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Chapter Text

"Keith. Keeith."

Keith stuffed his face into his pillow, and silently cursed the wheedling voice, mumbling, "Lance, how the hell did you get in here?"

"You gave me the code for emergencies, remember?" Lance leaned over Keith's bed and flicked his ear. "Come on, mullet. Meeting in the kitchen."

Keith muttered something intelligible into the sheets.

"Now, unless you want Allura to kick your sorry ass out yourself."

Keith groaned and rolled over, stretching his back. "Fine, I'm coming."

"Good." Lance nodded, before leaving Keith's room, sliding the doors shut behind him.

Keith sighed, and opened his eyes. The blank grey stretch of ceiling seemed even more faded in a mood like this. The light glowed dimly, spreading dull light across the walls. Keith could only guess, but he supposed that he had been woken up in the middle of the night for a meeting.

Nothing seemed really urgent. Why were they being summoned at a time like this? He hardly slept anyway. Shiro had specifically lectured him on making sure he slept and ate enough so that he could keep up with his spells.

He pulled on his jacket over his clothes and headed down to the kitchen, muttering obscenities to Allura.

He had always been fond of the kitchen, full of blue and white glowing lights, and the gleam of the cooking pans, and the sounds and smells of Hunk bustling around, busying himself at the cooker.

Pidge was leaning against the walls, drinking a cup of coffee-like substance that Hunk had brewed. Her eyes were completely dilated and she looked exhausted. Lance sat beside her, looking considerably more awake than she was. He had wrapped himself in his jacket, and was now fiddling with a set of keys, which Keith didn't understand. Beside him was Hunk, who had dozed off on the seat, and was now drooling gently.
Sitting at the table were Coran and Shiro, both of whom seemed very much awake. Shiro was tapping the metal fingers of his robotic arm on the table. The sound echoed slightly in the near-silent kitchen. Coran fiddled with his moustache, deep in thought.

And because they needed to make it even more serious-feeling, Allura was standing, dressed in her battle jumpsuit, one hand protectively on the table her icy eyes wide and fierce.

"Paladins," she began. "I'm sorry to have got you out of bed so early."

Pidge moaned. "Allura, in earth time, it's two forty in the morning!"

"Yes, and I'm sorry about that, Pidge," Allura repeated. "But, uh, we're taking an emergency stop to Earth... And we may be there for several months."

The tension in the room tightened tenfold.

"What?" Shiro looked amazed.

"I will explain it to you, Shiro," she promised. "To all of you, eventually. But we have to go to Earth to deal with... A problem."

"So... We're going home?" Lance asked. "For several months?"

Allura smiled. "Not forever, I'm afraid. But, yes. For a time."

Now Keith was watching Allura more intently, he could see the stress in her eyes. She looked faintly half-mad from worry. And then, when he looked at Coran too, there was some sort of intensity in his tired eyes, some anger that certainly hadn't been there last time Keith had seen him.
There's something wrong.

"Allura?" he asked bracingly. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what aren't you telling us?"

She opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind and shook her head. "You'll find out soon enough."

Keith wanted to say more, but Allura had turned away, deflecting any other unspoken questions or hostile statements with an ignorant demeanour. She raised one hand, said brashly, "You are dismissed" and walked out of the kitchen, leaving them with a confused air that seemed to settle in everyone's throats, but Coran looked even less willing to be interrogated. Keith sighed, knowing that it was hopeless, and followed the princess's footsteps out of the kitchen, back to his room to think.

He had hardly sat down when the doors slid open again, and Lance entered, readjusting his jacket as he came to sit beside Keith. Keith hardly had time to protest, before Lance said, "Well?"

Keith glanced at him, confused.

"Well?" Lance pressed on. "What's going on?"

"That's what I asked," Keith protested. "I don't know. What's so important that we're going back to Earth at such short notice?"

Lance paused. "Would you call Earth your home?"

"No."

Lance didn't seem surprised, and that wasn't surprising. "What about you?"

Lance sighed. "My family's a little too big to say no. I mean, in our house, we have seven people, three of whom are just little kids. But there is one thing I hate about my family."

"What is that?"

"Homophobia," Lance replied. "My family's brought up to be homophobic, and I hate it."

Keith grinned. "Are you hinting at what I think you're hinting at?"

"Yes."

Keith chuckled, and leaned back. "Tell me more about your family. Is everybody homophobic?"

"Well, no," Lance admitted. "Obviously I'm not. And neither are my older siblings. Ricardo and Gabriela, those are their names. They told me things I'm glad I heard. But I hardly see them anyway. You know how we're sixteen, and we've got enough to deal with? Ricardo is twenty, and he can't drive, and Gabriela's eighteen, and she can't even count money, let alone get a job."

"Woah," Keith sighed. "How's she going to cope?"

"Well, she doesn't want to leave Varadero," Lance said. "Everybody knows Gabriela Sanchez."

"I thought your last name was McClain."

"Ah, that's my Galaxy Garrison 'white person' name. Hunk's got one too."

"Alright," Keith nodded. "What's your family like when it's together?"

"Well, I have three younger siblings, called Tina, who is a little devil, Carlos, who is kinda reclusive, and then Juanita, who is God's great gift to the Sanchez-McClain family and, at nine years old, is going to rule the world. God, I can't stand any of my younger siblings. They've all been brought up like my mom wants."

"Don't you like anything about your family?"

"Yes." Lance sounded adamant. "I like Gabriela and Ricardo. I like how Gabriela weaves flower crowns on Cinco De Mayo and and I like Ricardo's weird alt-rock Imagine Dragons. I like celebrating with my friend Montuega and her sister Conjuela, drinking punch at night under the cliffshadow at the end of the beach. Speaking of the beach," he grinned, rolling over and prodding Keith, "I'm totally taking you down there when you come to Varadero. We have night parties there, and it's entirely homo-friendly, so you and I can enjoy ourselves."

"When I come to Varadero? Lance, when the hell am I going to Varadero?"

"When you come back to earth, duh! Where else are you gonna go? I'm not letting you go back to that desert shack to continue your weird cryptid research, no way hoseé. That was just weird. You're coming home with me, and you're gonna meet Gabriela and Ricardo and Montuega and Conjuela and party with me on the beach."

Keith took a moment to process this. The idea of such an environment made him uneasy, but Lance was right.

"You know it's not gonna be that easy?" Keith asked. "You've been missing for just over a year, man, your parents are gonna think you're dead, and so are Gabriela and Ricardo and Montuega and Conjuela and everybody else!"

"We'll be fine," Lance promised. "I swear. And if my parents find out about us... Well, that's just how it works. They're gonna find out someday anyway."

"You're prepared to lose everything to keep me?"

"Of course I am. I love you."

Keith wasn't going to lie, he blushed a little, gazing into Lance's shining blue eyes, full of sincerity, and then concern, as he asked, "Babe? Is something wrong? What've I said?"

"Nothing," Keith promised. "I was just happy."

They were silent for a moment, both thinking carefully.

"Well," Lance said bracingly. "Not gonna lie, I'm now wondering exactly how long you're gonna be happy. Because where I live in Varadero is a bloody mess, and I don't know how you're gonna cope. You can't take it slowly."

"Good," Keith said. "Slowly never works for the Galra." He wrapped his arms around Lance. "I'll be fine, I promise. I'd like to meet your family."

"Are you sure?"

Chapter Text

"I don't want to go home."

"What?"

"I don't want to go home, Allura."

Allura sighed and fluffed her hair behind her neck. She had known that there were going to be contradictions. "But why not, Pidge?"

"I haven't found my dad and Matt yet," Pidge protested. "You can't me make me go home. Not when I'll've failed my mom. I promised her I'd find them."

Allura smiled sadly, and ruffled Pidge's hair. "Katie -"

Instantly Pidge had shrunk away, hissing. "Don't call me that."

"- Pidge," Allura corrected herself. "I know you don't want to leave, but think. Your mother doesn't know where any of you are. She'll think you're all dead by now. I think the best thing she could have right now would be to discover her daughter was alive and well, and coming home to her."

"Alive and well, huh?" Pidge retorted. "None of us are going to leave without a mark made. Remember how Lance has now officially got breathing problems because you were too stupid to see the real problem when the bomb went off?"

Allura opened her mouth to say something, but Pidge kept going, cutting off her voice. "And Keith's spells? What if he gets one on earth? I reckon that whoever he stays with are gonna be pretty freaked out if they watch him turning into a Galra!"

"Pidge."

"And Shiro, don't even get me started on Shiro -"

"Pidge."

Pidge stopped and looked up, startled by the tone Allura's voice has taken.

"Please understand that I have to go to earth. I have to. Otherwise I've got no way to deal with what's happening right now."

