Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being captured, Lance thought, should be terrifying.

And knowing that sometime tomorrow he, Keith and Shiro would be removed from their cells, tortured for information, tortured as punishment when someone else didn’t give up information, and then probably just tortured because the Galra Empire was evil, absolutely was.

But Lance also believed in his team and he knew that they would find them before anything bad happened and quelled the worst of the panic.

And so with those two bits cancelling each other out what was left?

Boredom.

Being captured was boring with a capital B.

His cell was between Keith and Shiro’s with metal bars separating them so they had easy view into each other’s and it should have made for at least good conversation — Lance would die a little bit in excitement if Shiro shared some of his Garrison stories — but the constant armed Galran guard stationed a few paces from them and backed up by a small squadron of sentries prevented them from talking as even innocent things could be turned against them and Lance would never let a moment of boredom inadvertently give the Galrans ammunition to use against them (how, exactly talking about favorite animals or sharing a story about his siblings’ antics could do so he didn’t know but better safe than sorry). 

Not only that, but…

Shiro, despite his outwardly calm appearance as he sat in a meditative pose had a furrowed brow and there was the barest sheen of sweat at his hairline and Lance’s stomach had clenched as while this might be his first time captured it was not Shiro’s and the last time Shiro had fallen into enemy hands…

Well…

And then on the left side of him was Keith, pacing back and forth like a caged animal although after doing it for nearly three hours and two guard rotations — about an hour and a half per guard, Lance had counted, and at least to their credit they’d kept their pointy spears to themselves and hadn’t tried to poke them through the bars — he’d finally stopped, slumping to a sit with a loud huff against the only actual wall of their cells and Lance was silently grateful as Keith was making him dizzy. 

He’d thought about asking him to stop but trust the Galra to interpret that as some weird torture and while it wouldn’t be the worst Lance really didn’t want to give them any ideas. That, and just like Shiro, Keith seemed on edge in his own way and given their history Lance had a feeling making any kind of request would be interpreted wrong and only make Keith snap at him. 

So Lance was left to amuse himself.

He was quite fond of naps but napping required a state of relaxation and boredom did not mean relaxed and therefore naps were out. He’d tried humming but the Galran guard — who had huge bat-like ears — had ordered him to shut up, wincing, and well, okay, Lance knew he didn’t sound that bad but he’d obeyed as there was no sense on making a scene here and riling up the guard and rushing the torture part. Apparently they were waiting for a Druid for that — and Shiro had tensed ever so and even that subtle action was more than telling — and they weren’t arriving until sometime tomorrow. 

Plenty of time for a rescue.

Lance wished they were actually able to do something about maybe escaping themselves, but they’d been stripped of their outer armor (and at least they’d let them keep their underarmor) which included their bayards, Keith’s knife had been confiscated and while they hadn’t been restrained there was a glowing cuff on Shiro’s prosthetic that was preventing him from using it. 

So far there had been no guard opening any of their cell doors and even if they did Lance wasn’t all that confident about any of them (except maybe Shiro) winning in one on one combat but even then that wasn’t going to work with all of the sentries who would shoot at anyone else and even without saying it Lance knew none of them would risk that.

So waiting for rescue it was.

In the quiet.

With nothing to do.

Which was why Lance had fallen back on one of his other favorite pastimes:

People watching.

He loved making up stories for people based and while the guards weren’t really doing anything and the uniform sort of took away a lot of personality, he was doing his best. Like the bat-eared Galran who hadn’t liked his humming. He imagined that she had multiple kids at home and she’d barely gotten any sleep last night and so every noise — even his dulcet humming tones — was grating. He’d just finished naming all six of her kids and was debating if they had any pets when the door leading to the cell block opened with a faint whoosh and a new Galran guard entered, Morticia (tired mom bat-eared Galran) pivoting on her heel and leaving.

Hour and a half clock, check, and so far three different guards and Lance didn’t know what to do with that information but he had it.

This new guard was male, a little taller than Shiro, with more humanoid features than the past two although he still had larger ears — more like a cat though than a bat — and there was a small set of almost horn-like features set in thick (of course) purple hair that matched the two dark stripes on his cheeks.

Tiger, Lance immediately named him, and he was fresh out of guard school and he was—

He was coming towards the cells.

That was new.

Lance straightened up, but Tiger wasn’t even looking at him or Shiro but going straight to Keith’s cell, his smile — revealing several sharp canines — growing as he grew closer. 

It was not an entirely nice smile. 

“So,” Tiger paused a foot from the bars and although Keith had to be aware he had company he had yet to acknowledge such, head tilted back and eyes closed, “you’re the halfbreed, huh?”

Keith didn’t respond, but Lance could see from his angle the way Keith’s body tensed.

“You don’t look like much,” the guard continued, yellow eyes roving up and down and—

Lance’s breath hitched because even without pupils he knew the look the Galran was giving Keith wasn’t just of curiosity.

It was predatory. 

Lustful. 

Keith remained unaware as he continued to outwardly ignore the Galran. 

“But maybe,” Tiger’s lips pulled into a smirk, “I just need to see what’s under that nice, tight uniform.”

Keith’s eyes opened, slits of purple, and peripherally Lance was aware of Shiro coming out of his relaxed meditative sit even though, realistically, there was nothing either of them could do from their cells, but their capture had just taken a sudden, sharp turn.

“Fuck off,” Keith growled, voice low.

“I’d rather fuck you,” Tiger shot back.

Lance’s eyes widened and his mouth parted at how… how brazen the guard was. 

Keith rose to his feet, eyes narrowing into a hot glare.

“I said,” his hands curled into fists, “fuck off.”

Lance relaxed a fraction. While Keith certainly wasn’t going to flirt his way to freedom at least he wasn’t going to be intimidated. 

