Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She nods to the two Blade members that touch down moments after her. One is smaller than the other, much smaller, and she has the briefest second of hope that it might be Keith before the two of them dart toward the other end of the facility without a word. If it was Keith, he would have said something, right?

Lance is going to be covering her while she plants the virus in the information hub, and he jogs up behind her now, confusion passing across his features for a split second before the expression clears, “Is that Keith?”

“Dunno,” she responds and Lance quickly drops it because he knows it's a bit of a sore spot for her. It's a bit of a sore spot for all of them, really. 

She’d thought, they’d all thought Keith was going to stay after he recovered. He’d been glad to see them again, they’d all been glad to have him around, but two days after he’d been cleared to use the training room again, he’d been gone. She knows he has a good reason to be with the Blade, that he makes more of an impact there than he might as a paladin, that he’s finding his place in this whole thing as both a human and a Galra and she wants him to do what makes him happy. Problem is, letting him go felt eerily similar to the first time she’d had to let her brother go off on his own for a mission after she’d found him again. It hurts a bit more than she feels like she can admit.

Lance pats her on the shoulder as he passes, watching her from over his shoulder. She smiles at him, a big, wide, visible toothed grin because he looks worried and she’s okay. She is. She’s just going to be pissed if that Blade was Keith and he didn’t even say hi.

Lance smiles back, but it’s softer, kinder, the sort of smile she’s come to expect from him now that’s he’s red’s pilot. She’s always been close with Lance, but he’s starting to fulfill more of the big brother role than she’d really ever thought he could. She has four big brothers, an older sister, a crazy uncle, a space dad, her real parents and a bond with a mystical lion she could never imagine being apart from. And while she may act more like an adult than half of them at times, her heart lifts a little bit when she thinks of her unconventional family. Keith’s doing what he needs to, and he’ll come back eventually. She’ll drag him by his ears if she has to.

They infiltrate the base easily enough. This is a communications post on the outer fringes of the Galra empire, guarded by sentries according to their intel. Lotor had assured them that despite its remoteness, and perhaps because of it, they would be able to gather valuable information with the longest time before discovery.  

Provided they aren’t caught planting the virus, that is. Well, that and if Lotor is actually telling the truth.  

They make it to the control rooms with no incident. She’s not really sure why the Blade’s are here - they’re not back up, and they haven't exactly shared their goal with the paladins. She remembers something Kolivan mentioned during the big group meeting a few days ago and wonders if maybe this has something to do with the strange quintessence they were so worried about.

Lance’s jetpack comes alive as he propels himself toward a balcony two stories over her head. The place is huge, and she wonders if it used to be stocked full of Galra soldiers. It seems like it might have been, before Voltron and the Blades and the rest of the Coalition forced them to band back together to protect their more valuable assets.

She can’t help but smile at that as Lance gets into position, his back to a wall, his bayard in its sniper form. He’ll make sure to take out any Sentries that decide to enter this room before they have the chance to sound the alarm.

Pidge cracks her knuckles and gets to work.

She’s got the virus uploaded and is doing a quick scan for any immediately relevant intel when she’s startled by a low rumble that shakes the floor and sends bits of dust to patter against the top of her hair. She brushes it off absently, and when Lance doesn’t comment, continues to work. It isn’t until it happens twice more that she glances up at the Blue Paladin, confusion twisting her features, “What is that?”

“Trying to find out,” Lance mutters, and she realizes he’s got his eyes closed as he communicates with Red.

Smart, she thinks, wondering when, exactly, Lance had become so resourceful, but

she knows he’s always been like that. He just hasn’t gotten the opportunity to demonstrate the extent of it until recently. Lance had had to fill the time and energy he’d devoted to his rivalry with Keith somehow she supposed. She was just glad he wasn’t being self-destructive or worse… interrupting her work.

Ah who is she kidding, most days she welcomes it when Lance dances into her little workspace. He always seems to know when she needs a break. He and Hunk both. And Coran. And Matt, actually. You know, her family is pretty great.

Shit , right, she’s supposed to be connecting with Green. She centers her mind and concentrates on the presence that always seems to linger at the back of it. It had been weird, at first, to always be connected to the Green lion but now it feels a bit like losing a limb whenever they’re unable to communicate.

She makes contact with the comforting presence and is immediately bombarded with the need to run, to move, to get out of the control room and into the open air. Green doesn’t use words so much as images and feelings to convey her thoughts, and she’s sending picture after picture of the outside of the building, the walls destroyed and fire raging. There’s an emotion that Pidge’s limited vocabulary calls worry and it’s so strong she has a hard time distinguishing it from her own building panic.

“Lance-” she says, but he’s already leaping down from the balcony, his rifle back into its normal gun form.

“Yup,” he responds, sliding his helmet back on over his head. She does the same, “Let’s just get back to the lions. You uploaded the virus?”

“Of course,” she scoffs, because what is she, an amateur? “I’m ready when you are.”

Lance doesn’t respond, just nods, and darts around the corner, ready to pull the trigger at the slightest hint of threat. He doesn’t get the chance.

