Chapter Text
“The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds, cut out of the sun…”
-Read My Mind, The Killers
-/-
Keith’s pen scratched for a bit on his scrap piece of paper. It had a good ink, the pen. That wasn’t the problem. He scratched and scratched, and still could not think of the words he wanted to say.
His message was simple, of course, and he doubted anyone would find it anyway. But he wanted to make it good. After all, these were the last words of this life, going into the next one. He'd be a new Keith after all this.
Keith’s legs swung from his desk chair. He was eleven years old and he was no closer to the growth spurts his peers in school all celebrated than he was to ever finding a place he belonged.
Biting his lip, Keith took out another sheet from his book bag. He had gotten the extra paper from his foster father’s home office and it was obviously one he didn't care for–kept simply because it was still good. It was yellowing from age and had a single fold at one corner, but it was blank and that was good enough.
Keith didn't want to write on it yet. When he started, there would be no turning back and, despite deciding this was for the best, Keith lingered in this life for a little longer. At least, here, he could pretend. Once he wrote this, and buried the thoughts, the dreams, somewhere safe, somewhere deep, he wouldn't allow himself the luxury of pretending.
Pretending he had a future. Pretending things would get better–that he would find a family of his own.
Pretending that he could hold on to one–just one–good thing in his miserable life.
He scratched again with his cheap dollar store pen on the scrap piece, watching the thin black lines go across, appearing under the magic tip. There were harsh zig-zags across and, in some places, they had created holes. Now, Keith was a little gentler, tracing swirls and absent-minded patterns across the already present blue lines of the white space.
He let his thoughts go. He let his hopes breathe free and curl his lips upward. Then, his pen stopped.
His smile became a line, firmer and straighter than any on the page, even as harsh as his earlier scribbles had been. Keith's eyes drifted to the yellowing paper, wondering, if it was yellow now, what would it be years from then?
Impulsively, because Keith had always been rather impulsive, he pulled the paper to him and started. His hopes fell away and he pushed his dreams aside.
Keith's wide, adolescent eyes sombered and he leaned closer to make his letters as clear as he could.
And, as those words spilled from him to the paper, as Keith sealed the letter in a long, white envelope, and approached the deadened tree down the road, he let go.
He let go, but he still wondered… continued to wonder for years to come...
Had he always been destined to end up alone?
-/-
It was an early Wednesday morning. Like, an early Wednesday morning. It was 4:30 am. Keith was in some convenience store downtown attempting to arrest a guy that didn’t seem to realize what sleep was, or that most people required it–even superheroes.
Keith should have been asleep in bed right about then, but he was there, in a dark aisle, surrounded by bags of chips and the blaring of the store alarm. He was trying to pin where the guy kept disappearing to, because, apparently, it wasn’t enough to deal with some amateur robber at ungodly hours of the morning. No, he also had to handle the guy’s powers too, something Keith had never actually faced in the few months he’d been working with Voltron, which had led to being taken by surprise–not a great thing when Keith was tired and hot as hell, wearing paladin armor in the middle of July.
“Over here!” an exclamation sounded behind his back and Keith instinctively spun and slashed with his sword. Sword, not knife. Months, and he was still getting used to the whole Bayard thing. “Missed me!” the voice teased, behind him again. Keith growled and spun once more. This was getting him nowhere.
Where the heck was Lance when he needed him? Keith bet his long range skills would surely come in handy with the guy, who could disappear and reappear out of the shadows. He’d even hoped Pidge would pick up the call, despite the fact that they slept like a brick. Pidge had arrived back in Altea months ago, shortly after Shiro had revealed his connection with Matt, but, even with two new paladins, things weren’t any better.
Chaos had erupted in Altea after the Galra’s main base had been taken down. Lance was no longer fighting the streets alone, but even the addition of Pidge and Keith couldn’t balance the sudden upheaval of criminal activity in the city. Somehow, the Galra had actually been keeping things in order. Organized criminal activity, not whatever this was now.
Another sudden “Boo!” had Keith spinning again and the guy punched him right in the gut. Ugh, that was going to bruise.
Lance had to be coming soon, right? He'd only just left for work when Allura’s text had roused Keith, who'd only just collapsed back into bed. But Keith shook his head at the thought. He could handle this guy on his own. It would be difficult, but he had this. It wasn't like he was completely useless.
Still, ever since Keith had become an official paladin of Voltron, fighting beside Lance–his boyfriend, soulmate, and, now, recent teammate–had been his favorite part of the gig and one of the only things that kept him grounded in the chaotic city where they now lived.
Altea was so much different than it had been a few months ago.