“Ooh, scary,” Tiger grinned. “Maybe there’s a little Galran to you after all.”

“And maybe there’s a lot of asshole to you,” Keith retorted and Lance hid a grin behind his hand, earlier fear gone.

Yeah, the Galran was a grade-A jerk but Keith was no pushover and he obviously wasn’t letting the comments bother him. 

Tiger let out a laugh, obviously not bothered either. “Oh, I like you, halfbreed. We’ll have to have some fun, won’t we?”

Keith grinned back sharply, shifting his weight.

Preparing to fight.

A shiver went go down Lance’s spine because this was not a situation to be reckless in. The guard was only one part of this; there were still sentries stationed outside, guns at the ready, and while they hadn’t show any inclination to shoot into the cells there was zero guarantee they wouldn’t.

“Why don’t you come in here and I’ll show you my idea of a fun time?” Keith goaded.

Tiger laughed again, amusement clear but even that could not override the way he was looking at Keith like he was a piece of meat.

Lance was also very, very aware of the size difference now that Keith was standing and the Galran had an easy foot and at least one hundred pounds, not to mention he was armed and in armor and Keith had on only his undersuit. Keith might have speed on his side and Lance could guess his plan of trying to lure the guard in and closing the door on him, but...

This would not end well. 

Shiro seemed to be of the same opinion as he was now on his feet too and Lance stood up as well as it didn’t feel right to be sitting and while he said nothing — no names, Shiro had hastily told them as the Galra had surrounded them, call themselves by their colors — somehow Keith seemed to feel his gaze as he pulled his own from Tiger to look across Lance’s cell into Shiro’s. 

“Fine,” Keith muttered, lowering his fists. 

If the circumstances weren’t what they were Lance might have been a little more awed at how Shiro could issue commands by doing absolutely nothing, and not for the first time he wondered how exactly Keith and Shiro knew each other from before Voltron. 

“Hey now,” Tiger frowned although he wasn’t really angry,  still far too amused looking for that, “I thought the two of us were going to have a little fun.”

“You thought wrong,” Keith said. His lips pulled back into a smirk, “probably not the first time that’s happened.”

And for the first time since he’d arrived the Galran’s eyes narrowed, something ugly crossing his face. 

“You making fun of me, halfbreed?” 

“Do you really need me to answer that?”

Tiger growled, low and dangerous and all humor now gone.

And he reached for the cell door.

Keith’s lips quirked up and he shifted back into a fighting stance and even Shiro’s sharp bark of, “Red!” would do nothing because there was no way Keith wouldn’t defend himself if the Galran actually came into the cell. 

And…

Lance’s heart lurched.

Maybe this could actually work. 

Keith was for sure outmatched but the Galran was both angry and he seemed cocky (although… that sort of described Keith in a lot of ways too) and while those weren’t necessarily good things the one advantage Keith did have is he would not underestimate the Galran while hopefully the Galran would underestimate him.

Lance’s hands curled into fists.

He wasn’t sure what help he could be but if Keith could lure the Galran over to their shared wall he could maybe try to grab him, hold him for a few seconds and give Keith a chance to esca—

The cell door crashed open, Tiger filling the doorway.

“Get ready, halfbreed,” he grinned although his face was still dark, “I’m gonna show you my idea of a good time.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Tiger stepped fully into the cell.

And without taking his eyes off Keith he reached a hand out behind him and pulled the door closed with a clang that made Lance’s teeth rattle.

Darn it. 

But if he had locked himself in then that meant...

Lance’s eyes dove to the Galran’s uniform, zeroing in on the pouch attached to his belt. 

Bingo.

Keith had figured it out too based on the way his grin had widened. 

And he charged. 

As Lance had predicted, Keith definitely had the speed advantage, easily dodging beneath Tiger’s punch and making a swipe at the pouch. 

But Tiger wasn’t as slow as Lance had hoped.

Or as stupid.

And Keith was sent flying backwards, turning the hit into a controlled flip and skidding to a stop on all fours as Tiger’s foot caught him in a roundhouse kick about the middle. 

“Fast, halfbreed,” Tiger smirked. “But not fast enough. You want this?” his hand hovered over the pouch before he very pointedly grabbed it and yanked it so it was no longer resting on his outer thigh but dangling right in front of his crotch.

Lance’s nose wrinkled.

Creep. 

Tiger spread his arms out, thrusting his hips and the pouch forward. “Come and get it.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed.

And he sprinted forward.

Lance could barely keep track of the flurry of kicks and punches as the two moved about the cell; Keith quick but hindered by the fact he was actively trying to grab hold of something in, frankly, a very well guarded spot, and Tiger only had to act defensively and he had a much, much longer reach. 

And of course they never came by his wall.

But even without Lance’s attempted help (and he really wasn’t sure what he thought he’d be able to do)...

Keith was gaining the upper hand.

Tiger’s swings were slowing, his kicks losing some of their momentum while Keith continued to dart in and out, tiring out his larger opponent. 

He was actually going to do it. 

Keith’s hand wrapped around the pouch.

And he let out a yell of pain in time with a bright, sizzling light — a laser, Lance’s brain supplied, a gun, Tiger had pulled a gun — that struck his shoulder.

He stumbled backwards, off-balance.

And Tiger struck. 

Keith’s shout was more of a gasp as the fist plowed into his stomach and within the next breath Tiger had him pinned against the far wall — both of his hands around Keith’s wrists, holding them on the sides of his head and his body pressed up against Keith and giving him no space to kick, amused smirk back on his lips.

“Well, well, looks like I’ve caught myself a halfbreed.”

