding it’s swing.

Stop dodging and attack! ATTACK!

He cried out in frustration. Keeping low, he pushed himself toward the gladiator and attempted another leg sweep. This time though the robot seemed to intuit his motion and sprung upwards, landing heavy on the platform with its sword raised above it’s head to pierce him. He rolled out of the way as it brought the blade down, his palms splayed flat against the platform as he tried in vain to quell his racing thoughts.

Run. For the love of god run, RUN from this thing!— If I run, I fail, and I can’t fail in front of the princess a second time.

It came for him again, and again he ran, stumbling backwards onto a platform a few inches lower than the one he was retreating from, the minute gap made him flinch as he expected a solid surface only to feel air, before that surface met his boot again. The swordsman advanced, whipping the blade to its side before lowering its stance and rushing at him. There was no where to go. He’d been cornered by the thing with only one exit, and so despite knowing there was no platform to save him he dove off the side, narrowly avoiding the edge of the gladiator’s sword.

To his surprise he felt something graze his arm and on instinct he lunged for it. The hanging tether thankfully held his weight and surged upwards as a counter-weight plummeted to the floor, hiking him a good thirty feet into the air.

“Lucky break..” Shiro whispered, “but he won’t be able to rely on that in a real fight.”

Heart hammering in his chest, he knew had to do something fast or this entire exercise would be for nothing. He glanced down at his hip, considering his bayard for a moment. It wasn’t as though the princess had forbade him from using it, but still… She wanted to see his hand-to-hand skills. He had to show her something.

He stood firm, two robots closing in on his position. His shoes felt like cement bricks as he took a step toward them. And another, and another until he was running, his boots glancing off angled platforms. The unarmed gladiator braced for his attack, the swordsman a few feet behind him, but Lance’s fist connected cleanly with its faceplate, it’s entire head cracking to the side with the force. He didn’t wait for it to recover, he grabbed the giant by it’s arms and swung hard, using it’s momentum to knock it off the platform and onto the floor below where it shattered.
There’s no chance for celebration, the swordsman gladiator is on him within a second, rearing its blade back and swiping it down onto him. It’s blade connects with his chest plate and sinks into it’s surface. For a second he’s stunned, but he can’t stand still, it reaches back to swing at him again and he takes the opportunity to lunge at it, wrapping his arms around the gladiator’s waist and throwing them both off the platform at once, its back slamming hard against the surface of a platform ten feet below.

The sword is lost, clattering to the ground below them before dissolving into the air like a hologram. “Good,” He grunts, pushing himself up onto his hands as he stares down at the robot’s smooth faceplate. “We’re on even footing again.”

The gladiator’s knee collides with the his unprotected midsection, and for a moment he’s sure he’s going to vomit onto it’s chest before he’s thrown across the platform, back sliding against the slick metal surface before hitting open air. He gasps, flailing his arms upwards as he searches the air desperately for a point of connection.

This can’t be it. This can’t be how it ends. Give me one more. One more. Come on, one more!

His fingers connect with the edge of a platform, and under his sudden weight it dips heavily toward him before leveling out again. He throws himself onto it and heaves, clutching his stomach as pain erupts in his ribs. He stands, if shakily, searching for the gladiator’s approach.

There. Three platforms away, it’s legs appears swinging down from above. It rolls onto the lower platform and stands immediately, striding toward Lance with what appeared to be calculated calmness, though he wondered if that was something Alteans could really program into a robot. He took a step backward, his shoulder grazing another hand hold which he took instantly, wrapping the rope around his hand and pulling hard.

He watched the gladiator disappear below him once again as he rose high above the floor—

”BANG!!”

“LANCE!”

His grip on the rope faltered for a second but he held strong, reeling from the platform and kicking the armed gladiator in the stomach. It skid across the ground and fell over the opposite edge, tumbling against the other platforms on it’s way to the floor below. He held tight to the rope to steady himself, but despite his efforts he still collapsed the moment his feet touched the platform, his hands flying to his stomach as he released his grip on the rope. He heaved, coughing out a long string of bile.

“No, this is done. He’s done.” Keith seethed, pushing Shiro out of the way to turn fully on Allura. “End the training sequence now. Now. He’s had enough, he’s done.”

“Keith, no.” Shiro’s hand met his shoulder, pulling him backwards, back into place. “This is Lance’s time. We can’t cut him off, he’s handling it himself. Be patient.”

He could hear yelling, and distantly wondered what Shiro must be thinking of him right now. What Keith must think. ‘If this is how you’ll fight on a real battlefield they must be feeling sorry for themselves. They won’t rely on you. They know they can’t. Not without a gun in your hands.’ He has to get up. He can’t end this sitting on his ass or crawling on his knees. Slowly he gets his legs beneath him and pushes himself up to stand, the world spinning as nausea overwhelmed him.

Shiro cries his name just as he feels a cold metal hand clamp around the back of his neck, and squeeze. The pain in his stomach vanished instantly, replaced by a desperate and violent need to breathe. He’s hoisted into the air, legs swinging over the platforms edge as his hands fly to the vice grip on his neck, scratching at the glossy metal fingers.

He willed his bayard to appear in his hand, but as it expanded it hung on his arm with what felt like twice its normal weight. His teeth grit together as he swung it backwards to sit against his shoulder, the muzzle pressed to his ear and barrel tapping against the robot’s jaw.

Numbness tingled in his hands and feet as he squeezed the trigger. But the angle was wrong, his grip too loose and the shot veered left by an inch, missing completely. With its free hand the gladiator pushed the muzzle of the gun away as though it were a leaf caught on the wind.

His vision tunnels into a pinprick. Suddenly the training didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter who was watching. Nothing mattered accept getting his feet on solid ground and the gladiator’s hand off his neck.

He lifts it again, the gun becoming heavier and heavier as his hands loose feeling. He settles the muzzle against his shoulder and again, the gladiator pushes it away. It jolts in his grip as his arm falls limply to his side, and as his muscles fail to squeeze, the bayard slips from his grasp. It clatters against the edge of the platform before falling to the floor below

’No. No I’ll die. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want—’

“Breathe. Breathe in. Don’t be scared.”

Before he can try a third time he’s wrenched backwards, falling gracelessly to the ground beside the gladiator’s crumpled, silent form. He swallows air like a drowning sailor, the sound grating and harsh as he coughs, his own hands flying to his throat. He presses his forehead to the floor, eyes wide as he stares at nothing and just breathes. He closes his eyes, savoring every second of air entering his lungs.

A hand touches his shoulder and he screams again, but this time he was able to make a sound. It came out like an animal, a sound he’d never made before in his life.

“It’s me! It’s me, it’s okay.” Keith’s voice came from above him, his hand gently pressed to his shoulder as he gasped for air, mouth agape like a dying fish.

“Thank you.” He rasped, eyes locked straight ahead as he fell onto his side. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you—”

It didn’t matter that it was Keith. It didn’t matter that he was whimpering, drooling onto the training deck platform in front of him, or Shiro, or the princess. With every breath in he exhaled those words. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

“It’s okay.” He repeated, his hand sliding under Lance’s other shoulder to pull him to sit. “Are you bleeding? Did one of them cut you?”

For a second he allowed himself to accept it, lean into Keith’s hands, his muscles both numb and electrified in a horrifyingly painful sensation before he found his composure again, forcing his jaw closed and shaking his head fervently as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

“Are you sure?”

He hesitated, looking down at himself as though to double-check. As if he wouldn’t remember or feel a stab or cut if it had happened. He ghosted a hand over his breast plate, the sword slice millimeters thin, but spanning the length of his chest. “…No, I-I’m okay.” He nodded, breaths still coming fast and raspy, but to him it was the best feeling in the world considering the alternative.

He glanced to his side where the robot laid motionless with a deep wound in its back. He leaned toward it, the shine of the platform underneath showing through the exit wound on its chest.

“It’s dead.” Keith muttered, offering him a hand. “Med bay. Come on.”

———

The toe of Keith’s boot tapped rhythmically on the med bay floor, echoing across the blank, white walls. Shiro leaned beside him with his arms crossed over his chest, occasionally glancing from Lance, sitting on the cot against the opposite wall, to Keith. He was glaring white-hot rage straight at the back of Allura’s head, the princess, intentionally or not, avoiding his gaze by focusing all her energy on Lance.

It was wildly out of character for him to stick around this long. After what happened he assumed Keith would run off to… decompress, maybe? It was ironic to think he’d run straight back to the training arena to knock out the very same gladiators that had beat Lance nearly to a pulp. That's what Keith did. Not this. Not sit and stew in his anger, openly glaring daggers at the princess. And right next to Shiro, who was painfully aware of every movement Keith made. Besides, it’s not like he made a habit of hanging out in the med bay.

“Clean bill of health my boy.” Coran stood over him, the corners of his mustache angled upwards as he set a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s a sorry thing about your stomach, but there’s no critical damage, only minor tissue injury. You’ll see quite a bit of bruising over the next movement or two, but other than that you’re perfectly well. No need to climb in a pod.”

“Thank god for that.” It was no secret that Lance hated the pods. The sleep he experienced within a pod was hardly ‘calm and peaceful’ despite what the participants expression might convey while inside. It was dark, cold, unaware and blind to the passage of time in a way that was not at all comforting, more disorienting. Not to mention the guarantee of a vertigo trip upon exiting.

He let out a soft huff, an attempt at a laugh that fell flat even to his own ears. The sound came out short and abrupt, emphasized by the fact that no one in the room so much as smiled in response. “Thanks Coran.” He reached up, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Oh! I’d nearly forgotten about your neck lad, thank you for reminding me.” He curled his index finger, tilting his head up with the crook of his knuckle, turning his face to the right, and the left as he prodded. “Well! It seems you humans have quite the robust necks! Or is this something specific to you, number four?”

“If I knew what you meant I’d tell you.” He winced, a nervous laugh escaping him as Coran examined his skin more closely.

“Shouldn’t we be more concerned about the training deck?” Keith snapped, the tapping of his foot gaining speed. “The castle is obviously malfunctioning again. That gladiator was going to kill him! The same thing happened to me when I was training before that Galra crystal poisoned all our systems.”

His gaze darted to Lance’s, a pang of electricity shooting through his chest at the anger burning so vividly in his eyes. Was he… pissed at him for getting beat-down in the module? His brow furrowed, his mouth tipping into a frown as he broke their staring match to glare at his lap.

“The gladiator’s are programmed to attack with lethal force, but they’re incapable of directly killing a combatant. That’s the reason it didn’t drop Lance from the ledge.” Allura spoke quickly, her words spilling out in the same fashion as they came other her, as a constant stream. “If I had to pose a theory, it likely became trapped in an action-re-action loop. It had clearly won the match, but was incapable of releasing due to the coding that dictates it must not kill it’s opponents.”

He scoffed, a sharp smile spreading across his face, the corners of his eyes turning up in a squint as he glared, incredulous. “Altean’s can’t die by suffocation?!”

“Keith, zip it.” Shiro turned to him, his own steely glare forcing Keith back into his seat, the fire in his eyes dulled to a simmer as he glared at the floor instead.

The bruising here will be more intense than your stomach, some have already started to form, but they’ll fade just like the rest of them. You’ll certainly be sore tomorrow morning, and I wouldn’t recommend training in our next session, but after that you’ll be perfectly find to rejoin the team on the training deck.” He gave Lance a smile, but even so the effect his words left on him left him devastated. Not only had he failed, but failed in dramatic fashion. And now he was forbade from doing anymore training until he healed up.

As Coran moved from his side to return the weird stethoscope-esque instrument he’d used to examine him back to it’s proper place Allura swept in to take his place. She knelt beside him, dress pooling on the floor beneath her knees as she placed a hand on the bedside, the other taking his gently. “Lance, I cannot begin to express how relieved I am that you weren’t seriously injured.”

His whole world felt like it had done a one-eighty. Was he dreaming right now, or had the last forty-eight hours been a hallucination? An hour ago he’d been the one kneeling in front of Allura begging her for forgiveness, and now here they were, the princess at his feet treating him like he’d made a noble sacrifice by getting his ass handed to him.

“It’s alright.” He turned his head, incapable of meeting her eye as he bit his words out. “This was all my fault, not yours princess. I insisted I could do the training when I… clearly couldn’t.”

“You should’ve just let me do it with him.” Keith growled, pulling their attention back to him. He stared past Shiro, avoiding Lance’s confused stare to glare straight into Allura’s eyes. “None of this would’ve happened if I’d been there to—”

“Oh would you shut up!” He tensed, all eyes in the room snapping back to him again. He could feel the roiling pit of blackness in his stomach bubbling up to his throat.

Distantly he could feel fear clawing its way up with it, a desperate part of his mind pleading with him to remember his promises to Hunk. His bet with Pidge. His promise from last night to Shiro. But it was too late. Against his will all the feelings he’d strangled into silence over the past week came pouring out of his mouth. The anger, the rage and fear and envy and jealousy and hate all mixing together into a poison that dribbled through his teeth.

“The training wasn’t about you! It was about me! It was about showing what I’m capable of doing as a paladin of Voltron!”

“No! Lance! You’re wrong!” He snapped back, finally rising from his chair. Closing the distance between them with three strides. “You can’t just use a training session like that as a chance to show off! You couldn’t have finished it by yourself even if you—”

“Oh because you’re so much better than me aren’t you?!” He met the red paladin head-on, their foreheads knocking together, his voice snapping like a twig in the middle of the sentence, leaving the latter half of it little more than a raspy whisper.

“Keith, leave!” Shiro shoved him away from Lance, his head dipping forward at the loss of a connection point as a hand wrapped tightly around Keith’s upper arm, pulling him unceremoniously toward the med bay doors.

“Why didn’t you pull out your bayard sooner?!” He yelled over Shiro’s shoulder, eyes alight as he pushed him into the hall, the doors snapping shut between them. Keith yelled in frustration from the other side of the door, followed by a metal ‘BANG’, and silence.

For what felt like a long time Shiro simply stood there, a hand pressed to his forehead as he sighed, long and low.

“This is all my fault.” Allura whispered, standing from Lance’s bedside with a shaking breath. “Keith is right Shiro, if I’d simply let them train together—”

“Keith gets to be right about everything, let him be wrong this once.” Lance scoffed, pushing himself off the cot. He grabbed his jacket, folded over the bed railing and slung it over his arm. “Coran said I’m fine. I’m gonna find Hunk.”

“Lance!” Shiro stepped in front of him, blocking his way to the exit. “We’re not done talking about this. Sit down—”

“Get outta my way Shiro!” He snapped, quickly darting to the side to press the release button behind Shiro’s shoulder, slipping easily past him out the doors.

“Lance!”

Chapter Text

Stupid Keith. Stupid Shiro. Stupid- Stupid space castle with its stupid training bots, stupid training deck, stupid princess with her stupid training and stupid, stupid, stupid being in space!

He stalked down the hall, the panel walls blurring together into gradients of beige and grey. Hunk. He needed to talk to Hunk, right now. Right this second or he swore either his head or his heart were going to explode, leaving him nothing but a shaking bloody mess on the floor. He pressed the release button for the lounge door and stepped in, only for a rush of cold air to run over his body, freezing in place.

There in the center of the room stood Keith, one hand held in the air as though he’d been dictating something when he, Hunk, and Pidge all turned toward the door in shock, none daring to move. For what must’ve been an eternity that stared at one another, his expression morphing from shock into a concoction of every feeling he’d been pushing down for the past week. All his pissed-off anger, the hurt, the fear. His eyes darted between the three of them in disbelief before shutting the door again.

Fuck. Fuck.

Frost crawled up the inside of his skin, his blood crawling like slush through his veins. Where the hell was he supposed to go? There was no place for solace anywhere on the ship. Shiro was pissed at him, Allura wouldn’t understand, and Coran would just try to make him feel better. He didn’t want to feel better, he wanted to punch Keith in the nose! Maybe a couple times! Maybe punch him in the gut too. He deserved it.

He rushed down the hall, one step away from blatantly running before stumbling to a stop. Two path’s opened up on either side: Their barracks on the right, and a series of winding halls that eventually lead to the Blue Lion’s hangar on the left. He back tracked, a frustrated growl in his throat as he spun toward the hangars, running down his hall as tears began to sting his eyes. He had no right to feel this way, not at all. Pidge was Keith’s friend, and Hunk was perfectly friendly with him too, of course Keith would go to them to bitch about him.

It took minutes even at his pace to reach the hangar, but by the time he arrived he felt like breaking down. He tensed as the doors slid open, unsure why all of a sudden he felt so ashamed to enter. Of all the places on the ship he could hide this was one he’d be expected to go. Blue’s hangar was the one place he belonged the most, even more so than his own room. He stepped inside, doors closing softly behind him.

For a second he hovered nervously near the door, heart racing as he stared up at the towering visage of the Blue Lion. The sound of footsteps in the hall threw him into action, activating his fight-or-flight. He darted toward the door panel, slapping the handprint to lock it from the inside just as Hunk’s voice shouted from the hallway, an open hand landing on the opposite side of the door.

“Lance! Come on man, don’t lock us out, it’s not what you think!”

“Just, just leave me alone.” He whispered, stepping backwards as Hunk’s protests continued.

“Give me a second…”

A spike ran through his chest. Shit. Pidge was with him. If she was there, there was no way the door was staying closed for long. He had to make a choice: either open the door himself and face his best friend, or wait for them to open it for him like a coward.

He flexed his hands at his sides, his breaths coming in fast as he took another step back.

Shit. Coward’s way it is.

He turned his back to the door and ran toward Blue. His sneakers squeaked frantically against the slick floor as she came to life on he approach, eyes glowing yellow as she knelt down and opened her mouth, allowing him into the cockpit. He ran inside, but immediately slipped on the metal ramp, crashing to the floor as Blue sat up once more, hoisting him into the air.

He laid where he’d fallen for a long time, eyes blown wide as he heaved hot breaths, fogging the metal floor below him. His nerves were on fire. It felt like he could only ever get in a tenth of the oxygen his brain was screaming for, every cell in his body demanding something different from him until all he could to was lay in terror, unmoving, praying it would all just stop.

“LANCE!”

“Go away.” He he groaned, pushing the tears from his cheeks with the heel of his palm, curling in on himself. “Go away, go away, go away, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know you can hear me!” Keith shouted, voice carrying up into the cathedral-like rafters of the hangar.

From the cockpit Blue’s comms crackled to life, Keith’s voice amplified and echoing down the hall to where Lance laid on the ramp. “Whose side are you on?” He hissed, the lion’s presence brushing against his consciousness as he pulled himself up from the floor.

He crept into the cockpit, careful not to raise his head too high. He could tell they were fighting, the sound less distinct even through the communication line as Hunk mumbled to Keith, and Keith whispered back insistently, the two arguing as he tried in vain to catch a word between them.

Pidge had gone concerningly quiet, and he felt a sudden pang of panic, wondering if there was any way she could somehow hack into Blue’s systems, and force him out. No. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. No, she wouldn’t do that. Not even if she was pissed, or worried, or whatever they were doing down there, she wouldn’t do that. Not to him, not to the Blue Lion.

“Lance!” There. As if to prove his point Pidge’s voice rang through the comms, his heart rate slowing somewhat. “Come out here and just talk to us, okay? I’m calling a time-out on the bet. Keith told us what happened during your training!”

Something in his face cracked.

“That wasn’t your fault! What happened… y-you couldn’t have prevented it, not even Shiro could defeat that training course on his own!”

“Pidge, stop.” Keith placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head minutely to her. “He doesn’t wanna hear it.”

“What are you talking about? Of course he—” She cuts herself off, anger brewing in her own expression as she pulled away from his hand, turning back to face the Blue Lion. “Lance, it doesn’t matter what happened on the training deck okay?! You did the best you could and that’s more than enough!”

Keith butted her sharply with his elbow. “Pidge! He doesn’t want to hear that!”

“Oh, and you know what he wants to hear!” She snapped back.

“Apparently more than you, yeah!”

“Both of you quit!” Hunk snapped, both Pidge and Kieth flinching in surprises as he raised his voice. He stood over them, brown pinched in annoyance. “If you’re gonna fight in here then wait outside, cause I need to talk to my buddy. That’s why we’re here!”

“But I was—” Pidge started, but was cut off with a poignant sound as Hunk pointed sharply toward the hangar doors.

“It’s fine, we’re fine.” Keith muttered, folding his arms over his chest. He glanced at Pidge, the two sending glares back and forth momentarily before whatever animosity between them simmered and evaporated.

Hunk nodded, turning his focus back on the Blue lion’s cockpit, training his neck to peek inside. He could just barely make out the glow of the activated control hub below it’s windows, the space otherwise completely dark. Devoid of motion. Whatever Lance was doing in there, he was doing it out of sight.

“Buddy, we’re not here to talk about what happened or didn’t happen on the training deck. We’re here cause we wanna make sure you’re okay. Keith came to the lounge to bitch to us about Shiro, not you.”

Damnit, how did Hunk always manage to see right through him? He could always get straight to the root of whatever was bothering him the most wether it was Garrison exams, or his endless fights with Keith. It was always Hunk at his side saying what he needed to hear.

“Look, you don’t have to come out right now, but..” He sighed, his hands wringing together in front of him. “We’ve got a job to do this evening, and we’ve gotta do it together, right? So meet us in the control room once you’ve got whatever you need to handle handled.”

Footsteps then, their boots echoing off the slick, featureless floor as the doors opened, and sealed behind them leaving him once more alone. But this time with warmth flickering in his chest. Completely separate from the hot, acidic blackness he’d felt overtake him in the med bay. This was a familiar feeling. One he’d had before on many occasions. Hunk was always the one bringing him back to stability. Helping him find his footing when he felt lost in the dark.

He pushed himself up from the floor, a hand resting on the shoulder of his control chair as he sighed, turning toward the open hangar.

His eyes widened, freezing in place.

Keith stared up at him, his gaze unmistakably centered on him. He didn’t open his mouth, he hardly moved a muscle, and neither did Lance as they stared one another down. He tried desperately to distinguish any recognizable emotion from his expression— his brows were turned down in anger, but the crease between them made him look more worried than angry. He was frowning, sure, but it was a look of shock or stunned silence than anything else. He looked… pained.

Slowly, slowly, slowly he bent at the waist, one hand braced against the control panel as he lowered himself out of sight, fear cringing in his chest as he stared unblinking at the metal flooring panel below him. He crouched, knees bent as he pressed his forehead to the cool metal.

He didn’t dare check again to see if he’d left. He’d never seen Keith speechless before. If Keith was angry about something everyone knew about it immediately. He wasn’t the type to keep his grievances to himself, especially not his grievances about Lance. Was he waiting for Lance to say something? To come out?

“Hey.” Keith’s voice crackled through the comms. He sounded tired.