Keith sidestepped just as a fist came hurling from the shadows, intent on making another purple mark in Keith's gut. Keith almost knocked into a shelf of chips. “Hey, idiot,” Keith called out gruffly, irritation getting the better of him. “Why don't you drop the bag, I'll cuff you, and you can get some shut eye in a nice jail cell. It's too early to be up, criminal intent or not.”
“It's funny you say that, Red Paladin ,” the guy said and, with a sinking heart, Keith knew exactly where this was going. It was all the talk in Altea these days, every article headlining the newspapers. “How do you get to act all high and mighty these days? You’ve done a whole lot worse than I have.”
And, no matter how many times Keith overheard it, read it, faced it as angry citizens protested on the streets, it never stung any less.
Keith wanted to tell the guy off–tell him exactly what the differences were between them. That Keith hadn't had a choice in what he was doing. That Keith's crime was behind him now. But Keith wasn't good with words, or calming himself down enough to convince some guy he didn't owe an explanation. Keith was good at action.
So he charged the guy. And, just as Keith was slashing his bayard, shadow-man once again disappeared.
With a frustrated growl, Keith tightened his hand on the sword, surveying the shop. This guy really could have escaped already; what was he doing? Ticking Keith off on purpose?
That was when Keith saw the villain slip out the door, as if on cue, and had to bolt after him. He was going to escape–shit shit shit shi-
And that was when Lance arrived, swooping in out of the blue… on Blue. As soon as his lion hit the ground, he jumped off and tackled the guy to the ground with only his feet, planting one foot firmly to the guy's back and kept him kissing the concrete. Lance glanced down at him, looking as if the effort had been nothing at all, then up to Keith. Keith could feel a smug aura radiating from his stupid soulmate.
“Hey, Red,” Lance said from his proud perch. The guy groaned beneath him but neither hero took much mind. “Miss me?”
Keith rolled his eyes and rested his weight on one leg, still in the door to the convenience store and knowing Lance wouldn’t be able to see the exasperated gesture behind their tinted helmets. “You left like an hour ago.”
“And what a lonely hour it must have been,” Lance said and Keith could practically feel the smirk from behind Lance’s visor.
“Come on. Just cuff the guy so I can go sleep, like I should have been an hour ago,” Keith said, crossing his arms and deactivating his bayard. Lance sighed dramatically.
“But I can’t go sleep. No fair.”
“Sometimes life’s not fair. It’s sure not fair where this guy’s heading,” Keith said, nodding to the ground at their captured foe.
“Excuse,” Lance scolded, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense and Keith felt a smile come on at his soulmate’s antics. “Our judicial system is quite fair.”
A wheeze came from the ground and they both looked down. “If it was any semblance of fair,” the guy said, meeting Keith’s eyes indignantly, “This guy would be locked up for the rest of his life.”
And there it was again, the cold dripping in his heart, blood stopping in its normal run to instead leak like a lifeless faucet. Keith could tell Lance had frozen as well, staring down at the guy, but, before his soulmate could come to his senses, and Keith’s aid, Keith stepped over and cuffed the guy himself.
“I don’t recall asking your opinion,” he said, lifting the guy after Lance had stepped off. He hoisted the criminal over to Red, ready to haul him off to the station and be rid of him forever.
“Red,” Lance called behind him, worry evident in his voice. It was always the same. Over these past few months, the blows had never stopped coming. The city was in outrage over the refuge Voltron had provided him, a criminal, and one of the worst ones at that. Reporters swarmed for answers whenever a lion was spotted; citizens shouted their outrage; newspapers always asked: What is Voltron thinking?
The team had taken a lot of abuse for the simple fact that Keith was now among them, that a paladin was shown to be above the law in their eyes. The city blamed them, the police didn’t trust them, and the mayor himself spoke out against them. None of that was a surprise though, especially after everything Keith personally had done to the mayor.
It wasn’t only Keith they were mad at, and that was probably the worst thing. Keith had made this mistake, Keith had done so many wrong things, and his friends were paying for it. They got yelled and glared at when they were paladins. They had to idly listen as people cursed them in the streets, when they were nothing but citizens and unable to defend themselves because no one could know . Shiro, Lance, Allura, Coran, Pidge, even Hunk all the way in Balmera, had to deal with it all for his sake.
And, still, Lance cared enough to worry about him . Keith knew it all hurt Lance just as much as it did him, yet Keith still did not have that power, far beyond anything the lions could give him. He did not have the power to help them.
So he refused help in return.
“I got this, Blue,” Keith said at last to his soulmate’s worry, not turning to watch when that worry would not fade. “Go take care of your business.”
Lance must have picked up on Keith’s mood because, next thing the Red Paladin knew, Lance was making his way to Blue from the corner of his eye.