"Woah - you need to go to Earth?" Pidge felt taken aback. "Why you specifically?"

"Let's just say... Shiro and I have been together for a year now -"

"Wait. Hold up. You're dating Shiro?"

"Nice to see I've been able to keep it a secret from the most keen-eyed member of our team," Allura smiled. "But yes, I am. And, uh, I'm going to marry him."

"YOU WHAT?"

Allura flinched at the voices outside, and said stiffly, in a crackly voice, "Oh, hello, Coran!"

Coran poked her head around the door, disbelief of the highest kind etched in his face, looking thunderstruck, which was close to what Pidge felt. "You're going to marry Shiro? What the quiznak? Allura, what? I - I can't..."

"Yes, Coran," Allura said firmly. "I'm going to marry Shiro."

"But that doesn't explain why you need to go to earth," Pidge protested, ignoring Coran's squeaks. "You can just get married on Arus, can't you?"

"I... It's not about the marriage," Allura whispered. Suddenly, she looked exhausted, her voice quiet and scared.

Pidge gulped. "Princess?"

Allura looked like she was going to say something, then sighed and shook her head. "Don't worry, Pidge. It's nothing to you."

That wasn't exactly comforting, but Pidge knew she had no choice but to agree. She sighed as she headed back into her room, waving half-heartedly at Hunk as she saw him, then locking the door behind her, and firing up her old hand-made scanning interface on her computer.

She paused as she watched coded information, dragged from the servers, line up on her screen, and the screen of a camera wink into life. It reminded her of those nights she would sit on the roof, cloaked in the cold of the desert night, searching unendingly for any news about her family. Anything at all, she remembered. It was almost two years ago she had left... It seemed like a lifetime. It occurred to her she was only rebooting her systems for comfort, although she couldn't see how that was comforting.

It just was, and she couldn't explain that. Just like how Keith couldn't explain exactly how he knew when a spell was beginning, or how Hunk couldn't explain how he could cook so well so instinctively, or how Lance could take a gun with two shots and still hit three in things in the space of ten seconds without ever having used the gun model before. It just was, and that had to be good enough, for Voltron's sake.

It was all always for Voltron. And Pidge wasn't going to lie, that drove her crazy sometimes. Maybe it was a good thing she was going home.

She sighed and checked the results of her scan on her computer. Anything that might show her family's position would be good enough. Anything.

꓄ꍟꈤ ꋪꍟꌗꀎ꒒꓄ꌗ.

Ten results for her scan. Good.

8/10 ꌃ꒒ꍏꀸꍟ ꂦꎇ ꎭꍏꋪꎭꂦꋪꍏ ꌗꉓꍏꈤ ꌗꍟ꓄ꌗ.

So, eight of the results were from the Blade of Marmora. Suddenly looking a little less promising.

ꍏꉓꉓꍟᖘ꓄ ꋪꍟꉓꍟꀤᖘ꓄ ꉓꂦꀸꍟ?

A receipt code? Pidge leaned it to check she had read it correctly. What was a receipt code?

It wasn't like she had any other options. She leaned forwards and clicked.

ꌩꍟꌗ.

The machine whirred.

ᖘꋪꂦꉓꍟꌗꌗꀤꈤꁅ.

ꋪꍟꉓꍟꀤᖘ꓄ ꉓꂦꀸꍟ ꀎꈤꂦᖘꍟꋪꍏ꓄ꀤꂦꈤꍏ꒒. ꓄ꋪꌩ ꍏꁅꍏꀤꈤ ꒒ꍏ꓄ꍟꋪ.

I better ask Coran what a receipt code is, thought a fuming Pidge. This is bloody useless out here!

She was just about to shut off the machine, when something caught her eye. A little paragraph box had presented itself to her at the bottom left hand corner of her screen. The words read: ꎇꂦꋪ ꍏꀎ꓄ꃅꂦꋪꀤꌗꍟꀸ ꍟꌩꍟꌗ ꂦꈤ꒒ꌩ.

If it's for authorised eyes only, how can I see it?

She shrugged and selected that box instead. The window yawned open, to display a list of video feeds from a nearby prison cruiser. There weren't many, but they dated back five years at the maximum, and two days at the min. Hands shaking in fearful excitement, she clicked one from March of two years ago - roughly around the time her father and brother had vanished. The feed blinked into life.

The video was crackly and tinged with purple, but there was no doubt about it. This was had to be what she had been looking for.

When it came to her missing family, she couldn't see them. The cell was dark, and there was only one thing that stood out, like a smear of blood on skin. Like the way the moon separated itself from the stars in its brightness. Like a multicoloured robot against a purple alien ship.

A tuft of stress-white hair, shadowing a face that Pidge knew too well to ever mistake.

Shiro had been with her family in the Kerberos mission.

And Shiro had been on this ship - this prison cruiser - two years ago. Which begged a question in Pidge's mind - who else had been?

It seemed like she had got what she was looking for.

Chapter Text

"Allura."

The princess of Altea glanced backwards, to see Shiro heading towards her, his robotic arm gleaming silver in the moonlight. Allura sighed, wishing he hadn't come. Anybody but Shiro.

"Princess, why are you avoiding me?"

Allura couldn't even stick up for herself. She couldn't deny that that was exactly what she had been doing, and she hated it. The look in Shiro's eyes was something she never wanted to see in a million lifetimes - concentrated anger and hurt of the purest kind. The look of a wounded lover. Allura wished the humans didn't show it so well.

"Shiro," she acknowledged. "Well, um. I - I have been avoiding you, haven't I?"

"Yes." Shiro's voice was deadpan.

"Why does it matter so much to you?" Allura asked timidly. "I'm a busy woman, I can't devote all my time to you, Shiro."

"Not being able to see me is not the same as avoiding me, Princess," Shiro pointed out. "Didn't you ask me to marry you? Why would you ask me that if you weren't prepared to act upon it?"

Allura sighed. "Shiro, I swear I wouldn't do it on purpose."

"Well, that's a promise broken," Shiro snarled, fury dripping into his voice. "Because you are."

Allura took a deep breath. "Shiro, I have a secret, and I'm worried what you'd think if I told you it."

"Well, do you have to tell me your secret?"

"Yes," she said, sucking in a breath to steady her nerves, which were jumping like a flea on a sugar rush. "I would have to, eventually. And now... Now is the best time, I think."

"Alright," Shiro said warily. "I can give you a chance. What is it?"

"Shi - Shiro," she babbled, suddenly overcome with fear and emotion, and she saw Shiro's eyes widen in alarm. "Shiro... I'm going to have a baby."

There was silence in the hall. Nothing except for the buzz of the lights, and the horrified footsteps of Shiro as he backtracked into the wall, and started gasped like a lungfish.

"Oh, my god," he wheezed. "Oh, god. No. Please. No. Allura..."

"I won't blame you," Allura promised, her voice shaking. "I never could blame you. I found out the night after we got engaged." She covered her face with her hands, and shameful tears began to pour. "Oh stars above, I'm such a bloody fool."

"No," Shiro muttered, and Allura was amazed to hear his voice so steady. Even though he looked shaken and confused. "It's all my fault. All my bloody fault. I did this. I made this happen."

"Shiro, no," Allura pleaded. "It's not..." She broke off with a sob. "Please..." She sniffed. "Please don't leave me."

She collapsed onto her knees, filled to the brim with despair, and sobbing madly. An image flashed through her mind, of her favourite day, the best day she had ever spent with him. They had been watching the sunrise on Arus, staring transfixed at the glow of the sun as it awoke over the planet in a blaze of triumph. They hadn't spoken much; Shiro's hands had been toying wither her hair, twisting it gently, curling it around his human fingers. If this remained to be the best thing she remembered, she might as well savour it while the memory was fresh.

Somebody was speaking to her, trying to comfort her. It was all a blur to her, but she knew that they hadn't said a word. Yet somebody was still speaking, persistent and soothing. Their voice was there, caring for her. She felt like she had woken up again, like the sun she remembered, the dawn of the day.

"Allura."

"Sh-Shiro?"

It was too good to be true. It had to be.

"Allura, I'm sorry. This is all my fault. Please forgive me."

She looked up into his eyes, and she saw something had sparked in them, something she didn't recognise, but something that she hoped was there to stay. It made her feel warm. Comforted. Loved.

"Allura, you can't seriously think I'm going to leave you, when this is my fault? You think I'm not going to marry you, after all this?" He spread his arms. "Well, I am. I'm not leaving you. We'll make it through this." He paused, and in the space of his pause Allura tried to guess what he was going to say.

"Space dad is gon' be a real dad."

Despite everything, Allura giggled. She couldn't help it, the statement was so ridiculous, so Shiro, that she couldn't help but laugh. "You could say anything, and you say that?"