He waited for something more, but the silence went on, spanning for what must’ve been at least a minute between them. He sat back on the floor, shoulder leant against the side of his chair as he pulled his legs to his chest, waiting.

“I don’t know what you want to hear. From me.” He looked up, the comms panel jittering as Keith’s voice came through. “But I know that- being a part of a team means a lot to you, and… and I just want you to know I’m…”

As he cut himself off Lance felt panic flash through him. There was something there. Something he was holding back.

“I’m glad you’re a part of the team.” He whispered.

The comms barely picked it up, but it was unmistakable. Followed immediately by the sound of his boots tapping against the floor, heading toward the exit. He didn’t move, not until the sound of the doors closing, and even then he couldn’t muster the wherewithal to peel himself off the floor.

‘I’m glad you’re a part of the team.’

‘I’m glad you’re a part of the team.’

‘I’m glad you’re a part of the team.’

Blue’s engine rumbled in his head, reminding him that, especially in here, he was never truly alone. He brushed off her concern, pushing himself to his feet on achy limbs that reminded him of Coran’s words from earlier in the med bay. He was already sore, the muscles of his stomach crying out as he stretched, whining with every motion of breathing. There was no way he was leaving the hangar anytime soon.

No, he couldn’t risk running into anyone right now, his chest still aching with shame from his outburst in the med bay, not only toward Keith but Shiro too. Not to mention the overwhelming embarrassment that he’d feel if Hunk or Pidge found him after they’d broken into his Lion’s hangar just to tell him they cared about him.

And Keith…

Jesus, what the hell had that been about? ‘I’m glad you’re part of the team’… Was he referring to something specific, or bringing that up out of nowhere? Maybe he’d let something slip during a meeting… had he really made it that obvious that just being a part of Voltron meant… kind of everything to him?

A spike of ice ran through him as he thought back to yesterday evening. The pool hall. His conversation with Shiro.

'His eyes turned glossy as he blinked hard, hiding his face in his knees. “I just want to be a good teammate.” His lungs slammed into overdrive, fast hungry breaths puffing hot against his knees as a whine escaped his throat against his will, and he pressed a hand to his mouth before removing it to speak. “That’s all I want, really, really, it is—!”

His face burned red as he buried his head in his knees, hands clutching either side of his face. No. No, there was no way Keith saw that. Shiro would have said something if he’d seen him when he’d come in, and there was no way he’d miss the sound of the elevator’s ascent. But.. He had been sort off.. emotionally preoccupied…

He shook his head. No way, even then he still would’ve heard something at least. Or Shiro would have, he would’ve said something if Keith had been there. He would have. For sure. It had to be that Keith… just so happened to see through him on this particular matter, in that particular moment. Keith, who couldn’t pick up on even the most obvious subtext in conversation. That Keith.

Across the cockpit he noticed the edge of his orange data pad sticking out of a shelf, the smooth bumper-corner catching in the hanger lights from outside. He stood, glancing over his shoulder just to confirm once and for all that it was, in fact, empty before crossing the space and sliding it out of the compartment.

The screen blinked to life, displaying a blueprint he’d been looking over on the screen for one of Blue’s weapons systems. He swiped it away and scrolled through his home screen, past all the other applications until it came to rest on the notebook program Hunk had shown him after breakfast the previous morning.

He opened a new note and stared down at the blank page. The blinking line at the top of the page awaiting his input. He dropped his arm with a sigh, walking back to the control chair and flopping down into it, pulling his knees up as he leaned sideways into the chair’s back. He set it on his knees, using his thumbs to type out the first sentence:

’Keith is always talking about how much better than me he is.’

Something twisted in his gut as he stared at the words, and without thinking too long about it he held down the backspace, deleting the line completely and starting again:

‘Keith insinuates that he’s better than me at everything.’

No, there was still something wrong with that. That wasn’t what Keith was doing. But it was what it felt like… but he had to be objective. Hunk hung out with Keith too, he knew when Lance was over exaggerating, and he didn’t want to make it out like he was lying about how Keith made him feel.

How Keith made him feel…

’When Keith talks to me, I feel bad about myself.’

There. Finally, that felt right, the most accurate to what really happened internally when they talk. Suddenly it felt was like he’d found his voice, listing out everything that had happened since his conversation with Hunk.

’When we train, I worry Keith will belittle me.’
’I get upset when Shiro only talks to Keith during breakfast.’
’I think it’s unfair Keith doesn’t have the same consequences for speaking out of turn that I do.’

That last one hit hard. Harder than he expected as he paused, gripping the data pad with both hands as he stared at the words. Unfair. It was unfair. It felt horrible to phrase it like that, like he was a child complaining about not getting his turn. ’it’s not fair! It’s not fair!’

He cringed at the thought, his thumb hovering over the backspace before he stopped himself. Hunk wouldn’t want him to feel that way. This whole exercise was for Lance to get his feelings out, and if that was how he really, truly felt, then that’s what Hunk would want to hear. They’d talk it over, he’d say something obvious that Lance had completely missed, and he’d feel way, way better, just like always.

He thought of a few more as he sat there, ’It makes me feel undervalued when I’m interrupted during meetings’ and ’When I suggest things during debrief it’s rarely acknowledged that I said something.’ but those were both pretty general grievances that had less to do with his feelings toward Keith and more to do with his feelings toward Shiro and Pidge.

He sighed and tiled his head back, staring at the ceiling. After pushing down his feelings all week it was getting hard to bring them back to the surface and examine them like this. That certainly didn’t spell success for the rest of the month, but… maybe he was just in an adjustment period, like what Hunk said. It would take time and effort to change his behavior and reactions, but he could do it. It would get easier if he kept at it.

He managed to come up with two more before setting the data pad down on the floor:

’It feels like I can’t control my emotions around Keith.’
’Sometimes when I’m around Keith, I don’t know how I’m feeling.’

That felt substantial. Really everything could be summed up between those two sentences. When he was around Keith is was like alarm bells were ringing in his head, but the warning message was blank. He would tense up, nerves twisting together. If he really tried he could play it off and joke around, that usually helped ease his own tensions along with everyone else’s, something he was proud and happy to be able to do, but it didn’t change the fact that Keith just made him feel—

…Feel…

Something.

———

“Keith, buddy, you okay?”

He tensed, his head snapping up to see Hunk’s concerned face looming beside him. “Yeah, I’m good.” He muttered, looking back down at the floor.

He, Pidge and Hunk were all heading to the Black Lion’s hangar to see Shiro and Allura off on their diplomatic mission to the Ortackian’s planet. He’d caught glimpses of it out the windows in the control room. The atmosphere tinged the planet lavender, the clouds thick enough he couldn’t quite make out the landmass beneath it, but apparently the terrain was mountainous and humid. Not something he would’ve assumed just from looking at it in orbit.

The whole ordeal seemed off to him. Off in a way he couldn’t communicated properly to the rest of the team without coming off as weird or paranoid. They just shouldn’t send Black down there, especially not with Allura and Shiro on their own.

“…Aaare you sure?”

He nodded, but didn’t raise his head again. “Mm. Thinking about something.”

So what if the officials didn’t want to meet with them? He’d rather spend two days sitting in his lion doing nothing on the planet’s surface than spend that same amount of time constantly searching for possible galra activity from the ship. If he was there then he could act the moment something occurred. If they were all there they could form Voltron no problem. But if they split up the lions like this there was no telling what could go wrong, and if it went monumentally wrong there’d be no way to form Voltron, and without Voltron the universe would—

“—eith?”

He snapped his head up again. “Huh?”

They stood at the open hangar doors, both the other paladins looking back at him with mixed expressions of confusion at where he’d stumbled to a stop, just outside of them.

Pidge glanced at Hunk, raising an eyebrow at him. “Uh, come on?”

“I’m coming.” He said quickly, following behind them.

The Black Lion’s hangar was identical to the other four, or at least Red’s was identical. He hadn’t actually seen the others aside from quick glimpses. And, he supposed, Blue’s from earlier in the day when they’d gone to check on Lance.

His absence was worrying at best, and a warning sign at worst. He hoped he wasn’t hiding an injury… Lance was absolutely the kind of person to do something like that. Ignore something serious to save the people around him from immediate concern, only to leave it festering until it became a huge giant unavoidable problem in the future. But Coran had given him the all clear, so there was evidence against that theory at least.

Shiro and Allura stood at the Black Lion’s feet, Shiro in his paladin armor and Allura wearing a very similar Altean warrior’s suit that mirrored the paladin armor, though with pink and purple accents instead of the colors of any one lion.

He wondered why she didn’t wear armor more often. It seemed more reasonable considering they were fighting in a war. Sure, she and Coran didn’t leave the castle very often, but they did sometimes. If he had it his way, everyone on board would wear their armor twenty-four-seven. Or as close to it as possible.

“Paladins, watch over the castle while Shiro and I are away.” She instructed, a confident smile on her face. “You’ll have Coran here to assist, but even he can’t stay awake forever.”

“No worries princess, we all decided to work in shifts anyways. Keith and I are up first.” Pidge explained, bumping him with her elbow.

“Ouch-” He whispered, nudging her back.

Shiro chuckled, taking him by the shoulder and shaking him slightly. “Relax, Keith. You’ll all be fine.”

His eyes darted to the floor, face hot. Of course Shiro would know exactly what he was thinking. He’d nearly forgotten how intuitive he was after the Kerboros mission launched, leaving him alone on Earth for the first time in years. Now he was back, and it was like he had someone rooting around in his head all over again.

“I still think we should send someone with you.” He muttered. “Two lions are better than one.”

“And four lions are better than three.” Allura pointed out, though her expression showed more compassion than her voice as she smiled at him. “I have every reason to believe you and the other paladins will be perfectly capable of monitoring the planet in my absence. Even from the planet’s surface, it would take mere moments for the Black Lion to join you in battle should the Galra appear.”

Shiro stood back, looking at the three of them as a group, and frowned, turning his focus to Hunk. “Where’s Lance?”

“He’s… with Blue.” Hunk responded vaguely, leaving out the fact Lance was in there sulking, avoiding the rest of them due to the morning’s events. Shiro still clearly picked up on it though, because of course he did. Even when he tried to keep his mouth shut, he could never keep a secret for long. No matter. He stretched his hands out, cracking his knuckles simultaneously. “Don’t worry though, by the time our shift comes around he’ll be good and ready. He’s already itching to get out of the hangar I’m sure.”

“If he wants to leave he should just leave, Why would he wait around for someone to drag him out?” Keith muttered under his breath, side-eyeing Hunk as he did the same.

“I don’t know Keith, why does anyone do anything?” Pidge responded, dripping with sarcasm.

“Alright you three, settle down and focus in.” Shiro ordered, raising his voice. “I’ll be back as soon as possible, but we can’t rush these meetings either, or our efforts will be for nothing. So keep a close eye on the radar, don’t dismiss anything, communicate with one another and most importantly, don’t overwork yourselves. If your energy’s wavering swap out, we want fresh eyes keeping watch especially through the night.”

“You got it Shiro.” Hunk nodded, holding a hand out, which Shiro grasped in an earnest handshake. “We’ll handle things castle-side so long as you guys handle things down there.”

“I know I can count on you. All of you. And make sure Lance hears that too, alright?”

“You’ve got it.”

They stick around, waving the Princess and Shiro off as they exit the hangar, the space far more cavernous and empty without the largest lion of them all filling the void.

“Alright. You two get started, I’ve gotta go grab Lance.” Hunk turned, waving them off as he headed for the hangar doors.

“Wait, I’m serious.” Keith followed behind, Pidge trailing after him. “Don’t you think going after him is only gonna, y’know, encourage him? He hasn’t come out all day, he’s gotta leave on his own eventually.”

“You don’t know Lance like I do.” He chuckled, shaking his head as the three entered the hall, making their way toward the control room. “One time, he stayed in our dorm for an entire week ‘cause someone insulted him in front of the entire class. Now I know what you’re thinking ‘Hunk, you big push over, you brought him snacks and printouts of his homework didn’t you’— Nope. Not even once. He failed our first year basics ‘cause he was too ashamed to show up to class.”

“Shit… I remember that.” Pidge’s eyes widened, looking up at Hunk in shock. “I heard someone say he got injured during a flight test and that’s why he was gone that whole time, he was seriously just too embarrassed to show up to class?”

“Yup.” Hunk popped the ‘p’. “It’s something to behold, honestly. I wish I could hold to some of my convictions as strongly as Lance holds on to his shame.”

“I never heard about this.” Keith said, glancing between the two of them in confusion. “So what, he just starved the whole time too?”

“He drank water out of the bathroom sink, and we had a mini fridge with like, apples and cheese sticks in it, but other than that, yeah. The school sent his family a written warning and his grandma chewed him out over the phone, that’s what ended up getting him back in class.” He shivered, a shell-shocked look shadowing his face. “Lance’s family is sweet, but his abuela man, that woman was screaming his ear off. I don’t ever want to hear someone speak Spanish that fast again.”

Pidge scoffed, pulling out her data pad. “Well, Keith and I will be at the bridge. Text me when you grab Lance, alright? I wanna make sure he’s good.”

“You got it.”

He turned at a crossroads, Keith and Pidge heading straight toward the bridge while he diverted off in the direction of Blue’s hanger when Keith stopped, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Wait!—” He stammered, his brain catching up with his body, which had been on autopilot. “Text me to, when you get him?”

Hunk’s face morphed with bewilderment, looking down at Keith as if he’d grown an extra head. “Uh… ssure, no problem man.” He took a step back, giving them both a short salute before heading down the hall.

He turned to follow Pidge to the bridge, but stopped short when he noticed her staring at him, brow quirked in confusion. “What?” He muttered, giving her a wide birth as he passed. “Come on, we’ve got a job to do.”

“You never ask people to text you.” She pointed out, voice accusatory as she raced to catch up to him.

He refused to look down at her, scoffing. “You don’t know me.”

She continued, completely undeterred. “Uh, I’ve lived on an alien ship with you for over six months, I know you don’t like it when people text you.”

“This is clearly different.”

They entered the bridge, parting ways to take their seats at their own control modules, the screen coming to life with a radar of the planet’s solar system. It was much, much larger than their own with almost fifty individual planets, only a third of which were solid mass capable of supporting life, the rest a beautiful collage of gas giants in gradients of teal, magenta, blue, and orange.

Pidge’s icy stare radiated on his cheek as he blatantly ignored her, pulling one leg up to rest on the seat of his chair. “Explain to me how it’s different.” He could hear the grin in her voice.

He sighed sharply, holding back a groan. “Would you quit?”

“What, you wanna spend the next three hours in complete silence?—” He took a breath, turning to face her, “—Wait, don’t answer that.” He sighed again, glaring at her from across the bridge as she chuckled and turned to her own command center.

“Sorry.” She laughed, “It’s just… nice to know you care.”

That made his chest ache, some unnamed feeling gnawing at his gut as he too turned away. “…Of course I care. He’s on the team, we need him.”

“That’s not it though, right? It’s not just that he’s a paladin. He’s your friend.”

“Lance doesn’t want to be my friend.” He muttered under his breath, sinking an inch lower in his seat.

“Pff, please, Lance wants to be everyone’s friend.”

He didn’t respond, the air hanging heavy around him as his thoughts ran wild. Sure, Lance was friendly with Shiro, but no matter what he did he was always jabbing at him, metaphorically or physically when he got the chance. He didn’t act that way with Hunk or Pidge, and Shiro… Lance looked at Shiro like he was… a hero. To Lance he was. There was no space in there for Keith. He wasn’t Lance’s friend, he wasn’t Lance’s hero. The only place for him seemed to be under his boot, and that’s where he refused to be.

“He just doesn’t know how to act around you.”

He leaned onto his hand, tapping aggressively at the holographic keyboard sitting in front of him. “How does he know how to act around you? You don’t get into fights every other day, and it’s not like you’ve been friends for ages like Hunk.”

“I don’t know everything about him, but I learned a lot when we got paired together for simulations.” She chuckled, a distant look in her eye as she leaned back in her own chair, both of them turned to face one another, legs draped over the arms of their chairs. “He can make it hard sometimes, but if you can learn to work with him it’s worth it.”

“I just wish—” He closed his mouth, tilting his head against the back of his chair, staring at it rather than at Pidge’s expectant gaze. “…I wish he’d talk to me.”

You know what’s a really easy way to get him to talk to you?”

He glanced up, catching her eye.

“Talking to him.”

His expression soured immediately, his brow lowering in unamusement as he let his hand fall from his cheek, turning back to his module screen. “Thanks, Pidge. Good advice.”

“I know! I’m just full of great ideas.” She cheered sarcastically. “I’m serious, I learned this the hard way: Lance refuses to be vulnerable in front of people. Anyone. But especially people he respects. And despite everything, Keith, I hate to be the one to tell you this, he respects you a lot.”

He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “He has a weird way of showing respect then. And just to me, not Shiro.”

“Shiro’s different, Shiro is Lance’s Superman.” She waved off the idea, dismissing it entirely. “Besides, you respect Shiro and treat him like shit too.”

His head snapped toward her, mouth hanging open in shock.

“—Sometimes.” She tacked on as an after thought. “Face it, you one-hundred percent take advantage of your status as Shiro’s ‘little-brother’ to get away with shit we never could.”

“I—” His face grew hot, heart hammering in his chest. “That’s not true! I…” He swallowed thickly, teeth grit together. “I don’t treat Shiro like shit.” He cringed at his own voice. It came out as a weak little rasp, none of his usual confidence behind it at all.

“Even I use that pass sometimes.” She continued, ignoring his defense completely. “I’ve got the ‘little-sister’ pass on Shiro too. He spent years training with Matt and Dad before the Kerberos mission, the moment I revealed I’m related to them he knew who I was. Lance and Hunk don’t have that kind of power.”

She sat back, satisfied at the stunned silence he found himself in. He’d never really considered it that way. Sure, Shiro cared about him, but he would never let that affect that way he treated the rest of the team. They spent a lot of time talking, yeah, but that was because they needed to catch up. They’d been apart for a year and Shiro had asked questions about how he’d been just as much as Keith wanted to know what happened on the Galra ship.

He looked back at Pidge, still watching him with a smug smirk, brows raised in challenge, just begging for him to retort. “…So what, Shiro knows me. He didn’t know Lance or Hunk before we were shot into space.”

“Sure, and that’s not his fault.” She agreed. “But it’s still happening.”

“I don’t see how any of that is my fault either.” He snapped at her, turning back to his control console and planting his feet firmly on the ground. “If Lance has a problem with Shiro he should take it out on Shiro, not me.”

The silence between them hung heavier than ever, and again he could sense her staring at the back of his head. “What happened to ‘I wish he’d talk to me’?” She asked, her tone only slightly accusatory as a meek concern overtook the entire tone of her voice.

“Nothing.” He mumbled, soft enough he wondered if she could even her him, more of a breath then anything else. “Just— just drop it. I don’t want to talk about Lance the whole time.”

“Sure.” She replied, though there was a weakness to her voice that told him she wouldn’t be continuing the conversation unless he said something first.

He sighed, sinking down into his chair. ’Guess we’re doing the rest of this shift in silence.’

Chapter Text

“What tiiiime is it?”

He groaned, smacking his keyboard haphazardly, opening the clock. “It’s been three minutes.”

“Keeeeiiiiiiith, what tiiiime is it?”

“We have seven minutes left!” He snapped, “Don’t ask me again or I swear I’ll—”

“What, you’ll what?” Pidge snarked, draped over her console station and glaring at him with delirium in her eyes. “You can’t to shit. You don’t own me.”

“I’ll—” He bites down hard on his tongue, half to tamper the fire burning in his chest and half to hide the smile playing at the corner of his mouth, “—I’ll beat you on the training deck!” He thwarted, jamming his fingers into the keyboard as he set another automatic radar scan to run.

“Meh meh meh meh meh, ‘I’ll beat you on the training deck’, is that the best you can threaten me with? That’s the only leverage you’ve got? You think I care if you beat me on the training deck?”

“Pidge, I am so not in the mood for whatever is going on with you right now.” He muttered, dismissing her with a head-shake. He blinked hard to force his eyes to focus as a read-out popped up on his screen.

Clean. Just like the last dozen he ran.

Their third shift was about to come to a merciful end, allowing him another three hours of sleep while Hunk and Lance watched the helm. Normally being up as late as they were wouldn’t bother him. He was used to bouts of insomnia and it wasn’t unheard of for him to go a night without sleeping. It probably had something to do with the constant back-and-forth from hyper vigilance at the command console to trying in vain to sleep for just a few hours. He’d beryl managed to close his eyes before Hunk was knocking on his door to switch shifts again.

He had yet to run into Lance between shifts. Concern gnawed at his insides at the thought. Normally he wouldn’t care at all about what Lance was up to, but after the training that morning, what felt like ages ago now… and him hiding in his lion all day until Hunk dragged him out. Something was going on with Lance that had him on edge.

Pidge whined, kicking haphazardly at her desk, the heel of her boot resting on her keyboard as a line of symbols appeared on her screen. “When are they gonna swap with us again?”

He groaned, the sound more of a growl as he clenched his jaw. “That is the same question with different words!” He snapped. “I told you not to ask me again.”

“This has been, the most boring twenty-four hours I’ve spent in space so far.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes toward the window to stare up at the stars behind him. “Yeah, well, join the club. It’s about four a-m, so I’m sure being up past your bed-time isn’t helping.”

Instead of responding she grumbled and turned in her chair, slouching onto her armrest with her back facing him, ignoring him completely. Likely because her brain was fried too, no use in wasting braincells coming up with half-assed comebacks when they needed all their focus to keep the castle’s defenses up.

The image of the Ortackian’s planet rotated calmly on the main screen at the head of the room, its lavender glow coloring the control room with soft blues and purples. Against it’s hard edges and blues, whites, and grays, it felt almost warm. He couldn’t decide wether it was better or worse for their focus.

He turned to his own console, the dreaded radar pinging gently, a white circle emanating from the planet of the Ortackian’s planet, the planet the castle was orbiting. He wasn’t exactly sure if the radar was pinging the planet or the castle, at the scale they wrestle viewing the solar system from their position was hardly a pixel on the screen, the only indication of their existence the fact that the radar radiated from their position.

There was something almost hypnotic about staring at the radar. The bright cyan of the tinted screen burned his eyes after staring at it for hours. The ring radiated at the same rate, slowly dissipating as it reached the outer edges of the planetary orbits. Despite its silence he could almost hear the movement in his own head: Ping, ping, ping.

Ping…

“…ieth…”

Ping…

“…ieth?”

Ping…

“Keith!”

He snapped his eyes open, leaning forward sharply out of his seat and swinging around in his chair to stare at Pidge, her voice still reverberating in his head. “Huh?”

Her fingers flew across her keyboard, tired eyes focused on her screen, zooming in on the western corner of the system. “We’ve got a ping!”