“Alright,” he said softly, understandingly, and, again, it was something that Keith did not deserve. “See you later.” Keith nodded, then, Lance was gone in a gust of wind and Keith was left with Red and a criminal who didn’t know when to shut his trap.
“The great Red Paladin…” the guy leered and Keith sighed. This was going to be a long fly over to the station.
-/-
Dropping criminals off at the police station as Red was never a fun ordeal. No one trusted him, and Keith knew it was for good reason. Still, the narrowed eyes and passing whispers he could go without.
Keith made sure to get in and out as quickly as he could, shoulders tense and mouth in a grimace that he still tried to suppress even knowing it was impossible to see through the helmet. He was sure the cops could hear it in his voice. Then again, they did a piss poor job of concealing their own contempt, so Keith didn't feel too bad.
When Keith arrived back at HQ, he didn’t bother to update anyone before slinking off to his and Lance’s room, collapsing on the bed without taking his armor off. Keith was exhausted, and the blame no longer rested on the fact that he was up so early.
Through droopy eyes, Keith wondered if it would be acceptable to sleep the day away and ditch work. He felt like burrowing into the blankets and pillows and never coming out.
In the end, he decided to keep his alarm on and get what sleep he could before curling up, ready to succumb to the clutches of sweet unconsciousness. Still, he did not sleep. As horribly, exhaustingly tired as he was, his thoughts would not let him go.
The city was slowly wearing him down, it felt like. It was obvious he was unwelcome here, in Altea, as the Red Paladin, but the paranoia did not stop there.
The civilians were unsure, and that bred fear and contempt. The people felt alienated from Voltron, who now protected infamous villains and refused to let the judicial system take Keith in. More than ever, the people were fearful of their hidden identities. More specifically, the Red Paladin’s identity.
“He could be anyone,” he’d heard someone in his office say just last week. “Maybe they’re not even a he? What if they're not even human?”
As strange as it sounded, anything was possible and the unknown made people scared. The situation was spiraling out of control and Keith couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop the hate in their eyes. He couldn’t stop the fear in their voices. He couldn’t stop the hurt it brought him and the consequences to the rest of his team.
Keith couldn’t stop the divide it split into each of their consciences: the need to help their city, or to help him.
He couldn't stop his fears, his nightmares.
Try as he could, he could not stop any of it. Not the simplest of his worries. He couldn’t ignore everything that frightened him–so much these days, it seemed.
It helped that he rarely woke Lance with the nightmares. That was, at least, one realm of control he seemed to have these days.
Most nights, Keith would start awake, breath caught and heart beating like a hummingbird’s. He seldom startled Lance enough to wake him, and he was grateful, but it left him alone.
The dark room would wrap him in terrifying nothingness until his mind caught up and his vision adjusted. In the past, that would be where Keith would remain, as still as possible, hands clutching the sheets and eyes darting around the darkness. Since sleeping beside another person, though, Keith had learned to lean into that warmth, take comfort in it. He didn’t dare wake Lance, but never had he that comfort before when he had nightmares.
Beside a sleeping Lance, Keith could work to tear the nightmares from his mind and feel safe again.
But, on some nights, he did wake Lance up. He would thrash or shout and blink through the dark to find himself in Lance’s arms, a soothing shush coming from his lips. Keith would be grateful, at first, then would come the guilt.
Last night Keith had had another one of those nightmares. Last night, he had woken Lance.
Only half awake, Keith had been a bit delirious. He’d kept wiping his hands against the blankets. Wiping wiping wiping, because he had wanted to get it off–there had been so much-
Blood.
Lance had held his hands to stop their motions, and their warmth had brought Keith back to Earth, little by little.
“Shiro or the mayor?”
Keith had shaken his head, and Lance had taken that to mean he didn't want to talk about it. He hadn’t, but the shake had been because Lance was wrong- his words were wrong- And Keith couldn’t stop thinking about the-
Blood.
He knew Lance hadn’t fallen back to sleep that night. For a while, Keith hadn’t been able to either. He was refraining himself from rubbing, wiping the horrible mess off.
When his alarm had gone off in the morning, Keith woke up, without memory of drifting back to sleep. Lance, however had been too alert for someone who’d just woken up.
Back in the present, dimly lit room, the rumpled bed he shared with Lance, but so achingly devoid of his soulmate, Keith felt guilty for trying to go back to sleep. Why should he when, because of him, Lance had gotten none himself? It seemed wrong.
He knew he couldn’t control something like having nightmares , but something in Keith just wouldn’t let him doze when Lance was out working, probably exhausted because of him.
If he were honest with himself, he might have admitted that it was hard going to sleep without Lance at all, guilt be damned.
A while later, Keith’s alarm went off and he stared at it longer than necessary, thinking and thinking of nothing at all. It was time to get up, time for work.