She moves to follow him and then there’s a deafening boom and she’s being flung backward. The ceiling’s falling and the floor is buckling, she loses sight of Lance in the debris but she can hear him cry out in pain and fear and she’s screaming. She doesn’t stop until something slams into the back of her suit, heavy enough that it knocks the air from her lungs and she sees stars, so much less beautiful than the real thing as they fade into gray and then the deep black of the night sky.

Her lungs fill with air no more than five minutes later and she startles awake, surprised to find that she’s partially buried in chunks of Galran technology. Her face visor is covered with soot and she cautiously wiggles her hand out from under a piece of what she thinks might be a control panel that had been in the wall. She clears her vision and winces. The entire hall is destroyed, pieces of it in all the wrong places almost like someone was trying to turn it inside out.

“Lance?” she calls, but all she gets is static. She’s not sure if it’s because of a problem with the system, a problem with Lance’s mic, or a problem with Lance himself. She tries not to think about it, tries not to panic as she pushes herself to her feet, wincing. Her armor protected her from most of the damage, but she’s still going to have hella bruises.

“Lance?” she contemplates taking off her helmet so that she can yell into the actual air, but it’s too full of a fine dust for that to be smart. She’ll just have to dig to where she’d last seen him.

She sets to work. There isn’t actually as much destruction as she originally thought, and it only takes her a minute or two of shuffling from one side of the hall to the other before she locates a limp foot in blue armor. She nudges it carefully, hoping that maybe Lance will wake and brush himself off, but he doesn’t.

She blanches a little when she gets the rest of him uncovered. He looks fine, mostly, except for the sharp piece of metal impaled into his left hand just at the joint where his thumb joins his palm. It’s not huge, but it goes all the way through and she’s pretty sure there’s a couple broken bones involved.

Well, at least it's better than the last time Lance got caught up in an explosion.

“Lance!” she says loudly, as close to his face as she dares get, “Lance! We’ve got to go!”

She grabs his shoulders and shakes gently, praying that this works and that he gets up in the next minute or two because she can’t drag his ass out of here by herself. Okay, no, she could, but she really doesn’t want to have to do that because Lance is really quiznaking heavy.

He sucks in a quick breath and his eyes flutter open to reveal bleary blue irises. He’s staring up at her with no small measure of confusion before things seem to start flooding back and his helmet nearly collides with hers as he sits up abruptly.

“Holy quiznacking crow!” he exclaims as soon as he’s upright, “Ow, ow, ow, shit, my hand!”

He’s cradling said appendage against his chest, his breathing uneven as he stares at the blood dripping steadily through the black fabric of his gear. Pidge wonders for a second, if, after everything, Lance is going to pass back out at the sight of a little bit of his own blood, but instead he stares at her incredulously.

“What kind of metal are they using in these walls that it can break through our armor?”

Not what she’d been expecting, but she’ll take it, “Who knows. Want me to take a sample?”

“Uh, yes. Actually, I think there might still be some in my hand.” He’s trying to be light-hearted, trying not to show her how much it actually hurts, but she knows those frown lines at the corner of his mouth and the tightness around his eyes. They’ve been in too many battles together, been injured way too many times for her to be fooled anymore.

“I’ll make it into a souvenir,” Pidge jokes as she helps him get upright, ignoring the way every movement of his left arm has him grinding his teeth and wincing. He’ll get into a pod soon enough and everything will be fine.

“Lookin’ forward to it.”

They pick their way across the debris field, cautiously eyeing every corner and turn. There are numerous other explosion sites, but for the moment, everything is calm.

“What happened?” she asks and Lance narrows his eyes down at the floor.

“Sentry. It blew up just down the hall from us. I didn’t know they could even do that.”

“Must be a self-destruct setting,” Pidge muses, wondering why Lotor had neglected to inform them of this. She doesn’t trust him, but his information also hadn’t been wrong, yet. Why would he leave out something like this? Just to get rid of her and Lance? They were important to the team, obviously, but also not the biggest threats to Lotor.

They’re almost to the exit when there’s a low groan that seems kind of familiar for some reason. Lance pauses, his head cocked to the side as if that will help him hear better, “Did that sound like a person?”

“Yeah, but Lance-” she starts and doesn’t finish because he’s already moving toward the sound, a determined look on his face. What if it’s a Galra? What if it’s an enemy?

But there’s the sound again, a little quieter although it seems to be closer to them. They round a corner and she’s surprised to see a figure in black hunched against the wall, using what’s left of a support beam to try to lever themselves upright. As she watches, the figure manages to slide one leg under their body, and maneuvers to a crouch, their other leg extended as still as possible in front of them. She catches sight of a glowing purple breastplate and realizes this is one of the members of the Blade who’d come here with them. Whoops. She’d forgotten they’d been in here.

“Hey are you okay?” she hears herself asking and then the figure turns, long black hair, sharp jaw and the sharp slash of thick eyebrows becoming visible under the hood, “Wait, Keith?”