He cursed, raking his fingers through his hair before swiveling back to his own screen and mimicking her position, pulling up the edge of the system. Sure enough there it was, a smatter of blinking red dots slowly entering the outskirts. “We’re sure it’s Galra?”

“Only Galra ships show up red on the radar, it’s them.”

“Get Hunk and Lance in here, we need to start offensive maneuvers.” He opened up a new panel on his screen and tapped a few buttons on his keyboard, pulling up the quadrant on the big screen, overtaking the gently spinning Ortackian planet. “I’m calling Shiro.”

She raced to the door and slammed her hand on the release, sliding through before they’d even fully opened. “Don’t do anything crazy until I get back!” She shouted over her shoulder.

He sighed through his teeth, making no response as he flexed his fingers, releasing some of his tension. He leaned over the arm of his chair and swept his helmet off the floor, tucking it over his head as his visor flickered to life with bright cyan. “Shiro, you copy?”

Silence. He tried not to let it get to him. If things were going as planned Shiro would be asleep planet-side right now. He took a breath. “We’ve got a problem. Shiro, respond.”

He waited. Heart beat hammering in his ears. His chest was beginning to ache, he couldn’t keep his fear at bey forever. They were out of their depth without Shiro and Allura. The Castle always offered support fire from a distance, without them behind Voltron they would be on their own. Without Shiro they wouldn’t be able to form Voltron.

“Shiro!” He shouted, pressing his hands to the sides of his helmet. “I knew this would happen, I knew it! I knew it and you didn’t believe me!” He snapped, his voice turning raw and venomous in an instant. “We need you! The Galra are coming! They’ve entered the solar system, there’s—”

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his seat as he spun around, blinking away the blackness that had crept into the corners of his vision.

“Woah!— E-easy, samurai.” Lance held his hands up at his sides, leaning on his back foot. “Put the bayard down?”

“Huh?” His expression broke, confusion bleeding through as he looked down at his hand, surprised to see his unactivated bayard in the palm of his closed fist.

Hunk ran past them on his way to his console, and the motion seemed to knock something loose in Lance’s head, unfreezing him from his position. He ran to his own console, leaving Keith to his own as they all took their seats. He pulled his helmet from his head and tossed it aside, not caring to see where it landed.

“What are we looking at here?”

“Galra heading east from the asteroid field. Hard to say where they’re heading exactly but I think we can all make an educated guess. Check this out:” Windows of rapid-scrolling text flooded her console, another panel appeared on the main screen, this one showing what Keith assumed to be a live feed of the ship from one of the nearby moons. “This one’s a lot smaller than what we’re used to seeing. There’s multiple, but I don’t see any fighters. No hangars either. The central one’s got an ion canon but these aren’t battle cruisers.”

His eyes narrowed, not trusting the Galra to deploy any ship, let alone a fleet without planning for contingencies. There was no doubt in his mind the Galra knew they were there. “They know we’re here, they’re just trying to lure us out into an easy fight. We should scan the surroundings, see if there are any ships in waiting.”

“This is the only visual I have.” She responded, shaking her head as she searched through the data on her screen. “There’s another colony on this planet that has surveillance devices stationed on each of their moons. I can try to get into another feed, but this is the only moon positioned with a clear view of the asteroid field. We’d be waiting hours to get confirmation.”

“We don’t have hours!” Lance snapped from his station behind him. “What’s Shiro’s status?”

“I couldn’t reach him.” His voice cracked dangerously as he shook his head, wiping his hair out of his face. “I tried but couldn’t get through. I-I don’t know if it’s interference or something else— whatever it is, he’s unreachable.”

“No way, I don’t believe that.” Hunk protested. He grabbed his own helmet and pulled it over his head. “Shiro, come in?”

“I already tried that.” He growled. “Don’t you think that’s the first thing I tried?!”

“Cool it Keith!” Pidge barked, not bothering to look up from her console to scold him. “Based on their current speed and trajectory, the Galra are heading for this planet.” She traced the outline of a nearby planet with her finger, a white ring appearing on the main monitor as she drew it. “It’s not far from us, but if they’re not heading straight for the Ortackians I’m inclined to believe they don’t realize we’re here.”

“Yet.” Hunk muttered, leaning back in his chair, massaging his temple. “Something feels weird about this guys, I don’t know how I feel about fighting a ship smaller than ours. It’s not even outfitted to fight.”

“It’s a Galra ship.” Keith snarled, turning toward him with a look of incredulity on his face. “They’re not defenseless, they have an ion canon just like any battle cruiser would.”

“Yeah but, I mean, it’s not like Zarkon’s on board.” He shrugged.

“You don’t know that.”

He turned, shocked to hear Lance respond to a suggestion from Hunk with such disdain in his voice. He sat, arms crossed, one foot kicked onto his chair and turned away from the rest of them, apparently comfortable enough in their situation to scowl out the window rather than contribute to the conversation.

“Are you going to say something useful, or just sit and glare out the window?”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but complete silence wasn’t on the list. Lance didn’t so much as glance in his direction, his eyes focused and unmoving from their position on the stars revolving outside the castle window.

“Come on, we’ve got to think of something.” Hunk muttered, unfazed by the sharp turn their conversation had taken. “Pidge, Green still has cloaking abilities right? We could sent you and Keith on a recon mission, gather info on what they’re doing out here.”

“What would that accomplish? We’d waste time flying there and back that we don’t have. Even if it only took a few minutes, we have no idea how long it would take to gather info and return. That’s minutes off an hour-long timer. Besides, Green only has thirty seconds of cloaking, there’s no cover between the nearest moon and that fleet, we’d be caught before we even got into position.”

“Aargh, come on we’ve got to think of something!” He scrubbed his hands through his hair in frustration. “We have an hour before the Galra will be here. We can’t form Voltron without Shiro, we can’t wormhole somewhere safe without Allura, we are stuck—”

“We wait.”

He paused, cutting himself off with a breath as Pidge and Hunk stared in confusion behind him. He turned, mirroring their look at Lance. “…You want to wait?”

He scowled, and something about the stoney look on Lance’s face of all people made his stomach turn in a weird way he couldn’t articulate. He made a point of looking at Pidge, once again ignoring him.

“So we can’t do reconnoissance from this distance. No big deal, we’ll wait for the Galra to close the gap. There are eight planets in Green’s range if we wait twenty minutes.” He stalks over to Pidge’s desk, poking her screen and circling eight planets just outside the cluster the Ortackian’s belonged to. “If we wait for them to enter this zone Coran can offer support from the Castle too. There may be more of them than there are of us, but they don’t know we can’t form Voltron right now. Especially if we come in slowly instead of as a group.”

Pidge wrinkled her nose, waving him away from her console screen. He retreated, but leaned against the side of her chair observing her screen. “Okay, fine, let’s say this works. I’m in agreement that getting recon is a good thing, even if we wait twenty minutes we’d have more than half an hour to gather info and get back without incident—”

“—but why the hell would we not attack as a group if they discover Pidge and Keith?!” Hunk shouted, interrupting her explanation s he clutched to the edge of her desk, eyes wide and manic. “The whole thing about Voltron is we’re a team right? Not really very team-like of us to not help our teammates out the moment they’re getting attacked! By the Galra!”

“Relax Hunk, we send Pidge and Keith out to do recon, if they’re found early I’ll head out next, and you follow after. If the Galra’ve got any sense they’ll be anticipating the Black Lion’s arrival without us saying a word.”

The idea sat in the air for a moment as they thought it over. Honestly, he was impressed Lance came up with that solid of a plan in that short amount of time. He’d been wracking his brain trying to think of anything they could do other than just run in and start a fight with the ships themselves. But at least with Lance’s plan they could potentially avoid a fight if the Galra were honestly there for different reasons. They could gain intel, and the Galra would be none the wiser to their current… situation.

“It’s the best plan we’ve come up with so far.” Pidge muttered, reaching up to rest a hand on Lance’s upper arm, squeezing once. “Alright team, we’ve got twenty minutes to go. Lance, find Coran and get him to the bridge, okay? Keith and I will get our gear and head to our lions. Hunk, stay here and keep an eye on the monitors until Coran shows up, after that you and Lance get to your lions and everyone keep comms open in case we get new info.”

“Right.”
“You’ve got it.”
“Let’s do this.”

“Good.” She smiled, turning to face the three of them. “Then let’s get going.”

———

“I take back everything I said on the bridge, this is a bad plan.”

Lance rolled his eyes, Hunk’s voice through his comms coming in high and whimper-y. “Hunk, you never said it was a good plan on the bridge.”

“Well then I stand by what I said! This is a bad plan!”

”Relax Hunk, we’ll be fine.” Pidge reassured, a bit too smug to be genuine. ”Besides, it’s too late to back out now.”

The back wall of Blue’s hangar shuttered slightly, so he knew Red and Green were passing, on their way toward the second closest moon— currently unnamed —positioned ideally for cover from the approaching Galran ships.

”Alright paladins! I’ve been brought up to speed by Hunk here in the bridge, if I’m understanding correctly Pidge and Keith are infiltrating the incoming fleet?” Coran’s voice crackled through the speakers.

He smiled to himself, tapping a few buttons on Blue’s console to bring up the Castle bridge’s live feed. Coran stood at attention in front of the screen, twisting the end of his mustache in one hand as he observed the notes he and Pidge had left on the screen. “Essentially yes. But without setting foot on the ship. Pidge, we’re on the same page right?”

“You got it. I can pull radio and video feed from inside the ship when it passes the moon, no need to get onboard. Keith’s just here to act as my muscle.”

”Jeez, thanks.”

He jammed the mute button on his mic just as a laugh bubbled up in his chest, light and sweet like champaign. Something about Keith being delegated to simply ‘muscle’ when his lion isn’t even considered the second-strongest on the team made the angry envious part of his brain immensely happy. Not to mention that he was clearly annoyed by it too.

”Hang on a tick, why is the red paladin our muscle? Shouldn’t the yellow lion be accompanying you Pidge?”

“That’s part of the plan too!” He butted in before Pidge could answer. “If they’re caught two lions are than one, but if we exit the castle in order of size, the Galra will assume the Black Lion will follow Yellow, they might even decide it’s not worth it to fight Voltron before they realize we’re down a lion. And if we do end up fighting, we’ve taken out fleets twice their size without forming Voltron before. Piece of cake.”

”Don’t get too comfy Lance.” Pidge warned over the comms, ”we don’t know if they have reinforcements nearby.”

He frowned. Right. They couldn’t check for additional Galra ships outside the system thanks to the wide asteroid field surrounding them. The radar on the ship couldn’t determine the difference between a ship and an asteroid based on location or movement, and Pidge couldn’t bring up enough visuals to confidently rule out the possibility.

“Pidge, if the info you gather from the radio says anything about reinforcements, you should infiltrate and disable their communications.”

Suddenly shouting filled the comms, shocking him enough that he jolted in his seat, their voices reaching a tinny fevered pitch in his ears.

”Hey hey hey! Let’s not go changing the plans all willy-nilly!”
”Entering the ship without Shiro is a bad call, Lance.”

His lip curled at the sound of Keith’s voice. No. No, his plan was good. They’d decided to do his plan. “Come on, you guys need to trust me more. Pidge?”

”…Let’s wait and see what we find when we get their radio online, okay Lance?”

He glowered, his grip on Blue’s controls tightening. That voice at the back of his mind grew louder, the dark pit in his chest eating away at the edges of his ribcage. He was right. He knew he was right. Pidge knew it too, she was just afraid to agree with him in front of the team. Hunk was too timid to suggest plans at all, and Keith would do anything to thwart his suggestions based on nothing other then the fact that he’d suggested it.

”Alright everyone, keep your pants on. Keith and I are in position. I’m already picking up some coded channels, I’m going offline so I can boost the signal.”

He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of his console. “Pidge no, we can’t risk losing connection. Do what you can without—”

”—She’s offline.” Keith muttered, cutting him off.

“Damnit!” He snapped, slamming a hand against his console, causing a flurry of windows to simultaneously open and close. “Does no-one on this team know how to follow instructions?!” The lights flickered around the cockpit as Blue rumbled in his head, his annoyance felt.

”Cool it Lance!” Hunk shouted, louder and sharper than he’d heard his voice in a long time. ”This isn’t your chance to play Shiro! We’re doing your plan, so quit shouting at everyone and let Pidge do recon the way she’s going to do it!”

”Both of you SHUT UP!”

Lance’s jaw clicked shut, anger rolling over him like waves of heat.

”Pidge is getting something, she opened a line with me.”

“Tell her to open her public comms!” He snapped. Keith hushed him, and it took all his willpower not to fly off the handle right then. He threw his hands off the controls, pushing himself from his seat lest he fly out of the hangar and rip the Red Lion’s head right off its body. Again, Blue rumbled angrily in his head, clearly not appreciating the threat to her fellow lion.

Keith’s comm line remained open, broadcasting the background noise of his lion as well as his own mumbling voice. ”She’s saying… She says the ships are— what?… —‘pilot fish’?”

Lance froze mid-step, turning back to the console with wide, unblinking eyes. “What?” He whispered, gripping the back of his chair. He pressed a hand to the side of his helmet. “What? Keith, what did you say? What did Pidge call them?”

”Ah, I don’t— What was it? Lance is asking.— Pilot fish, she said they’re pilot fish.”

”Lance, my boy? You sound worried.” Coran’s concern came through the comms, washing over him in waves as his breaths echoed in his helmet, coming faster, more shaky.

“Get out of there. Pidge, Keith, get back to the castle now!”

”Calm down! Pidge, I can’t hear either of you when you talk over each other. Lance, what’s a pilot fish?”

“Little silver fish, th-they eat parasites.” he stammered, swallowing around his trembling breaths, “They have a ssymbiotic relationship with sharks. Whitetip sharks. They eat parasites off the sharks and, and the sharks protect the pilot fish from predators.”

He waited for someone to say something. Someone of response from Hunk or Coran, even Keith, but the comms stayed frustratingly silent, the lack of noise far worse than the yelling.

“They’re testing the waters for a bigger fish.” He finished.

”Keith, Pidge, get out of there right now.” Hunk ordered, his voice unnervingly measured and calm.

”Hunk?”

“We have to help them—”

”Lance, no. Stay in the hangar.”

He fell into his chair, hands half-reaching for the controls when Hunk ordered him to stop. He stared at his hands as they hovered, trembling above the steering controls. He cursed, pulling them in against his chest.

”Keith, get Pidge back on the comms. Forget reconnoissance, get back to the castle right now!”

”We can’t move right now, the ships are right in front of us!”

“Pidge.” He breathed, flattening against the back of his chair as his heart hammered freely against his ribs. “Pidge, that moon won’t protect you from a battle cruiser, come back to the castle, we need to stick together.”

”No no, paladins, Pidge is right. Stay where you are you two, it’s not safe for you to return to the Castle of Lions right now.”

”We can’t form Voltron without all five lions, and right now we’re split in half! If that fleet calls for back up we’re screwed, Coran!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clutched to either side of his helmet as the comms erupted with noise. “Just let them pass, let them pass, please, please. Let them pass without seeing us, let them pass without seeing us, let them—“ He gasped, the air sticking in his throat like honey as he reached for his helmet, yanking it off his head. He slammed his fist against his chest in an attempt to startle his lungs into functioning again.

”Lance!“ Hunk’s voice fought to rise above the rest of the team from his helmet in his lap. ”What’s going on in there? You’re still in the hangar, right?”

He grit his teeth together and sucked in a breath as he tucked his helmet back over his head and closed his eyes. “R-right.” He swallowed against the saliva collecting in the back of his throat.

”Paladins.”

A shiver ran down his spine at the gravity in Coran’s voice. All of a sudden a new window opened on his control console, flooding the cockpit with white light for half a second before the feed connected.

”What…” Keith rasped, ”…is that?…”

Violet light engulfed the Blue Lion’s console, covering his armor in purple as the image of a massive portal overtook the screen like a gaping mouth, tendrils of darkness swirling toward it’s center like tar-covered teeth. The size of it dwarfed the fleet of Galran ships until they were nothing more than amoebas.

“Coran.” His voice felt far away, echoing. He could feel himself drifting out of his body, viewing the screen, the cockpit, from somewhere behind his chair. “Coran, what is it?”

”It’s a wormhole.” He replied, ”but not one of ours.”

”That’s impossible, didn’t you say only the princess could form wormholes?!” Pidge shouted from her end of the line.

”This is it, we need to attack now or the Galra are going to make it to the planet! Shiro’s down there!”

”Keith you stay right where you are!” Hunk shouted in return. ”This is no time to make crazy moves on your own. Maybe that portal opened up so the ships could fly through! They don’t know we’re here, remember?!”

”That portal’s nearly the size of the planet! There’s no way nothing comes out of it, we need to move before we lose our chance to act!”

“Hunk, we need to launch now, or never.” He growled, clutching his controls tightly. “I hate to agree with Keith on anything, but if we don’t bring the fight to them, they’re gonna bring the fight to the Ortackians. To Shiro and Allura. We need to move now.”

”Lance, no! We can’t form Voltron—“

“FUCK VOLTRON!! We’ve gotta protect them! Isn’t that what you said in the bridge? That we should protect the team?”

”That was before a giant Galra portal opened up in the sky! We need to evacuate!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, every muscle in his body tensing as he fought with himself. “No, no- no way! Plan B starts now!”

”Lance!”

Shouts of protest erupted in his helmet as he launched from the hangar. He did his best to ignore them, letting the soul of the white-tipped river drown out their voices as he skirted the planet’s atmosphere, lavender gas tinting the Blue Lion’s paws purple. Coran had them positioned on the far side of the planet, the castle was still thankfully out of sight and based on their movements, Coran was positioning it to be completely hidden as the fleet loomed closer.

He crested the planet, the glare of violet light polluting the cabin as the massive portal came into view before him. He needed to act fast. He didn’t have Keith’s speed or Pidge’s cloaking, or even Hunk’s protection. He was vulnerable to attack, and he didn’t have back up this time.

Or— he thought he didn’t.

“Keith—!?” He leaned forward hard, pressing the controls into their sockets as the Blue Lion raced toward the golden glow of an explosion on the leftmost ship’s starboard side.

”Come on! You said we’ve gotta attack, get over here and help me!” His voice came through the comms, louder than the protest of Hunk, Pidge and Coran. ”Focus your attacks on that central ship, we need to take out the Ion canon before they can use it!”

“On it!”

”Pidge, you copy?”

”I’m working from the opposite end!” She called through the comms just as Lance watched the Green Lion soar overhead. He turned and shot toward the central ship himself, and he could already see the Ion canon trailing his position.

“Uuuh, Coran? Have we got visual from the castle yet?!”

”Indeed number four! I’m seeing through your lion’s eyes as we speak. Take a look at that canon for me, would you?”

“Aah-! trust me Coran, I’m getting a real good look at it!” He veered sharply to the left as the muzzle of the canon trailed his position. As he flew by he noticed something odd about the canon, some kind of forcefield. He skirted quickly around and down, forcing the canon to follow his erratic movements instead of redirecting to any of his teammates. “Guys, this canon’a got a protective barrier around the base! Coran?!”

”I’ve never seen anything like it before! All I can say right now is it’s definitely not a forcefield. Stay away from it Lance!”

“I’m doin’ my best!” He shouted, another explosion from the ship behind him rocking the Blue Lion. A sharp purple laser sliced through space in front of his cockpit, flooding the room with bright violet light. Someone shouted his name—

He was thrown from his chair, his back hitting the far wall, falling into a heap on the floor. Anything not tied down in the cockpit went flying, tools and bits of tech raining down on him as the Blue Lion drifted onto her side, the lights flickering before doing out.

”LANCE!”
”Lance come in, are you alright?!”

He groaned, opening his eyes slowly, The cockpit was dark, and… upside-down. “Guys?” He tapped blindly at the side of his helmet with an uncoordinated hand. “Hunk? Pidge?… Keith?”

”Lance! We read you loud and clear! What just happened?!”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” He muttered, pushing himself up off the floor. “My lion’s dark, anybody got info for me?”

”You took a hit from the ion canon, the whole thing is glowing now!” Keith shouted. ”Can you get Blue back online?”

“She’s upside down! I’m walking on the ceiling, it’s gonna take me a second to find—“

“LANCE!”

The blue lion’s cockpit glowed with yellow light as an explosion erupted from its neck. Keith grit his teeth, thrusting his controls forward as Hunk cried out in his ear. ”Keith, stay away from the Blue Lion! That canon is charged and ready to fire, we can’t risk taking Red out of commission!”

“The cockpit’s open, the window’s shattered!” Red hovered behind the explosion’s cloud cover, shrapnel radiating around the impact point of it’s neck. Ripped melting metal dripped from her neck like glowing red coils drifting through space. The cockpit’s windshield was completely obliterated, its glass floating into space like a cloud of powder.

“Lance, come in.” He wasn’t sure how long he waited. His heart was racing, but in that moment it was like the world slowed to a stop. “I need to hear your voice, come in!” The plumes off the explosion emanating from Blue’s neck slowing, blooming like glowing red flowers. He leaned into his controls, the Red Lion darting further toward the explosion.

“He’s here! I can see him!” He strained the controls against the front of the console, metal creaking under his hands. “H-his helmet’s gone, I need to grab him, NOW!” He could hear the others in his ear, but wether it was adrenaline or pure unbridled anger, their voices sounded soft and distant. He needed to get Lance out of the cockpit, and into a pod.

“I’m leaving my lion. Hunk, cover me.” He pushed himself out of his seat as he jammed his fingers against the button under the jaw of his helmet, the full-cover mask dissolving into existence as he exited the cockpit, running down the grate leading to the lion’s mouth. He grabbed hold of the ceiling, bracing himself for the sudden decompression as Red opened her jaw, all the air in the chamber flying out into space. He let go, hovering momentarily before kicking off the lion’s chin, launching himself toward the crash.

He could see Lance floating limply in space, the space between them growing hotter and hotter the closer he drew toward the Lion. He stretched his arms out toward him, gripping the sides of his chest plate tightly as they both drifted toward Blue.

There was no time to assess anything before getting back into Red, but even without stopping to look him over he’d seen red droplets floating from the side of his head, blood trickling into space between them. He was hurt. Bad. But despite that, despite everything telling him Lance was dying in front of him—

“Keith?…”

He grabbed Lance by the ridge of his chest plate, pulling him in. “Lance?!” He gasped, digging his fingers under the edge of his helmet, popping it off his head. He could hear the screaming in his comms, but it died off as he settled the helmet over Lance’s head, the mouthguard materializing, pumping oxygen through the mask.

“You’re okay.” He croaked, nodding once as Lance looked up at him, gaze unfocused. “You’re gonna… be okay.”