Keith’s hand found its way to the phone and turned the sound off. He was almost grateful. He’d rather be sitting at a cramped desk than alone in that bed.
So Keith sighed and climbed to his feet, prepared to ready himself to leave.
-/-
Lance hadn’t been tired that day until he finally got off of his feet, which, luckily, wasn’t until he was off work and back in HQ. He could have gone to sleep right then and there, he was so tired, but, after last night, he could only feel right going to bed with Keith.
Keith tried to hide it, but Lance knew he wasn't doing too well at the moment. None of them were, and none of them wanted to admit it, but, with Keith, Lance had exclusive insight. He knew about the nightmares and he knew about the trauma the Galra had left him with more than anyone - maybe not by relatability, but from proximity.
So, Lance was worried for his soulmate. He wondered how much Keith hid from him, about the nightmares and the slander in the streets. That was what terrified Lance the most - the not knowing, and the not being told.
He didn’t push Keith. He didn’t tell him how much this scared him. There was too much to worry about already.
And they had agreed on trust.
But he couldn’t forget the weight of a secret laid out in the open, of the months and months of lies. He couldn’t forget the feeling of betrayal, of shock and despair that surged through him. Most importantly, though, was what he feared most to be repeated. He remembered realizing what Keith had gone through, and been hopeless to help at all.
He remembered standing in their apartment’s kitchen once, an apartment they could no longer have because of issues with their identities. There, Keith had broken down, holding onto Lance like a lifeline. Lance had been lost and afraid and hurt because Keith was hurt, so so hurt, and wouldn’t even tell him why.
Lance had learned what had happened that day, all for Lotor’s sick sport and a psychotic command for allegiance - allegiance won by deliberately breaking a part of Keith forever.
Lance had thought about that a lot. Last night, he’d thought about it so much that he hadn’t been able to get back to sleep.
He had been relieved Keith had been able to get back to sleep after his nightmare, but it certainly wasn’t enough. They both needed sleep badly, but Lance refused until he could drag Keith with him.
Which was how he ended up dozing in the lounge.
“Lance?” a soft voice woke him, nudging his foot and causing him to blearily blink open his crusty eyes. The room was bright, but not blinding, and, standing before him, was none other the most beautiful man in the world.
“Keith,” Lance greeted with a sleepy grin, and a small, fond smile formed on Keith’s lips. Lance liked seeing this Keith. He rarely saw soft, fond Keith.
“Go to bed, idiot,” Keith said, his voice careful, but warm. Lance continued to smile up at him.
“Only if you come with me,” he said and he knew Keith wouldn’t say no to his sleepy plea. Keith rolled his eyes, but nonetheless nodded and agreed, motioning him forward. Lance stood up slowly, eyes all the while on his beautiful soulmate... Lance may have gotten really sappy when he was tired.
But Lance happily followed Keith out of the lounge and down the hall, vaguely remembering that he - and probably Keith too - hadn’t eaten. “Are you hungry?” he asked, trying to blink some of the tiredness from his eyes.
Keith raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”
Lance shook his head, answering honestly, “Too tired.”
When they got to the room, Lance flung himself down on the bed. Screw pajamas.
Keith laid down with him, and Lance threw an arm over his chest, sighing contently and already near blissful unconsciousness. Now that they were there together, now that he could be sure that Keith was by his side and not in danger and would get sleep and Lance would be there if he had another nightmare, now he could really go to sleep.
“Night, Keith,” he mumbled and Keith rested his head against his.
“Night, Lance,” Keith replied and Lance peeked open his eye just a little.
Because, when he peeked open his eye just a little and when Keith’s voice was soft like this, Lance could sometimes catch that beautifully unguarded smile on his soulmate’s lips. He could see an expression that Keith showed no one, not even him, because it was so raw, so real, and so safe behind Keith’s walls. And, usually, that look was directed at him.
Lance wanted to see it one day without hiding. He and Keith had agreed on trust, but some things would take time. And Lance would wait forever for this one.
Lance closed his eyes again and listened to Keith’s breaths slow. He was fighting sleep, Lance could tell it. He must have felt guilty over last night; he always did when he woke Lance up, but Lance knew how to calm him down. That was why he insisted on going to sleep together on nights like these.
Lance only wished he knew that was what Keith wanted too. He never talked about his nightmares, about his fears, about… there was a lot he didn’t talk about, now that Lance thought about it. They had agreed on trust, yet Keith still had his barriers up.
Did Keith want his help? Was Lance even helping at all?
Did Keith really need him? Did Keith need him as much as Lance needed Keith?
Probably not. He had survived for so long on his own - had found Shiro on his own, worked against the Galra, and Lance hadn’t known what was right under his nose for months.