"Yes," said Shiro innocently. "Of course. It hurts to see you so sad."

She kissed his cheek, feeling the tears dry, and the overwhelming happiness of finally having told Shiro, and to have him say that. He accepted her.

"I love you," he whispered into her neck.

"I love you too," Allura replied, still smiling. "But we still have a problem."

She felt Shiro raise his eyebrows against her skin. "And that is?"

She elbowed him. "Uh, the pregnancy? I mean, all's well for now, but I'm still pregnant. And we still need to tell everybody."

"We will," Shiro promised. "But for now, we need to get to bed. Goodnight, Princess - Allura. I'll be up first thing to check on you."

"Goodnight Shiro," Allura called to his retreating figure, before turning back to the window.

Oh, God, she thought. No matter what happens, no matter what they say, we're still in trouble. We're in the biggest trouble I'm ever going to be in, and there's no doubt about that.

Chapter Text

"Paladins - emergency meeting in the hub! Now!"

For the sixth time in four days, Allura was summoning them to the viewer. Lance groaned, a deactivated his bayard, tuning his back on Pidge's improvised shooting range and tugging on his jacket. Allura had been calling them to the hub continually because she had been certain they were getting close to earth, but Lance knew better. Watching Coran scroll through the starcast to pinpoint their locations told him that earth wasn't going to be easy to reach. It could take several months - several months that Allura simply didn't have.

He sighed, and stared to pace back to the hub as requested, tucking his bayard into his belt as he went.

The doors yawned open in front of him, revealing the hub, and everybody already in their positions, waiting for him. Unlike last time, everybody was wide awake, watching and waiting for him to arrive. Pidge was tapping into a computer log, the light glinting off her glasses and sweeping the room with stale white light. Allura, as always, was standing to attention, except that she now looked pitifully tired. Still she looked up high, he icy eyes wide and painstakingly bright, and her voice just as faked as always.

"There you are, Lance, what kept you?"

Lance gulped. "I - uh, had to turn off the training gladiator." I've been practising.

Allura didn't seem surprised. "Well, at least you're here now, aren't you?"

That seemed a little obvious to Lance, but he decided to just grin and nod. That seemed to usually get things working normally again. Lance was an expert and cancelling awkward conversations.

"Alright, Princess, we're all here!" announced Coran, tapping works into his control board. "Here and ready to dive into orbit in sixty ticks at your command!"

"Wait, what?" yelped Hunk, scrabbling with the controls. "We're going home already?! But I haven't arranged anything, I - I haven't got ready! What if I see my - my family and they don't recognise me?! What if they forgot about me and got a dog?! Oh, god, they can't have gotten a dog! I'm way too allergic!"

Lance stuffed his palm into his face and mumbled, "Dios mio, Garett! You're an only child, how the hell are they meant to forget you?!"

"Yeah," Keith said encouragingly. "If anybody is freaking out, it's Lance! He has, what, five siblings?"

"Six."

"You told me five!"

"Yeah, five. Clara isn't considered part of our familia any more."

"So your family has seven children?!"

"Paladins, please!" Allura cried. "We'll soon be entering earth's orbit and landing. Please don't stress!"

"Wait, princess," Pidge asked. "Are we landing the whole ship?"

"No, the ship is too gravitational," Allura said. "We'd be stuck in orbit if we tried. Instead, we're going to land the main escape pod. Then Coran will leave for Arus."

Lance hung his head. "Coran's not coming with us?"

"Ah, don't worry about me, young scallywag," Coran smiled sadly, ruffling his hair fondly. "I'm not one for exploration. I'd rather just return to Arus and wait for the call back."

"You make it sound so sad."

"I'll be fine, Lance. What I want to make sure of is that you're okay."

"Coran, we are not supposed to show favourites!" Allura said sharply.

Lance sighed. "Adayume, mio dios por favor."

"We don't speak Spanish, Lance."

"Good thing too, te mierda."

"LANCE!"

"Sorry, Shiro."

Coran sighed, in a gross attempt to cover up the tension. For a minute or so, the room was filled with nothing but the crackles and whispers of electrified air, and the lazy beeps of Coran's computer as he typed in god knows what. Lance felt his mind begin to drift, back to Varadero, to the heat on his back and the smell of punch, and the sound of Ricardo's guitar.

As if it were a hallucination, he remembered Montuega, her wide amber eyes full of happiness, a sly grin on her face. She looked shockingly like Moana, Lance realised, with the same full curly black hair and Mediterranean complexion. Even her shell necklace added to the look.
He remembered Conjuela, or "Cooking-Jewel", or just plain Cookie to Ricardo, dressed in the same painfully tight brown bun as always, her golden hoop earring gleaming like jewels in the summer heat. He remembered Gabriela, trying to tame her mane of brown frizz in the mornings. Ricardo, teaching him to play guitar, his heavy black bangs hanging in his eyes.

He remembered, but for some reason, he still didn't miss them.

All he did was wonder what was happening to them, now. What if they'd forgotten him? They'd been quick enough to forget Clara, and she was the firstborn.

I remember Ricardo and Montuega, sitting on the beach with me. It was about ten at night, but the crackling campfire kept us warm.

Lance tried to snap himself out of it. He glanced longingly at Keith, but he wouldn't meet his eyes, and he faded away again.

I remember Ricardo, playing his guitar like his life depended on it. He had been at it for an hour now, and his fingers nearly bled, but he kept playing. Sia, I remembered. Montuega's favourite.

"You need to brush up on your skills, mi hermano," she said teasingly.

"Ah, any girl'd fall for this tune," Ricardo assured her. "Right, Lance?"

"If you say so, Ricardo."

Ricardo chuckled and attempted to play another chord. It sounded more like a broken piccolo than a pop song. He swore.

"This sucks. I can get any other song right, bang on time, but not this one? God, what's up with this?"

"What're you actually trying to play?" I asked curiously.

"Fire Meet Gasoline," Ricardo said. "Montuega can't sing it, I can't play it. Want a go, Lancias?"

I shrugged, and took the instrument, holding out my hand for the wad of music Ricardo was holding. "I'm awful at guitars, Mousie. Just warning ya."

"Oh, come on, Lance," Montuega snorted. "Anything's gotta be better than Ricardo's attempts."

"Hey!"

"Admit it, Ricardo," I laughed. "You can play anything else. Any reason you can't play Fire Meet Gasoline?"

"It's a pretty sweet song," Montuega said. "Ignoring the music video, that's full of sex and stuff, but you could use it to serenade."

Ricardo laughed and clapped his hands. "My baby brother, learning to serenade a girl!"

A girl? My head felt fuzzy, somehow.

"Play the song, Lance," Montuega urged. "I don't want this to break up."

"I'll do my best, Mousie," I promised, and ran my fingers up the strings. They sounded strangely alien, making the tiniest 'ping' as I plucked gently.

I cupped my nails under the string, and began to play, and when the time came, I began to sing as well, delving in the meaning, of how much it was worth...

"It's dangerous,
To fall in love,
But I wanna burn with you tonight,
Hurt me,
There's two of us,
We're bristling with desire,
The pleasure's pain and fire,
Burn me..."

Montuega was smiling like a maniac, Ricardo tapping his feet rhythmically on the sand. I remembered.

"So come on, I'll take you on, take you on, I,
Ache for love, ache for us, why,
Don't you come, don't you come a little closer...
So come on now, strike the match, strike the match now,
We're a perfect match, perfect somehow,
We were meant for one another, come a little closer..."

I didn't remember singing the chorus.

"Lance?"

"Huh?" Lance muttered. He rubbed his eyes. "S - sorry. Just... Memories. Wh - when're we taking the dive?"

"When you're ready, babe," Keith whispered from behind, winding his arms around Lance, and hearing Pidge groan in irritation.

"I - I'm ready," Lance stammered. "Let's go. Let's go."

In his heart, he hurt, not remembering everything about Montuega, not remembering all the words to the song, the song, the one he loved.

Fire meet gasoline.

He felt like the gasoline that his love and fear could light up, and he knew that he was never going to be able to hide the truth forever.

Chapter Text

Keith couldn't register anything - apart from the fact that he was falling.

They were all just falling in the dive Coran had taken, but he didn't feel like it was controlled, and although no one screamed, the sound hung in the air, not needed to be created by anyone's throats, just assumed.

Because they were falling.

Falling into Earth's atmosphere. Becoming human again. Becoming alive.

To Keith, the whole 'being alive' concept made him feel nothing but nausea. He was fine, declared dead in space. Everything just seemed to be worse, knowing that was all about to change.

I'm not going to be the Red Paladin in any minute I spend on earth.

"Lance," he whisper-begged, reaching for his arm, desperate for protection, and just like that, Lance wrapped his arm around Keith and held him so tight Keith refused to believe there was a time in space in which he had felt more warm.