“K-… K-Keith!” His voice came through the helmet muffled as he gasped for air, hungry for it, but he could see his eyes darting through the space around them in confusion. “They’re saying—“

A purple laser whizzed past his head and he screamed, leaning hard to the right as another rocketed past the two of them. He gasped, turning backwards sharply to look at the destruction they’d caused. The ships drifted in and out of formation, the central canon now tracking the Yellow Lion as Pidge piloted Green closer to its base. But in all the chaos, the vision of The Black Lion rose above the furthest ship, claws digging deep into its hull, crushing it easily before launching toward central command.

“Shiro?...”

He repositioned quickly, bracing his feet against the edge of the Blue Lion’s face and launching them both toward his lion just as another laser burst against the edge of the Blue Lion’s armor, showering them in hot fragments of metal. They braced hard against one another, he tried to scream, but the sound cut off as he lost his breath.

As the heat died down Lance opened his eyes, looking back at him again. He opened his mouth, but his words didn’t reach his ears. He shook his head, brow furrowed. “What?” He rasped, “I, I can’t…”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he reached up to push the helmet off his head. He panicked, pushing one hand down on the top of the helmet, shaking his head “No, no it’s okay! I’m okay, keep it on. Keep it on.”

He squeezed Lance’s chest tight against him as another laser blew past, hitting the Red Lion where it hovered a dozen yards away. He winced, staring over his shoulder at Red’s open mouth floating a few dozen yards away. They could make it if he used his jetpack, but the ion canon made it impossible to move without the risk of getting hit. Floating in space, they were such a small target there was no chance they’d be able to accurately target them, but if they moved closer to the lion they’d lock on easily.

His focus shifted back and forth from Lance’s terrified expression inside the helmet, and his own mortified face reflected back at him off the visor. Eyes wide, lips twinged blue and breaths puffing clouds of frozen white mist between them.

Lance was trying to say something to him again now, he stared at him, watching his lips move in confusion until he noticed it; he was saying his name. Over and over. He reached up again for the helmet, and again Keith forced his hand on top of his head, pushing down. He grimaced, brow furrowed together in anger.

“You’re… You…” He wanted to protest, tell him no, that he’d been in a crash, that he needed the oxygen, and they’d be back in Red soon enough, but as he tried to explain that to him Lance managed to side-sweep his hand, push the helmet off his own head, and tuck it back over his own, his hair swept awkwardly over his eyes as the mask formed over his mouth, and oh god, that did feel better…

“Keith!” Lance grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him close again. “Ssshiro said to stay put! He’s gonna…” He trailed off, taking a long, strangled breath. “He’s gonna draw their fffire so we can get to Red.”

He nodded fervently, holding tight to Lance’s armor as The Black Lion loomed below them, a deafening roar rocking the wreck of the Blue Lion as well as Red, and all things considered the Galra ships did seem to be focusing their fire on Shiro now, leaving them an opening to get back to Red without risk of obliteration.

“Okay. Okay.” He breathed deep. The next three seconds passed in slow motion, everything happening far too fast, no chance to slow down. He turned to look down at the Black Lion, still offering them cover, just as a violet laser struck her shoulder, the impact igniting an explosion.

He wasn’t expecting the laser to continue past the impact; it was weaker, its light more scattered but no less dangerous. He pulled Lance behind him, heart hammering in his chest. They were out of time. Their worst case scenario was happening.

’There’s no going back from this,’ he thought absently as he braced his leg in front of him. The last thing he saw was violet light dyeing his armor purple, and white light overwhelming his vision.

Everything went black after that.

Chapter Text

“LANCE!”

She gripped either side of her monitor, staring at the collection of pixels where the two paladins had been less than a second ago. She shoved it aside and leaned over the controls to peer out of the cockpit at the portal, it’s edges already receding.

”What just happened?! What just FUCKING happened?!” She slumped back in her chair as Hunk screamed in her ear, apparently tearing his lion’s cockpit apart based on the amount of background noise coming across the line.

The laser had shot across the battlefield, grazing the black lion barely before impacting Keith and Lance where they’d been hovering in space, trying desperately to get back to the Red Lion without turning into Swiss cheese from the ion canon’s charged blasts.

There was no question, the Galra had been targeting them. They saw the opportunity to kill two Voltron Paladins and they’d gone for it. Maybe it was the fact the laser had been displaced, or maybe it had just been luck, but she had seen the aftermath of the blast. Lance and Keith, they’d still been alive. There was no arguing that they’d been impacted, but she’d heard Lance cry out:

“PID—“

Before being thrown through the violet portal.

Whether from the force of the blast or thanks to her link to Keith, the red lion had leaned toward the portal itself, and either by the portal’s gravity or her own will, she fell through after them.

Lost.

”LANCE!”

She gasped, throwing herself forward as she watched the Yellow Lion barrel toward the portal, dread rising in her throat. “Hunk NO!!”

”HUNK! We have no idea where that portal leads, do not go through it!” Shiro shouted through the comms, more frantic than Pidge had ever heard him before.

A spike materialized in the center of the portal. It moved slowly, emerging further until she could make out the hull, the main command center, the windows, like violet stars dotting the sides of the ship as it grew, and grew in size.

The Battle cruiser.

”Paladins, get back to the castle!” Allura shouted through the comms, ”We cannot engage without Voltron, I repeat, get back to the castle!”

“What? No, we… we can’t leave them.” She shook her head in disbelief, the Yellow Lion hovering hesitantly near the portal’s edge before a blast from the Ion canon forced him backwards. She shook her head, hands tightening into fists, slamming against her control panel. “We have to go after them!”

”No, the princess is right. Paladins, return to the castle at once, we won’t be able to do anything for Lance or Keith if we lose this battle!”

“Coran, no!”

”Pidge this is an order. Return to the castle.” Shiro’s voice reverberated in her head, her hands numb, the air suddenly thin.

No. They wouldn’t leave them. They shouldn’t leave. The portal is still open, she could—

”Pidge. now.”

She grit her teeth, her grip on Green’s controls deathly tight. “Right.”

The motions of docking Green in her hangar passed in hollow silence, not so much as a whisper, a mutter over the comms from either Shiro or Hunk. Nothing but muscle memory guiding her, or any of them she supposed. She yanked her helmet from her head as she walked down the ramp, throwing it sharply to the side and listening to the ‘THUNK’ as it ricochet off the wall, rolling in circles.

Allura sprinted past her Hagar door as she opened it, Shiro not far behind on their way to the bridge. She scowled, tensing for a moment before running after them, arms pumping at her sides as she forced herself to move, to keep Shiro’s back in view as she trailed them.

They burst through the bridge doors, Shiro slowing to a march while Allura frantically caught herself on the castle controls, a wormhole forming near instantaneously the moment she touched them. The passed through, thankfully, without incident from the cruiser, though the fact that ran so quickly from battle, especially after losing two paladins, sat darkly in her stomach.

The Galra would’ve called that noble. A vital, honorable act. It made her want to throw up.

“They were defenseless.”

Her head snapped up, shocked at the venom in Shiro’s voice.

“Please.” Allura’s voice shook as she pressed her hands against the controls, shoulders raised, refusing to face him. “I know—”

“No, No you DON’T!” He paced in front of the control platform she stood on, hands scrubbing at his face. “Do we know where they are?”

Allura hung her head.

“Do we know where they are?!”

“No!” She turned to look at him, to look at all three of them, her face clearly red from crying, and fresh tears crawling down her cheeks. “No, I don’t know where they are.” She whispered.

Coran stepped between Shiro and the princess, pushing him backwards with his presence alone. “There’s no telling where that portal led, Shiro. The moment I attempted to read its coordinates it enabled a hefty wall of encryption, we had no chance of finding it before the battle cruiser arrived, and the portal closed.”

The bridge doors opened once again and they turned to Hunk, running into the bridge with his own tears marking his face. Eyes stony. “We have to go back.”

“Go where?!” Allura snapped, turning to face the three of them, stepping off the platform to stand on equal ground. “We have no way of knowing where they were taken. Wherever it was, the Galra were hiding a battle cruiser there! They could have a whole fleet of cruisers on the other side! Stars—”

She turned away, pressing her hand to her face, hiding her eyes. For a long moment they simply watched her as her composure broke, a sob occasionally breaking the silence. She considered stepping forward, resting a hand on her arm, but before she could decide Allura turned again, straightening her back and addressing them with a metered tone, though the shake in her voice was still easy to hear.

“Our best bet right now, is to wait for word from them. The Red lion followed Keith through the portal, we have to trust that she knew what she was doing, but until we receive correspondence from the Red Lion… we…”

“We have nothing.” Shiro growled.

———

“—IDGE!!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, sunlight blinded him as wind whipped in his face. They were falling. Falling fast. The ground below was small enough he couldn’t make out specific landmarks, but it wasn’t Earth, and that was cause enough for panic.

He gasped, the air moving past him so quickly he could barely catch a breath at all.

“Keith?!” He shouted, tightening his grip on his arm. Sunlight glinted off his visor as he reached a hand up, turning his face toward him to see his face. He cursed. Unconscious. He couldn’t let go or they’d lose one another immediately. He pulled Keith closer, holding his arms tight around him as he turned over, the sky above them bright teal.

“Oh, Oh fuck— FUCK!!” The Red Lion loomed above them, maybe a dozen yards higher than they were. They needed to move. Move now. If this planet’s atmosphere was anything like Earth’s they had eight minutes before they’d hit the ground.

He did not want to hit the ground. Especially not with Red right behind them. Their chances of survival were basically zero, but with a hundred tons of alien steel on top of them? That ‘basically’ goes out the window.

He wrapped his left arm around Keith’s chest, tightening his grip as he craned his other arm behind his back, activating his jet pack. It sputtered suddenly, his other arm snapped up to wrap around Keith as they spun in a sporadic circle, the jetpack dying a second later.

He could make out landmarks now. The blue land was lined by a pink beach, separating it from the darker waters. They were heading for the edge of some cliffs that hung right over the water’s edge, Black glossy rocks reaching out of the waves below like the spikes of an urchin.

“Fuck, fuuuuck, Fuck!” He tucks his chin over Keith’s shoulder, pulling him in as he reached desperately for the jetpack on his back, gloved fingers searching for the activation button, which sat flush with the rest of its smooth white surface.

He pressed his hands flat against the armor, swiping his hands up and down until finally, finally the jetpack spun up, teal light glowing from the boosters. He dug his fingers in, clinging tightly to the edges of Keith’s armor as they rocketed sharply to the left, leaving the impact zone beneath the Red Lion.

He pulled his heels in as the cliff rose up from below them, the bottoms of his boots scraping against the edge as they plummeted like a stone toward the rocky water, the jetpack slowing their decent until they crashed against the water’s surface, sinking below.

Underwater waves crashed against them, throwing him against the base of one of the glossy black pillars that scattered the seascape. Against his will his body instinctually tried to breathe, water infiltrating his lungs as he spasmed, one hand flying to his mouth.

He was getting dragged by the undertow, and Keith was getting dragged with him.

Keith— Keith! He reached up, digging his fingers under the edge of the helmet and pulling it off, leveraging his weight against Keith to press his head into the helmet. The water leaked from the helmet and he was blessed with a puff of clean, fresh air. He coughed, sputtering water against the visor as he dragged in oxygen, yanking Keith against his chest and kicking off another black pillar, pulling them both up, up, up until sunlight peeked through the waves, glistening above them.

They breached the surface again and he gasped, grateful for the warmth beating down on them as he pulled Keith above the waves. He floated on his back balancing Keith on his chest, his head bobbing weakly against his shoulder as he began the slow process of backstroking toward the shore in the distance.

“You, you- you, you owe me, big for this, mullet.” He muttered, gasping between coughs. “When we, when… when we get, back to the castle, you’re gonna— oh my god —you’re gonna thank me. So mmmany times, ssso many! It’s guh-gggonna…” He trailed off, letting his head fall back against the waves, eyes closed. Breathe. Just breathe.

He was so tired. If he could just…

No. He lifted his head, kicking against the current. Keith needed to get to shore, he needed to focus. He hiked him further up by his armpits, his head had been slipping from his shoulder… No, he had to get Keith to shore.

It wasn’t far now, just a few more feet. A cove, carved by the harsh waves into the cliff face creating a large overhang. The shore slowly rose up beneath him and before he knew it, he could touch the bottom. He pressed his legs down into the water, pulling Keith further by his under arms, floating his body through the shallows until they both fell unceremoniously onto the smooth, rocky shore.

He stared up at the ceiling above, smooth dark blue stone covered in a glossy sheen that reflected light from the gleaming waves. Water dripped from somewhere nearby.

“You’re teammates, and I know he wants to talk to you.”

“Then why isn’t he here?” Water dripped from a faucet somewhere in the room, like a gunshot in the silence. Shiro pushed his legs through the water, the sound of it rippling, hitting the tiles, the tiny waves nearly reaching Lance’s toes where they sat just over the lip of the pool.

He scrambled suddenly to push the helmet from his face, splattering hot water and bile onto the rocks to his right, his whole body heaving as he wretched again. He fell to his side gasping as nausea rolled over him, echoing the roiling current still washing over his and Keith’s boots.

He was soaked through to the bone, skin slick with water and hair plastered against his forehead. He tore his armor from his upper body, gagging again as he removed his chest piece, the act of raising his arms above his head enough to send him reeling back against the rocky shore, head spinning.

He forced his eyes open. Keith. He had to check on him.

With a groan he pushed himself onto his elbows, then to his knees, water dribbled off his ribs and shoulders as he crawled across the stones to Keith’s side. They were a rosy shade of pink, he noticed absently. All the rocks on the beach were smooth, around the same size. Small enough to sit comfortably in the center of his hand.

As he leaned over Keith, if he was honest with himself, he looked… dead. His face was pale, near completely white, but he was breathing. The rise and fall of his chest plate easy to see without pressing his ear to his ribs.

A restless itch under his skin had him fidgeting, unsure of what to do now. Sure he was breathing, and that was great, but… maybe removing the plate would help. He couldn’t imagine it hurting their situation to give him more space to breathe. He reached across his chest, finding the lip of the plate under his arm and pressing his fingers on either side, separating them into their front and back pieces. It lifted off easily, and he set it aside revealing the black under suit, clean and unbroken.

“Thank Christ.” He leaned heavily into him, listening to the telltale sound of strong breaths and a stronger heartbeat. He was alive, just unconscious. He turned his head. staring up at the bottom of Keith’s chin, his head rising as falling with the motions of his chest. “Ssshiro would kill me if I… let you die.”

He couldn’t rest. Not yet. The blast that threw them through the portal in the first place, Keith had…

He turned his attention to his legs, still half-submerged in the water past his knees, a shiver running down his spine at the sight. Past his knee his leg was black, blood dying the clear shallows pink as it tainted the water.

Fear pierced through him, thoughts of alien sharks forcing him back to his feet. He took Keith by his under arms, hoisting him forward until he was completely free from the water. Laid out as he was he looked less like a paladin of Voltron and more like a starved, drowned rat.

“Easy buddy, don’t mind me, alright?” He muttered to himself, hovering his hands over Keith’s chest as though to reassure him before moving down toward his legs to assess the damage.

And god, it was bad. Way, way worse than anything he’d ever had to deal with before. But at the same time it was better than he could’ve ever hoped for too. Despite being hit directly with a fucking Ion laser, Keith’s foot still existed.

It was frankly a godsend he’d fallen unconscious. If he’d been awake, screaming and struggling in free fall, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to get them out from under Red at all, let alone redirect their fall to the water rather than the cliff’s edge.

Hooking his chin over Keith’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him as he pressed his hands all over his back? Yeah. No chance he would’ve been cool with that on any regular day of the week. Let alone after getting fucking hit with an Ion laser—

’Fuck, forget the laser. Stop bringing up the laser.’

He shook his head and let out a shaky sigh, doing his best to focus on the task at hand: assessing the damage. Razor-sharp shrapnel stuck to his skin, giving it a speckled opalescent sheen that would’ve been almost pretty if it weren't for all the blood. The sole of his boot was just gone, obliterated in the blast.

Blood oozed from a gory hole in his sole. A large piece of shrapnel was embedded there. He could see the warped black edge of it shining with blood. If he would ever walk again, it sure as hell wouldn’t be before a visit to the pods. He couldn’t imagine anyone upright with an injury like that.

He forced himself to look away from his foot to see where the damage stopped. His other leg seemed well intact, there wasn’t much damage from the blast, just a dusting of black soot that had stuck to the surface, refusing to wash away in the water. The damage on his right leg left a black gradient up his calf, ending just before his knee pad. The fabric of his under suit there had burned away leaving a thick edge, reminiscent of burnt polyester, but thankfully whatever it was made of didn’t melt against his skin the way polyester would have.

Instead of trying to delicately remove the knee pad by dragging it down his leg and over his injured foot, he leaned down and slid the edge of the fabric between his teeth, sawing at it bit by bit with his teeth until a small hole formed that he could tear with his hands. He snapped the band, the knee pad falling to the ground giving him space to roll the under suit up past his knee. Whatever the under suit was made of, it was tough, his jaw ached just from trying to pierce it with his teeth, and it had taken twice as long as any fabric on Earth would have to split like that. However there appeared to be no additional damage beyond the impact. The armor had done its job.

“Ngh,”

He cursed, brushing the bits of metal aside and moving back to Keith’s side. His breaths were already picking up pace, coming sharp and fast as his head lolled to the side, his previously placid expression now pinched as he grimaced.

“Keith. Keith, it’s alright. Hey—” He placed a hand gently on Keith’s chest, letting him know he was there.

He gasped sharply, a scream like no kind of scream Lance had ever heard before tearing through his throat, a strained animalistic wale as he tipped onto his side. He sobbed, trembling under Lance’s hands. Water dripped from the edge of his mouth, jaw fixed open like a gasping fish.

“Breathe! Breathe, please, you’ve gotta breathe, Don’t tense up.” He coached, pressing an open palm against his stomach. His muscles were tense and paralyzed, the contact forcing him to flinch as he finally gasped, another scream ripping its way out of him. He gagged on air, bleary eyes wide open as he stared into nothing.

“It hurts, I know it’s gotta hurt bad, I know, I know, I know.” He rambled, shaking his head in disbelief at the fact that Keith was even there with him. The fact that he was alive was a miracle.

His left arm pinned beneath him reached down toward his injured leg, but Lance grabbed him by the wrist, pulling his hand back. “Don’t! Don’t, I know it hurts but don’t touch, you’ve gotta calm down Keith or you’re gonna hurt yourself worse!”

Wild violet eyes met his, and for a moment he wondered if Keith could even recognize him through the cloud of pain. Whether he did or not the hand hand in his grasp reached for his arm, holding onto his wrist in return with an iron-clad grip. He stared at their hands for a long moment, Keith’s arm trembling in his before he let his own hand loosen, moving down to clasp their palms together, his thumb rubbing circles against the back of his.

Keith wasn’t okay. Nowhere near it. But as his breathing slowed to something less frantic and his eyes focused, Lance couldn’t help the relieved smile that grew on his face.

’God, I’m so glad you’re alive.’

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks, hot against his clammy skin. His teeth chattered as he spoke and he sucked a breath through his teeth, spitting sea water to the side before turning back.

“B— Burns.” He spat through clenched teeth, followed by another animalistic sound, a grating growl that quickly turned into another scream.

Shit. Maybe moving him out of the water was the wrong call after all. Pulling him out of the water was one thing, pushing him back in though could cause more damage than was already done. He couldn’t pull him by his legs without risking his injury, and there was no way Keith was crawling back into the shallows on his own.

“Here.” He forced himself up into a kneel and pushed his arms under Keith’s shoulders and the crooks of his knees. “You’re gonna have to trust me for a second.” He warned before lifting, being sure to raise his legs in one swift, gentle motion so they wouldn’t scrape against the stones.

’It shouldn’t be this hard,’ He noted distantly as he struggled to lift Keith into his arms. He’d felt Keith’s weight plenty of times before on the training deck. They’d done their fair share of one-on-one sparring with and without weapons, and he knew what it felt like to lift Keith off the ground. Maybe it was just the fact that he was water-logged, but he filed it away for later.

Step by step he brought Keith into the shallows, pink stones giving way to a smoother granular sand beneath the clear water, careful not to lower him too quickly as a wave pulsed toward shore. They rocked with the current, making him hesitate to let go completely. The moment his leg entered the water Keith sighed, tensed muscles going lax and his head dipping backward.

“Careful!” He hissed, the hand holding his shoulders shooting upward to cradle the base of his neck. “Ddumbass-s…”

“You’re… teeth…” He mumbled, his voice grating against his throat, run ragged from screaming minutes before. “Chattering.”

He clicked his jaw shut, but even that couldn’t stop the sound of his teeth clicking together.

He reached a hand up weakly, fingers wrapped around his bicep, the muscle vibrating under his touch. “T-trembling..”

“Yyyes Keith, I’m ccold.” He snapped, but there was no bite behind it. He forced himself to look away, back at the boiling ocean past the obsidian rocks.

“Am-m I…”

He glanced back at him. “Are yyyou what?”

Keith sighed a deep sigh, his eyes falling closed. “Nothing.”

“Yyyyou might as well ttell me.” Another wave rolled under them, rocking Keith’s body with the force of it.

He hesitated, but exhaustion masked any emotion on his face that could tell Lance the reason for the pause. “I’m… not dead, am I?”

Despite everything, Lance laughed. It was weak, and shaky, and nothing like any laugh he’d ever laughed before. “No, you’re not dead.” He whispered.

They stayed like that in silence for a long while. Keith wasn’t a talker, and Lance was too exhausted even to fill the silence with his rambling. The panic was gone, replaced by an unshakable, bone-deep exhaustion.

There was no telling how long Keith’s leg would need to cool off before he’d be able to withstand being out of the water again, but with every minute that passed he could feel his legs growing numb, the feeling in his fingers receding, leaving his hands dull and uncoordinated.

The water was up to his chest. Keith might find the cold relaxing because of his wound, but if he stayed her much longer he was starting to worry he might pass out.

“Um-m, K-Keith-th…” He whispered, chest seizing as he breathed in, forcing him to gasp. “I… I n-nneed to get out of ththe wwwater.”

His brow pinched, but he nodded regardless, letting Lance slowly make their way back to the edge of the water. He settled Keith solidly on the shore, the waves brushing against his, now numb, injured leg.

He splayed himself flat on the stones behind Keith, his arms stretched out. The overhang above them prevented any sunlight from reaching them on the shore, and its absence was deeply felt as his back muscles spasmed against the stones beneath him.

“Lance?” Keith croaked, his tone suddenly urgent as he struggled to turn and face him.

He didn’t bother moving, even to turn his head, eyes glued to the dark blue ceiling above them. “Whuh- Wh-What?”

“…You sounded like you were choking.” He whispered.