But they had agreed on trust. Lance wouldn’t ask because he had to trust Keith. Because Keith said he was trusting him too.
If Keith didn’t need Lance as much as Lance needed him, then he could live with that. Just being with him was enough; just knowing Keith was content to be with him was enough .
So Lance allowed himself to drift off, stars outside their window winking with their wonders and secrets, keeping that in mind.
Just that was enough, for now.
-/-
“The Galra haven’t been active since our take-down of their base, but they are still out there. We must be attentive,” Allura was saying in their weekly conference. She often said something along these lines, ever paranoid about the Galra, it seemed.
“Allura, we know ,” Lance said, predictably, but unwisely. “It’s been months since we’ve heard anything of them. Isn’t the city as it is now enough trouble?”
“They know three of our identities now, Lance,” Allura countered, same as ever and eyes narrowed. “They could use that against us, not to mention the chaos in the city, which you’ve just pointed out, and our situation with the lions. We’re distracted and unguarded.”
“Keith says he’s got it! Right, Keith?” Lance asked and Keith wanted to put his head in his hands. Why did he have to get dragged into this?
“Yeah,” he answered, somewhat uneasily as he shot looks between Allura and Lance. They both saw right through it and, now, Allura’s attention was solely on him.
“You’ve been out in the field. I thought your bond was better now?” Allura asked, sounding borderline furious. Lance looked like he had realized his mistake, as he was now the one glancing between them.
“It is!” Keith answered eagerly, and probably a bit too defensively. “Red and I are good.”
Allura narrowed her eyes again, this time at him, but he decided to look at Lance instead. Then, when Lance gave him that guilty look for getting him into this mess, he looked away. Lance shouldn’t feel guilty. All the animosity between Allura and him was his own fault.
The truth was, Red and Keith were not good. For months, ever since that day the Galra had shot him up with their special serum to sever their bond, they hadn’t been the same. Red still liked him, but he didn’t trust Keith as entirely as he once had. When Keith turned and expected him to be there, he wasn’t. When Keith called, sometimes Red wouldn’t even hear. And it wasn’t so much that Red hated him now. He could feel Red’s frustration at the situation as strongly as his own. There was just a… disconnect between them. Something in them had disappeared. The bond wasn’t whole.
But he could still perform his paladin duties. He had to. The city was in too much upheaval for him to sit back, especially when Shiro still wasn’t prepared to go back in. His brother was still adjusting to his arm and mending his own bond with his lion. Keith had almost hoped they had similar problems with their lions when Red had started to fade from him, but, with Shiro, it was entirely different. It had been merely time and distance that had hurt their bond. Shiro’d had the Galra’s serum before, but the effects had never lasted. His bond was still whole.
So to say that Keith was a bit lost would be an understatement. He was confused and a little scared at the situation, he’d admit… at least to himself. He really hadn’t been with Red for all that long but he felt the loss of their bond like a cut from a knife.
“I need paladins that are a little more than just ‘good’ with their lions, Keith,” Allura said and it sounded like a warning. At this, Keith’s brows furrowed and he looked up to where she stood at the head of the table in frustration.
“Really? I thought you needed all the paladins you could get right now?” he shot back and the room went silent. It wasn’t the first time he’d talked back to her, but it still put them all on edge. Keith knew he shouldn’t have - it was bad enough there was so much animosity at Voltron, much less conflict on the inside - but it wasn’t in his nature to sit back and take bullshit he didn’t deserve.
He deserved a lot with what he had done, but he did not deserve shit for helping them protect the city.
So, rather than deal with the aftermath, Keith decided to get up and leave. Run away. It was what he was good at.
It wasn’t long until Shiro caught up with him in the hallway. It didn’t surprise Keith, but it did make him wonder how much Lance was now squirming to get out of that room. Usually, Shiro was the diplomat when it came to Allura’s contempt for Keith and, without Shiro there, Keith hoped Lance didn’t do something stupid.
“Woah, slow down there,” his brother said and Keith huffed and complied, slowing his pace slightly. Shiro shook his head and matched his pace. “You know you shouldn’t pick fights with Allura.”
“Oh, so I should let her walk all over me?” Keith asked, glancing sharply at Shiro.
Shiro shook his head. “Listen, I know Allura isn’t acting fair-”
“You’ve said that before. Every time. It’s been months, Shiro!” Keith said, pace quickening again as he stomped his frustration out.
Shiro was silent for a second before he spoke up. “I know, Keith. Believe me. I’ll try talking to her again, alright?”
At this, Keith deflated and he slowed considerably. He shook his head. “No, you don’t have to do that. I know it’s not your fault.”