Home is where the Lance is.

God, that was so cheesy...

Keith closed his eyes tight, and tried to remember his father. He had nothing of his mother apart from his Galra knife, and hardly a thing from his father, apart from a few blurry memories. He wondered how he had died. He wondered what his mother looked like. Questions he could never have answered.

His ear was pressed against Lance's cheek, his now-open eyes staring at the flames licking the viewing-deck windows harmlessly, and suddenly he realised Lance was singing something, something so breathy and quiet he could hardly make it out.

"I got all I need, when you come back to me..."

Keith hugged him closer, and shut his eyes, waiting for the landing, and when the time would come for him to try to explain...

"Fire meet gasoline... I'm burning alive..."

Keith didn't recognise the song at all.

The roar of the cooling wind and the rough turbulence clouded everything, every though he had. He could feel Lance's breath hitch, and hugged him even tighter, until he felt like his arms would pop out of their sockets. Seeing Lance's breathing issues, this was probably not a good idea, but Lance was so skinny and scared Keith refused to let go. He couldn't time when they'd land, and he wanted to be holding Lance when it happened.

"Fire meet gasoline..."

The wind had reached a peak, yowling and roaring like a pack of angry lions at war, and the escape shuttle groaned under the pressure, but Keith had all faith in it. It was almost as big as the Red Lion, and almost as strong.

He heard a voice over the com, barely legible, but he knew what it was screaming.

"Hold tight, Paladins, we're twenty seconds closer!"

Coran's voice called over the intercom, and then the countdown began, ticking away the seconds like a bomb timer.

"Twenty!"

Keith opened his eyes, and regretted it instantly. The blue planet was so close, he felt like the nose of the shuttle was about to plunge straight into the Arizona desert that they were headed to. Five miles south of the Galaxy Garrison. Shiro had demanded they land there.

"Fourteen!"

God, was that six seconds gone already?

He strained his ear, listening intently to see if Lance was still singing, and was rewarded with a few whisper-quiet words:

"Fire meet gasoline, fire meet gasoline...
I'm burning tonight.
Oh, Montuega, lo siento, lo siento, I'm sorry I left, I'm sorry I disappeared, I'm sorry..."

Montuega. The girl Lance had told him about. With Ricardo and Gabriela and Conjuela, her sister. Keith wondered what they looked like-

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

Under his feet, the shuttle jerked, and flattened out, until with a painful thump, it landed on the dusty golden sand of Arizona. Right where Shiro had wanted.

A second later, every alarm on the ship started wailing.

Keith stumbled, and completely forgot he was still clinging on to Lance. He fell hard on the floor, and Lance, losing his balance, landed right on top of him, squashing the wind out of him.

"Hey!" Pidge's irritated voice spoke up. She was peering at them, unimpressed. "Can you two hold off on your spooning for a little bit? We're in a bit of a crisis here!"

"We weren't -" Keith's complaint was cut short as Lance stuck his elbow in his stomach to clamber back onto two feet. Grumbling, Keith joined him, dusting off his jacket.

Lance was wheezing, but a huge grin was plastered across his face. "At least we didn't die!"

"Way to make the most of a bad situation, Lance," Pidge sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I know, right? I'm awesome like that!"

Keith chuckled, and leant against Lance for support, before remembering something as he watched Shiro and Allura busying themselves at the board, trying to contact the Garrison.

"Lance, what were you singing just now?"

Lance started, and Keith lost his balance and fell to the floor for the second time. Groaning grumpily, and nursing his elbow, he glared at Lance.

"S-sorry, Keith," Lance stammered. "But I-I didn't think you'd hear..."

"Well, I did, and I like hearing you sing," Keith retorted. "You were also saying something to Montuega, apologising for something. What was it?"

Lance gulped, before answering, "The-the song's called 'Fire Meet G-Gasoline'."

"Okay," Keith replied, staring curiously at Lance. "Why are you so nervous?"

He took a deep breath. "That song... When I left to go to the Galaxy Garrison, it was her favourite song. Ricardo taught me to play guitar, and he was good, but the only song he couldn't play properly was 'Fire Meet Gasoline". We discovered it was the only one I could play properly. From what I remember, Montuega was ecstatic." He looked mournfully at Keith. "And now I feel like I've betrayed her. Do you think she'd have believed them when they told her I was dead?"

"I don't know," Keith admitted. "Remember, I've never met Montuega."

"Yeah," Lance sighed. "It was easy to make friends with Mousie."

"Mousie?"

"Yeah, Mousie. Montuega means 'mountain mouse' - not in Spanish, I don't know what language - so Ricardo and I would nickname her Mousie. Also, Conjuela means 'cooking-jewel' so we would call her Cookie." He chuckled. "I'm looking forwards to you meeting Conjuela."

"As long as you tell me how to pronounce her name properly."

"Ah, don't worry. Spelt 'Conjuela', with a hard j, pronounced 'Conhuela', with an h. It's easy."

"Hey, Lance, Keith." Shiro had called them, and was now clenching his fist on the board. "You need to come here." He looked grim, his eyes dark and worried.

Keith leaned forwards. "Are those-"

"Garrison trucks, headed straight towards us?" Shiro finished. "Yes." He swallowed. "Get ready to defend yourselves. Something tells me we won't have it that easy."

Chapter Text

Hunk felt like his blood had frozen, so terrified was he.

As the doors eased slowly open, he took his first breath of real earth oxygen, and it was icy cold and strangely full, and it didn't feel nice at all. Even worse for Lance, who took one breath, choked, and fell to his knees, wheezing.

"Lance!" yelped Hunk, who instantly knelt by him, Keith following suit. He pulled a bottle of water out of his backpack, and began to try to ease some of it into his mouth, feeling Keith's anxious eyes on him. Allura stood over them, looking strangely guilty, which didn't make sense to Hunk - why would the perfect princess do that, when it had nothing to do with her?

Shiro and Pidge were standing at the front of the capsule. Shiro had his arms over his head in surrender.

"We come in peace, don't shoot!"

Lance was groaning, but he seemed to be breathing better, so Hunk entrusted his water bottle to Keith and stood up to join the other three. Allura was trembling, and Pidge peeked out from underneath her arm, eyes wide, as Shiro stepped out of the shuttle, and into the sunlight.

"Don't shoot," he repeated. "We come in peace."

One of the soldier's guns dipped, and he looked amazed.

"No way," he said. "Shiro?"

There was a chorus of murmuring from the trainee soldiers with him, and a few officers shouldered their way in front to stare. Unfortunately, heading the watch was Hunk's least favourite commander from the Galaxy Garrison.

Iverson marched up towards Shiro, glaring out of his good eye like a tiger staring down its prey.

He paused right in front of him, and Shiro swallowed, muttered a silent prayer in Japanese, and gave Iverson a shaky salute.

"So," Iverson leered, leaning in so close to Shiro their noses were nearly touching.

Shiro breathed out. "Good afternoon, sir."

"Takashi Shirogane," Iverson deadpanned. "The idiot pilot of the Kerberos mission. What have you been up to, these last two years?"

"Saving the universe in a flying black lion, sir."

Iverson started, then laughed harshly.

"You always were one for fantasy tales, weren't you, Shirogane? Suppose they came from those Japanese culture storybooks your Grandmother read you. I'm amazed you were never booted from the Garrison, like Miss Holt over there -" His eyes roved over Pidge, "- or Mr. Kogane. How was the desert treating you? Clearly not good enough, as you decided to blow up a cliff and kidnap an injured pilot!" He pointed a shaky finger at Keith, his features contorted in fury. "Good as gold, aren't you?"

Keith looked like he wanted to swear at Iverson's dumb pun, but something held him back. He didn't say anything, didn't show Iverson any attention, just kept trying to help Lance stumble back onto his feet.

"Mr. Garett," Iverson continued. "I'm amazed you've returned. Wherever you've been, it's not for the faint-hearted like you."

Hunk suddenly realised he knew exactly how Keith felt.

"And then there's Lance McClain," Iverson sneered. "Where've you been, Sanchez? We've missed you on the simulator!"

Lance wasn't able to reply, as a sudden fit of coughing drowned out his words and left him wheezing. Iverson snorted. "A little bit ill, Sanchez?"

"He's got a stitched lung, you stupid man!" yelled Keith, unable to keep in his anger. "You insult Shiro, you insult Hunk and Pidge and you insult me, then you insult Lance. Sorry we've not been around, we've been a little busy saving the sorry asses of everybody in the universe in flying robot lions!"

Keith paused. He clearly had realised just how stupid his story sounded.