He glances up in surprise, his expression shifting to something unreadable when he realizes who’s standing in front of him. HIs head falls back against the support beam, and she realizes he’s breathing heavily, a vein in his forehead pulsing in time with what she assumes is his rapidly beating heart.

“Hey,” he says much too casually after a long moment, not meeting Lance’s shocked eyes, “I- Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. Kolivan’s...”

“I figured,” she answers because Lance is still quiet. Keith kinda explained the whole ‘mission before personal feelings’ thing to them all as a lame excuse for his lack of communication and while they hadn’t exactly understood, he wanted to be with the Blades. Who were they to stop him from figuring out what made him happy? … He was happy, right?

“Are you alright?” Keith pants in Lance’s general direction and at the blood covering part of his suit. His hand is still bleeding. They didn’t have anything to wrap it with, which in hindsight is just terrible planning.

“Metal shard in my hand,” Lance grins, “Guess I’m just magnetic.”

Pidge groans but she’s glad he’s joking. If he’s messing around like this, he’s okay, even if his face is pale and his smile is forced.

The corner of Keith’s mouth quirks up but falls quickly. She moved to help him up and then blinks when she sees his leg, which she’s pretty sure is not supposed to be bent that way. It’s not at an odd angle, there’s nothing that immediately screams wrong except when she stands over it like she is now, there’s a lump on the side in between the guards on his shins and the ones on his thigh.

“What did you do?” she asks, pointing to the lump, thinking it’s a bad bruise, maybe a bit of swelling, “What happened there?”

“That would be my kneecap,” Keith grunts and Pidge stares down at it for a second because whaaaa? But the longer she looks she realizes that oops yes, that is definitely a kneecap.

“That is not supposed to be like that,” Lance says because he’s Lance. Keith frowns at him for a second before pushing himself to almost his full height in one movement. He stops slightly hunched over, his face dangerously white for a moment as he wavers and Pidge is eighty percent sure he’s about to pass out, “Whoa there Samurai, we’ll help you. Where’s your partner?”

Keith doesn’t speak for a long moment then whispers, “Tyff? I don’t know. She... tried to get to me…before the explosion, she had the data... couldn’t risk her being compromised.”

“Well, if she left you here, we’ll just have to bring you back with us,” Lance says, and then sidles forward, “Here, let me help you. There’s no way you can walk like that.”

“Lance,” Keith sighs as if he’s talking to a child he’s trying to be patient with, “Your hand.”

“What about it?”

“You’re bleeding all over the floor.”

“Oh, this?” Lance points to the arm he’s held tightly against his chest throughout the entire conversation, “This doesn’t stop my legs from working.”

“No,” Keith shakes his head, steadying himself on the wall for a second as he shifts to what Pidge assumes is a stance he’s going to try to walk from, “I’ll be fine. You two need to leave.”

“We are,” Lance answers in an equally patronizing tone now, clearly fed up with Keith’s stubbornness, “With you.”

Keith is still staring at the blood dripping from Lance’s hand, and the blue paladin sighs, directing his gaze up at pieces of the destroyed ceiling, “You think Pidge is going to carry your ass out of here? Not a chance.”

She shrugs but Keith doesn’t smile, his expression grim as he hop-skips forward a bit with the wall as a crutch. That’s not going to work well with debris in the way, but she doesn’t say anything as Lance forcibly lifts Keith’s arm from where it had been suctioned to his side and wraps it around his shoulders. Keith starts to protest but his words cut off when Lance slides them forward a bit and the toes of his bad leg scrape against the floor a little too aggressively. The red paladin’s eyes get that oddly disconnected look she’s come to associate with anyone about to lose consciousness and she’s thoroughly surprised when he rights himself instead and begins to move down the hall with Lance’s help.

Lance has his injured hand clutched against his body and his other wrapped around Keith’s torso as they shuffle forward. The few times that Keith has to let go of the wall to move around a particularly tall pile of junk, she lets him lean against her shoulder. She’s pretty sure he mutters every curse word she knows and a few she doesn’t under his breath as they navigate through this maze of a facility.

By the time she sees light from the open front doors of the building, Keith is taking shaky breaths in through his nose and letting them out through his mouth in a slow controlled way that reminds her of a pregnant woman in labor. She would think this was hilarious except it’s really not when they’re all covered in Lance’s blood and she can see the lump that is Keith’s kneecap shifting in time with the periodic twist in Keith’s expression.

Then they’re outside and she can see Green in the distance. She’s not sure if she’s ever been happier to see her lion. She knows, definitely, that there have been times that were much, much worse than this because nothing is life threatening, no one is dying and there’s going to be no permanent damage, but she’s exhausted all the same.

She’s blinded by the three suns of this planet for a moment before her vision clears and there’s a Galra woman standing there, her Blade of Marmora mask off. She looks worried, confused, conflicted, and then relieved when she sees them.

“Earthling!” she calls and Keith’s head shoots up to give her a bleary-eyed stare.

“Tyff?” Keith seems bewildered by her presence, but she rushes forward, lowering Keith to the ground and out of Lance’s arms despite the glare the blue paladin gives her.