“I know that too, Keith, but I will anyway,” Shiro said and, suddenly his voice was sterner. “This has gone on for long enough.”
Keith looked at his brother, a little worried. Shiro rarely got this way. Serious, sure, but angry? “Shiro-”
But his brother cut him off with a wave. “You’re my brother, Keith,” he said with a serious gaze. “And, it may not seem it from your experience with her, but Allura is a good person. She’s just let her hatred for the Galra go too deep. She’s let this distrust go on long enough.”
Keith looked at him with wide eyes, recalling once when Shiro had found out someone was bullying him at school. This was the same way he had been then, protective and stern, but it was so much different now. Allura was his friend.
And Shiro had enough on his plate already. He had nightmares too, of torture and helplessness and experimentation. He was still getting use to his arm, and it seemed like, most hours of the day, he was holed up somewhere trying to find Matt with Pidge.
Each day that nothing came up, Keith could see a new weight added to his brother’s shoulders, weighing them down down down-
Keith shook his head again. “Please, Shiro,” he pleaded, looking dead into his eyes. “Leave it alone.”
At this, Shiro finally took pause, assessing his brother’s stance and demeanour, scanning with a quick, critical eye.
“Are you sure?” he finally asked, looking uncertain. Keith could see how much he wanted to help, how much he wanted to try straightening out this whole mess, but it wasn’t a mess that could simply be fixed. Keith nodded his head. Shiro sighed, his shoulders slumping down. There was that weight again, and a part of Keith felt that constant ache of guilt gnawing at his stomach.
“Can I help you and Pidge today?” Keith asked, and Shiro looked up, confused, but only for a second. He seemed to recognize the olive branch and accept it.
With a weak smile, Shiro nodded his head. “Of course, Keith.”
Everyone was getting a little hopeless these days. Allura’s temper ran at a shorter fuse. Coran’s smiles were weaker, his eyes tired. Hunk spoke with an edge of guilt when video calling in, away in Balmera.
Lance was anxious. About the voices in the street, the hatred that mounted every day. Shiro was stressed, with little sleep and a lost soulmate.
And Pidge was afraid, though they tried not to show it. They had been looking for their brother for so long, had at least gotten leads. The past few months had been radio silent, though, and Keith could tell they were fearing the worst.
That day, after a long, arduous process of hunting, searching, researching, nothing was to be found. Matt was gone, and Keith had to swallow down the horrible thought that maybe he would never be found.
He would never dare say that out loud. It would only confirm their worst fears. Shiro would be crushed. Pidge would be broken.
But their situation was looking darker every day, and it was hard to keep the possibilities away.
Maybe things wouldn’t get better.
-/-
Burke’s laboratories. It was weird getting orders to go there not to steal something.
Keith would have rather never stepped foot in the place again, but it was Allura’s orders. And Keith was doing his damn best to stay on her good side. Still, he was nervous. It had to have been the Galra who’d sent someone there. Keith didn’t want to run into anyone who knew him. It would have best to just avoid the labs in the first place.
He didn’t have such a luxury though, and he suited up. Red purred at his door, trying to hurry him up, but Keith didn’t listen to him. Despite being on call as a hero of Altea, this was one mission he had to psych himself up for.
Eventually, he couldn’t pretend putting his suit on took this much time, and he was forced out into the hallway, following his lion to the roof. From there, they took off, Red a shoot of color through the air. Keith was used to his speed, basked in it with the wind against his arms and visor. He wished he could get away with taking the helmet off, if only to feel the air around them, but knew the risk of anyone finding out was too great.
He was already afraid enough that the Galra were going to do something like that. They had three of the five paladins’ civilian identities up their sleeves and more power than they’d had in a very long time, despite their main headquarters being compromised.
When they landed on the roof of the labs, Keith leaped from Red’s back and looked down at the surface beneath his feet. Below him could be anyone, and, with his identity up their sleeve, with Lance’s and Shiro’s identities up their sleeve, they had advantages Keith didn’t.
Still, Keith had advantages too. He had been a part of the Galran ranks for a time, after all.
And, with that thought in mind, Keith strode to the door of the roof with set shoulders and a determined step. Whatever waited for him down there, Keith would be ready for it.
Just as he was reaching for the doorknob though, a low rumble sounded from behind him. He turned to look at Red who hadn’t followed like Keith thought he would.
Green , Red said and Keith paused. That was right… He was supposed to wait for Pidge and Green to come. They both were on duty, after all.
But the Galra was already in the labs. They could get away if Keith didn’t do something.
“Stand guard,” he said, turning back to the door. “Tell them I’m already inside when they get here.”
There was the feeling of Red rolling his eyes in the back of Keith’s head, and Keith would have reacted in kind if he didn’t notice how distant the line between them felt once again. It was like radio static. One moment Red would be clear, the next it was difficult as hell to understand him.