Iverson was furious. "You meddling, disgusting drop-out pilot!" he yelled. "My Galaxy Garrison - mine - I-I can't believe we ever let people like you inside it! You were treated like an alien, and if you ever return, if you dare, you will be publicly shunned, publicly alienated, and god knows I won't be the one to stop it!"

"Fine!" Keith screeched, and he drew his lips back in an animalistic way that made Iverson stumble back a foot or so. "I don't want to - none of us do -" He plunged his face into Lance's shoulder, and sobbed, whilst his boyfriend wrapped his arms protectively around him, and glared furiously at Iverson.

Iverson ignored him. "And you..." He pulled the words out long, as he turned to face Allura, "who might you be?"

"I am Princess Allura of Altea, and this is my ship, thank you very much," snapped Allura, cheeks flaring up in anger. "How dare you talk to my Paladins like that?"

"Your Paladins?" choked Iverson. "Princess? Of what?"

"Altea, just as I told you," snarled Allura. "Who do you think you are, so ready to insult alien allies?"

Iverson went white, and glanced around, so see if the other gunsmen were hearing her. "Aliens?"

"Yes, you silly fool! Aliens! Like me and Coran, like Shiro's arm, like Keith!"

Keith looked up from Lance's tear-stained shoulder, his face ruddy with heat, flushing purely red. Iverson glared at him, his face full of suspicion.

"Take them inside!" he roared. "Put them in cell block 2E, in the cellar. The princess, Shirogane, and Kogane go in high alert. If they won't go, force them!"

"But, sir..." One of the men, who had been pushed towards Shiro, was looking imploringly at him.

"Yes, cadet?" Iverson snapped, turning to him.

The man gulped. "Sh-Shiro..."

Iverson glared at him to get the job done, and turned away. The reluctant cadet slowly handcuffed Shiro as ordered, and Shiro did not resist. Hunk watched, as the man shepherded an uncomplaining Shiro to a cargo truck, and then as the others closed in on them, to deal the same fate to Shiro's crew members.

Chapter Text

It's not fun to be chained up, thrown into a cargo truck, chased down a corridor while students stare curiously, then pushed into a basement cell and locked up on high alert, with four security cameras in the room.

Keith knew that, because that's exactly what happened to him.

He couldn't see Lance or Pidge or Shiro or anyone, because he was locked in his own truck, and Iverson himself sat at one of the front seats, his one good eye leering suspiciously at him, as if expecting him to transform into some hideous monster right then and there.

Keith's arms were wrapped in electric chains, and he was completely stuck where he was. The chains led to the sides of the truck, and they were stuck fast, melded against strong metal.

When the truck lurched to a halt, and the men roughly tugged Keith out, replacing his chains with simple handcuffs, he suddenly realised he couldn't remember anything about the Galaxy Garrison. The corridors were a labyrinth he couldn't penetrate. No chance of running away, even if he could somehow slip his hands out of the cuffs. Then there were the sheer feeling of desperation. He hadn't felt so scared since his first spell, when his first transformation occurred. Looking in the mirror over the course of three weeks, and seeing his violet eyes progress into a pure glowing gold, his human canines sharpen and elongate, his nails lengthen into spiked claws - that was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Stupid genes couldn't decide whether they were genotype or phenotype.

He preferred them genotype. Better to look like a human that a fluffy purple alien.

The Garrison's doors flew open, and still Keith was alone.

The men prodded him in the back with their gun hilts, and Keith reluctantly began to walk, pacing down the corridors, fully revealed to the other cadets, who were glancing curiously at him. Some of them looked amazed.

"Is that... Is that Kogane? Keith Kogane?"

"Who's he?"

"He was booted out of my pilot class almost three years ago! He was an amazing pilot, I can't believe..."

"He was a friend of yours?"

"He wasn't a friend of anyone's. Nobody knew him, apart from Shiro. Kept himself to himself, really."

"He looks beat up."

"Tell me about it - look at those scars!"

Their voices passed in a meaningless buzz, their eyes dim and uninteresting. He passed the end, and saw a girl, and for some reason, a pang of recognition passed through him at the eye contact.

Her hair was black and curly, her tan skin with a reddish tint. Her wide eyes were pure apple amber, bright and intrigued. Keith had never seen her before, but she definitely reminded him of someone...

"Keith Kogane?" she whispered.

Keith racked his brain, but he couldn't remember her. He gave her a small nod at his name, and instantly, she dropped her file, and ran off, seemingly seized by a thought she had to act upon. Keith hardly had time to wonder what she was so desperate about, when suddenly the train of people lurched, and Iverson stood in front of him, leering all over again, with the students watching curiously.

"Keith Kogane," he began.

"Yes?" Keith wasn't about to show respect to the man who had wished Shiro dead.

Iverson paused, and then said, "I would like you to tell me, in front of all these students, where you have been. Should you tell the truth, you may have a chance to be freed. Lie, and you're stuck."

"Just like Shiro told you," Keith retorted. "Saving the universe in a flying black lion. Well, actually, a red lion, when it comes to me."

The students began to snigger.

"A red lion, Kogane?"

"That's right, Darrell," Keith said smoothly, tugging his hands out of the guard's grip to turn to him. "A flying robotic red lion. Along with Takashi Shirogane. Oh, and I nearly had my shoulder sliced off by a purple alien."

Iverson roared with laughter, and most of the cadets did too. Though not all - Keith suddenly realised he was making eye contact with the girl with amber eyes, who had clearly come back to listen. She was looking at him in wonder, and Keith knew, alone among the others, that she believed his story.

"Along with Shirogane?" Iverson choked. "And Katie Holt, another kick-out?" He turned to the cadets, and sneered. "He goes with the worst of the Garrison's. Hunk Garett, the most awful engineer I have ever seen - Katie Holt, the meddling lying communications officer - then Takashi Shirogane, of all people..." He glared at Keith, "the pilot failure who happened to wreck the most important mission of the century, and Lance McClain, who has got to be the worst fighter pilot I have ever had the displeasure of teaching!"

"The worst, huh?" Keith breathed. "The worst? Bet he could beat your fighters now."

Iverson glared at him, and Keith shut up. Peering into the crowd, he noticed something.

Most of the cadets were standing there with their mouths hanging open, clearly amazed to hear that Shiro and Lance were alive. Whispers had broken out, exchanging theories, but one person stood, looking determined, not breaking eye contact.

Now Keith was certain that the girl with amber eyes had something to do with the other Paladins. She had started the most, and now she was trying to work her way through the crowd towards him. When she had reached him, Keith tried to inconspicuously lean forwards to hear her raspy whispers. Her face was scrunched up in concentration.

"You're Keith Kogane?" she hissed. "The person who went missing two years ago, the same night as Lance Sanchez?"

"Y-yes," Keith stuttered. Her apple-amber eyes were pretty intense.

"You know Lance Sanchez? You know where he is?"

"He was taken," Keith said breathlessly. "We all were. He's in the basement cells." He landed around, cautiously. "What's it to you?"

"The fact that I only signed up for the Garrison to look for him when he vanished!" she whisper-snarled. "If you really are Keith Kogane, the one he talked about, you have to help me get him back!"

"Carlosio!" yelled Iverson, noticing the girl. "Get back from him! No fraternising with the captive!"

"Wait!" Keith yelped, as the girl began to hurry back into the crowd. "I'll-I'll help! Just tell me your name!"

"Montuega!" she yelled, now being pressed back through the doors. "My name is Montuega Carlosio! Tell Lance -"

The doors swung closed, and Iverson dragged Keith into the lift, ready to take him to his cell, and Keith was left there, with only one thought in his head.

Fire Meet Gasoline.

Lance had first sung the song to her.

Chapter Text

With a gun at his back, Shiro was forced down a corridor and into an interrogation chamber. Shiro remembered this room. He had been taught the methods of extraction in it.

The officer prodded his holster into Shiro's shoulder. "Sit." He took a deep breath, and looked at him. "I'm sorry, Shiro."

Shiro shook his head, just sat obediently in the plastic chair set out to him, and the man stood watch, waiting until his questioner arrived.

About five minutes later, a woman in a stiff grey suit arrived, a gun holster on her hip, his face tight and cruel.

"Takashi Shirogane," she announced, sitting on the chair in front of him. "I am Simone Caldera, chief interrogation officer. Why don't you start this conversation with a recap of what happened on Kerberos?"

So Shiro told her. Everything he could remember, up to the very last detail. Of course, he couldn't remember everything. He still had slight amnesia, but it was getting better over time. All through the tale, Caldera kept her fingers interlaced, and her icy blue eyes trained on Shiro's face.

"Very good," Caldera said, clearly taken aback at how sure and convincing Shiro looked. Obviously, she knew all the detecting tricks - looking left, fiddling hands, etc. But Shiro had stood stock-still, and he had looked her right in the eye. Caldera didn't seem to  in eknow how to handle this. Shiro's story sounded incredible, but it sounded true.