“Who are you, exactly?” Lance asks, in a sort of possessive tone that sounds exactly the same way Pidge was about to put it. While they both know who she is, the question is more of a who are you to leave Keith behind like that versus what is your name and place of origin.

“I’m Tyff, Keith’s partner on this mission,” the Blade frowns, blinking up at Lance, “I’m glad you found him. I was about to return and retrieve the three of you in a few tics if you hadn’t gotten out yourselves.”

“But the data-” Keith protests and Tyff makes a gruff sort of noise in the back of her throat that Keith clearly interprets as a rebuke.

“They are paladins of Voltron,” she says, peering into his eyes like Pidge had seen doctors do when they were worried someone had a head injury, “As are you, Earthling. That is more valuable than this data.”

Pidge is glad someone at the Blade of Marmora recognizes that fact, even if she thinks they would all be valuable regardless of their paladin status. Keith, however, doesn’t say anything and Pidge can’t read his expression. There’s some sort of conflict there but she can’t tell if it’s because he thinks the data is more important than all of their lives or just his. And if it’s the latter, she’s kicking his ass back to have a talk with Shiro because he seems to be the only one who can talk some sense into Keith.

Although… Shiro isn’t exactly himself lately either.

She quashes a moment of doubt and watches as Tyff tsk’s over Keith’s dislocated knee. The Galran woman stares at it for a moment before glancing back up at the two paladins in front of her.

“Are you two alright?”

“Fine,” Lance says, despite the glint of metal clearly sticking through his hand.

“Would you like me to take care of that?” Tyff tilts her head up at Lance, who blanches.

“Erm… no. Think I’ll just let Coran take a look at it. We’ve got some pretty schmancy healing pods back at the Castle of Lions,” Lance grimaces, his face clearly conveying his fear of more pain, “Thank you anyway.”

Tyff just blinks like she isn’t sure why Lance would be thanking her. She doesn’t respond, choosing instead to situate herself over Keith’s knee, her hands on either side of the displaced bone, “Ready?”

Keith nods, pulling his hood around to the front of his face so that he can clench it in his teeth. Lance suddenly looks a lot more concerned.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the- What are you doing?”

“Putting his knee back into place,” Tyff answers as if that should be obvious.

“Don’t you have like… I dunno, a healing pod or something?”

“Yes,” Tyff answers curtly, as if that answers the question.

“It’ll start to heal and scar if we wait until then,” Keith supplies through a muffled mouthful of cloth.

“You heal that quickly?” Pidge pipes up and Keith shrugs, which isn’t exactly an answer. She definitely should have asked for more samples of blood before he’d left. The first two he’d given her hadn’t exactly been the scientific breakthrough she’d been hoping for.

Keith’s already biting back down on the fabric before she can think of more in-depth questions to ask. There’s a sickening snick sound and then Keith is grabbing at the thick grass under his fists, clenching it so tightly it tears from the hard blue soil. He makes a small noise of what Pidge is assuming is pain and then his eyes roll back in his head and he’s out, limp against the side of the Galra fortress.

Tyff presses something at the arch of Keith’s foot and the skin tight fabric begins to peel away with a bit of effort. The Galran woman unclasps the armor plating at his calves and then his thighs, rolling up the material until his swollen knee and the stripes of scars are easily visible. Lance audibly swallows when the self-harm marks become obvious. Pidge doesn’t react, knowing that Keith wouldn’t want her to. They’re his past. They’re part of him, yes, a part she knows he wouldn’t change because it’s who he is, but a part he doesn’t want to be a slave to anymore. And she can identify with that, even if it’s not exactly in the same way.

She wishes she had known him back then, back when he’d first started at the garrison. She’d never met him before their adventure of rescuing Shiro, because he’d been expelled before she enrolled, but she likes to think she could have helped a little. Shown him a bit of what they had now. Would they even have had the same relationship if Matt hadn’t been missing, if they hadn’t been forced to stay in tight confines for weeks and weeks? If she hadn’t been there when Keith couldn’t push them away anymore and he’d finally admitted why he’d never gotten close to them?

She suddenly wants to tell Keith how much he means to her, at that moment, but he’s still unconscious. She stays silent instead, her feelings about this whole situation beating in the space behind her heart with a deep ache.

“The suit prevents me from moving the bone as much as I need to,” Tyff explains like they’ve questioned as to why she was disrobing their teammate. She carefully manipulates Keith’s knee back into place but pauses for a moment before putting his suit back where it belongs.

“I knew…” she clears her throat and then sits down hard clay-like soil, the tail Pidge hadn’t noticed until now twitching behind her slowly, “I knew he was a paladin but I hadn’t realized…”

She seems to be uncertain as to the words she wants to say, but then continues, “To have so many scars, he must be a great warrior on Earth.”

Pidge moves to tell her that yeah, Keith’s a good fighter, was one of the best in the Garrison and had taught her a lot about hand to hand, but then she realizes what scars Tyff is referring to and her mind comes to a screeching halt.