Keith set his shoulders again. He wouldn’t think of that now. Now, he had better things to do. He had a villain to take down.
So he opened the door and went in. It was funny going in with the door already unlocked. It felt backwards, but it made him feel a lot better than breaking and entering had. There were a lot of things about this job that reminded him of his days with the Galra and it was always a relief when something like this contradicted it instead of dragging his guilt out, kicking and screaming.
Keith went immediately for the storage rooms, checking each in a manner like he would have if he’d come to steal the product instead of protect it. He didn’t think too much on the memory.
Still… walking these halls again… after so long being away… it was like walking through a past life.
Keith didn’t dwell on the rooms that were obviously still locked tight. A Galra wouldn’t lock themselves in a room. It was more about speed and force with them. Get in. Get the stuff. Get out. Fight your way out if you have to.
Victory or death.
Keith shivered as the words rang in his head. If he had a penny for everytime he’d heard that while he was with them, Keith would have enough to buy this entire laboratory.
Just another memory Keith shoved aside as he came to another door. He didn’t even need to check it to know it was unlocked. Whoever they’d sent had done a sloppy job breaking it open.
It could be an easy job if the guy was lazy or inexperienced enough for something like this, but Keith was wary. The Galra always had a trick up their sleeve. He couldn’t take anything at face value.
So he summoned his bayard, a long red sword in place of the purple knife his mother had given him. Apparently the knife made him look too much like a Galra, reminded people where he had come from. The sword wasn’t bad though.
Then he nudged the door open slowly, taking everything in before he stepped forward. He readied the sword in front of him, already having spotted his target. They were straightening up from where they’d been ruffling through a duffle bag, black and purple suit covering their body while a helmet covered their face. Keith wondered if this was what Lance would have seen when finding him at these very same laboratories.
A snarl came from the woman as she hoisted her body up, in a way that commanded fear. She was huge already, with broad shoulders and huge fists that looked ready to crush his head. Still, Keith did not allow himself to be afraid. He didn’t have time for something like that. Instead, he let adrenaline take over, flooding his veins.
He stooped lower, readying his fighting stance. He eyed her and, if he could have seen past the helmet, he imagined she’d be doing the same. Probably wearing a lethal snarl.
Then, something happened that Keith hadn’t been expecting. Something hit him from behind.
He fell to his knees, shock making him drop his sword and almost reaching for his head before he thought better of it and went for the sword again. It was kicked out of his reach. The woman across the room was laughing.
“Nice one, Lotor! Rip his arms off!” she encouraged and a sigh from a voice Keith knew all too well sounded from behind him.
“Zethrid, perhaps once I’m finished with him you may do so. I do not enjoy getting my hands dirty,” Lotor said, voice as aloof as ever. Keith turned, narrowing his eyes at the man. Lotor looked down, tinted visor reflecting Keith’s own. It was frustrating never seeing anyone’s facial expressions in this line of work, but Keith had never been about reading people before anyway. “Why, Keith. How good to see you.”
It wasn’t good, in case anyone was wondering. Not to Keith and it didn’t particularly sound like it for Lotor either.
“Loturd,” Keith greeted and Lotor paused and looked down at him, gracing him with a more level look at his helmet. Keith satisfactorily thought of a smug smile slipping off the guy’s sorry face.
“I see your soulmate has been telling you things,” Lotor said, voice dripping like acid. “Lance McClain, correct?”
Immediately, Keith’s own smug smirk dropped like he’d only just been thinking Lotor’s had. Lotor chuckled as Keith’s fists clenched. “What do you want?” he demanded.
“We’re in Burke’s labs, Keith. I’d think you’d already know.”
“Yeah?” Keith replied, scooting back as if he were trying to get away from Lotor. “Well that’s not going to happen.”
“Oh, really,” Lotor said, humoring him. “Might I ask why?”
Keith reached back, almost to his sword. It had been over here, right? Just a little-
“Thank you for picking that up, Zethrid,” Lotor said suddenly. “The little paladin seems to think he’ll be able to retrieve it.”
Keith’s head snapped up, looking behind him. Towering over him was Zethrid, the woman with eager fists and, now, his bayard.
Shit.
Keith sprung up and Zethrid easily pushed him back down where he landed on his butt. Keith looked up, wide-eyed. Then, Lotor came over and held out a hand. Zethrid placed the bayard in it and Lotor looked over it in interest. “Go finish up. I will take care of him,” he said and Zethrid paused for a moment, looking between them, before turning and going back to the bag in the center of the room.
Keith was left facing Lotor, which should have been less intimidating.