"Very good," she repeated, trying to come to a conclusion. Shiro's face was a mask. "Now, Shirogane, I'm about to ask some questions. You will answer truthfully. I will know if you lie."

Her voice had a sort of hypnotic quality, which was clearly what had led her to be hired for the job, but it didn't work on Shiro, who sat still, a determined look on his face.

"What is your connection to the Princess of Altea?"

Shiro paused. "She's my fiancée," he said gruffly. "I'm going to marry her, and you aren't going to stop me."

Caldera looked mildly interested. "Is that so?"

"Yes. Is that one of your questions?"

Caldera smiled coyly. "I suppose so. Now, did you conspire with this princess three years ago to sabotage the Kerberos mission?"

Shiro stood up and banged his bionic hand on the table in anger. "No, I didn't!"

"Shirogane, please!" Caldera pleaded. "Sit down."

Shiro sat, grumbling reluctantly.

"Now," Caldera continued, "where did you get that prosthetic?"

"The Galra took my arm in combat," Shiro replied, still warily angry.

"The Galra?"

"Evil fluffy purple aliens," Shiro supplied.

Caldera looked like she couldn't quite believe Shiro was saying this. She shuffled the files, looking through the papers in an attempt to look collected.

"Very well," she admitted, when she had redone the paper. "Anyway. A source here says... That the princess of Altea revealed that your friend Keith Kogane has alien blood. What alien, exactly? What species?"

"No species," said Shiro simply. "Allura is Altean. Everybody is alien to her."

Caldera paused, as if trying to process this information. "And so?"

"What do you mean, and so?" Shiro asked. "There's nothing left to say!"

"There is... Enough," said Caldera, staring intently at him.

Shiro still didn't understand, and so he continued by tapping on the plastic table with his bionic arm. The sound echoed frighteningly loud in the half-silent room.

"Let me give you a hint," Caldera said, pointing at his arm. "What does that give you?"

"Give me?" Shiro lifted the arm and clenched it. The metal whirred.

"Yes, Shirogane," Caldera confirmed. "We have learned about certain powers transferring through science. It's all about how aliens can transfer their base genes to another species - either through injections, or being born half-alien -," and at this, she looked him right in the eye, trying to get him to reveal what she wanted, "- or, say, having the physical strength to wield such a bionic cyborg prosthetic. How have you got such physical strength, Shirogane? Maybe... Through gene transfers?"

"I haven't got anything medical from the Galra," snapped Shiro. "I have a tuft of shock-white hair from the electricity, a scar across the bridge of my nose from my time in the arena, and a cyborg prosthetic for god knows what reason, but I haven't anything else. It's easy to wield this. It's light, and I will admit, it's a weapon."

"So, it is a weapon," Caldera smiled, "You admit it."

"Yes, I admit it," Shiro snarled. "This thing saved my life up in space. I can't live without it, now."

Caldera sighed. "If we may, can we take some photos?"

Her tone made it clear that this was an order, rather than just a request.

"Of course," Shiro agreed. He might as well agree, to stay from trouble.

"And blood tests," added Caldera.

"No problem. Wait." Shiro paused. "Do you believe my story?"

Caldera smiled thinly. "I alone in the staff, indeed do believe your tale. I can spot a lie better than anyone else in Arizona, and you haven't lied... Except for once, and I can see why you'd like to keep that secret."

Shiro's blood went cold.

"Yes, Shirogane," murmured Caldera. "I'm talking about alien transfers."

Keith, thought Shiro in terror. She knows I was lying about Keith's heritage.

"But it's not important, is it?" Caldera stood up, and turned to the guard in a businesslike fashion, who saluted. "Officer, please escort Shirogane to Iverson."

"Ma'am, Iverson is in the conference hall, trying to calm down the students," said the officer, gulping. "The-the ones who saw Shiro and Keith. And one of them's gone mental because she heard that Lance was back. We caught her trying to hack into Iverson's computer."

"Then take Shirogane to the conference hall and let the students see him for themselves," Caldera ordered. "I'll fight for their freedom."

"My freedom, Caldera?" asked Shiro, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes, Shiro," said Caldera, and he was surprised to see a real smile trying to escape her lips. "You're going to need to be free if you want to go back to Japan and marry your fiancée, won't you?"

Then she left, and the officer took Shiro's shoulder and led him away.

Chapter Text

There were four hundred students at the Galaxy Garrison, and they could all fit in the conference hall, which was something Keith couldn't quite grasp.

It was set out like a court, with seating steps on the left and right opposing sides, and another two sets at the end. At the front was a handsome oak stage, lined with swollen patterns and gleaming banisters. The hall was engineered specifically to project voices without the echo. Keith felt like standing at the front of the stage just to make the world hear him.

As of that moment, every single seat was occupied by a cadet. A jumble of untidy uniforms and failed hairstyles traced a psychedelic pattern along the student body, and the range of handsome skin tones gave it the look of a slam-cross of Noughts and Crosses and the Latin American folk tales from Mexico.

Keith leaned against the side of the stage, hidden behind a curtain. Why they had a drama stage was beyond him - this was an astronomy school - but he was grateful for it. It meant he could hide in plain sight. And, of course, eavesdrop on the lecture Iverson was giving the entire school.

"- Can't take any chances," he was saying. "We cannot trust these people, and we are sorry if they're your friends."

Keith sighed and pulled at his gloves. Friends? Shiro, maybe, when he had been here. Nobody else.

"We are running blood tests and interrogations," said Iverson. "If they can prove they can live up to their claims, then they will be off, scot-free -"

Keith thought about Montuega, Lance's friend. Had she really come to the Garrison just to find Lance? It sounded a little like Pidge - refusing to believe that they were dead, and hacking into computers looking for them. Both times, both girls had been right.
He remembered why he had been kicked out, too. He had been on shaky ground anyway, but it was worth it. No wonder Iverson hated it. He was the cause of his squinty eye.

"- Kogane?" called Iverson, impatiently. "Keith Kogane!"

Keith snapped out of his trance, and saw that Iverson was madly beckoning him over, his one good eye wide with irritation.

Keith slowly paced up to beside where Iverson stood, not bothering  to pay attention to his impatience.

"Finally, Kogane!" Iverson roared. "What got you? Stage-fright?"

Keith swore at him, earning a ripple of shock from the students.

Iverson's face was almost purple with fury, and he was spitting madly as he said: "You never knew what was good for you, did you Kogane? How dare you swear at me!"

"How dare you lie to me and Katie Holt!" Keith snapped. "Why don't you tell them what really happened on the Kerberos mission?"

"Get out of my hall!" yelled Iverson. "Out! Out!"

Ordinarily, Keith would have been happy to oblige, but this was too important to him. He had to pass on a message.

So, instead of running off the side, he leapt off the stage, sprinted down the lanes between the chairs, and let his eyes roam, searching for something, someone in particular...

There!

Montuega Carlosio seemed to know that it was she whom he was looking for. She half-stood, looking like a gymnast after a vault, her eyes on him, and then Keith grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

He instantly started talking, very fast to her.

"Cells in the basement, three of them high-security, and that's one that I'm in, so you'll need to hack into the staff interface... And our belongings in the cupboard, we need those. Delete any specific Intel they have, it's urgent that my - our - secret doesn't get out."

"Right," Montuega whispered. "I'm just wondering... How did you -"

"Montuega Carlosio!" yelled Iverson. "Get back in your chair this instant! And you!" He prodded at Keith's chest. "You're going back in your cell! And we're needing blood tests." He paused, and suddenly noticed that every single student had their eyes on him. He tugged Keith by the shirt collar away, and waved his hand in impatient dismissal.

Blood tests.

DNA.

Oh, quiznak.

Keith didn't know if they would pinpoint everything, if they could create a probable cast like they did with dinosaurs, but if they did, then he knew they wouldn't be lenient. He had been told by Shiro not to keep his Galra side secret, but he knew he must now. Up in space he was a symbol among the Paladins as a half-breed Galra, their enemy turned good - down here, he would be a lab rat, used to further astronomic discovery.

Montuega better help him if either of them wanted to see Lance again.

Lance. Keith felt like crying. He remembered first meeting him, and faking not knowing him. Not because he wanted to hide any familiarities, but because he wanted no trace he had ever attended the Galaxy Garrison.

He remembered when Lance had been blown up by a bomb, and when he and Shiro were lying injured, he remembered going to Lance first. Lance, not Shiro. Even to this day, he didn't know why, it just felt right...

He remembered after that, when Lance had been set out of the cryopod and was eating his meals again. When Shiro and Allura had given him a recap of the battle. Lance accusing him that the mice did more than you did. He had retorted angrily, and it was more than just indignation, he actually felt hurt. Why did he feel hurt?