Keith snarled, trying to jerk his limbs free and although he looked angry and pissed over frightened the fact he wasn’t firing off some retort said it all.

Keith was scared.

Lance was scared for him.

Keith was trapped and the Galran wanted… 

What…

What did they do?

“Let him go.”

Shiro’s voice was as dark as Lance had ever heard it and as he glanced over his shoulder, Shiro’s expression was the same. It was terrifying but…

But it was comforting too.

“Now why would I do that?” Tiger grinned, not even sparing Shiro a glance. “I won this prize fair and square. Isn’t that right, halfbreed?” 

“Fuck yo—”

Keith was cut off by a kiss.

His head slammed against the wall from the force of the kiss and his shout — surprise? Pain? Anger? — was muffled by the mouth over his. 

“Keith!” Lance screamed, belatedly realizing he shouldn’t have said that as Shiro shouted, “Red!” and his hands slammed against the bars, ultimately doing nothing except hurting himself.

Dios, what did they do? What did—? 

And then Tiger was the one yelling, pulling backwards with blood streaming down his chin and the purple-red color staining Keith’s teeth as he bared them — and did they look sharper than normal? They looked sharper than normal — and Lance realized two things in that instant.

Tiger had put his tongue in Keith’s mouth.

And Keith had bitten right through it with Galra-enhanced canines.

“You little—”

Keith jammed his knee upwards at the slight space he’d been given.

And there was no mistaking the way Tiger’s face immediately took on a magenta hue and he stumbled back, hand clutched protectively in front of him. 

“Sentries!” he near squeaked and there was a clank of metal from the front of the room and all of the sentries stepped forward, blasters charged and trained. 

Keith spat out a mouthful of blood with a tch as Tiger retreated, but didn’t pursue as the Galran pulled the key out of his pouch, shoved his hands through the bars to unlock from the other side, and then let himself out. 

“If,” Tiger’s voice was still high, “if they so much as move towards the doors shoot them.”

And he exited through the cell block door, for the first time leaving them without a flesh and blood guard.

Granted, the sentries all poised and the nearest one’s gun following Lance as he shifted slightly had him freezing and he also knew they were capable of recording so speaking was still very much not a good idea.

Still…

He had to say something. 

That Galran had...

“Red,” Shiro spoke, and as Lance looked he had eyes only for Keith, all hints of that dark expression gone and concern flooding his features instead. “Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” Keith interrupted him, reaching a fist up and rubbing it across his mouth and Lance could see his teeth had returned to normal. “I’m fine,” he said again, softer, looking up that time and meeting Shiro’s eyes before briefly meeting Lance’s before he glanced down to the ground.

Lance still didn’t know what to say.

He wouldn’t be fine, but…

Keith clearly didn’t want to talk about it and despite what he knew Keith thought of him  Lance knew when not to push. 

This was not a time to push.

And all things considered it hadn’t been… that bad. Not, at least, what it could have been. 

“How’s your shoulder?” Shiro asked into the heavy silence.

Keith did wince at that, fingers gingerly rising to prod at the circle of now visible flesh, reddened and burned but fortunately not bleeding. The one positive to laser guns, if there had to be one. 

“Fine,” he said again. 

And that seemed to be all he had to say on the subject as Keith stepped backwards and then slid down the wall into a sit.

But unlike before, where the posture had been a touch exasperated and angry while also somehow looking bored, this time…

This time his shoulders were curled, his fists in his lap, and his head bowed rather than tipped back, bangs shadowing his eyes.

He was not fine.

And Lance could only pray the others rescued them before anything even worse happened. 

Chapter Text

Lance was still debating if he wanted to risk trying the oatmeal like substance that had been delivered to his cell half an hour ago for breakfast he was hungry and he didn’t think the Galrans were going to poison or drug them at this point (and he’d already dranken the water so that sort of defeated the worry about the food now), but it was jiggling in a way that was reminiscent of food goo as he held a bit on his finger and he really, really didn’t want to end up vomiting if it didn’t agree with his stomach but it had been over twelve hours — based upon the number of guard rotations, including the three that happened while he’d slept that Shiro had reported to him, knowing in his eyes — when the whooshing of the door drew his attention.

Guard change shouldn’t be for another hour. 

And…

Lance’s eyes widened, already scrambling to his feet.

Not this guard.

Tiger was back.

He’d been back once already — there seemed to be a rotation of five guards, hour and a half each — but that time, other than keeping his gaze near fixated on Keith and licking his lips in a most definitely not chapped lip or nervous manner, he hadn’t made any move or conversation and Lance had relaxed some and after he’d left without incident he’d seen Keith do the same and something had twisted in Lance’s chest because even though he’d deny it Keith had been scared the Galran would try to do something and…

And that wasn’t okay.

But he hadn’t and so things were okay as they could be.

Except for right now, where Tiger was back and he wasn’t supposed to be and nothing good could come from this. 

That feeling increased as Tiger gave a deft nod at their current guard — Pete, Lance had named him for his large belly and two-toned face and all he was missing was the cigar — who returned it with a small smirk.

And he turned towards Keith’s cell.

“Red,” Lance hissed, as Keith had his eyes closed, head tilted back, and on the cusp of exhausted sleep as unlike Lance he and Shiro had not yet slept at all since they’d been captured, and Keith’s head jerked up and Lance hated how his eyes widened before they narrowed.

“Back for round two?” he challenged, rising to his feet as Tiger drew closer and while provoking the Galran probably wasn’t a good idea, Lance understood now, he thought, and he’d had a lot of time to sit here in silence and reflect upon his prickly teammate.

Just like how Lance used jokes to deflect or try to hide that he was nervous or scared, Keith used anger and provocations in the same way.

It was a deflection.

He was protecting himself.