“I’m js—“ He coughed harshly, gasping between his spasming diaphragm. “—Just bbreathing.”

“Come here.”

“I’m fine—“

“Come here.” He said again.

There was no force behind anything he’d said since waking, no bite, no order, but despite that Lance felt pulled to go along with him in this one moment, the softness of his words, the exhaustion, pulling at some dark unseen part of himself. He pushed up to his knees and crawled across the rocks, falling gracelessly beside Keith, staring down at him in waiting.

He reached up a hand, not to his face but under his arm, palm flat against the side of his ribs. The air in his lungs evacuated under his touch, his eyes wide as he breathed in, chest expanding against his hand.

“Do you feel that?”

“Yy-your hand? Yes, I feel your hand.” He stammered.

He shook his head, fingertips pressing harder. “Your suit’s ripped.” He whispered, taking a breath as his voice cracked. “You’re hurt.”

He leaned back instantly and looked down at himself, shocked to find a wide cut across the side of his ribs in his under suit, revealing a deep red gash spanning at least eight inches across his side. Apparently the water was good at numbing lots of things.

“You’re head.” He breathed, as if suddenly remembering something important. “How’s your head?”

“Mmy head?” He repeated, instinctively reaching a hand up to press against his temple. He pressed his palm to his head, pulling his hand back to look at his glove.

Black.

Keith sighed sharply, reaching his own hand up to his mouth, ripping his glove off with his teeth and pressing his fingers against Lance’s palm, turning them over:

Red.

“Oh, ooh. Oh—” He took in a shaky breath, reaching back up to probe at his temple.

Keith reached up, yanking his hand away by his elbow. “Don’t touch it.” He snapped, pulling his hand down and holding it against the ground. “Do you feel… ugh, god—“ He leaned down, pressing his forehead to the ground for a second as he fought to control his composure. “Hhave you… uh, are your ears ringing?”

“Ringing?” He hadn’t really been paying attention, but now that he was listening… He shook his head. “No.”

“How about uh, have you been sick? Have you thrown up?”

“Yeah, but that was from—“ ’from when I nearly drowned and got sea water all up in my lungs and stomach’ “—I swallowed some water when we crashed.”

“You were crying earlier.”

He bristled. “So what?”

“People cry when they get concussions.” Lance opened his mouth to protest, but Keith steamrolled right over him: “Have you noticed any uh… can you see okay? Is it blurry?”

“No!” He swatted Keith’s hand away with his free hand. “I can see fine. I cried because— because we just survived a fffree fall ffrom the upper atmosphere!”

“Lance.”

”What.”

Keith leaned back, letting his head fall against the stones, his outstretched hand falling onto his chest. “I’m just—“ He sighed through his nose. “Nothing. I’m glad you’re alright.”

His expression fell from irritation into something more neutral, turning away from Keith to look out at the ocean in front of them. “…Are we gonna talk about what happened up there?”

“I’d rather not.”

“You moved me out of the way.”

Keith stiffened beside him where he laid on the ground, the muscles of his stomach tensing, his shoulders raised. “Yeah, I moved you out of the way.”

’Why?’ “You didn’t need to do that.”

“What?” He sat up, and Lance snapped toward him, his brow pinched. “Are you kidding? I didn’t need to do that? What, were you going to block the beam with your face?” He shook his head with a scoff. “‘didn’t need to do that’…”

“Your leg’s still in one piece.” He pointed out, though even to his ears the argument was weak.

“We don’t know what a hit like that would do against a chest plate.” He growled. “It could’ve stopped your heart.” He leans back, shaking his head to dismiss the topic. “No. No, we’re not talking about this. This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about this—“

“Oh, it is?” He snapped, incredulous. “This is why? Or is it because you have to put yourself on the line in every situation possible, but when the consequences come around you can’t face them, ever?!”

“I’m facing them now!!”

“We are CRASHED on some SHITHOLE PLANET!” He screamed, kicking up stones as he got to his feet. “If THIS is what it takes for you to save the s’onsce— faze the consen’s—“ He staggered backward, feet falling over one another as the world veered sharply to the left.

“Shit—“ Keith cursed. “LANCE!”

Chapter Text

His breaths were deafening in his ears, his eyes frozen wide at the image of Lance, laying sprawled over the stones in front of him. “Lance.” He whispered, his chest trembling as he took a breath. With every motion his leg screamed at him until he could feel every individual drop of blood dissolving into the water, but even so he rolled from his position on his back onto his stomach, his legs twisted behind him as he tried desperately not to move them.

“Lance.” He called louder, huffing against the stones under his chin. “Lance!” He pressed his forehead to the ground, forcing a a slow, measured breath in and out. Lance would wake up. He wasn’t dying, neither of them were dying, he just had to get him up again.

He forced his shoulders forward, army crawling inch by inch until what little distance Lance had put between them before collapsing was once again closed. He’d barely dragged himself three feet and already his muscles were trembling, even with his forearms braced against the ground his shoulders twitched and spasmed in their sockets, his collarbone tapping against the stones beneath him.

“Lance,” He closed his eyes, strength failing as he slumped forward, hands braced against the ground on either side of his head. “I need your help.” He breathed, seething his words through a clenched jaw.

’Don’t leave me, please, please for the love of god do not leave me here all alone.’

He couldn’t see his face from his position, so he drags himself toward the water, the burning in his leg like he’d been set on fire that very moment. He presses forward onto his forearms, leaning forward hard before catching himself with his outstretched arm again, groveling like an inch worm.

Where he laid now his head was aligned with Lance’s torso, and he decided then that he couldn’t possibly move another inch. He wrapped his arm around Lance’s torso and balled the fabric into his palm, using him like an anchor to hoist himself to sit. He leaned hard over Lance’s chest, his skin ice cold under his hands.

“Lance?” He breathed, gaze darting over his emotionless face. “Lance, Lance, hey.” He tapped his cheek with an outstretched hand. “Hey, hey! Come on wake up!” He reached further forward, curling his fingers into the short hair on the side of Lance’s head and yanking.

Blood streaked across his bare fist and wrist as the pressure made Lance grimace. All things considered, it had to be the most beautiful thing Keith had seen all day. He huffed out a relieved laugh and pulled again. “Lance, Lance!”

“Marco…” He winces, sucking a breath in through his teeth. His hand swats half-heartedly at Keith’s until he loops his fingers loosely around his wrist, his head lolling back against the rocks.

“No, no no no, Lance!! It’s Keith!” He tapped his other hand frantically against his chest. “Wake up, come on, wake up!!”

A high keen emanated from Lance and he froze, followed by a sob. Shit. Bad. Very bad.

“It’s— it’s okay.” He reassured awkwardly. “It’s okay Lance, open your eyes, you’re okay!” He had to do something. He’d been in Lance’s shoes before, but he’d never been the one dealing with someone else’s concussion. He was very familiar— a little too familiar according to Shiro— with the internal experience of having a concussion.

Back in the garrison he was no stranger to fights. Fist fights. Particularly with a cadet who insisted on berating him after every course, at every break. If he was out of his room the guy was behind him, goading him into striking first. And he’d never been great at keeping his cool around people like that.

The crying was always hard. Shiro had dealt with him on two occasions when he’d been particularly… effected by it. Crying and giggling were the least of his worries. He was just betting on the fact that Lance wasn’t the type to get violent.

Lance’s head shot up, his chest suddenly heaving with breath. Keith backed off of him as quickly as he could, he retreated from his stomach to the stones at his side, supporting himself on shaky forearms as Lance sat up, looking around frantically. He turned to Keith, his hand darting up and clamping to his bicep with an iron grip.

“Marco?!”

“What?” He whispered, confused. He winced, pulling away from Lance’s hand. “Lance, fuck! Stop!” He reached up with his other hand, digging his blunt nails into the back of Lance’s hand and swiping them down his skin. “You’re hurting me!”

He sobbed, pulling his hand away as Keith scratched him. His face contorted in confusion and terror as his tears mixed with the wet blood still dripping down the side of his face. He reached across Lance’s chest, grabbing his shoulder to keep him from standing just as a white-hot pain shot up his side like lightning.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his arm sharply retracted. Lance screamed just as the world came back, sparks of white flashing his periphery. “Lance—“ He seized, forcing his eyes to stay focused as he spat his name through his teeth. “Lance, stay here. Y-you’re— you’re not th’nking straight.”

“Something’s not—“ He shook his head as a shuddering breath escaped him, his own hands reaching up to clutch at the hair near his temples as another sob ripped through his chest. “I-I don’t— feel right, something’s wrong wwith me.”

“LANCE!” He griped him tightly by the shoulders and pulled him forward. “Where are you right now?!” He shakes him once and watched as he froze. Neither of them moved for what felt like minutes, his eyes darting all over Keith’s face like he was trying to assess something, or maybe his vision really was affected, if not earlier then now for certain.

“Where are you. Right now.” He repeated, voice trembling as he emphasized each word. A strong wave reached up the shore toward them and washed over his waist, brushing the edge of Lance’s thigh. His face was pinched, eyes squeezed closed as fat tears rolled down his face. He didn’t say anything for ages, the silence grating painfully against Keith’s ribs.

He cursed internally. The go-to questions were always things like ‘what day of the week is it’ ‘what time is it’ or if it’s really bad, ‘what’s your mom’s name’ or something equally obvious. They didn’t have those options here, and Keith knew next to nothing about Lance aside from what they’d done together as a part of Voltron. Maybe he needed to start smaller. “Okay, okay, what’s um, what’s one plus two?”

He gave Keith an odd look, but if he was honest it reassured him. At the very least he seemed more confused about why he was asking rather than unsure of the answer. “Th-…Three?”

“Okay! And uh, what about your best friend’s name? Best friend in the world, what’s his name?”

“Hunk.” He answered, wincing as a hand flew to his temple, pressed to his skin. He had to force himself not to reach up and yank it away. “And you’re… Keith, and uh, we fffly big lions i-in space with Pidge and Sshiro. A-and I fly the blue one, and you fly the… the red one.”

The split-second hesitation before his name sent a wave of nausea over Keith, watching him intently as he finished his answer. “Good. Okay. Okay, what do you remember from the last, twenty minutes or so?

Lance glanced around them, his lips pursed as he thought. With every second that passed Keith’s heart hammered harder against his ribs. It shouldn’t be taking this long. They were just talking about it. There was no way Lance could—

“I-I don’t know.”

An ice spike ran through his chest.

Lance’s brow furrowed, his breath catching in his throat. “Are you… mad at me?”

“No!” He choked, swallowing thickly as he stared into Lance’s terrified eyes. “No, I’m not mad. You just— you hit your head in Blue, a-and we crashed.” He had to stay calm. They were in the worst possible situation right now, and panicking wasn’t going to make anything better. It wouldn’t even make him feel better, he had to focus. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as best he could. “I don’t know where we are, what… planet this is, but we crashed. You, uh, I think you swam us to shore. Do you remember that?”

He squinted, propping himself up on his hands as he stared down at his lap. “No, I—“

“What’s the last thing you remember.”

A long whine escaped Lance as he thought, clutching his hands against the sides of his head. “I-I don’t know!! I remember… um-m, I remember…” He closed his eyes, two tears breaking away as he did and sliding down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. “I was in… the, um, the ssship… the castle. Hunk was talking to me, and I was— I was angry.”

“That was almost an hour ago.” Keith leaned back as best he could, his legs still submerged in the water behind him. He watched Lance carefully, his chest spasming as he sobbed, tears rolling down his face. This was what he’d expected when he first saw Lance’s head wound, he’d been relieved when it seemed like he was going to be okay, but now…

“God, my head hurts really, really bad.”

“Try.” He trembled, his voice dripping with agony. Now wasn’t the time for Lance to get shy.

Lance shot him a look, bloodshot eyes wide and shining with tears, suddenly angry. “Don’t— don’t, don’t-don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not—!” He grimaced, wiping a hand down his face as he forced himself to speak softly. “I’m not. I’m not mad, Lance, I’m—“ ’Scared. Terrified. Panicking—‘ “—I just need to know what you remember. The hangar, that’s right, that happened, is there anything you can remember after that?”

He lays on his back, hands still clamped to either side of his head, thumbs rubbing circles into his temples. “You were with Pidge, in the Green Lion. The Galra, and we… I-I had to save you.”

He swallowed hard, suddenly unable to look at Lance’s face, his heart thundering in his chest. “You didn’t, or, well you did.” He shook his head, waving a hand between them. “You came after Pidge and I, yeah. But it wasn’t… good, Lance.”

“Your hand.” He reaches forward, grabbing Keith’s wrist. “Bleeding.”

“No.” He sighed sharply, flicking his hand out of his grasp and instead pressing his own palm to his head, holding it out for him to see. ”You’re bleeding.”
“Shit—“ He breathes. He wipes his hand down his face, streaking red across his cheek as he held it in front of him. “Oh my god, oh my god—“

“It’s okay! Hey! Hey!!” His hand flew from his wrist to his shoulders, holding him steady as he threatened to keel over. “You’re okay, Lance. You’re okay. We’re gonna get back to the castle and we’ll get in the pods, and your head will be fine, and my leg will be fine. We just have to wait for them to come and find us.”

“Your…” Lance’s eyes narrowed for a moment and he glanced past Keith’s shoulder into the water behind him. He could see clearly the moment it registered on his face. The state he was in. His skin paled, eyes wide as—

“Lance,” he warned, holding him steady. “Don’t!”

His eyes rolled back and his head fell forward as his body went limp in Keith’s hands. He cursed, shaking him again. “Damnit Lance, wake up! I can’t do this without you, come on!”

Fuck. They were so fucked.

He blinked, his head lolling back against his neck as he came to, a glassy look in his eyes that Keith hadn’t noticed before, or hadn’t been there. The possibility of Lance getting worse than he already was was not a comforting thought. He needed someone he could rely on right now, and the concussion was not helping matters.

“”Focus! Focus. Look at me.” He snapped, grabbing Lance by the sides of his head, forcing them to make eye contact.

His breaths were coming fast and hot against Keith’s chin, his cheeks pressed together in a way that might’ve even been funny if it weren’t for their circumstances. Now all Keith could see when he looked at Lance’s face was someone who needed him as much as he needed him. They weren’t going to get through this if they couldn’t show a little humility, and he supposed he’d have to be the first one to bend his knee.

“I need you to stay with me, okay? I can’t help you, I need you to help me right now. I can’t move without you.” He glanced back at his own leg, and when he looked to Lance again he could see his eyes on it, his breaths picking up pace. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

Without saying a word he nodded into his hands, and Keith let go, leaning back an inch as he hovered near Lance’s shoulders, in case he decided to faint for a third time. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He breathed, nodding again. “’m okay.”

He let his hands fall back to his sides and turned away from him, pulling his legs hesitantly out of the water and half-folding them beneath him, leaving his injured foot free. It was a gory thing to look at, and he couldn’t blame Lance for his reaction. His skin was charred black around the wound, but some of the damaged flesh had been washed off by the waves, leaving it as a gaping open wound.

The water had done a lot to numb the pain, and he wasn’t thrilled about the idea of leaving the shore anytime soon. But if they wanted to get rescued they’d need to leave whatever cove they’d found themselves in and find a long stretch of open beach where the castle could more easily read their signals and get a visual on them.

“If we’re gonna get to higher ground I need to be able to stand.” He grit his teeth, ghosting his fingertips over the side of his foot, but flinching away the moment he so much as brushed his own skin.

“Keith?”

“You trust me right?” He snapped toward Lance, ignoring the look of concern on his face. Lance leaned back an inch, his features drawn together in nervousness. He reached up, gripping his arm as he pulled him in. “Right?”

“I-I…” He swallowed, glancing behind him at the mess that was his leg. “I don’t know what to do. I’m not a doctor.”

“You don’t need to be a doctor, you just need to trust me.” He could feel his heart picking up pace, his mind racing at the prospect of what was about to happen. What he needed Lance to do for him. “There’s a piece of metal, about this long,” he holds up his hand, index finger and thumb held several inches apart, “stuck in my foot.”

Already Lance began subconsciously shaking his head, his eyes fixed open in horror as Keith explained to him what he needed him to do. “I can’t pull it out myself. I need—” He takes a breath, his lungs suddenly working overtime as adrenaline flooded his system. “I need you to do it for me, okay?”

“No!” He gasped, fervently shaking his head now. “No, no way! I can’t, I can’t!”

“Lance, this is serious!” He yanks hard on his arm, his own panic overtaking him. “I won’t be able to move if you don’t do this! I know it’s gross, it sucks, but I need you to help me right now!”

It wasn’t up to him. If it was, he wouldn’t trust Lance with this either. He wasn’t just hurt, he had a concussion, messing with his ability to see. He might not even be able to do it at all, but they weren’t going to get anywhere if they didn’t at least try to move.

He stares at Lance, who was now refusing to look at him, his body trembling where their knees touched. “Don’t be scared.” He whispered, squeezing his arm again. If he were in any less pain he might’ve felt ashamed asking Lance of all people so blatantly, but they didn’t have time for shame. He traced his hand down his arm, gripping his wrist tightly. “You’re gonna help me.”

“Keith.” He trembled, shaking his head as new hot tears dripped down his cheeks. “I can’t. I can’t— It’ll hurt, I don’t want to—”

As gingerly as he could he brought his injured leg in front of him, every motion like a chance to spark the live wire that was his skin. “I’m gonna look away, and you’re gonna yank it out, and we’re gonna move on, okay? It’ll be fine. I’m ready.”

“Kei—” He choked, a sob racking his chest as he shook, his name dragged out into a low cry that ached in the soft parts of his chest. He pulled against his tight grip, but he held on, not letting him go. “Please, please don’t make me, I can’t, I can’t—”

“You have to!” He snapped, reaching his other hand forward to take him by the shoulder. “You’re all I’ve got. If there were anyone else I wouldn’t ask you, but Shiro’s not here. So goddamnit, help me!!”

He let go, leaving Lance to stiffen, shoulders tight even with his face screwed up in terror. He lifted his hands, hovering over Keith’s destroyed leg. Blood pooled in the cavity of his heel, dribbling from the sole of his foot where, even now without moving an inch, he could see the glint of white metal embedded within the flesh.

“Take your gloves off.” He rasped, pointing toward his hands. “They’ll make it hharder for you to grip the edge.” He watched as Lance pulled them off, setting them over his thigh. “Don’t pull unless you’ve got a firm grasp on it, and once you do, don’t stop.”

“Wwwould you shut up?!” He shouted, glaring at Keith from where he was hovering over him. “Just— just look away. D-Do you want me to fucking, count down or something?”

“No. No, just pull it when you’ve got it.” He muttered, laying back against the pink stones and twisting onto his side, burying his face in his arm.

“Okay. Okay.” He flexed his fingers, careful not to brush against his wounded foot as he reached closer, the entire area dark with soot, but otherwise clean. The edge of metal in his sole stuck out maybe a half-inch, barely enough room to grab at all. If it were any deeper there’d be no chance of removing it without tools of some kind.

He’d need to work fast if he was going to really do it. No matter how tough Keith liked to pretend to be, his entire leg was an open wound, if he touched it, he was going to feel it. He’d have to do it like Keith had instructed: fast. Grab it, commit, and pull.

With a swift motion he pulled, Keith’s leg spasming the moment he made contact. A guttural gasp came from under his arm. Lance grabbed his leg by the base of his knee, as far from the wounds as he could be while still getting a firm grip to prevent him from kicking. He yanked hard on the metal, a piercing shriek coming from Keith like nothing he’d ever heard before. He wasn’t aware Keith was capable of making a sound like that— like a dying mountain lion. Like a bird of prey.

He tossed the shrapnel aside, releasing his hold on Keith’s leg as he went suddenly silent. He pulled him up by his shoulders, his arms dropping limply to his sides. Out cold.

“Shit—” He lowered him slowly to the ground, untangling his legs so he was laying supine. Red pooled slowly around his foot, blood flowing like a faucet down his heel. He cursed again, unzipping his under suit to begin ripping it into strips when he noticed… he was still wearing his tee underneath.

It wasn’t out of the question for him to leave his shirt on under his suit, but the fact that he did not remember dressing for their mission at all was… concerning, to say the least. But it couldn’t be his main concern right now. He had to take care of Keith’s wounds.

He stripped the skintight black suit down to his hips, tying the long sleeves around his waist before yanking his tee over his head, immediately ripping off the sleeves.

It took less than a minute to transform the shirt into a bundle of bandages, ripping it into long cotton strips. He grabbed one end, winding them around his hand and moved back to Keith’s foot, resting his calf over his thigh to get a closer look at it.

Every cadet at the Garrison had been required to complete an emergency first aid course in their second year. It wasn’t his first time seeing something like this, but the Garrison censored most of the images. If they weren’t censored they were usually prop make up, or mannequins. They didn’t exactly have or want a library’s worth of battle wound imagery on file.

Even if he wasn’t prepared for the visual he was grateful for the training. His head was still spinning from… whatever happened before they got here, so relying on the garrison training gave him a moment to breathe, to go on autopilot. He took the end of the cotton strips and began packing the wound, forcing half the bundle in before binding it closed with a tight wrap, sliding one of his blue sleeves overtop to keep everything secure.

“Okay.” He breathed, leaning back to get a good look at his work. It was clean. Tight. With it covered Keith looked… like he was going to be okay. If he didn’t look too close he could pretend he’d just sprained his ankle.

He sat back, propping his elbows on his knees and reaching a hand up to his temple, pulling his hand away and rubbing the blood between his fingers. Soft hiccuping brought him back to the present. His head snapped up, rolling onto his knees at Keith’s side. He shook his shoulder softly, rocking his chest, but he wouldn’t wake. His face was pinched in pain, thin tears breaking down the sides of his face as his breaths came shakily.

“Hey, it’s- it’s okay.” He whispered, “we’re gonna… be back in the castle soon, just like you said. Allura will know what to do. They’ll get you in a pod and your leg’ll be fine.”

His shuddering breaths knocked something loose in his chest, his already burning eyes shone with new tears just from the sound He’d never seen Keith cry. He’d hardly ever seen the guy wince, and they’d been through plenty of fights as a team. His scream still echoed in his head, looping on repeat. Grating against his throat, pitchy and high with panic. He’d never heard a sound like that before, and to know it came from Keith…

A sob shook him, tears snaking down the side of Keith’s face where he laid. Maybe it was his family instincts, or the fact that they were stranded with only one another to rely on, and if Keith ever brought it up he’d definitely blame it on the concussion— he reached down, hooking a finger under Keith’s soaked bangs to pull them out of his face, smoothing them back against the rest of his hair. He wiped his tears away with his thumb, his hand resting for a moment longer on the side of his head.

———

When he woke next he gasped, rocking into a sitting position. His foot was aching but… it wasn’t burning anymore. In fact it felt a lot more… stable, if that was right. Less volatile? He woke with his foot touching the floor, and not shooting bolts of pain up his leg like spikes of electricity, so that was already a huge improvement.