There’s a brief moment where she contemplates the meaning of the term warrior, the definition, the type of scenarios in which it’s used and she almost instantaneously comes to a conclusion.

“Yeah,” she says at the same time as Lance, and they smile at each other.

“He is,” Pidge continues with her voice alone because Keith is a warrior in so many ways. He can kick her ass on the training ground and if she’s being honest, he can kick her ass in resiliency as well. Neither of them is exactly a model of healthy coping, but considering where he started, she can’t help but feel a strange sort of pride.

Keith, a warrior? Damn right. There’s no other word that quite captures it like that one.

Chapter Text

There’s a moment when Lance knows something is wrong with Shiro. There are several moments really, but one in particular that stands out when Keith explains the story of the clones, when he explains everything that happened between the two black paladins after the wormhole.

Looking back, he should have said something. Should have been more insistent. Sure, they knew something was off, but Lance knew it was more than that. He knew, and he said nothing.

It runs through his mind over and over as he stares at Shiro in the cryopod. It was after Keith left, after he’d told them he was going to be on a long mission that turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into “I’m not really sure when I’ll be back.” He rarely called, never visited, and although they spoke to him on voice calls with Kolivan, Keith hardly spoke.

And while they were sure he would come back for good when he was ready, he came back once before then. Once was enough to assure both Keith and the team that he was not ready. And it was enough to assure Lance that Shiro was not himself.

A yellow light dings on in the bridge and Lance pushes himself upright. He’s on watch right now, despite the fact that the Castle has proximity alarms and various other bits of technical genius installed by both Hunk and Pidge. Lance isn’t salty about it, not at all, or at least he makes the conscious decision not to be when he realizes that this hailing frequency is exactly why they needed someone near the bridge at all times. They’d been too busy as of late not to have someone fielding calls, and though he feels like a glorified receptionist, he decides to fulfill his role with all the grace and dignity a Voltron Paladin should.

He presses the ‘receive call’ button and before the image on the screen can finish materializing he says, “Lance here, Paladin of the Red Lion. What can I do for you?”

“Blue Paladin,” a large Galra male says, his scarred face familiar. It’s Kolivan, though Lance is uncertain as to why he’s in this part of the galaxy, “I am here with Keith.”

“Okay…” Lance says, really confused now because Keith’s not in the shot like he normally would be, “Why?”

“He has contracted some type of human illness, and I think it would be best if he were in the care of his fellow humans until he recovers.” Kolivan sounds nonchalant, utterly unconcerned. Lance wonders if it’s an act or if he really doesn’t care that Keith doesn’t feel well.

“I’m fine.” Keith says from somewhere Lance can’t see, and Kolivan’s lips twitch as he says, “You are taking a few days off to recover and that is final.”

Ah. So not unconcerned, just frustrated. That’s a feeling Lance can identify with when it comes to Keith. That man is the most stubborn, hot-headed, doesn’t-know-when-to stop-when-it’s-good-for-him-

“Blue Paladin,” Kolivan says again and it’s clear it’s not the first time he’s said it, “Please open the bay doors so I may enter.”

Lance slams his hand down on the button and bolts up from his seat, preparing to help Kolivan with whatever state Keith’s in. He’s halfway to the door before he hesitates, sprinting back to the main console and the intercom system. Everyone’s asleep, except him of course, but he thinks they’ll be glad he wakes them for this.

“Hey everyone, Keith’s back for a bit. Kolivan’s bringing him in through the visitor’s entrance.”

That’ll have to be good enough. He books it down the hall and to the elevators, sprinting toward the Galran pod that lands with as much grace as he’s come to expect from the Blade. The side door opens and Keith stumbles out, looking almost like he’d been pushed from behind by the close following Kolivan.

Keith squints in the bright light of the hangar. He presses a hand to his forehead until he spots Lance and his expression turns to one of exasperated relief.

“Lance,” he says, pulling away from Kolivan, “Please tell him that I just have a cold, that it’s normal and I can go back.”

“A cold isn’t normal,” Lance says before he can stop himself, “Wait, no I mean it isn’t life-threatening, he’ll be fine, but that is a sickness, is what I’m trying to say.”

Keith is shooting daggers at him with cold violet eyes from underneath his Marmora hood and Lance wants to shrivel up a little, “It is really common for humans though, I’m sure he’s fine.”

“I am fine!” Keith grumbles, but he does sound stuffed up and he hasn’t taken that hood off yet.

“I’ll be back in three or four quintants, not before,” Kolivan sounds like he’s scolding a small child and Keith must feel the same because he bristles, “Get well.”

Keith deflates at these last words because even Lance can tell they’re not coming from a place of malice. It’s not affection, exactly, but it’s something close enough.

Kolivan climbs back into the cockpit, giving Lance an awkward sort of wave that Lance doesn’t know how to interpret. He ends up smiling and giving Kolivan a thumbs up as the Blade member starts his ship.

“Come on Keith, we’ve gotta be in the airlock before Kolivan can leave,” Lance says, almost conversationally. Keith doesn’t acknowledge him for a long moment, too busy staring at Kolivan’s ship with an unreadable expression. “Keith?”