And it made Lance feel sick that most of those times Keith had snapped at him or pushed him away it was because he was, in his own way, trying to protect himself.

Which meant that at some point, even if it had been unintentional, Lance had hurt Keith. 

He wanted — needed — to fix it. He knew the two of them weren’t really friends-friends, but… but he’d like to call Keith one. And they had a lot to talk about when they got out of this. 

Assuming… 

“Something like that,” Tiger grinned, relaxed shrug a complete contrast to Keith’s coiled tension. “I haven’t yet gotten to enjoy my prize yet. And there’s a lot I want to show you, little halfbreed. A lot,” his grin widened, “I want to do to you.”

“And there’s a lot I want to do to you,” Keith bit back, raising his fists. 

Lance wasn’t entirely sure the tremble to them was just of anger. 

Because this time was different, he could feel it, and it only grew as the sentries raised their guns, concentrating on his and Shiro’s cells and unspoken threat clear.

Something bad was going to happen.

Something bad was going to happen to Keith. 

Tiger laughed. “Perfect. Let’s get to it then.”

And he opened the cell door.

This time though he left it open behind him as he stepped inside. 

Keith shifted on his feet. 

And Lance was done with this.

“Hey!” his voice was higher than he wanted and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do, but he had to do something and Tiger glanced over to him. 

Keith took the opening. 

This time he went straight for the gun hanging on Tiger’s hip, hand closing around the grip.

And Tiger’s hand closed about Keith’s wrist. 

“Still not fast enough,” Tiger smirked. 

The Galran twisted the captured wrist. 

Even from the distance and over the sound of Keith’s sharp scream and Shiro’s scream of Keith’s name Lance could hear the dull crack of bones breaking as with no apparent effort the Galran broke Keith’s wrist while in the same movement forcing him down, his knees striking the ground with thuds and holding his arm twisted behind his back.

Lance’s pulse roared in his ears as he realized that before…

Before Tiger had been playing.

Keith may have gotten a lucky shot with his knee, but…

But at anytime…

Keith let out another yell, but this one wasn’t of pain.

It was rage.

And Lance’s heart jumped into his throat as Keith — no care for his broken, captured appendage — threw his other arm back, hooked it around one of Tiger’s legs, and yanked. 

The Galran’s shout as he was pulled down was music to Lance’s ears.

Keith was already moving again, using the moment to wrench his arm free, to scramble to his fee—

Tiger tackled him from behind, plowing them both into the ground and his far heavier weight crushing Keith beneath him, who was still struggling with feet flailing and bending his arm to drive an elbow into Tiger’s side.

Tiger grunted at the hit but before Keith could do it again his hands landed on Keith’s shoulders and he lifted him up and them smashed him down, Keith’s head striking the floor, once.

Twice.

On the third time Keith stopped moving.

Knocked out? 

No, Lance realized with growing horror.

Dazed. Keith’s eyes were still open but slightly glazed. 

He was completely defenseless. 

“Get away from him,” Shiro growled but despite the anger Lance could hear it.

Fear.

He’d never heard Shiro sound like that before.

Dios, this was…

The Galran was really going to… 

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands, Champion,” Tiger said, not lifting his eyes from Keith even as he scooched back somewhat from where he was straddling Keith, grabbing his lax arms and pulling them together behind his back. 

“Take me,” Shiro offered and that had both Tiger and Lance looking at him. Shiro’s face was pale but resolute and Lance’s stomach flipped over again. “What, whatever you’re planning—”

“I thank you for the offer,” Tiger smirked, “but I’m not interested in you. My only interest here is…”

He looked back to Keith and finished binding his hands with energy cuffs, completely uncaring of the manhanding of Keith’s very clearly broken left wrist, although the jostling and no doubt pain had Keith’s features scrunching ever so and a soft moan sounding.

“I did always like a little bit of fight with my entertainment,” he murmured. “It’s so…” he leaned forward, lips brushing Keith’s ear and even though it was a whisper Lance heard it.

“Galran.”

Full clarity came rushing back to Keith’s eyes and he tensed, only for one of Tiger’s hands to reach forward and wrap fully around his neck and squeeze.

“Now, now, the fight is over,” he chided. “And it’s time for the real fun to begin.”

Lance’s stomach clenched.

No.

This wasn’t…

This couldn’t be…

Keith…

Tiger released Keith’s neck and stood up, hauling Keith up by his bound wrists. 

Keith didn’t offer any resistance, head hanging low and eyes shadowed.

Tiger’s smirk of victory grew while Lance’s despair did the same.

This wasn’t…

This couldn’t be... 

“Now then, let’s—”

Keith threw his weight to the side, wrenching himself free of Tiger’s grip.

He made it one step before Tiger wrapped his arms around Keith from behind and lifted him clean off his feet as Keith let out a yell tinged with both rage and fear.

“Keep fighting, little halfbreed,” he grinned, maneuvering Keith with ease over his shoulder, patting Keith’s backend, Keith’s kicks against his legs not even making him flinch. “You’re making me even more excited.”

Keith let out another wordless scream as Tiger exited his cell, heading towards the main door. 

“Stop!” Shiro screamed, slamming his hands into the front of his own cell and it spoke volumes that the sentries nor the other guard did nothing because they knew, just as they all did, that there was nothing Shiro or Lance could do. “Stop!”

Tiger kept walking.

“Keith!” Shiro’s voice was a ragged scream and codenames long gone out the window. “Keith!”

Purple eyes flashed in their direction as the door whooshed open in front of them.

Lance had never seen Keith look so scared. 

“Shiro!” the name came out a sob. “Sh-Shiro!”

“Keith!” Shiro battered his hands against the bars again. “Keith! Let him go! You bastard let him go!”