He could feel something solid packed in the wound, and he took a moment to be impressed that Lance was able to do it in such a way that it was… honestly comfortable. For the first time since they crashed his pain scale was lower than a five.

He folded his legs in, lifting his wounded one to examine it. White ragged cotton bandages wrapped tightly from the front of his foot all the way past his ankle and halfway up his calf, a blue cover securing the section covering the sole of his foot. He recognized it immediately.

“Lance?…” He realized all at once how quiet it had become. How alone he was.

“LANCE?!” He shouted, lifting himself carefully from the stones. He balanced precariously on his good leg, the toes of his wounded foot barely brushing the ground as he looked around. His hair was dry, he noticed distantly. He’d been… ‘asleep’ for at least thirty minutes. Lance could’ve gone anywhere, and with his head in the state that is was—

He turned toward the shore, eyes scanning the water. Shit. Could he have drowned?! Neither of them were in a state to swim, but that hadn’t stopped Lance from trying on more than one previous occasion. “LANCE!!” His voice reverberated off the cavern walls behind him, the rush of the ocean filling in the silence that followed.

It was darker now, one of the stars in the sky was hanging low over the ocean. The other, either smaller or more distant, hung slightly higher in the sky, it’s deep red glow casting warm light through the atmosphere, together turning the sky a vivid dark purple. If he didn’t find him soon, there might not be enough light to see by to find him.

“Hey!”

He twisted over his shoulder, eyes wide as he watched a hand materialized out of the wall. Lance appeared, ducking out of a hole in the back of the cave where the shadows hid much of what they could see. He hobbled awkwardly, turning to face him as he jogged across the cave floor onto the stony beach.

He was smiling. Keith wanted to punch him in the gut.

“You’re awake!” He came to a stop a foot away, breathing heavily. “There’s a cavern back there, it’s big enough to fit both of us, we can—”

“You left me!” He snapped, limping backwards a step.

Instantly the smile on Lance’s face disappeared, the crinkle around his eyes smoothing as his brows pinched in confusion, and then annoyance. “What? You need me to sit around and wait for you to finish your nap?”
“I passed out! How did you know I wouldn’t— I don’t know, need your help?!”

“I was gone for ten minutes.” He deadpanned. “I think you could’ve waited.”

“That’s not the point.” He grimaces, adjusting his weight on his good foot. “Whatever— Fine. it doesn’t matter. What’s in the cave?”

He sighed, resting a hand on his hip as he stepped aside, gesturing toward the back wall with his other hand. “I walked for at least a quarter-mile before deciding to come back. It’s smooth rock most of the way, just a couple ledges and bends in places. The ceiling’s a little short for the first couple feet, but it gets taller. The path’s about six feet wide.”

That was… good info, he supposed. His heart was still racing from waking up alone, but at least Lance had been doing something useful when he left. “Good.” He muttered, limping past him. “Let’s set up there then. It’s already too cold to spend the night out here.”

They spend a few minutes gathering the pieces of armor they’d discarded upon arriving, and by ’they’ he meant he watched Lance collect them, tossing him his own before replacing his chest plate and arm guards. For Keith, his lower leg guard was destroyed. His chest plate marred with a cloud of black soot.

Once they were ready Lance strode past him, muttered something under his breath that he didn’t catch. He made it to the cave wall in seconds, dark shadows cast over his face, a small strip of golden evening light cutting across his neck and jaw. He turned and leaned back, arms across his chest as he glared at Keith where he stood, maybe four feet from the shore.

’Oh, that’s low even for you.’ He grimaced, taking another limping step. Fine. if Lance was making it so clear that he didn’t want to help him, then he wouldn’t bother asking. He took another step forward, a throb emanating from his foot causing the muscles in his stomach to tense, breaths stilted.

“Want a hand?”

“No.” He snarled, limping forward another step. No, Lance had already made his choice. He didn’t get to change his mind now that he felt bad for him.

He scoffed, pushing himself off the wall. He crossed the transition from smooth stone to rocky shore again, stopping in front of him, hand outstretched. “This is stupid. Come on, I’ll help.”

“I said no!” He shuffled to the side, making a show of staggering past him. “If you don’t want to help then don’t pretend you want to either.” Lance huffed out a sharp breath at that, folding his arms as Keith stumbled forward.

“You’re gonna get hurt worse.” He warned, his voice now directly behind him. Great. So he was trailing him, like a parent after a doddling toddler. “Gimme your arm, this’ll take all day.”

“Don’t touch—”

Arms loop around his waist as the ground suddenly rushed to meet his face, his nose inches from the stones. He still fell, but onto Lance’s chest, shoulder pressed awkwardly into his ribs.

“Sorry,” he puffed, “dizzy.”

“Let go of me.” He pushed off Lance’s chest to stand, but his arms trembled terribly, and he ended up falling back to his knees beside him.

“Come on.” He whispered, pushing against his knees to stand. He offered him a hand.

“I said don’t touch me.” He snapped, swatting his hand away. “You can go on ahead if you can’t wait for me.”

Lance’s hand darts out, attaching to his forearm. He ducks under him, his other arm braced around his ribs as he lifts him. “I’ve got you.” He muttered. “I’m… sorry. For ignoring you.”

“Yeah, you seem really broken-up about it.” He growled. He accepted the help though, his exhaustion winning over his stubbornness this time. “Just get me to the cave wall, I can use it to walk.”

“Right.”

They hobble toward the entrance at a pace faster than his but slower than Lances, and despite everything he couldn’t help the shame eating away at his insides. He tilted his neck down, his chin pressed to his chest in an attempt to hide his face, the bitterness threatening to consume him completely.

A rush of freezing ocean air hit their backs as they enter the cave, and he allowed himself a moment of relief at the thought that they’d have somewhere out of the elements to recover. It would be dark, but their armor’s glow could illuminate a small space like the path Lance had described. They’d be fine.

“You’re welcome.” He looked up. Lance glared down his nose at him, his mouth pulled into a thin frown and a wrinkle at the bridge of his nose where his brow was creased in annoyance. When he didn’t say anything for a few seconds he rolled his eyes. “Your leg.”

“Oh, right.” He mumbled, remembering the blue sleeve covering the wrap.

Lance hummed, but then silence between them stretched on until they reached a small pocket about two minutes in. The pieces of armor they had left all flickered to life when they left the evening glow of the cove, illuminating the black stone around them with neon teal, the walls glittering in the light.

“This is… a lave tube.” He tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling in wonder. “This stone is… it’s obsidian.”

“Ssshould we be worried?” He asked with a chuckle.

He reached out, brushing a hand along the wall as Lance left his side, skirting the edge of the room. “No, it’s too cold. These walls were formed a… a long time ago. The glass’s the same thickness from the floor up, no lip on the wall. The magma levels didn’t fluctuate.”

“Magma…” Lance mumbled, his boots scraping against the floor loudly as he came to a stop. Suddenly he winced, shaking his head with his eyes shut tight. “Sorry. Lost my train of thought.”

“It’s alright.” He reassured softly, his voice reverberating in the small cavern. He could almost forget about Lance’s concussion. He’d been acting really… normal, since he’d woken up. He was still Lance. Still an ass. Aside from a few comments about being dizzy he was completely himself.

Still, the memory of him fainting, waking up sobbing, it was burned in his mind. The memory of his voice as he screamed, pleading with him—

“Keith! No, no no no— Please, don’t make me, I can’t, I can’t—!”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pushing the memory away. He’d done a good job, he did what he needed him to do, and they were both okay. Not great, not perfect, but they’d make it through the night. Tomorrow they’d find a way off the cove and get to higher ground to wait for rescue. Shiro and Allura would find them, they’d spend a few hours in the pods, everything would go back to normal.

The sound of armor against stone across the room told him Lance was trying to get comfortable. Settling in to sleep for however long they could.

“D’you think they’ll find us soon?” He whispered, but his voice still bounced loudly off the walls, echoing back at him.

He turned to face him, settling his own back against the wall and sliding to sit. On opposite sides of the room they were still only ten or eleven feet apart, the teal glow of Lance’s neckpiece illuminating his clenched jaw, the muscles of his throat flexing as he swallowed.

“Yes.” He said. Meaning it. “We’ll sleep for a few hours here. After that we’ll see if this cave system leads through the cliff to somewhere more open. There’s bound to be a beach somewhere near the ocean’s edge. We’ll find some high ground and wait for them to find us. Our armor probably has some trackers in it, right? They’ll find us.”

Lance nodded, the back of his head tapping against the wall. Keith was horrified for a moment as his eyes rolled back, but thankfully he didn’t pass out. “You okay?”

“Uh-… he- yeah.” He let his head fall forward, gentle fingertips prodding hesitantly at the back of his head. “I just… think I… maybe…”

“Hey.” He stood, limping toward him and bracing himself against the wall, sliding down at his side. “I know you know better than that. Don’t touch it.”

“It hurts.” He whined, his hands hovering over the sides of his head, fingers tensed like knotted branches, trembling.

“Have you ever had a concussion before?” He doesn’t know why he asked it. The answer wasn’t going to help Lance right now, and it wouldn’t help him to know what to do, but… talking about something else might distract him from the pain at least.

“Once.” He whimpered.

Keith snatched his hand out of the air by his wrist as he reached for his head again, holding it between them. “How’d it happen?”

Lance sniffled loudly, raising a brow at Keith as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I… I was playing soccer. Jjjunior league. I was maybe like, fourteen or fifteen? No… f-fifteen for sure. It was the opening game for my high school team.”

“Huh.” He leaned back, twisting Lance’s wrist in his hadn’t so the back of his palm was resting comfortably over his knee. “I never took you for the athletic type.”

“W-wait, really?” He leaned forward to catch his eye, incredulous. “I’m super sporty! I- I swim all the time in the cccastle. Hunk and I wrestle, or— well, he kinda has to go easy on me, cause we’re in different weight classes, b-but I train on the training deck all the time!”

“Yeah, to do shooting practice.” He pointed out, before shrugging and leaning back again. “I’m just saying, the only time I see you break a sweat is during group training.”

Lance breaths in a soft, sharp breath, his brows furrowing as he leaned back, the silence cold between them. He cursed internally. Of course, their last group training session hadn’t exactly ended well for him. Not the first time, and certainly not the second.

He released his wrist, allowing Lance to retract into himself as he flexed his fingers into a fist. “…Why didn’t you pull your bayard out sooner?”

Lance scoffed, wiping a hand down his face, rubbing at his chin. “Jesus, perfect time to bring that up.”

“I’m serious.” His voice lowered, growing gravelly.

“What? What do you want me to say? Allura asked me to. I didn’t want to disappoint her. Again.”

“You know what would really disappoint her?! If you died.”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” He snapped, hooding his face with his hands, his elbows popped up on his knees.

“No! No, we’re doing this now, ‘cause if we wait until everything is fine, back on the ship, you’ll never answer me. Just hide in your lion again like you don’t even—“

“I wasn’t—!” He turned toward him sharply, eyes wide and furious, mouth hanging open to say something until he realized he had nothing. No defense. He clicked his jaw shut, hiding his face with his hands again. “You don’t know me.”

“Whatever. You had every opportunity to protect yourself and you didn’t.” Lance stayed silent, his eyes hidden, mouth pulled into a frown. “You should’ve pulled it out the moment the gladiator was—”

“I don’t wanna hear what you’d do!” He shouted, still hiding his face. “I don’t want to know what you would’ve done. I’m not you. I can’t be you.” Lance winced next to him, his breaths growing panicked and angry as he cursed under his breath, his hands coming down to press over his eyes.

“I… I know.” He breathed, unable to look at him.

“Then why does everyone keep acting like I’ve gotta— gotta be you all the time?! I’m me, and I’m good at being me! I’m shit at being you, but no one wants me! Not Allura, not Shiro, not Pidge, fuck— not even Hunk wants me!”

“Woah, woah, that is not true!” He grabbed his arm, pulling one hand away from his face. “Hunk is your best friend, he likes you just fine!”

“He can’t stand being around me!”

Keith leaned back, his expression growing more and more confused as Lance sobbed in front of him. “Lance, what the hell are you talking about? I thought Hunk… I thought you were friends?”

“We are.” He rasped, taking a shuddering breath as he wiped roughly at his eyes. “He’s my best friend.”

“What?” He shook his head. None of what he was saying was making any sense. “Lance, this is all— this is ‘cause of the concussion. You’re not thinking straight. Hunk’s your best friend. Shiro and Pidge like you, so do Allura and Coran.”

“No.” He whimpered, shaking his head. “No, I mean it. I really mean it!”

“Let’s just— calm down for a second, okay?” He gripped Lance’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb against his arm. “It doesn’t matter. Hunk and Allura and Shiro aren’t here.”

“Yeah.” He slurred, glaring up at Keith through his bangs. “Just you.”

He froze, his hand stilling on his shoulder, lungs stuttering to life again. “Yeah, just me. All you’ve got is me until we get rescued. And all I’ve got is you. So let’s try to not kill one another before we get rescued. Okay?”

They glared at one another, Lance’s eyes rimmed and shining in the neon light, his brows furrowed over hi eyes, the skin of his cheek wrinkled as he grimaced at him. Cracked dried blood streaked across his face, turned black in the blue light.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Chapter Text

Sweat coats Shiro’s brow, the socket wrench in his hand straining against an angry bolt on the edge of Black’s mouth where he was trying to free it, the material having warped considerably during their fight against the galra in the Ortackian’s atmosphere.

Allura had insisted that he, Pidge and Hunk all keep themselves occupied with ’important’ work around the castle like lion repairs and research on nearby systems and planets. Although it had been Pidge who pointed out that it’s less likely they were teleported somewhere nearby. Wormholes are used to travel pretty vast distances, it would be pretty unreasonable to wormhole somewhere they could fly to within… minutes. Maybe an hour.

But that wasn’t the point. He knew what the point was. He’d been given plenty of busy work constantly at the garrison, especially in the event of some unforeseen circumstances. He couldn’t imagine what the place must’ve looked like after he and the Holts were lost on the Kerberos mission. They were probably in shambles. Keith and Lance’s disappearance wasn’t that unlike his own when he thought about it. Lost during a mission, and to the Galra too.

The wrench falls from his hand and he curses, reaching for it in futility as it clatters down the Lion’s chest, the sound of its impact with the floor reverberating throughout the hangar.

“Need a hand?” His gaze snaps to the hangar doors, a relieved smirk blooming on his face when he sees Hunk and Pidge entering the room.

“Just a second.” He called, adjusting the clips on his repair harness to allow him to repel down the Black Lion’s arm, releasing the clips attaching him to the rope when he reached the floor. He steps off her paw, bending his knees as he impacts the floor with a soft groan. Hunk offers him the wrench, a fresh nick in the handle no doubt from its impact with the floor. “Thanks.” He mumbled, tucking it into the tool belt.

“How’s Black doing?”

“She’s just fine.” He reassured, ruffling Pidge’s hair. “She took a nasty hit from that canon, but it could’ve been a lot worse. I just need to hammer some sheet metal back into shape.” He looked between them, noticing at once that Pidge was carrying her backpack. He raised a brow at her, prompting.

“My computer.” She explains, shrugging the bag off onto the floor. “Thought we’d join you in here. Green and Yellow only have superficial scratches, so we don’t have any repairs to do.”

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable.” He warned, rubbing his arm across his forehead with a heavy sigh. “The Blue Lion took some serious damage during that fight. I know Lance will appreciate it when he comes back to see her in good shape.”

Hunk and Pidge both deflate at the mention of their missing teammate. He can hardly blame them, he can hardly stand to think about where they could be, what could be happening to them without wanting to… god, just break down and cry mostly. “Come on you two.” He took them by their shoulders and turns them around toward the hangar doors. “Black can wait. Let’s go see the Blue Lion.”

“What— right now?” Hunk stammered, glancing over his shoulder at the Black Lion towering above them. “You don’t need to finish on Black’s repairs?”

He waved off his worry, shaking his head. “It’s only one warped panel. She’ll wait. Come on.”

Pidge grabbed her bag from the floor and followed them out of the hangar, glancing back at the Black Lion for just a moment before the automatic doors shut behind them. Shiro leads them at a near break-neck walking speed toward the Blue Lion’s hangar on the far end of the ship. A ringed hallway spanning the circumference of the ship connected the five hangars, but to walk from Black’s to Blue’s took nearly five minutes, maybe three if they ran. But Shiro had them there in four, the doors hissing open to allow them inside.

“Oh..” Hunk let out a breath, brows pinned together in concern at the sight of Lance’s lion. She laid sprawled across the floor of the hangar, her mouth hanging slightly ajar. From their vantage point it was difficult to see the full extent of the damage, but they’d all seen the shot that took out the cockpit windows, and the following shot that melted through her neck.

Beside him Pidge’s hand flew to her mouth. He reached for her, turning her by her shoulder so he could see her face. “Pidge?…”

“She just looks—” Her voice warbled, tight and raspy, “—She just looks like an animal, you know?” Shiro placed his own hand on her other shoulder, reaching around to hug her from the side. She leaned in, resting her temple against his chest plate. “I used to watch these videos sometimes of- of animal rescues? Like, dogs and cats? And sometimes there would be these dogs that… I-I don’t know how people can do something like that to an animal.”

“It’s alright Pidge. She’s not in any pain.” He reassured, squeezing her tight for a moment. “Let’s see what we can do about the damage, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nodded once, stiff and sharp as she breathed in.

The metal around the Blue Lion’s neck laid in odd stringy tendrils, the edges curled backwards revealing the inner catwalk that each lion was equipped with to travel from the mouth to the cockpit. Inside the grated walkway too was badly damaged. Soot and ash covered everything. Her head laid on its side, the cockpit easily accessible by walking through the lower broken window.

“Wait here.” He stops them, stepping forward through the frame into the darkness alone. Particles of glass crunched beneath his boots, and he was grateful he was still wearing the work gloves he’d used to repair Black when shards of thick glass clung to his fingers as he pulled his hadn’t from the frame. “Yeah, don’t come in here,” he called over his shoulder, “there’s broken glass everywhere.”

“Be careful!” Hunk called back, looming anxiously over Pidge’s shoulder as they both leaned in, trying to follow his form as he pressed further. Tools and knickknacks littered the floor, or— wall, he supposed. He looked up to see the opposite end of the cockpit above him, seemingly untouched aside from it’s broken window.

The shape of something in the dark corner caught his eye, dark against the pile of glittering glass powder. He knelt down, sifting through it to pull out something soft, brushing the glass off it’s face. A smiling plush shark stared at him through two black round button eyes. It was small, similar in size to a football and fitting in his palm in a familiar fashion. He plucks a few stuck pieces of glass from it’s fuzzy surface.

A reflection caught his eye beneath the control panel, and he reached under to grab it, the edge of the panel digging into his cheek as his hand met a hard, familiar edge. He inhaled sharply, softly, before pulling it out of the darkness. A crack ran down the visor from the left temple to the right cheek, a deep scratch in the top catching on the hem of his glove. Lance’s helmet.

He stepped out of the darkness with the helmet tucked under his arm, scattering pebbles of glass across the floor. “Here.” He offered the helmet toward them, Hunk quickly taking it between his hands. “It looks like we’ll need to clean the whole cockpit. You two will need some gloves, I’ll start sweeping out the glass.”

The next hour is spent slowly cleaning debris from Blue’s cockpit, but despite the work, time didn’t drag as it had when he was working alone. Shiro swept up an entire bag’s worth of glass powder while Pidge and Hunk set about carefully dusting off every trinket that had been thrown around. There was the shark of course, Pidge didn’t know wether Lance had a name for it, but it sat in her lap as she cleaned everything else.

By the time Shiro was finished with the interior he’d removed everything that wasn’t bolted down, a spread of dozens of knickknacks laid in organized rows between them. There was a wide variety of things from printed pictures to data pads to fortune cookie papers. Nothing could be considered trash because it had been in the Lion. They had to assume Lance wanted it there, no matter how small it was.

[Paladins? Would you please come to the bridge? Coran and I have an important update that you’ll want to hear.]

Allura’s voice over the intercom startles the three of them as they turn toward the ceiling, swiveling left and right to find the source of the noise. As the message cuts off Shiro lowered his gaze back to the two of them, their own expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

“I can go see what they’ve found and report back, of you two’d like to keep going.” He offered, gesturing to the project before them on the floor.

“No, I—”

“I’ll hang here.” Hunk interrupts, glancing between Pidge and Shiro a few times before looking down at the helmet still held between his hands. “I wanna… get everything packed in a box, so he can go through it all when he gets back y’know?"

Pidge gives him an apologetic look, patting his arm gently. “No worries Hunk, we’ll relay the important details when we get back.”

“Right.” He nodded, offering Hunk his own knowing look.

They left Hunk through the sliding doors of the hangar, a quick walking pace slowly morphing into a frantic jog the closer they made it to the bridge until finally the double doors slid open ahead of them. Inside Allura and Coran were hard at work on two of the paladin consoles.

Lance and Keith’s, Pidge observed, jotting it down in her mental notes.

Allura leaned over Keith’s console, fingers flying over his keyboard as she glanced between the monitor at his station and the larger screen hovering over the front of the room.

“Princess.” He called, announcing their presence.

She looked over her shoulder, eyes lighting up at the sight of them. “Paladins! Thank you for coming so quickly.” She stood up straight, smoothing out the creases of her suit before approaching them. “How are the three of you fairing? Where is Hunk?”

“We’re…” Shiro began, glancing down at Pidge with a shrug.

“We’re doing about as well as you can hope to considering the circumstances.” She finished, bumping him in the elbow. “Hunk’s coping. What’ve you found?”

She beamed, clasping her hands below her chin. “I’m happy to report that Coran and I have made a bit of a breakthrough here!”

Pidge’s face lit up. “You found them?!”

Allura deflated slightly, elven ears tilting downward. “Er— not quite. Not yet. But I’d like you to see what we have found.”

She stepped aside, gesturing toward the central screen. Two sets of identical graphs displayed there. The iconography the same, but the information slightly different. Split down the middle, ech array had several standard graphs on the right side with a suit-display on the left with several read-outs of its own, each corresponding to a different section of the suit.

“Hold on, is that—?!” Shiro leaves Allura and Pidge at the door, disregarding any visage of politeness as he ran up to the massive screen. “Is this?…”

“This data is being collected live from Keith and Lance’s armor.” Allura explained, she and Pidge following behind him at a less urgent pace.

“Shit—“ Pidge curses, her eyes widening as she jogged to join Shiro at the front of the room. She stared up at the display, her face blooming into a smile. “With this, can we—?”

“We can locate them with this tech?” He finished, turning back toward the Alteans with a hopeful, expectant look in his eye.