That finally snaps the older boy out of it, and he pushes his hood off his head, letting it puddle around his neck. His hair is a mess and there are dark shadows under his eyes, but Lance isn’t sure if that’s because he’s sick or just not getting enough sleep. Maybe both?

They make their way back to relative safety, watching Kolivan take off. Keith seems resigned to the fact that he’s stuck here for the time being and slumps against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest in a gesture of defeat.

Pidge, Hunk, Allura and Shiro are hurrying down the hallway, varying degrees of concern on their faces.

“What’s going on?” Allura asks, her white hair almost ethereal as it floats around her face. Figures she could make even bedhead look good.

“I’m staying here for a few days,” Keith grumbles, cutting Lance off before he can speak. His expression morphs into something more hesitant before he says, “If that’s alright.”

“Of course it’s alright,” Pidge frowns, “Why? Are you okay?”

Keith darts a glare in Lance’s general direction, “I’m fine.”

“Okay…” Hunk says, clearly knowing something’s wrong but unsure of how to address it, “That’s cool man. We’ll be glad to have you around again! We’ve all missed you, you know.”

“Yeah I…” Keith clears his throat, not meeting anyone’s eyes, “I missed you guys too. I’m gonna go sleep now.”

He pushes past them all into the darkness of the castle hall. Everyone’s staring at Lance and he shrugs, “I dunno man. Kolivan just kinda dropped him off.”

“Well, we can check on him in the morning,” Shiro says tiredly, rubbing a hand across his face, “Everyone get some rest.”

Keith isn’t at breakfast the next morning. No one else seems particularly concerned by this fact, except maybe Hunk, who had made an extra helping. Once he’d explained the reason Keith was here, everyone seemed to feel it prudent to leave him to his own devices.

“He’s sick, Lance,” Pidge says as she pats him on the shoulder, “Let him rest.”

“What if he’s like… really sick?” Lance asks but Shiro shakes his head.

“Lance we’ve got training to do. I need you to get focused, alright? Keith will be fine on his own.” his tone leaves no room for argument.

Lance isn’t so sure about that but… maybe Shiro knows best. He’s been taking care of Keith for a long time - if anyone knows what to do in case of a sick Keith, it’s him.

And besides, Shiro does eventually check on Keith, when he isn’t present at their lunch break either.

Lance’s room is just down the hall, so when he leaves after changing, he sees Shiro knocking on Keith’s door with his Galra hand, “Keith? Hey buddy, we’re all getting a little worried that we haven’t seen you since last night.”

There’s a moment of silence and then Keith opens the door, looking tired, “Sorry, I think the Blade’s schedule is a little off from yours. I’m normally asleep right now.”

“Why don’t you come eat with us?” Shiro asks, and then he says, almost nonchalantly, “You can train with us after dinner if you’d like. We’re going to have a sparring session once we finish up the inventory in this part of Olkarion.”

“Sounds great,” Keith looks up as Shiro pats him on the shoulder. Lance wants to pull out some of his hair because training is exactly what someone with a cold shouldn’t be doing, but like Shiro’s reminded him in the past, this isn’t his call.

So he stays quiet and makes his way toward the kitchen.

Keith shows up for training looking… wrecked.

It would be funny if not for the fact that he fully intends to train with them and Shiro obviously intends to let him.

“Come on dude, you need to sleep,” Lance shakes his head, powering down his training bot, “You look awful.”

He looks like he’s been fighting the simulation for hours already. There’s sweat plastering his hair to his forehead and his skin is paler than usual. His lips are dry and look like they could use a solid smattering of chapstick or like… some water, because he’s obviously dehydrated.

“Lance!” Shiro shouts from across the room, “No one told you to stop training.”

“But Keith-” Lance begins to protest.

“Keith is here to train just like the rest of us. We all have to be in top shape if we’re going to take down the rebel Galra factions.”

“He’s sick, Shiro-”

“He can make his own decisions, Lance. Leave him alone and get back to your training,” Shiro crosses his arms over his chest, his own training bot powering down, “Are you ready Keith?”

Keith nods his gaze sliding away from Lance and to Shiro with an almost apologetic feel to it. Like he’s upset he got Lance in trouble. Lance doesn’t want to think about it because Shiro is still glaring at him and he resigns himself to the hell the next few hours is going to be. He’s already sore and he just knows Shiro’s going to make him spar with him at some point.

They end up doing a team exercise instead. There are six gladiators gathered around them, each with a bo staff. The objective is to keep your enemy away from the rest of the group long enough for back up to arrive. It makes sense, in case their fighting someone they can’t defeat, but it makes Lance’s arms ache as he blasts the bot over and over again.

They’re about a minute away from completing the task, much to Lance’s relief, when a bo staff slams into the back of his knees and he goes down. The bot jabs him in the ribs and his air escapes him in a painful rush, leaving him gasping and exposed on the mat. Keith’s there in an instant, shoving the bot away from him, but the damage is done and the simulation ends.