Tiger turned his head.

Smirked. 

And the cell block door closed behind them.

Chapter Text

Two hours, six minutes and forty-eight seconds later Keith came back. 

That was two hours, six minutes and forty-eight seconds of silence punctuated only by Shiro’s frustrated screams and the sound of flesh on metal and then metal on metal as he punched the cell bars to no avail, broken up by heavy breaths as he paced around his cell.

Lance never asked him to stop.

He ended up pacing too because sitting felt wrong.

Everything was wrong.

Keith was…

He was…

He’d vomited out the water and what little he had left in his stomach from yesterday’s breakfast at the castle that seemed like a lifetime ago and that only made him feel worse.

Seeing Shiro at such a loss was even more horrible though.

Shiro always knew what to do. And now…

Lance didn’t know what to say to try to comfort Shiro because there was nothing that could offer comfort in this situation and anything he tried would come off as hollow and a lie neither of them would believe.

So when Shiro had finally collapsed, head in his hands, Lance had slowly sat down next to their shared wall in line with Shiro. And after a few minutes he’d tentatively fed his hand through the bars, saying nothing.

Shiro had said nothing either but he took Lance’s hand in his own — knuckles bloody and a fingernail cracked — and squeezed it.

He hadn’t let go and Lance, even as his arm began to ache from the angle, didn’t move.

Through it all Lance kept praying that somehow, someway, Voltron would show before Tiger did anything, before he…

But as minutes passed and the hours grew Lance knew deep down that prayer hadn’t been answered. 

And now as Keith was carried in, draped once more over Tiger’s shoulder but this time so still, Lance knew the worst had come to past.

Keith had…

Tiger had…

He was nearly shirtless, his right arm sleeve somehow remaining in tact but the rest gone, although his skin was now adorned with scratches and…

Lance’s eyes widened.

Bite marks.

Those had to be bite marks littering Keith’s shoulders, a glimpse of one on his neck.

His socks and shoes were missing and the pants he was wearing were not the ones that belonged to his undersuit; looser but still black. 

Shiro was standing now, dragging Lance up unintentionally and he winced as his arm was nearly torn from its socket, although fortunately Shiro released his hand before it curled into a fist that would have been more than painful had Lance’s fingers still been trapped. 

He said nothing but his eyes were fixed on Tiger as he walked into Keith’s cell and set him down, almost gently, on the ground, Keith slumping forward but remaining seated.

Otherwise he didn’t so much as twitch even though Lance could now see his face and his eyes were open.

And if they’d been dazed by the hit earlier now…

Now they were unseeing.

Vacant. 

Keith had checked out.

Lance’s stomach clenched.

His lips were also large and reddened and blood was dribbling down the corner of his mouth while claw marks were embedded in his right cheek and a bruise was already blossoming at his temple. 

“I had a lot of fun, halfbreed,” Tiger said, just like his lowering of Keith to the ground his voice almost soft.

Fond. 

And then he looked up, gazing right past Lance to Shiro, lips pulling into a smirk. “Not that you’ll ever get the chance, but if you’re ever in need of a nice fuck, Champion, let me tell y—”

“Shut up,” Shiro growled. “Shut up you sick—”

Keith recoiled and Shiro’s mouth snapped shut. 

“Now now,” Tiger chided, wagging a finger, “you’re scaring my halfbreed with all that shouting. Isn’t that right?” he bent down, breath fluttering Keith’s bangs and he flinched. 

Lance saw it though.

There was a sheen to his dulled eyes.

Keith was coming back to himself.

“Get away from him,” Shiro snarled, although his tone was quieter. 

“But he likes it when I touch him,” Tiger smiled patronizingly, hands sliding down to grip Keith’s shoulders from behind. “Don’t you, my little halfbreed?”

Keith shuddered.

And to both Lance’s alarm and relief vacant pools of amethyst brightened.

Keith blinked.

Awareness dawned as to where he was, his gaze flicking to Shiro.

And then his eyes immediately lowered, a pink flush staining his cheeks. 

Lance’s nails dug into his palms at how…

How wrong this was.

Keith had nothing to be ashamed for.

That Galran… that monster had...

“Get away from him,” Shiro said again, voice pitched low and dangerous. 

“After I get my goodbye kiss,” Tiger said, not fazed at all and nuzzling his nose into Keith’s cheek. “Come now. Don’t be shy. Show me some of that fiery Galran spirit. Otherwise…” his hands tightened and a trickle of blood ran down Keith’s chest, “I’ll fuck you right here in front of your little friends. Is that what you want? Because I wouldn’t mind giving them a show.”

Keith let out a sound that Lance could only describe as a sob and a whimper and gave the barest shake of his head while Shiro sucked in a harsh inhale. 

Lance faintly wondered if that was the first time the Galran had threatened Keith with such.

He had a sick feeling it wasn’t.

“Then give me a kiss.”

Keith’s cheeks darkened even more and he slowly, slowly, lifted his head, turning it in Tiger’s direction.

Even with his eyes now closed a tear cut a path down his cheek.

“Open those pretty purple eyes for me,” Tiger murmured, one hand coming up to cup Keith’s other cheek and the other snaking through his hair, pulling him closer.

Keith’s eyes opened. 

He visibly swallowed.

And he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the Galran’s.

Tiger released him an agonizingly long eight seconds later, shooting a satisfied smirk towards Shiro while Keith immediately looked back down, the faintest tremble to his shoulders.

Shiro growled in his throat but didn’t say anything, just as aware as Lance was that the Galran would take any opportunity to draw this out. 

“Be good now, halfbreed,” Tiger stood to his full height. “If you stay in one piece after the Druids finish with you I do hope we can have some more fun.”