“Currently… no. The extent of our capabilities right now is observation.” She stated factually, though her tone conveyed a deep disappointment as she gestured weakly toward the screen.

Shiro’s gaze widened, his mouth hanging open. Keith’s name was displayed above the figure on the left, the suit outline a cool teal nearly everywhere, except—

“What’s wrong with his leg?!” He surged forward, pressing both hands to the base of the screen and staring at the pixels above him. The armor display’s right leg glowed with an angry red from the knee down, some unreadable altean text beside it likely declaring it ‘offline’ or something of a similar capacity.

“Lance’s too.” Pidge muttered in horror, pointing to the display on the right where the armor’s collar and chest plate glowed brightly, pulsing against the teal background.

“Most of the tracking hardware is stored in your helmets, with the blue paladin’s helmet here, and the red one non-functioning…”

“We’re developing a workaround!” Coran declared from the far end of the room, jumping out from behind Lance’s control station and pointing triumphantly toward the ceiling. Pidge flinched, a hand darting out and grabbing the crook of Shiro’s elbow.

“The paladin armor is a sophisticated network of signals, all different types of devices that communicate with the ship, and with one another!” He deflated slightly, rubbing at the edge of his mustache. “Though it’s… mostly a closed system. Other than the comms, those can contact the ship, obviously. Though that’s… that works through the helmets. As discussed.”

“Yes, Coran’s correct.” Allura agreed, bemused. “But these signals we’re receiving must contain some geographic information. We just have to decode it ourselves. Though the data was never meant to be used like this, it’s hard to say exactly where or even if it’s contained in its code. It may only be contained within one of the dozens of devices sending signals throughout the suit and to the castle, there’s no telling where to even begin.”

“If code’s your problem, I can solve it.” Pidge smirked, poking her chest with her thumb. “What exactly are we working with here?”

“Temperature, cardiovascular activity and blood sugar levels, hydration and salinity as well as an average body mass with comparisons to previous readings!” Coran cheered, listing off the different readings in succession as he pointed to different areas of the screen.

“What’s going on with the errors?” Shiro asked again, his voice purposefully measured. “Keith’s leg, and Lance’s chest piece. What’s it mean? Are they alright?”

Allura hesitated, her shoulders tensed as she stepped toward the screen herself, the tapping of her shoes echoing in the silence of the bridge. He swallowed against the stone in his throat.

“I won’t deny you, there is a… a possibility that the paladins have been injured.” He tensed, sucking in a sharp breath. “But— it could also be something as simple as damage from their departure, or during your skirmish with the Galra.”

“The princess is right number one.” Coran said, taking a step closer to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “These vitals are for observation. It’s data, meant to be used in tandem with live feedback from a paladin, not for our interpretation without proper communication. See—”

He takes a step back from the screen, the three of them moving with him as he gestured toward the two displays. “These two errors, they read ‘offline’.” he points to Lance’s helmet and chest plate, “because the blue paladin’s helmet is here with us on the ship. It’s too far from the rest of the suit to communicate with it’s devices. Now I don’t know for certain, but I would hazard to guess that he’s removed his chest plate as well for some reason.”

“So they’re not on a Galra ship.” Pidge breathed, her other hand reaching up to rub at the back of her neck. “They wouldn’t be removing pieces of armor if they were floating in space, and if they were on a galra ship I doubt they’d be left with half their armor on.”

“No, the guards would confiscate everything. Especially off a paladin of Voltron.” Shiro agreed, though his tone dipped low, dark and monotone. “If they were on a Galra ship we wouldn’t be getting any readings, that’s for sure.”

“The armor functions like this:” Coran began, puffing out his chest as he began orating from the head of the room. “Each piece of armor is connected via a network of signals, one of which powers each piece from a kinetic energy reserve stored in the back half of the chest piece! Though your helmets have their own reserves stored in a pocket at the base of the helmet.” He spins around, pointing to the center of the back of his neck.

“This is how we can tell the difference between a piece of damaged armor, and when a piece of armor has been removed.” Allura added, pointing back toward the screen at the read-out for Lance. “For instance, you can see that the blue paladin’s chest piece has been removed. The status here says ‘offline’, meaning we’re still receiving a signal, but no data. And here,” she points to Keith’s, “the red paladin’s leg brace has been damaged. It reads: ‘unresponsive’.”

Shiro’s stomach sank, his throat growing dry. “What’s the difference?”

“Uh, guys?”

“A piece of armor will only respond with an ‘unresponsive’ error message if the transmitter has been damaged beyond function.”

“So, so what you’re saying is his leg is— he’ll be alright though, won’t he? The rest of his vitals are stable, he’s not dying, right?!”

“Of course not.” Allura stepped toward him with a confident shake of her head, a resolute hand on his shoulder. “He’s stable, Shiro. These readings are coming in at near real-time, I can assure you of that.”

“But what does it mean that it’s—”

“Guys!” Pidge snapped, grabbing Shiro by the arm and throwing her hand up to the holo screen. “What’s going on with Lance?!”

All three sets of eyes snap upward instantly, Allura’s expression falling suddenly at the sight. A blaring red warning symbol appeared beside the base of his neck, a red progress bar below it with bold altean text at the end the bar was slowly creeping toward.

Shiro’s face paled, eyes wide at the red ring pulsing around the suit’s display. “What does it say?!” He shouted over his shoulder, turning toward Allura with a sharp, angry glow to his eyes. “What does it say?!”

“Danger!” She shouted back, flicking her gaze up at him for merely a moment before looking back down at the holographic control panel before her. “His temperature has begun to rise rapidly, we have— there’s no way to know why, he’s just—”

“H-How hot are we talking, is he on fire?!” Pidge screeched, running up to the panel beside the princess.

“No! No, it’s his internal temperature, his immune system has begun reacting to a threat, it’s… s-something, I just— I don’t know what!”

“What’s the temperature?!”

“In your Earth degrees—” Coran calls from across the room, grabbing their attention, “—It’s currently one hundred and two point five!”

Shiro’s heart dropped into his stomach. “And it’s still climbing?!”

“It just raised another degree!” Pidge snapped, pointing back toward the front screen. “What do we do?!”

“Something’s wrong.” Allura grimaced, looking between her screen and the one at the front of the room. Lance’s suit flashed, the entire upper half now a bright shade of crimson. “His under suit has been removed.”

“What—?!” Shiro’s gaze darted between her and the screens.

“He’s overheating, he’s getting rid of his layers.” Pidge said hollowly, shaking her head. “Shiro, is he gonna?…”

“What can we do?!” He turned toward Allura, incapable of finishing Pidge’s thought. “What do we do?!

“Nothing!!” She shouted, pressing her hands to her face. “There isn’t anything we can do! All we can do is— is—”

“Watch.” Pidge muttered, staring at the blaring red error messages popping up on the screen.

“All we can do is watch.”

———

His first moments of consciousness, wading his way through inky blackness, were filled with a familiar aching pain. Though as far as pain goes, it was pleasant compared to the last few times he’d been rudely awakened to the sensation of being burned alive.

It didn’t take long though for the ice to set in. He took a sharp breath, almost shocked at it’s sudden intrusion, fingers clutching tightly around—

He flinches backwards from Lance, numb fingers pressed into fists that he held tightly to his chest. The cave floor was frigid beneath him, and without the warmth from his back, his chest now felt far colder than it had moments ago.

When had he moved? Last he remembered Lance was sleeping on the opposite side of the cave. The lights from their armor automatically turned off when they didn’t move for long periods of time, so he couldn’t turn them on without risking waking him, but… had he moved? Or had Lance? Even if he did turn his lights on he’d hardly be able to tell. There were no reference points in the cave, only the two ends of the tunnel that passed through it in either direction.

Ice shot through him again and he bit down hard on his lip, pressing his palms flat against the cool plates of his armor. Would he be warmer if he took it off? Or was it better to have a barrier between him and the ground, even if it was made of… steel, or something.

He glanced up at Lance’s back noticing that his chest plate had been removed at some point. When had he done that? Where was it? His black under suit pressed tight to his skin, his shoulder blades jutting out, the curve of his spine clear, even in the darkness. If he had moved to be closer… and it would be for survival too, so it wasn’t like it would be… wrong, right? It wouldn’t be. Lance wouldn’t want him to freeze in the night, and he wouldn’t want that for him either.

Hesitantly he inched closer again, keeping his pinned hand to his chest while arching the other over Lance’s side, resting limply against his arm where it laid over his stomach. Despite the darkness and his own exhaustion, now that he was aware of the closeness his skin felt tight and electric. His breaths rigid and shaky against the back of Lance’s neck. Almost on instinct he held it in, only compounding the issue, his chest pressing against his back as he breathed in.

“’S alright.”

He choked on his tongue as Lance reached down, clutching the back of his hand in his own and bringing it under his arm, holding it to his chest.

“You’re alright.”

He didn’t dare say anything, lest he embarrass himself further, or give away that he was awake in the first place. He pressed the top of his forehead to the base of Lance’s neck, trying everything he could think of to calm his frantic breathing, his skin hot against his forehead.

Lance sighed deeply in front of him, apparently content and comfortable despite the icy chill of the cave. Begrudgingly, and with much shame, he turns his head to the side and presses his cheek to the back of his shoulder. Lance is warm against his chest, pulling a reluctant sigh of relief from him as he leaned into him.

Something between a groan and a hum emanated from Lance’s chest, rumbling against Keith’s cheek as he forces his eyes open again, not realizing until that moment how close he’d come to falling back asleep, even after his electric awakening.

“What?” He asked, though it came out as more of a confused sigh than a coherent word.

“‘Face’s cold.” He rasped, chuckling through another sigh. “You okay?”

Great. Now they’re talking? Of course Lance would have the audacity to completely ignore the fact that he’s wearing Keith like a backpack. “Fine.” He whispered, pretending he was somewhere outside his body, leaning against the cave wall a few feet away. Or back on the castle ship, sleeping in his room on his overly-stiff mattress.

“You were cryin’.” He muttered. Lightly, light enough that Keith wonders if he even did it on purpose, Lance squeezed his trapped hand against his chest. “Shivering.”

“I’m fine.” He said again, slightly louder this time. Lance’s back arched, a wisp of ice cold air shocking his chest before he moved to close the gap, pulling Lance back against him.

He stiffened at the motion, chest tight under Keith’s arm until he let himself breathe again, sighing another laugh. “Who knew being a human heater would come in handy some day?”

“What, it’s like this all the time with you?” He leans away in surprise, string through the blackness at the back of Lance’s head in bewilderment.

“Put your face back where it was, you’re like an ice pack.” He muttered, rolling his shoulder as though to indicate where to press his cheek.

“Yeah, because this cave is freezing.” He hissed, finally pulling himself fully away from Lance, activating the lights on his armor. The absence of warmth was devastating for Bothe of them apparently as Lance groaned at the loss. He rolled onto his stomach, pressing his cheek to the floor.

“Sit up.” Keith groaned, dread coloring his tone as he pulled impatiently on his shoulder. “You have a fever.”

He bonelessly tossed himself against the wall behind them, glaring at Keith with a deep, empty exhaustion. “I do not. I just run hot. Can we please just—”

He shook his head, waving his hands in front of him before Lance finished whining. “No, no way, this cave is ice cold and you’re sweating.” He knelt in front of him, scrutinizing the sheen of sweat glistening in the teal light from the arc of his forehead and peaks of his cheeks.

“So what?” He mumbled, shaking his head pitifully at Keith’s terse expression. “We don’t have medicine, w-we don’t even have band-aids.”

He hesitated, running through the garrison’s first aid course in his head. Fevers. Fevers… If there’s one thing he remembered it was that cooling him down wasn’t the best idea. If he caught something from the water his body could be trying to kill the virus with heat. But if it was from the concussion, then cooling him down wouldn’t hurt anything.

Lance groaned impatiently beside him, sinking back to the floor and spreading his arms as wide as he can. Though with Keith right beside him that wasn’t particularly wide. “Do you feel, uh, sore? Like sick-sore?”

“I’m sore all over, I can’t tell what from.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “I’ve got a headache, the cut on my chest, I’ve got a cuts all over my neck, and my stomach’s been doing backflips since we got here.” His head lolled to the side, looking down the bridge of his nose at him. “You really were crying earlier.”

“Not important right now.” He muttered, waving the thought off quickly as he pushed himself to stand. They had more pressing things to think about. The path to the beach was a quarter mile long, the lava tube continuing past the pocket they were resting in further up into the mountain. The prospect that there was another opening was likely, especially if the path angled upwards rather than down.

If they left now they could make it maybe half a mile before one of them would need to rest again, either Lance with his concussion or him with his leg. Though that would leave them three times further away from the only opening they had. They wouldn’t be able to make it back there in a single trip if something happened, and he wasn’t exactly excited about being underground when the team could be looking for them from above.

But if they could find another opening, one that led to a large stretch of land they could wait on a real beach, maybe make a fire for warmth. Hell, they might even find something to eat. His stomach twinged aggressively at the thought of food, a knot forming between his brows as he waited for the feeling to pass. They needed to get out of this cave as soon as possible.

“How about we go on a walk?”

For the millionth time since waking up a whine echoed off the cave walls, emanating from Lance’s clenched mouth. “I hate you.” He whimpered, tapping his head against the floor with every repetition. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

“Come on.” He pushed himself to his feet and offered Lance a hand, which he took. Their palms clapped together, pulling hard to bring him up. “How much further in did you go?”

“It goes on for another half mile.” He groaned, shambling forward like a zombie while Keith used the wall for support. “The path gets wider after a minute’s walk or so, and there’s a five-foot ledge after that, then it opens up into this big cavern.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothin’… alien, if that’s what you mean,” he mumbled, “this place’s e-emptier than empty.”

He hummed. He hadn’t meant aliens specifically, but the information was helpful regardless. He hadn’t seen anything living since they’d arrived either. At least they weren’t dealing with the Galra straight out of the water.

It had been eating at the back of his mind since he first woke. Or… after the pain had subsided. For the most part. He and Lance had fallen through the portal about four or five hours ago, during a Galra battle. They’d been hiding a battle cruiser on this side of the portal. It didn’t take an expert strategist to wonder if there might be a Galra base somewhere on this planet.

It was slow going, neither of them willing or able to move faster than a pitiful limping walk. Lance stumbled hard to his right and he reached out to catch him by his elbow, saving him from what would have been a rough landing on his face. His black under suit burned beneath his bare hand, the heat a shock even for a fever.

“Jesus, Lance?” He knelt down, allowing their knees to hit the floor together. Lance’s hands were braced in front of him as his hair hid his eyes, breaths coming in a lot faster than they had a second ago. He tucked his hand under Lance’s bangs and pulling his head up with a palm to his forehead. His mouth hung open, a bead of sweat curling down his temple, dripping from his chin.

He cursed, letting Lance’s head fall to rest against his chest. He slid a hand to Lance’s back, opening the folded edge of fabric that hid the under suit’s ‘zipper’. It was more like a strong magnet that bound the two sides together, easily ripped apart in an emergency. He peeled the under suit away from Lance’s skin, folding it over itself as it curled down his arms, the cuffs of the sleeves sticking to his wrists until Keith pulled them free. He yanked off his gloves as well for good measure, tossing them aside.

Think. Laying on the floor hadn’t been enough to cool him off, and huddling together wasn’t going to do him any favors no matter how much colder he felt. They needed to get to the beach, throw Lance in the water, but they’d already walked over half a mile to get to where they are, there was no time to walk all that way.

But… Lance had said there was another wider cavern a minute’s walk ahead. In a room with a higher ceiling the heat would rise, it would be at least be a few degrees colder.

“Get up.” He rasped, pulling hard on his shoulder. Lance shook his head, hot breath puffing against the cave floor as he refused to move, Keith’s hand slipping from his skin. “Lance, come on!” He growled, reaching down again and pulling hard on his wrist, quickly looping his arm around his neck in a single swift motion. He used his left hand to brace their combined weight against the wall.

He struggled pitifully for a moment under Lance’s dead weight, limbs lanky and uncoordinated as he failed to support the both of them. A spark of annoyance pierced the panic gripping his chest, the dichotomy of the two feelings swirling inside him pulling a manic, angry giggle from deep in his throat.

“Christ, move!” He shoved hard, not caring where they landed so long as they were moving forward. Lance veered ahead of him and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest. They stumbled together, the floor beneath them declining slightly.

'At least we wouldn’t be battling this uphill.’ He thought, ever the optimist.

The decline was minimal, hardly more than a gentle slope of the floor downwards. He wasn’t sure if it was simply wishful thinking or if it really helped, but the decline made carrying Lance’s weight a little easier despite the circumstances. Lance’s feet tangled together every few steps, his gate uneven and breaths choppy in his ear.

“Keith.” He puffed, cheek resting against the shoulder of his armor.

“Almost there.” He muttered, pulling him further forward. “It’ll be cooler up ahead, I promise.”

“Keith,” he breathed, “I’m dying.”

Despite the already riding temperatures he felt the words strike him like an ice-spike through his chest, a chill running down his spine that had his fingers trembling. “No, you’re not.” He snapped too forcefully, voice cracking. “You’re not dying. Don’t say that to me.”

“Feels like my brain’s… boilin’ in my skull.”

Without Lance’s chest plate to help illuminate their path he could only see a few feet ahead of them, his boots casting the brightest glow with each step. At the edge of the light he could see it, just as he’d described it before. The lip of a ledge. Relief flooded his system, his grip on Lance’s arm tightening.

“Just a little further and you’ll be fine. Here—” He leant Lance’s side against the left wall, helping him to slide gently down to the floor in a pile of gangly limbs. “I’ll hop down and check how far we’ve got to go. Then I’ll come bak and pull you down with me, okay? Hey—” He tapped his cheek with his palm a few times, his eyes having fallen closed for more than a few seconds. “Stay here. I, I want you to uh, sing something. Something loud, okay? What’s a loud song?”

Lance shook his head, sweat slicking his hair against his forehead. “Can’t think ‘a one…”

“Come on, I know you can. You sing all the time on missions. Drive’s me insane.” He shook his shoulder again as his chin threatened to dip down to his chest. “Lance! Hey! Sing— I don’t know, abba. You like abba, right? You know a bunch of their songs.”

“Ah, Abba?...” He muttered, his voice somewhat dreamy.

“Stay with me.” He tapped his face a few more times until Lance’s eyes focused in on his. “You know abba Lance, you know, ’Dan-cing queen, young and sweet, only se-ven-teen?’ You know that song?”

He raised his head, a bead of sweat dripping from the tip of his nose. “Mnughh… hhhow ‘bout, um… have you’ever heard me sing ‘Fernando’?”

He shook his head. “Think you can sing the whole thing? Real loud?” It didn’t matter to him what song he sang, only that he had something to focus on, something to keep him grounded and present when Keith isn’t beside him to make sure he doesn’t—

…that he doesn’t…

He hummed, nodding. Keith nodded back. “Alright. Start singing and don’t stop.”

He backed away, his hand ghosting through Lance’s sweat-soaked bangs before he turned toward the ledge. It wasn’t a long fall. Normally he’d take a jump like this in his stride, barely a blip in his mind, but their injuries were slowing them both down, and he couldn’t force Lance over an edge like that without giving him a hand.

“Can you hear the drums, Fernando? I ‘member long ago, another ssstarry night like this… in the firelight, Fernando… You’re hummin’ to yourself, softly strummin’ a guitar, I could hear the distant drums And… something-something, from afar…”

It was gravelly and weak, breathy from overheating, his voice cracking like glass as he made a pitiful attempt to hit the higher notes, all of falling flat or off-key, barely reaching past a monotone drawl.

If they were somewhere else he might tease him about it, like he always did when Lance sang during missions, and he sang during every mission. Every time, at least once. Wether it was Abba, Bad Company, or the Mission Impossible theme-song, he was always humming something under his breath.

“Louder!” He snapped over his shoulder, half-limping half-jogging down the corridor. “I need to hear you!”

“I don’t r‘member the next part!” He whined, thumping his head against the wall behind him in frustration.

“Doesn’t matter, just sing what you remember!”

“Ugh… There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando… They were shining there for you and me, for li-ber-ty, F’rnando…”

Now he’d give anything to hear that poorly-hidden excitement, the giddiness in his voice humming through the comms. Humming would turn into mumbling, mumbling would turn into whispering, and whispering into—

“SSSHIT—!” He grips the edge of the cave wall, his injured foot hanging over the sudden ledge before him. The ground had a small lip, just enough of an indication that he’d hesitated to take another step.

His jaw hung open at the sight ahead. It wasn’t just a larger pocket, it was a massive underground cavern. Glittering white pillars stood thirty feet high, explosions of crystals littering the bases at the floor and ceiling. The floor itself was made up of layers of crystal-lined pools each shimmering with clear water, a large trickling waterfall on the opposite end of the room slowly filling each pool it fed from an opening in the ceiling. All illuminated by a filed of luminescent fauna hanging from above.

An opening in the ceiling.

An opening in the—

“LANCE!!” He tripped over himself, falling to his knees as his heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to care that his foot was aching at the motion, all he could think was he had to get to Lance. Now.

It took centuries to get back on his feet, limping as quickly as he could manage back down the morphing hallway ahead of him toward the ledge. He could still see the dim lights from Lance’s leg armor glowing in the darkness as he approached, his arm pressed between his cheek and the wall where he sat, half-slumped over. Silent.

“Lance?” He called, catching himself on the edge beside him. “Lance, hey! Come on, we’ve gotta move!”

”Ke-eith.” He whined, a hitch in his breath as he inhaled. “My body’s… heavy.”

“Stay with me, come on Lance.” He whispered, patting his cheek roughly. “Stay awake, I’m gonna get you down.” He grabbed his ankle with one hand, the other on his knee as he pulled him he laid with his side against the wall, his other leg falling over the edge with the first. He parted his legs so they rested on either side of his hips, pulling Lance down so his chest was pressed against his own, his chin lolled over his shoulder. He was completely boneless and hot to the touch, everywhere they connected felt like entering a sauna.

“Christ, you’re burning up.” He whispered through gritted teeth, finally pulling him off the ledge into his arms. He was heavy, sure, but not too heavy. He pressed his back to the wall as he adjusted his grip, leaning hard against it for leverage as he staggered down the hall.

“Is’ hot.”

“It’s alright, we’re almost there.” He whispered, hooking his chin over Lance’s shoulder to see past him. He just had to make it to the final ledge and down into the cavern. “Hey, you never finished that song for me, sing me the rest of it.”

“Ke-eith—”

“No,” He breathed, his cheek rubbing against Lance’s hair as he shook his head. “No, sing it for me now. Sing the end of the song.”

“I don’t ‘member.”

“You said it’s ‘Fernando’, by abba? Come on, sing it. You like singing.”