Shiro had been like a brother to him. But Lance was too easy to fall in love with.

Being gay, and Lance being a notorious flirt, he felt like he'd never get a chance. It took four days for his crush to turn into love - he spent so much time with Lance, it was too easy.

He remembered almost a year ago, when he had been approached by an alien princess who had tried to flirt with him. He had had to yell, "I'M GAY," to get her to go away. He remembered the look on Lance's face.

A week later, Keith realised Lance was flirting with him. It wasn't like the others... It was far more subtle, awkward, as if Lance didn't know what to do. Keith remembered when he had found out (mainly from pointers given by Pidge) and how he had tried to flirt back. He was so unsure, so worried. He didn't know what to do. He thought Lance hated him.

That's what he had thought, and week later they were on their first makeshift not-date, watching the sunrise on Arus.

Te amo.

Four months later, that's what Lance said.

Keith had been unsure. He didn't speak Spanish, he had no idea what he had been saying. Until Pidge fired up makeshift Google translate and he had found out.

Al-a, Lance. Nado salanghae.

I love you too.

And now Lance was in trouble.

Montuega had offered to help. And now she must, for Lance's sake.

Chapter Text

Speaking of Montuega, she had already got to work.

The moment that Iverson had dismissed them, she had leapt out of her chair, and began to run down the corridors to the IT suite, to attempt some hacking, to find out where Lance was. This was the only lead she'd had in the year she'd been in the Garrison, in the two years she'd been searching, and she wasn't going to give up.

"Hey, Mousie!" came a panting voice behind her. "W-wait up!"

Montuega turned, and saw the bright blue eyes of her friend, Gemma. "Where are you going?" she wheezed. "We're due on the simulator, we can't skip a lesson, we need you, Zak and I can't fly the plane without our communications officer!"

"You're going to have to," said Montuega, trying to walk away, but Gemma seized her arm.

"No, we seriously can't - we're not allowed - Montuega!"

"If you cover for me, Gemma, you'll be the best friend I ever had -"

"Montuega Carlosio, come back here!" Gemma cried, rushing to keep up with her. "We can't fail the simulator again, you know how much of a shit pilot Zack is, and anyways, what's meant to be more important than staying out of trouble?"

Montuega stopped in her tracks, looked Gemma dead in the eyes, and said: "Lancias Sanchez McClain."

"He... What?"

"It's the guy I've been looking for! He's come back, I knew he wasn't dead, I told Conjuela he wasn't dead, and nobody believed me! Lance is alive. A guy in his situation just told me. Ever heard of Keith Kogane?"

Gemma's face went slack.

"No way," she said. "Keith Kogane is back? He's been missing for two years!"

"I have to get him out safe," Montuega insisted. "To do that, I have to get into the office suite. Please, Gemma. Cover for me. If they find out it's a ruse, I'll take the blame..."

Gemma nodded, seemingly unable to speak.

"Thanks, Gemma!" called Montuega. "You're the best!"

She began to run back down the corridor, internal compass spinning urgently, searching for the room she was looking for.

There's a suite!

Montuega hurried into it, and was instantly surrounded by a forest of monitors. She chose one at the very back of the class, where it was easiest to hide. Montuega knew computers - it was what had allowed her to join the Garrison as the team's communication's officer.

Doing this reminded her of playing team pilot with Lance and Conjuela when they were little. Even when he was six, Lance had known where he had wanted to go. Up into space. And Montuega was sure he had managed it.

She bit her lip and began to tap at the computer, as quietly as she dared, and then remembered she was meant to be accessing the staff interface, and going on her own details would be bloody useless.

She swore in Spanish, and then covered her mouth. Glancing over the computer screen, she spotted an officer pacing down the corridor, his black beret hat bobbing in and out of sight.

Please don't come in here. Please don't come in here.

The man paused outside of the door, piggy eyes roving the scene, and Montuega waited with bated breath, hidden as carefully as possible behind a jumble of monitors, which beeped and whirred spookily loud in the deliberate silence.

The man entered, his footsteps tapping eerily on the ground, and came to a halt in front of one particularly large monitor. He began to type on the keyboard, then, with a soft shwip, his screen came up on the SMARTBoard.

It didn't show her much; the man seemed to just be roaming around in video feeds, and none in the basement. The man scanned the notes, and pulled out several digital files, labelled Student Information.

With her heart in her mouth, Montuega watched as he opened one of the files, and the words STUDENT INFO.

The words went like this:

STUDENT NAME:  (CLASSIFED) "Hunk" Garett

STUDENT TEAM AND POSISTION: Engineer of Team Alpha Oscar T2-B with LANCE "MCCLAIN" (CLASSIFIED) (Pilot) and PIDGE GUNDERSON (Communications Officer)

RATING AND NOTES: UNCONFIRMED

Montuega let out a tiny breath. There was Lance's name again. He had been on this 'Hunk' guy's team.

Rating and Notes: Unconfirmed.

"Sir?" the man's voice spoke, and Montuega jumped, scanning her surroundings to find who he was talking to, and then realised he was speaking through a walkie-talkie. "I found Garett's files. There's nothing there."

There was a buzz of reply, and then the man strapped his walkie-talkie to his hip and walked out, very formally. Montuega leapt out and hurried to his computer. If he was still logged on, then he would be coming back. She had to be quick. Her fingers moving at the speed of sound (or so it felt to Montuega), she typed in Lance McClain.

Words blinked to life on the screen. Squinting at the words (she dreaded the days in which she forgot her reading glasses) she found the top, and began to read.

STUDENT NAME: "LANCE" (LANCIAS) "MCCLAIN" (CLASSIFIED)

STUDENT TEAM AND POSITION: Pilot of Team Alpha Oscar T2-B with (CLASSIFIED) "HUNK" GARETT and PIDGE GUNDERSON

RATING AND NOTES: LUNG INJURY: CAUSE UNKNOWN. NO RATINGS YET.

Lung injury? Montuega stared, horrified, at the screen. What? When?

She began to tap in another name: Keith Kogane. Her eyes were glued to the screen, and they never left it. Maybe it was a little dangerous.

Because just at that moment, as the information for Keith began to file on the screen, far more detailed than Hunk or Lance's, the door opened with a soft hiss.

It wasn't the same man. It was a woman.

A woman with steel-grey hair, and a gun on her hip. Her steel-rimmed glasses glinted like a flashbang.

"Ah, Lance's friend, Montuega?" she asked, and Montuega was amazed to see that she was smiling. "I had a feeling that you'd be here. Keith Kogane doesn't know where the things you're after are. You think we'd give the diagnostic files open to nosy staff?"

"Uh..." Montuega gulped.

"No," she said. "We wouldn't. Now, do you want to help me spring an innocent man out of trouble, or do you want to keep chasing information?"

"Lance?" Montuega gasped. "Can you help me get him out?"

"We're not doing a jailbreak," the woman smiled. "We're simply... Sabotaging files to set them free. I know an honourable man who has a pregnant alien for his fiancée, and I intend to set him back to Japan and let the wedding commence."

"I want to get Lance out," said Montuega numbly. "Keith, too."

"Good," the woman said. She spun on her heel and headed out the door. "Follow me."

Chapter Text

"Mama!" cried Hunk. He toddled on still unsteady legs, his eyes wide with curiosity. He couldn't have been more than six years old.

"Mama, what is?" he asked, pointing a chubby finger at the insides of the car chest, where his mother was working on an engine failure. Electrified oil was sparking out of the tank, and heat from the overloading plugs had snapped the rubber casing. Little Hunk had his hands on the edge of the bonnet, and his huge eyes wide.

"Laʻu pepe, ia ese mai ai!" his mother cried. "It's dangerous, Hunk. Please stay away, or you'll get hurt, will you not?"

"I willn't, mama!" Hunk promised. He stared down at the engine, still leaking gleaming brown liquid, and a wall of heat slammed into his face. He laughed and looked up. "Looks broken, mama."

"It is, Hunk," his mother sighed. "It very much is."

Hunk tilted his head to the side, rather like a curious bird. "But you c'n fix it, right, mama?"

"Of course, my baby," she said. "I just need to clear up the oil, okay? Oute alofa ia oe, Hunk, so I need to take care of you."

"Yes, mama!" Hunk stared down at the engine again, and somewhere, in his tiny six-year-old brain, he knew what he was going to do.

"You know what, mama?" he asked. "One day I'm going to be able to fix anything, just like you!"

His mother just laughed sweetly and smiled.

Hunk sat at the edge of the room, trying to ignore the bright white glow of the light, and feeling incredibly depressed. In the other corner, Pidge was fiddling with the lock, but to no avail. They'd been trying to break out for nearly two hours now, and eventually Hunk had just given up, and now sat sullenly, fiddling with his fingernails and trying to suppress the onslaught of memories of Samoa back home.