And with that Tiger made for the cell door, closing it with a soft clang behind him.

He nodded at this guard — Taco, who nodded back with a roll of his eyes — and left without another word.

Gone just like that.

But what he’d left behind…

Lance’s eyes moved back to Keith, who was slowly, silently, and in obvious pain, struggling to his feet, left wrist cradled against his stomach.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice sounded as broken as Keith looked. 

Keith stiffened.

He didn’t look up.

Lance looked down too.

And his eyes widened as where Keith had been sitting was a smudged red stain.

Blood.

Keith was still bleeding.

He shuffled over to the far wall, to the farthest corner from Lance’s cell, and sank down, unable to fully swallow down the whimper of pain.

“Keith,” Shiro tried again. “Buddy, please…”

He didn’t seem to know what he wanted to ask.

Lance didn’t know either.

Keith gave a faint shake of his head.

“Please,” it came out a faint rasp. “Don’t.”

Don’t?

“Ke—”

“Shiro,” Keith finally looked up then, “please. I… I c-can’t…”

And Shiro must have nodded or done something because Keith didn’t say anything else, merely angled his head back down, drew his knees up, and hid his face against them.

Lance didn’t even try, knowing it wasn’t his place even if he knew what words to say.

Keith didn’t want to talk right now?

He certainly wasn’t going to make him do anything he didn’t want to.

Unlike…

Lance’s stomach lurched again and he looked away from Keith, from the bloodstain, and towards Shiro.

Shiro who was pressed up against the bars of his and Lance’s shared cell, eyes only for Keith, and…

And he looked so lost. 

Lance quietly crossed over and without a word offered Shiro his hand again.

He didn’t know what else to do.

Shiro took it. 

And in silence they waited.

Chapter Text

Morticia was on guard — nearly an hour after Keith had been brought back — when there was a rumbling through the floor beneath them and a muffled bang from outside the cell block.

Lance straightened up and Shiro did the same, releasing his hand after one last squeeze.

Keith barely twitched although Lance knew he was still awake as his posture was too rigid to be anything but.

“Sentries,” Morticia barked, spinning to face the cell block door. “Prepare to—”

Her next word was drowned out by a concussive boom and the door was blasted open, Lance yelping as it not only decapitated a sentry but slammed against his cell. 

The door was followed by bright laser blasts and Lance instinctively threw himself to the floor of his cell, peripherally seeing Shiro do the same.

Among the flashes of lasers he made out a small figure in white and green armor dart in and Morticia immediately turned, swiping her spear straight through it.

Pidge’s hologram remained unharmed.

The same couldn’t be said for the Galran as the real Pidge used the distraction to slide in and jam her katar against the woman’s back and she screamed at the shock before collapsing into a pile and joining the sentry parts littering the ground courtesy of Hunk’s cannon.

Pidge grinned at them, blowing off the top of her bayard like it was a gun.

“Just in the nick of time,” she smirked. “Druids are ten minutes out, we found your armor and bayards so we can get the fuck out of...”

She trailed off, grin slipping as while Lance had never been more grateful to see them…

Pidge, one of the few times in her life, was wrong.

They’d been too late.

“What’s wrong?” Hunk asked, stepping over a sentry body with a large bag hanging off his shoulder that no doubt held their armor and bayards. “Why is—”

He sucked in a sharp breath as his gaze panned over them all and settled on Keith, still hunched over in the back of his cell.

And while it shouldn’t be immediately obvious what had happened —  Keith’s face hidden against his knees, bite marks and the fact the pants weren’t their uniform not obvious as such from that distance, and the fact that none of them should even be ever thinking something like that…

It was.

Because Keith should never, ever, look that defeated.

That scared.

That…

That small. 

“Pidge,” Shiro’s voice was quiet but firm as he pulled himself to his feet. “Keys are in the pouch on the guard’s belt. Hunk, see if any of those sentry guns are still intact.”

“R-right,” Pidge said, yanking her eyes away from Keith’s still form, Hunk echoing her. 

“What, what can I do?” Lance asked.

“Watch our backs,” Shiro said and Lance nodded. 

He could do that. 

“And Lance?” Shiro’s voice softened. “Thank you.”

Lance gave another nod, throat thick. 

A moment later Pidge had his cell door open and Hunk was handing him a sentry blaster, his own worry clear, gaze darting between Lance and Shiro, who was slowly kneeling next to Keith, words too soft for Lance to make out.

“Is Keith…?” Pidge trailed off, and she looked so young in that moment Lance’s heart broke even more.

This was wrong.

All of this was wrong.

“Not now,” Lance said quietly. “And… and let’s give them some privacy, okay?”

Even then Lance could still hear Keith’s quiet whimper of, “Shiro, no,” and then a thud followed by another whimper and Shiro’s plea of, “Keith, please, let me help.”

Lance kept his eyes forward, Pidge and Hunk following his lead. A minute later in his peripheral Shiro emerged, Keith at his side and his right arm over Shiro’s shoulder and Shiro’s arm about Keith’s back.

Even then Keith was trembling and was both trying not to touch Shiro’s side any further and yet only being held up by the other’s hold.

It would be far quicker to carry him, but…

Lance swallowed thickly, averting his eyes again from the now up-close marks that were definitely bite marks and he could make out a peek of long bruises in the shape of fingers from the waistband of Keith’s pants.

Dios. 

“Let’s go,” Shiro said.  “Hunk, Pidge, take the lead. Lance, rear guard.”

“Green is about three minutes out,” Pidge said.

She said nothing else as she took up position. 

Lance silently moved to guard their backs, looking for the first time down at the gun.

It had no stun.

He wondered if he were to encounter Tiger if…

But outside of a small group of sentries that Hunk’s canon took out they encountered no one in their escape.