“I don’t feel like singin’ right now…”

“Come on Lance, it went like, like: there was something in the air that night, something, it’s bright, Fernando-o. Like that? Sing it, come on.”

Lance sighed against the back of his neck, even his breath blazing hot against his skin. ”It was’ ‘somethin’ the air… the moon’s bright, Fernando-o…”

“Uh huh, keep going.” He nudged his shoulder against his chin, jostling his head. They were coming up on the ledge leading to the cavern now, he couldn’t have Lance tap out now when they were so close. “It went like this, remember? There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando.”

”They’re shining for you and me, for li-ber-ty, Fernando.”
”They’re shinin’ for you and me… liberty, Fernando…”

“Okay, there’s a drop here.” He warned, using his shoulder to brace against the wall, sliding them down to sit over the edge. His legs swung feely, but he could see another platform, a pool, maybe five or six feet below. The water was nowhere near deep enough to break their fall. It looked three, maybe four feet deep at the deepest. There was no other option, they’d have to jump.

“Hold onto me.” He ordered, tightening his own grip on Lance’s legs. It’s not far, but I might drop you.” He scooted as far forward as he could, the tiny white crystals covering every surface digging in painfully against his thighs and hands. He took a breath, feeling Lance’s hands flex loosely into the fabric of his under suit.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, holding tight before pushing them both over the ledge. His feet hit the floor, joints bending sharply as he’s forced to fall to his knees. Tiny crystals like those on the ledge above covered the bottom of the pool, digging through his under suit into his legs. His injured foot screamed around the packed bandages, the pain muffled but all-encompassing.

He couldn’t tell if he or Lance who moved first. If Lance was leaning away from him or if he was the one bending forward pushing them both into the water. Hot hands left his back, sliding up his neck to his face where he cupped his cheeks. He could feel his mouth clenched in a silent scream, eyes squeezed closed as thumbs pressed into his cheeks.

“Breathe.” He whispered.

Air grated against hie throat as he sucked in a breath, exhaling a keen back into Lance’s chest, ice water slowly soaking his suit through. His chest shuddered from the pain, the cold, and Lance’s hands moved down to his arms, holding on as his legs threatened to give out. His hands moved slowly up and down his arms, the palms of his hands warm against the rigid cold surrounding them both.

“H—hurts.” He stammered, forcing his eyes open. Lance laid in front of him, his face unnaturally red, eyes bright and shining with fever. “I hhhit mmy foot.”

“Sorry,” he whispered, voice low as he let go of Keith’s arms, his own falling into the water at his sides, hovering limp below the surface. “Sorry.”

“Nnot you’re fault.” He bit out, shaking his head. “I’m just glad we, we got here.”

“‘M sorry it happened.” He mumbled, lifting his head out of the water, hair slicked back against his head. “I don’t—"

He lifted his head again, surprised at the sudden cut off. “You… don’t?”

“I don’t, I-I didn’t…” He trailed off, unable to meet his eyes for some reason, even as he moved an inch closer.

“Lance?”

“I was going to say something stupid.” He muttered, reaching a hand out of the water to wipe it down his face, ridding it of sweat but still shining with a sheen in the light of the armor, and the fluorescent fauna hanging from the ceiling above them.

“Oh,” He huffed out a laugh, a smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth as he looked down at him. “Well, thanks for stopping yourself. It’s not like you haven’t been saying stupid stuff since we landed here.”

“R-rude.” He leveled Keith with a half-hearted glared before clearing his throat, “I’m over here dying and you’re making fun of me.”

“Stop saying that!” He snapped, freezing Lance in place.

Neither of them moved for a second, Keith’s glare far too charged for Lance to break from his gaze. His shoulders slump, hands falling into the water as he finally sits back, putting a few inches of distance between them.

“It freaks me out when you say that!” He hissed, the silence between them sharp in his ears. He expected him to say something. Make a joke, lighten the mood, but he just laid there, face agonizingly stoic, immune to the pain digging into Keith’s chest at the sight of him.

His fault. This was all his fault for not doing more. For not paying attention. For not doing better. He should’ve been checking on him while they were sleeping, to make sure he was alright. If he’d been more vigilant then they could’ve made it to the cove before the fever rose this high. Fear, fear, fear paralyzes him. And it’s the worst possible kind. He can’t run from it, or fight it off. The fear that already he can hardly keep himself alive, let alone Lance. The fear that they’re going to die without anyone ever finding their bodies. That Lance will die before him, leaving him to die slowly, alone.

The tight muscles of his throat stretched as he forced his jaw open to gasp, tears littering the surface of the water in front of him, sending microscopic ripples through the water. “You— You, y-you— You can’t—!” He choked on a sob, coughing into his wrist as more trickle down his face, dribbling from his chin. “You can’t die. Not— not when you’re the only thing I’ve got! You can’t leave me alone!”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, a pained look morphed his features as he sat up, ice water dripping from his hair, “I didn’t mean it.”

He wiped his other hand harshly over his cheek despite the fact that it had been sitting in the ice water, doing less than nothing to dry his face. “I don’t know what I’ll do if you died.” He whimpered, scoffing at the pitiful sound of his own voice. “I’m so fucking scared that you’re gonna die.”

“I won’t.” He whispered as he leaned in, forehead tapping against Keith’s. “I won’t die. Not until we get back on the castle. So you won’t be alone.”

He choked on a laugh, pressing his hands to his face. “I-I’d prefer if, if you didn’t die at all, honestly.”

“Aw, Keith.” He rasped, smirking up at him. “I’m touched.”

He laughed again, the sound caught in his throat as a smile pulled at his mouth, a shiver racking his body. “Yyyo-you know, I don’t hhhate you, right?”

“You’re just saying that because I’m—” His face falls, eyes widening for a moment. “Uh, because I’m, uh, so cool. And handsome. Falling for me already, are we samurai?”

He scoffed, pulling away from Lance’s forehead and pushing his shoulder, forcing him onto his elbows. “Don’t say that to me either.”

Chapter Text

“What did you do before the garrison?”

The waterfall on the opposite side of the cavern trickled loudly, the sound echoing across the crystal pillars and smooth, featureless walls that surrounded them. It was good background noise for him, kept him from thinking too hard about where they were, or what they were going to do next. They were just… talking. Just sitting somewhere quiet and talking, like friends.

Keith sat at the edge of the water, knees pulled to his chest with his injured foot resting over his intact boot, protecting it from the rough crystalline lip of the pool. “Nnnothing.” He trembled, his chin quivering as he spoke. “Nothing interesting.”

nearly completely submerged aside from his face. His eyes closed, arms hovering in the water at his sides. “Did you ever play sports in school?”

“No.” He answered, soft and raspy.

Lance frowned. “Come on, nothing? You didn’t, I don’t know, do wrestling? Football? Swimming?”

He balked, squinting down at him with a grimace on his face. “Do I look lllike I wrestle?” Lance raised a brow, disbelieving. Keith rolled his eyes at him. “No, I didn’t wrestle. I dddidn’t do anything. No sports, or clubs. Mmmy dad homeschooled me until I joined the, th-the garrison.”

He glared at Keith, brows pinched and mouth pulled into a thin frown. It was honestly unfair. How could he be so good at everything when he’s never done anything before? There has to be something he’s downplaying, forgetting a crazy sword-fighting camp or karate-master lessons. There was no possible way Keith was just like that.

“You’re face is doing something weird.”

He cringes, ducking his head below the water, only his eyes peeking above the surface as he glared at Keith.

“You, yyyou-you’re not allowed to ddrown down here.” He warned, waving a hand upward. “Take your fffface out of the wwater.”

He lifted his chin, the peaks of his shoulders barely breaking the water’s surface. “You’re shaking.”

Keith sucked in a slow breath through his teeth, flexing his fingers before balling them back into fists. He didn’t respond.

The pool was frigid. He knew that internally, knew that the air and water around him were freezing, but he just didn’t feel it. At most the water felt… lukewarm? On the cold side of lukewarm, perhaps. But Keith’s breaths were coming out in white puffs told him the air in here was far colder than what he was feeling. Just because he was malfunctioning like a computer without a fan didn’t mean Keith should have to suffer by his side.

The past day was a fever dream, metaphorically if not literal. He held onto the solid memories he still had with an iron grip, repeating them in his mind: Where was he? Alien planet. How did he get here? Galra portal. Who was he with? Keith. Playing like a mantra on loop in his head. He couldn’t forget anything else. His memory of the day prior was already turning blurry around the edges and he did not need Keith panicking over him again.

It felt surreal to see Keith in such absolute shambles. Over him of all people. He had never, not once ever known Keith to cry about anything, and he’d known the guy since they were kids at the garrison. He was a cold hearted prick who treated everything like a military drill when he wasn’t arrogantly showing off.

”Stop saying that! It freaks me out when you say that! You— You, y-you— You can’t— You can’t die! You can’t leave me alone!”

“I’m so fucking scared that you’re gonna die.”

Keith. Keith, who spent a year in self-enforced isolation in the desert looking for ancient robot lions. Keith, who barely spoke to anyone, who hung at the sidelines, who kept to himself at all costs. That Keith?

“You can’t leave me alone!”

That Keith?

“I keep thinking about something.”

He looks up, snapping himself out of his spiraling thoughts. Keith was still sitting as he had with his legs hugged tightly to his chest, his shoulders almost imperceptibly trembling.

He hesitated, still avoiding his gaze as he rolled the thought over in his head. “…Hunk told me something last night— or uh, maybe two nights ago. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What?”

“Do you…” he trailed off, pressing his mouth into a thin line. “Ddo you… do you think about, um, I think you might…”

He scoffed. “Jesus, spit it out man. There’s no one around to hear you except me.”

That garnered a proper glare from him, their eyes finally meeting. “Do you think about, um, what other people… say, about you?”

He froze, a bead of water dripping from his chin as he stared into some middle-distance, a million scenarios running through his head: Hunk knew way, way, way way way too much to pick one specific thing Keith could be referencing. ‘Do you think about what people say about you’, what kind of question even was that? Of course he did! Everyone does!

“Uhh, yes?”

Keith groaned, rolling his eyes. “No I mean— more than the normal amount.”

“Define ‘normal amount’.”

”Lance.”

“What!” He laughed and let himself lean back, chest rising out of the water to meet the frigid air. It felt amazing. His breath puffed in front of him in large white clouds that dissipated instantly.

“You—” He grimaced, an internal battle clearly visible as it played out on his face. “You think too hard about what people think of you. Right or wrong?”

“I can’t answer that.” He scoffed again, shaking his head at Keith with an incredulous look on his face. His heart was beating way too fast for this caliber of conversation. Keith had always been a blunt person, but this was a whole new level even for him. He had a point he was getting to, and he lated that he had no idea what it was yet.

For the first time he felt like Keith was seeing right through him. Usually he was distracted, his focus on the mission, or Shiro, or something else of equal importance. Not Lance. He never quite looked at him. Lance liked dancing in that limbo, that space between spaces where he was present and there but with a protective barrier between him and Keith’s wrath.

Now his eyes were on him. Watching him.There was no Shiro to deflect to. No mission to think about. Just him and Keith.

“What do you mean you ‘can’t answer that’? It’s a question. About you.”

He laughed again, a huff that blasted a white cloud between them like smoke from a cigarette. “You answer it then! Do you think about what other people say about you? 'Too much'?”

“Yeah, I do!” He answered, shoulders hiking up to his ears. “I think about it all the time! All the time! At least I’m self-aware enough to admit that, unlike you!”

A sharp grin cut itself into his face, his brows narrowing as the familiar sensation of that dark black hole in his stomach reappeared. He’d almost forgotten it with all the adrenaline and exhaustion distracting him from his hatred for Keith.

A not-insignificant part of him shrieked from the sidelines of his consciousness. Stop. Stop right now. This isn’t going to make you feel better. This won’t end in a way that turns out well for you, so stop now and bury this feeling before it explodes out of your chest. Before it’s not your choice anymore.

“Oh! Oh we’re admitting things?” he hissed, voice dripping with sarcasm, “am I supposed to admit that I secretly think about you every second of every day? Is that what you think I do?!”

“Lance, sit down.”

”You sit down.” He snapped, poking Keith in the chest as he backtracked.

Oh, that felt good. That felt great. To have Keith on the back foot. For him to be the one retreating for once. For him to be the one surrendering to him.

“I’m not as obsessed with you as you think I am.” He growled, stabbing Keith in the chest again with his finger. “In fact, I’ve gotten pretty good at never thinking about you. Everyone else might kiss your ass, but I. Won’t.”

“Nno one ‘kisses my ass’.” He scowled, swatting his hand away as he took another step back.

“The princess sure as hell does! Every single training session no matter what it is, it’s always ‘Keith’ this, ‘Keith’ that, ‘be more like Keith!’ ‘Look at what Keith’s doing’! How about you be less of a show-off and let someone else do anything for once! You steal every shot, you run in without telling anyone what you’re doing or where you’re going! You don’t care about anyone but yourself and your stupid broth—”

“DON’T CALL ‘IM STUPID!”

Hands pressed hard against his chest, throwing him backwards. Color exploded against the backs of his eyelids as his head smacked the ground, electricity jolting through his body like the tide over the shore.

Keith stood over him, his own accusatory finger pointing in Lance’s face. “Don’t you ever call Shiro stupid! You think I’m the show off?! Yeah, that’s super self-aware Lance, for you to accuse me! What the fuck!?”

He sighed through his nose, letting his head tilt to the side to lay more comfortably against the ground. “You’re not scary.”

“Shiro cares a fuckton about everyone on that ship. Including you! I—” He spit out a laugh, a sneer replacing the grimace on his face as he pushed his fingers through his hair roughly moving it from his face. “Sssometimes I feel like he cares more about the rest of you than he does about me!”

“Oh now that is bullshit.” He raised himself up onto his elbows, pushing Keith back out of his space. “Are you… are you fucking with me right now?”

Just like before Keith’s eyes dart away from his unwavering gaze, though he held strong on his position, not backtracking even as he stepped into his space. “He’s a lot more… gentle, with you guys. When I need anything it’s always ‘bbe patient, it’ll work out’. When it’s you or Pidge he’s always so, so much more… he waits for you. There’s no ‘breathe and get over it’. And—” He takes a step back, sighing heavily himself. “—And it’s nnot like I need that, but I don’t think you or Pidge need it either, it, it would jjjust be… it would just be nice.”

He shook his head in disbelief, his own expression contorting in confusion as Keith’s face dropped. His resolve crumbling around the edges. All the fight in him leaving.

But he wasn’t done. “Shiro babies you. At every debrief, every training session, every meal. He’s always protecting your six in training, but when Pidge or Hunk or I need a save he’s always helping you.”

“Blocking drone shots is his job, Lance. If he lllet me get hit we’d lose. Sorry if protecting your teammates is a real chore for you.”

He scoffed, shaking off Keith’s venomous tone as he threw his hands in the air. “And the princess wonders why the rest of us aren’t on his level! Sorry Allura, we don’t all have a first-class fighter pilot giving us pointers!”

“You do!” He snapped, “He’s aalways helping you out! He cares about everyone on the team! The only difference between you and me is he still treats me like I’m a cadet! You think I wouldn’t give anything for him to hold me while I have a panic attack again?! He barely acknowledges I exist when I’m not—”

“What?”

Keith’s face morphs again, but instead of defeat he sees fear and dread in his features. His mouth pulled into a frown, eyes wide, shining in the dim bioluminescent light from above. Black tar boiled in Lance’s chest, a sticky corrosive liquid bubbling up his throat, coating his insides as he stared into Keith’s mortified face. He pushed himself up further, joints aching as he finally got to his feet. He stood in front of Keith, still frozen in place like a statue.

“You were there.” It wasn’t a question. He knew the answer. “You were watching me?”

He grimaced, shaking his head frantically. “Christ, not like that.”

“Then how.”

Keith bristled, his accusatory tone clearly crawling under his skin. “I was already there! Then you walked in. I couldn’t leave without being seen so I… I dducked into one of the showers. I didn’t plan it, it just… happened.”

That was… certainly possible. He didn’t exactly do a sweep of the room when he walked in, not that that would’ve been a normal thing to do. But he had been sitting by the pool for at least two hours by the time Shiro found him. What all had he done in that time? He took a dive, swam for maybe thirty minutes, paced around the pool a couple times… he’d sprawled out on the floor and blankly stared at the ceiling for more than a few minutes.

“If it’s any consolation I wasn’t watching you. I was just… zoning out. Until Shiro walked in.”

A dry smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. “What if I didn’t leave?”

It had crossed his mind more than once that night. He didn’t enjoy hanging around in his room on the ship. It was too sterile, like a mixture between the garrison dorms and a hospital room. Especially when he was dealing with the angry dark feelings that sat in the pit of his stomach. He would inevitably get restless and find somewhere else around the ship to wait out the aimless animosity.

He blinked, the intense look on his face evaporating, replaced with vague confusion. “I would have just— waited for you to leave.”

“For hours?”

“It doesn’t matter!” He snapped, tearing his hands through his hair again. “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t happen, so what’s the point in asking?”

“God, whatever. None of this matters.” He turned, crushing crystals beneath the heel of his boot as he stomped toward the cavern wall.

“Where’re you going?”

“To the beach.” He glared over his shoulder. “I’ve gotta go get my armor, and there’s no paths to the surface from here.”

“We haven’t even looked yet!” He flinched as Keith’s hand clamped around his wrist, pulling him hard backwards. “You’re not going anywhere, you’re still overheating.”

“I’m fine. I’ll make it.”

“Damnit Lance, sit your ass down!”

His back hit the ground, Keith’s knee in his ribs before he had time to blink. He loomed over him, black hair hanging in tendrils around his face. Lance flexed his hand, wrist pinned above his head in a tight grasp, his other arm bent awkwardly under his spine. He huffed a sharp breath, the white cloud hitting Keith’s face making him squint. “You could’ve done this at any moment?”

He scoffed, the grip on his wrist tightening further. “I’m not gonna tackle you for yelling at me.”

“You just did.”

“I—” He growled, slamming his hand against the ground in his grasp. “I tackled you ‘cause you’re gonna boil your brain of you try an’ walk to the beach! You’re staying right here where I can see you.”

“NO!” Suddenly he couldn’t control the volume of his voice, the venom in his throat dribbling down his chin. He screamed, breathes hitching in his chest. “GET OFF ME! GET OFF!”

Keith’s gaze turned scrutinizing above him, which only served to accelerate the downward spiral he found himself on. “Are you gonna run?”

His calm tone was comical in response to Lance’s frantic shrieking. He kicked behind him, more crystals scattering across the ground as his heels dug into the stone. His combat training flew out the window— not like he was adept at hand to hand anyways —panic numbed his brain, his muscles refusing to react in any way he wanted them to.

”GET OFF!! KEITH, LET ME GO!!”

“Not until you answer!” He snapped, pulling on his pinned arm again. “Tell me you’ll stay!”

”GET OFF!”

“ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

He screamed. Coherent thought went out the window. Wordless anger spilled out his mouth as he screamed, arms and legs thrashing under his weight. And through all of it Keith watched, expression infuriatingly calm and blank.

”GET OFF! GET OFF, GET OFF, GET OFF!!” He screamed again, cracking his head against the ground again as he tried in vain to pull away from him, to push his weight off in a way he knew he was supposed to be able to do. In a way he’d done a dozen times before during training. But nothing he did so much as budged him from his post.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!!”

Keith stared down at him. Unmoving. The needles under his skin threatened to burst through the surface, destroying him from the inside out.

“I’VE ALWAYS HATED YOU!! EVER SINCE WE WERE KIDS I HATED YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!!”

His body refused to remain quiet, groaning and screaming as he breathed in and out. He screamed again, yanking his hand free from beneath him and reaching for Keith’s throat. He pinned his hand down agains this chest easily, like it was nothing.

He screamed, the backs of his hands scraping against the crystals under him as he tried to pry them free from Keith’s iron grip, his shoulders spasming as he pulled and pulled against him. “I hate you.” He sobbed as he wriggled under him, making any attempt to escape that he could. “I’ve never hated anything more than I hate you!”

He gasped for breath against the shape of Keith’s knee in his ribs, his body suddenly heavy and limp despite his desire to fight. He needed to fight Keith off of him. He needed to get up, to run, to breathe.

And just like that he pulled back, giving him an inch of room, the grip on his wrists finally loosening. He laid paralyze don the ground, only his chest rising and falling as he gasped for air. His arms laid limp where they’d been held at his side and above his head, his face turned into the crook of his arm.

“Are you done?”

He grimaced, refusing to cry in front of Keith another time.

“It doesn’t matter how much you hate me, we can’t die in here. I refuse to die in here, which means you’re not allowed to die either. If I have to drag you out of here kicking and screaming then I’ll do it, Lance.”

“We might as well give up now.” He turned his head away, refusing to look at Keith. “It’s all too much. We’re too hurt. The cave is too long. The landing was too rough. We’re already dead.”

“Don’t say that,” he hissed, “you’re a paladin of Voltron, you’re—”

He barked out a laugh, finally finding the strength to sit up. “I’m seventeen. Six months ago my biggest dream was to fly a jet. I’m not a ‘paladin’, none of us are defenders of the universe! We’re a bunch of kids who found a cave we were never meant to find, and did something stupid ‘cause we thought we were special.”

For a long time they just stared at one another, his gaze sharp and venemous, Keith’s almost… pitying. The black hole in his chest growing wider, threatening to devour him fully.

Suddenly his face darkened, a new resolve finding it’s place in the set of his jaw, the steely gaze in his eyes. “Well, maybe that’s how you feel. But I’m a paladin of Voltron. I won’t let you destroy yourself down here. I don’t care what you think, Lance. We’re getting out of here.”

Keith’s single boot scuffed against the rough ground as he limped past him, and all at once he was awash with a new wave of shame. With was down a leg and he still pinned him and kept him down without so much as breaking a sweat.

“Come on.”

His head snapped up toward him, flinching backwards from his outstretched hand with a grimace. “What?”

“You’re overheating.” His eyes darted over the different features of Lance’s face, his own difficult to read, even as close as he was. “Come on. Unless you don’t want my help.”

“I don’t want your help.” He snapped, swatting his hand away as he pushed himself to his feet, stepping past him, back into the pool.

“You were right,”

He slipped, nearly choking on a bitter laugh as he lowered himself into the water again.

“We can’t leave your armor back there. I’ll go get it, and I’ll walk to the beach to make sure we didn’t leave anything else behind.” Keith took a step back, flexing his fingers in front of him. “Besides… my hands went numb about five minutes ago. I need to get out of this cave. I’ll be back in an hour. And you’ll still be here.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a request. He was being told what would happen.

“Stay right there.”

“Yessir.” He muttered sharply, turning away from Keith as he passed him by, scrambling back up the ledge. His footsteps echoed down the hall, disappearing after a few seconds.

He was alone.