Pidge swore when the lock shocked her, and walked away from the door. She sat down on the table in the middle, her eyes trained on the handle. Hunk sighed. Their cell looked pretty ordinary, for a makeshift made from an old unused walk-in cupboard - white walls, threadbare grey carpet, blinding white light hanging from the ceiling like a reverse bat. The door hadn't been opened for two hours, according to Hunk's watch, and now even Pidge had given up.

And just like that, the door was opened.

Standing there, looking very formal, was a pack of guards, with guns on their backs and truncheons at their hips, dressed in grey cotton uniform and black berets. The one at the front had his hands on his hips, which meant that one hand was on his truncheon.

"Hunk Garett, Katie Holt?" he recited; it was phrased like a question but sure as hell didn't sound like one. "Your meeting with Iverson and the council had been arranged for now. Please come with us."

Yet again, this was an order, rather than a request. Hunk and Pidge stood up, in identical manners that showed that neither of them wanted to do this. As they were carted down the corridors, Hunk tried to remember the school map. He couldn't remember much - it was tricky even at the easiest of times, when they felt the best, which, admittedly, hadn't been often at the Garrison. It hadn't been easy there. It had been ever harder in space, though. If this was how a normal life functioned, Hunk could understand why people wanted to 'punch life in the face'. He could feel his metaphorical knuckles cracking.

They paused in front of a door, which read, very plainly, Authorised Access Only. Hunk wondered how many times pranksters had tried to prise the doors open.

One man leant forwards, slid the key into the lock, and turned it. The doors opened with a soft hiss, revealing one of the most pitiful sights Hunk had ever seen.

Shiro was straining against the table, where his bionic arm had been sealed against the top, nails dug securely into metal. Allura was trembling, her hands protectively over her belly, her huge blue eyes full of fear from the glare Iverson gave her. She had traded her jumpsuit for something better - loose jeans, a baggy jumper, and denim pumps that were covered in desert dust. Her long silver hair was loose and tumbling messily down her front.

Keith was sitting on a stool like the others, as still as a statue, his violet eyes dim and creepily dull. Hunk wondered why he wasn't objecting to Shiro's discomfort - then noticed the chain wrapped around his ankle and trailing into the wall, where it was welded securely. Hunk knew why Keith didn't fight back. Because he felt trapped. Internal Galra cat instincts could not have liked that, and it was clear he was suppressing an animalistic whimper of fear and alarm. Lance had his head on the table, and while he didn't seem to be secured to the room, he wasn't going to do anything that could put Keith in danger.

Then, next to Iverson, was a woman who looked a little like a human Haggar. Her features were spiky, her iron-grey hair tied up into a painful-looking bun. Her spindly fingers tapped endlessly on the table, but the sheer silence clouded the sound away.

Hunk heard the door close behind them, and only just realised that he and Pidge had gone inside. For a manic second, he was worried he would be sealed to the wall like Keith, but when nobody moved, he relaxed a bit.

A bit.

"Alright!" Iverson announced, when he and Pidge had taken their seats. "Welcome, cadets, to this very official meeting. I would encourage you to tell the truth. It will make the difference between your freedom and eternal imprisonment."

"So this isn't a meeting," Shiro said, sounding unsurprised. "It's an interrogation."

The woman winced. "Iverson, I do think this is hardly worth the trouble. I am the best interrogater in Arizona. I couldn't get a single important thing out of him, only logical things that match their stories."

"In case you haven't noticed, Caldera, they could have arranged the entire story," snapped Iverson. "I see no proof of your tales."

"What if we told you again?" Lance asked, sitting up. "Like, all over again? Meeting our stories, and seeing if they change?"

Iverson snorted. "It'll take more than that to change my mind."

"Then, clearly, your accusations are just unbacked-up ramblings!" exclaimed Caldera. "This is hardly fair on the Paladins -"

"On the what?" Iverson roared. He stood up, and faced Caldera. "What did you call them?!"

"Paladins, sir," said Caldera, looking unthreatened and vaguely bored. "Like they claimed. It's the only working story. Let them tell it again."

Iverson paused, his one good eye roving the six people facing him, then back to Caldera, who's face was a mask.

"Alright!" he roared. "Alright, I'll hear your silly story. How did it start again?"

Chapter Text

"And then we landed here, and it's all my fault," Shiro finished. His hand still strained against the table, wriggling and tapping desperately, and although Shiro's face was stony his hand never stopped moving. Almost as if it had a mind of its own.

Pidge fiddled with her fingers, her eyes never leaving Iverson's face. She remembered her searches, her beleifs. The fury in Iverson's good eye as he caught her... Again. Surely hacking into somebody's computers every day for three weeks could not have made them like her much.

"And I swear we hadn't got a choice about this, sir," Shiro added. "The lion chose Lance and flew away. Like I told you, we're sky, fire, water, earth, and forest. We were chosen somehow - I don't understand how."

Iverson chuckled. "Even after hearing that story three times, it's still the most ridiculous tale I've ever heard. Who do you think I am?"

Caldera looked exasperated. "Sir, really? Their story fits into everything. Would you really not give them one chance?"

Iverson glared at her, but Caldera did not break her stony gaze. It grew so intense that Iverson looked away, half-wincing from the spiked stare, and he sighed again. "What could you use to prove it?"

"We've only got our story, and your trust!" protested Allura. "I am an alien! Can't you see that, you awful man?"

"Oh, I can see that, true," snarled Iverson. "But I need proof that you've been doing what you said. Solid proof, mind."

"The simulator."

Pidge froze. She suddenly recognised Lance's voice. He was staring at his trainers. His old olive jacket wrapped around him like a shield, but his face was set with determination.

He suddenly realised everybody had gone quiet. Grinning lopsidedly, he looked up to Iverson. "The simulator, sir. The flight simulator. Wasn't that used to measure student progress?"

"What?" Iverson snarled. "What did you say?!"

"Let Hunk and Pidge and I fly the flight simulator again!" Lance announced. "It's what worked last time, isn't it? Keith said I had got better at flying, and that Hunk had dealt with his sickness from experience - let us fly the simulator again! We'll do it in front of the whole school, if you want."

His royal blue eyes were fixed on Iverson, seeking an answer. Pidge grinned. Lance could be an idiot sometimes, but when he made a plan it worked better than anybody else's would.

Iverson, thunderstruck, turned to Caldera, who shrugged and said, "It makes sense."

"Wrong answer, Simóne!" roared Iverson, although he was fighting a losing battle. Beads of sweat popped up on his forehead. "Why should we let them? It's for students!"

"Which we are," Shiro said, picking up on the idea. "Well, I'm professional, but technically Hunk, Lance and Pidge are still learning - let them have a go!"

Iverson glared at Caldera again, as though this idea was all her fault. She looked like she could not care less, grinning smugly at him. It was weird to see a woman like her - like a 1950's schoolteacher with her grey bun and sharp features - look so happy. She sighed in mock annoyance, sat forward and said: "I say they should try. We're still awaiting the news from the official police board - you know Canderman sent out a query for them to solve about an hour ago? All about their official trial. Technically, it's not allowed until the alien girl's gone into labour, because of the fact that her child is half-human, and then we can run blood tests. The only way we can get them persecuted is the only way they can leave, and still they're under house arrest from the government. It's win-win for us. What've we got to lose?"

Iverson pondered this, although his face was still etched with fury. Shiro still strained his arm against the table, trying to free it. Allura was biting her perfect nails. Hunk looked like he was trying not to throw up.

"Fine!" Iverson yelled, and it was so loud Pidge instinctively ducked. "Fine, I will let McClain, Garett and Holt refly the simulator. If their score is similar to the ones of the Kerberos team's, then they shall be allowed into house arrest and sent home. If not, they shall be sent to jail." He glared at Lance. "I hope for your sake you do not fail."

"Oh, we won't!" Lance promised. His face turned ashy grey. "I think."

Iverson sighed, again, then turned to Pidge. "Don't think I'm done with you, miss Holt. Or what did they call you know?"

Knowing this was going to turn into an insult, Pidge replied with her name.

"Pidge, eh?" snorted Iverson. "Why would they call you that?"

"Because of pigeons, sir," Pidge replied. "That's what Matt nicknamed me."

Iverson laughed, jeeringly and hysterically. "What kind of name is Pidge?"

He grinned at them. "Goodnight, Paladins. Back to your cells. Tomorrow, you'll have the honour of flying the simulator, right in front of everybody else! I hope for your sakes you don't fail - you may never make a mistake your regret more after that."

And he left, leaving the Paladins to be shepherded back to the blocks by the guards.