Lance wasn’t sure why he felt so upset about that. 

Pidge immediately went to the pilot chair while Hunk pulled down the cot and Shiro let out a quiet thank you, turning to allow Keith to ease himself on to it.

He did so near silently, curling up and once more hiding his face against his knees. 

A bite mark and more fingerprint bruises were revealed on the back of his neck as he shifted.

Lance looked away, feeling like he was intruding.

“Everyone hold on,” Pidge said, “this is gonna get bumpy.”

Lance was grateful for the distraction and the order and he stepped away from the cot, Shiro remaining there and while he didn’t touch Keith he hovered in the event they did hit turbulence, and secured his hands in some of the netting on the back of the pilot chair, Hunk joining him.

They were in the air within a minute and leaving the base in their space dust a few seconds after that. 

“Pidge to Castle of the Lions,” Pidge said, activating the transmissions on the dashboard. “We need a wormhole back out.”

“Right away, Number Five!” Coran sounded. “I take it the retrieval mission was a success?”

“Um…” Pidge bit her lip and looked over her shoulder at Lance.

“We’re all here, Coran,” Lance said, at least allaying that fear. “But, um…we’re gonna need a pod.”

“Oh Alaraan,” Coran fretted. “I shall prepare one at once. Who is hurt?” 

“Keith,” Lance said.

He left it at that.

And without saying anything more Coran seemed to understand that not everything was as it seemed on the surface as he did not ask anything further.

“Very well. I’ll meet you in the infirmary in a few dobashes. The princess is setting the wormhole now, look for it in sixteen ticks.” 

“Thanks, Coran,” Pidge said, and she shut off the mic on their end, and turned to Lance. “Thank you,” she repeated softly.

Lance did not like this trend of soft thank yous directed at him.

He didn’t deserve any of them.

He settled for a nod. 

Silence pervaded the rest of their trip and until Pidge guided the Green Lion into her hangar, which was the first time Lance turned around.

Shiro had pulled a blanket out from under the cot and Keith was wrapped up in it, folds gathered at his chest. 

His face was still hidden.

“I’ll go to the bridge,” Pidge said. “Debrief Allura.”

“Lance, go with her,” Shiro said, and his eyes caught Lance’s and he gave the smallest nod.

Permission to tell Allura, who would otherwise be the only one not knowing as there was no way Coran wouldn’t find out. 

Lance nodded back.

“Hunk, you too,” Shiro said. “Keith and I will head for the infirmary.”

Keith twitched.

He didn’t protest.

Lance’s heart broke a little further.

They single file passed by Shiro and Keith and started down the hallway for the bridge.

The silence was deafening.

Hunk broke it with a quiet, “Lance?” and he looked over. “Are… are you okay?”

Warm but calculating honey eyes were looking Lance up and down, concern equal with fear.

Lance gave a small nod. “I’m oka—”

Hunk smushed him into a hug, armor digging uncomfortably into Lance’s chest.

He didn’t care and returned it just as fiercely and then shifted as Pidge wrapped around him from the side and he brought one arm to rest on her back.

They remained in the hallway for maybe seconds, maybe minutes, Lance willing himself not to cry at the sudden tightness in his throat, but he knew they couldn’t remain there forever, especially as this was the way to the infirmary too.

“Come on,” he said quietly, patting both of them on on the back to release from the hug. “We’ve gotta talk to Allura.”

And a few minutes later Lance stood in front of the princess, quietly debriefing her. 

They were captured following the mission turned trap. No one was hurt.

They’d been stripped of their armor and put into separate cells. Told that Druids would be coming tomorrow to begin interrogation. There was a regular rotation of guards and sentries.

One guard had…

He’d swallowed, unable to continue to hold her jeweled gaze.

One guard had taken an interest in Keith. Because he was part-Galran. He’d come into the cell, tried to physically overpower Keith, but… but Keith had fought him off.

That time.

This morning, about four hours ago now, he’d returned, broken Keith’s wrist, and…

And he’d taken Keith away.

Lance didn’t know the details, but… but…

Keith had been…

The word was stuck in his throat.

Saying it made it real.

But it was already real.

Ignoring it wouldn’t change that.

It would only make things worse.

And Lance had forced himself to finish the sentence.

Raped.

Keith had been raped. 

Hunk had physically flinched next to him and Pidge had cursed as though he knew they suspected he’d just confirmed it, but it was Allura’s sharp inhale, her look of horror as Lance finally managed to make himself look up, that made his own breath catch. 

“We should have gotten their sooner,” Pidge whispered. 

Lance wished they’d gotten their sooner too.

But...

“This isn’t your fault, Pidgeon,” Lance said quietly. He looked around at them all. “No one here’s at fault.”

“And neither are you,” Hunk said, gaze sharp.

And knowing.

Had the circumstances been anything than what they were Lance’s lips might have quirked up at how well Hunk knew him.

“I couldn’t do anything,” Lance said quietly, lowering his eyes.  

“Through no fault of your own,” Allura said, voice gentler than Lance had ever heard directed at him and he was even more surprised as one of her hands landed on his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. 

Lance managed a nod.

He knew that.

He really did.

He just…

He felt so useless.

“You must be exhausted,” Allura continued gently. “Go. Take a shower, perhaps some food, and then sleep. It shall be at least a few varga for the pods to heal Keith’s wrist and…” she paused. “It shall be a few hours,” she repeated. “Rest.”

Lance didn’t think he could do that.

But it was a direct request from Allura so…

He’d try.

He didn’t know how he could help Keith, but not being sleep-deprived would definitely not hurt.