“I’m sorry,” Keith croaks from where he’s standing with his blade clutched loosely in his left hand, “I guess I’m too used to solo missions.”

It must have been him who let the bot through. Lance hadn’t been able to see what happened, Allura had been between him and Keith, but it’s obvious by Keith’s chagrined expression that he was the one that slipped.

“It’s f-” Lance is about to say when Shiro interrupts him.

“Keith, I know you aren’t a part of this team anymore, but you’ve got to do better than that. You dropped your guard and the bot took advantage of it. Is this how the Blade is training you to perform in combat? Because somehow I don’t think they’d approve either.”

Keith’s eyes are wide as he glances over at Shiro, “I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Shiro says and his tone is kind but his expression is exasperated, “Just do better next time. Alright team, let’s break for the night. We can try again tomorrow if Keith is still here.”

That’s the moment. That’s when Lance knows that something’s wrong with Shiro. If Shiro was himself, there was no way he’d ever have said anything like that to Keith. He would know better, would know that something like that is exactly what Keith doesn’t need to hear.

They’re all standing there still, kind of frozen with confusion and alarm. There’s a moment when they all glance at one another like “yep something’s off” but it passes as Keith brushes through them and exits after Shiro without a word.

Lance is a light sleeper. They all are now. He misses the days when he could sleep through three alarms and wake up in the middle of a Saturday feeling well rested.

That’s why he wakes when he hears someone shuffling past his door at what has to be three in the morning. Time is weird on the castle ship, but they make it work best they can, sleeping whenever the opportunity presents itself. It’s not unusual for one of them to be up in what seems like the middle of the night.

What is unusual is that Lance’s room is the furthest down the hall to the left, but that’s where the noise is coming from. Well, it’s the furthest when Keith’s not here-

Keith. Why is he awake? Pidge had checked on him after training, but he’d been passed out, sleeping with his blankets tucked nearly over his head.

Lance pulls on his slippers and a robe, squinting when he enters the bright light of the hallway. Keith really shouldn’t be up and around. He’s here because he’s sick, not to help them train, no matter what Shiro seems to think.

He doesn’t know where Keith might be headed for a second, but then shakes his head because he’s going to the training room, of course. It’s Keith. Where else would he go?

Lance makes it there just in time to see Keith block a particularly hard hit from a bot with a bo staff. Is he… is he running the same simulation as earlier?

Keith doesn’t seem to notice Lance standing there for a long minute until he happens to glance toward the doorway. He doesn’t react, just keeps pivoting and slashing until there’s sweat dripping from his forehead into his eyes and his t-shirt is soaked with it. His eyes are red-rimmed and his movements are sluggish. Lance wonders how long it's going to take before-

Ah, yep. Keith takes a hard hit to the upper arm, and a grunt is pulled from his chapped lips as he abruptly switches hands, fighting with his left instead of his right. The bot smashes it’s staff against his thigh next and Keith winces, blocking the next few blows with his knife successfully.

“Keith, come on. Stop it.” Lance finds himself saying, stepping onto the mat, “You need to rest. You’re sick.”

Keith doesn’t answer. He ignores Lance, parrying a hard swing from the bot only to leave himself open to its side kick. It hits him in the ribs and Keith stumbles backward.

“Keith!” Lance exclaims, but the boy doesn’t listen to him, an angry snarl twisting his features until Lance shouts, “Can’t you see you’re hurting yourself?”

Keith sits, abruptly. His legs give out and he just folds to the floor, a blank expression on his face.

“End training sequence!” Lance yells before the bot can smack him again, “End training sequence! Oh man, oh geez I’m sorry did I say something-”

He rushes forward. Keith has his head in his hands, but when Lance reaches out to touch him, he flinches away.

“No,” Keith whispers and Lance steps back, giving him space.

Keith is shivering. Lance isn’t sure if it’s because of a fever or because he’s upset and he’s kind of nervous to find out. Keith wobbles to his feet, keeping his head down and his gaze averted. He makes it to the wall of the training room, using it to keep himself steady until he enters the locker room. The door slams shut behind him with an odd feeling of finality.

Lance thinks he should get Shiro, that this is one of those situations that he may not be equipped to handle, but then he remembers that Shiro is the one who brought the situation around in the first place. He doesn’t want to wake any of the others up. Maybe Coran could… no. Lance is awake, Lance is here, he’s Keith’s friend and he can do this.

He squares his shoulders and marches into the locker room, stiff-arming the door open. He fully intends to give Keith a stern lecture on how much he means to the team and that they just want him to get better, but when Lance enters the open area beyond, there’s no one in sight.

He pauses, because he’s sure he saw Keith enter here. He’s positive. He’s about to turn around and check if Keith someone managed to slip into the hallway or something when he hears one of the showers in the very back of the room turn on.

Oh lord. Is Keith naked? He hopes not. That would be a tad awkward. He thinks about leaving again because quiznak he’s only seventeen and he doesn’t know what he’s doing but he takes a deep breath and walks back toward the sound.