Instead, Keith was assaulted by a sudden memory. Hands closing around his neck. A silky, acidic voice speaking to him as the last thing he would ever hear. Everything going silent even though there should have been noise, there should have been something, and his vision was blurring-
Keith was always shaking away memories these days. He shook away this one now, focusing on Lotor and anything but his hands, holding his bayard. He needed to get it back… but he didn’t want to get near those hands…
“What is it, Red ?” Lotor so obviously mocked. “Not going to attack?”
And, well, if there’s one way to goad Keith into doing something-
He attacked.
Leaping up, Keith immediately went for a kick, trying to sweep Lotor’s feet out from under him. Lotor swept out of the way and went for a strike of his own, almost cutting across Keith’s cheek with a knife he hadn’t noticed he’d had, before Keith ducked. They danced like that for a while, both striking and dodging, missing and expertly in synch in a way that made Keith sick to think about.
Neither got in a single hit for a long time. The first blow landed, though, was by Lotor, and, with Keith taken so off guard, the match was at an end almost immediately. Lotor had him pinned to a wall in a second, knife pointed at his jugular.
“You’ve traded Galra secrets with the likes of Voltron,” Lotor said and Keith got brief satisfaction at hearing he was out of breath. That didn’t last long. “And you will pay.”
“Oh, yeah?” Keith asked, out of breath himself. “Angry I’m not under your thumb anymore?”
The knife dug in deeper and Keith only just kept in a pained yelp.
“Do you not realize the imbalance you’ve brought to this city?” Lotor asked, something sliding into his voice that Keith did not like the sound of. “There is no longer good or evil because no one trusts Voltron ,” Lotor sounded too pleased with this. “You may not be under our thumbs, but you’ve brought about something so much better. You’ve brought chaos to Altea.”
Lotor pressed the knife further, cutting his suit and drawing blood. “So things will go one of two ways,” he continued and held up a finger from the hand that gripped the knife. “Number one, Voltron tries to make this work and everything falls to pieces around you. Or,” another finger raised, “They do the only thing they can to restore order and shun you. Claim they made a mistake and hope to gain the trust of the city again.”
And to that- to that Keith had no answer. Instead, he did what he would have been dragged off to his grade school counselors yet again for doing, and lost his temper. He lifted an arm and slugged Lotor right in the head, earning himself a shallow slash at his throat and blood down his front. It wasn’t deep though. He’d live.
At least, he would until Lotor got his hands on him, which happened again in the next second. Lotor’s recovery time was scary.
Then Keith was slammed against the floor, a snarl in his face in a way very uncharacteristic from the man it came from. Keith barely thought of this with Lotor looming over him though, knife lost, but hands fully available.
The one thing Keith had been afraid of the most. He froze.
Lotor punched him hard in the face, leaving Keith blinking rapidly across the room, neck twisted to the side. Lotor didn’t like the fact that Keith refused to look up again, though, and went to grip him by the hair to tug him back. Before he could do so, he was knocked off.
Keith jumped up, finding his own recovery time impressive too. When his head swam and his feet felt too far away to steady, though, he knew he’d thought too soon.
When Keith was able to blink away the blur from his eyes, he found himself looking at two people, and not the two he had been with before. Yeah, Lotor was still there, but that wasn’t Zethrid across the room squaring off against him. It was a man in some sort of cloak and mask.
Keith didn’t know who it was, but they had saved him. He decided he could take their side for now. He held his hands up and faced Lotor, who was now looking between them.
Then, he stepped back. “I see,” he said, then turned tail and leaped out a window. Keith would have wondered what the fuck Lotor was doing, but he didn’t have time to. The other figure in the room was turning to him now.
Keith turned their way, not loosening his stance or putting down his fists. He didn’t know who this guy was, but-
“You’re a paladin of Voltron, aren’t you?” the guy asked, and Keith narrowed his eyes.
“What’s it to you?”
The guy paused, then, “Oh. Sorry let me…” then he was reaching up to his mask and pressing the side of it. Keith tensed as the mask unraveled where it was, revealing a strangely familiar face. Brown hair, friendly smile. But there was something-
The guy held out his hand, despite being way too far away for Keith to actually shake it.
“Hi, I’m-”
But there was movement behind them and they both spun, interrupted the guy to notice the short, haulted figure in the doorway. Keith immediately relaxed upon seeing the suit, identical to his, but green, the green and red lions flanking them.
Pidge looked shocked, though; Keith could tell by their body language. They spluttered for a second, then fumbled with their visor. It swished upward, revealing their face, gawking in shock, eyes fixed on the figure across the room. The stranger gasped.
Slowly, Keith was starting to put it together. It only sealed the truth when Pidge, sounding strangled and scared and so so hopeful, finally gasped.
“Matt?”