“Keith?” he asks, “Make a noise if you’re naked or I shouldn’t come in.”

He waits, but there’s nothing. There’s a t-shirt puddled up against the tile wall, but otherwise, it’s the only article of clothing present. That’s a good sign, right?

He pulls aside the shower curtain to find Keith sitting on the floor, his hands wrapped around his shins and his head resting on his knees. He doesn’t say anything when Lance shuts the curtain behind him and in a moment of reckless abandon, steps into the stream of water next to him. He sits next to Keith, one hand elbow on one knee, the other leg outstretched.

“Hey man,” Lance says, unsure of what he’s supposed to do in this situation, “Are you okay?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, of course Keith isn’t okay, who sits in the shower with their clothes on if they’re okay-

“No,” Keith murmurs, but he doesn’t sound angry or judgemental about Lance’s dumb question. He shivers again, more violently this time, and Lance turns up the temperature of the water, “I’m cold. Really cold.”

“I think that’s ‘cause you have a fever,” Lance keeps his tone even and soothing. Keith lifts his head, letting it fall back against the wall.

“I don’t feel… great,” Keith admits and Lance offers a wry smile.

“Couldn’t tell.”

“I’m sorry for…” Keith makes a gesture with his hand in the direction of the training room.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” Lance shrugs, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Keith’s quiet for a long moment. His eyes slide closed and Lance thinks for a moment he’s fallen asleep before he begins to speak “Shiro’s always been there for me. It’s… hard to do this without him. I don’t… being away… it’s what I need to do, but when I come back it seems like Shiro doesn’t understand anymore. And I think maybe I’ve finally broken it.”

“Broken what?” Lance thinks that maybe Keith’s fever is higher than he originally thought because the boy’s words start to slur together at the end.

“Us,” he moves one hand to point at himself, then at Lance, “He’s dealt with a lot and I think this is what is going to finally make him leave.”

“He’s not going to leave you,” Lance says. He thinks about saying something, about how off Shiro has been recently but he doesn’t want to add that on to Keith’s plate, “He’s just been really busy lately is all. Hasn’t been getting enough sleep. I’m sure if you talk to him he’ll tell you the same thing.”

Keith nods. His eyes open again but they’re slightly unfocused, “Shiro used to say that same thing to me. When I was… when I self-harmed.”

“He’d say what?” Lance asked, confused.

“‘Can’t you see you’re hurting yourself?’” Keith blinks, turning to look at Lance, “I forget, sometimes that I don’t have to cut to hurt myself.”

“Did it help?” Lance asks, because he doesn’t want to make things worse. God forbid they find themselves in this situation again, he wants to say the right thing.

“Yeah,” Keith sighs, “Yeah.”

“Good.”

They stay like that for a while, just letting the water patter against their heads. It's soothing and Lance thinks he might actually fall asleep.

Finally, he shifts slightly, grimacing at the way his soaked jeans cling to his skin, “You as ready for bed as I am?”

Keith groans, “Yes. Shit, I’m tired.”

“You wouldn’t be if you had actually listened to us when we told you to sleep,” Lance scolds, but there’s no heat behind it.

He helps Keith stand. His clothes are soaked but he’s got nothing to change into and they forgot towels so they leave a trail of water from the locker rooms to Keith’s bedroom. They change and then Lance slips back into his room, only to find Keith half asleep against his bedroom wall.

“Alright, time for bed,” Lance grunts, manhandling the half-conscious Keith back under his covers. He lays a hand across Keith’s forehead and sighs, rubbing at his own temples, “Jesus man, your fever is outta control. You’ve got to say something!”

Keith mutters something unintelligible and Lance frowns. There's nothing else he can do but wake Coran, and the two of them raid the medicine cabinet for something that could potentially help with a human cold.

When he returns, Keith is asleep. He shakes the boy awake, gently forcing him to drink the cup of grape smelling liquid that Coran assured him would help. The Altean man stands right outside the doorway, not wanting to alarm Keith who seems pretty out of it, but still there in case his assistance is needed.

Almost instantly, Keith’s skin begins to cool and Lance lets out a sigh of relief. He starts to back away, only for Keith’s hand to shoot out and snag his wrist.

“I have to do it, you know,” Keith mumbles. He still looks asleep, but his words are clear enough.

“Do what?” Lance whispers.

“Fight with the Blade. I have to prove that I can be on my own, that I can take care of myself.”

“Keith you’ve already proved that, many times over.”

“Not to myself,” he sighs and then lets go of Lance, rolling over so that his face is pressed into the pillow.

Well, Lance isn’t quite sure what to make of that. He doesn’t mention it the next morning when he checks on Keith to see that his fever has broken, and aside from being tired, he seems to be fine. He doesn’t mention it when Keith joins them for lunch and dinner, when he stays for movie night. He doesn’t mention it when he waves goodbye as Kolivan shuts the door to the Blade’s ship with Keith inside.

There are a lot of things that Lance probably should have mentioned, namely that Shiro wasn’t… well Shiro, but that night? That wasn’t one of them.