So Lance took a shower, a steaming hot one until he’d fogged up every mirror in the large bathroom. He’d mechanically eaten a piece of toast Hunk made for him — and no, he didn’t think he could stomach anything further when Hunk pressed — and afterwards, while he felt tired (even if it was only eleven in the morning) he didn’t…

He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep.

Hunk had that covered.

He gently tugged Lance to the lounge where a bevy of blankets and pillows had been spread out on the couch and Pidge was already there, curled up on one end with her laptop. 

“Sleep, hermano,” Hunk murmured, settling down on the other end and patting his lap, a pillow already across it.

Lance eased himself down, Pidge spreading a blanket over him and gathering his feet into her own lap before setting the laptop atop them.

And with the steady sounds of Pidge’s typing, Hunk’s hand gently carding through his hair, and the exhaustion catching up, Lance slept.

Chapter Text

Keith was scheduled to come out of the pod in about half an hour.

Shiro had informed them all of such after Lance had awoken after about a two-hour nap, not quite feeling refreshed but the worst of the tugging exhaustion had disappeared. 

Lance had tentatively asked, not trying to be particular, how bad it was and Shiro…

Shiro had whispered, face drawn, “There was a lot of blood.”

Physically though, he’d said, Keith would make a full recovery in about a four hour pod cycle.

The fact Shiro had led with ‘physically’ made Lance’s stomach clench.

It had grown worse as Shiro had met all of their eyes, his own shadowed, and quietly said he wasn’t sure what the best course of action to take was going forward. But… but Keith didn’t like to feel crowded, wouldn’t want to feel cornered. He asked that they all give Keith space for the time being and, he swallowed, he would talk to Keith.

“We shall follow your lead,” Allura murmured, slipping one of her hands into Shiro’s. “You know what is best.” 

And Lance agreed, Shiro did know best, especially given whatever shared history he had with Keith.

But…

But not doing anything seemed wrong.

And Lance had decided that while maybe Keith wouldn’t be up for talking — and probably especially not with Lance even though it wasn’t pity at all driving Lance but concern and fear and worry and a surge of protectiveness he’d never thought he’d feel for Keith because Keith had never needed protection before — that he’d never been much of a words person anyway.

Keith was action.

And actions could speak louder than words.

It was why Lance had taken it upon himself to go into Keith’s room and retrieve a change of clothes, including his favorite red jacket, because Keith would be in a cryo-suit (form-fitting and tight and Lance winced as he remembered Tiger’s comments on that particular observation) and he knew from unfortunate experience they were sort of itchy and uncomfortable and Keith would likely want to get out of both it and anything that remained of those pants as soon as possible.

He’d just drop them off in the infirmary, let Shiro know they were there, and leave.

And then he’d go to the bathroom — because even if not right away he knew Keith would probably want a shower — and put his really nice brand new soap bar that smelled like oranges and cloves he’d gotten at their last stop at the space mall in the shower stall because those were nice smells and far, far better than the cheap bar he knew the rest of the castle (save Allura because she was a princess and had both taste and class) used that the Alteans had in bulk. He was ninety-nine percent certain, based on the smell, they were made with food goo and just… no? 

And then he’d go back to Keith’s room and drop off one of his quilts and leave the headphones and music player Pidge had made for him because maybe Keith would like to have the noise and the distraction and Lance knew they always helped him to sleep.

And while they were small, miniscule things…

He hoped, maybe, they could help. 

As he neared the infirmary though his steps faltered because there were voices sounding from inside the room.

And…

And that was Keith. 

“—ro, please, don’t, don’t touch me, I, I c-can’t…”

Lance peeked around the doorframe.

Keith was out of the pod but leaning heavily on it, legs trembling — post-pod reaction, Lance knew, remembering how unsteady and wobbly he’d been — and his body was shaking — shudders? Shivers? Both? — but he was pulled away from Shiro, standing a few paces from with a large blanket in hand.

“I’m not coming any closer,” Shiro said, voice soft and gentle. “I promise, buddy. I’ll stay right here. I’m not going to touch you.”

Keith shuddered again, face pale and drawn and eyes too big, too wide.

Too scared. 

“Do you want the blanket?” Shiro asked, holding it out a little further. “I know the pods can be a little cold.”

Keith looked torn.

He looked so unsure.

It hurt to see.

Lance looked away, slumping against the wall next to the infirmary.

He obviously couldn’t go in.

He should go.

His feet remained rooted.

“There you go,” Shiro sounded. “Do you maybe want to sit down? Just until your balance comes back.”

There wasn’t quite a thud but it was close and Lance had a feeling Keith had just taken a hard sit whether he’d meant to or not.

“I’ve got a water pouch here,” Shiro continued. “I’m going to slide it to you, okay? Straw’s already in it.”

There was a strange skidding sound.

And then a soft, “thanks.”

Silence, save for the faint sounds of a water pouch being drained, echoed.

Lance knew if he moved right now they would hear him.

He stayed.

“I’ve got a juice pouch too,” Shiro said a few minutes later. “And some food goo—”

“I’m not hungry,” came the quiet retort, steadier than before.

Lance wasn’t sure if that was necessarily a good thing.

Keith’s walls were going back up. 

“You lost a lot of blood—”

Shiro broke off and Lance could only guess Keith had made some sort of face or reaction because Shiro’s voice gentled even more as he said, “Buddy—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Keith interrupted.

“Keith—”

“Shiro, please,” and Keith sounded like he was on the verge of crying. “Please. I, I can’t. I don’t… I just…”

Lance had never heard Keith speechless. 

His heart ached at how wrong it all sounded.

“I can’t,” Keith repeated. “I… I just… I want to forget.”

“Keith—”

“Please. Shiro, please. It’s over. It’s done. Just… just let it go.”

“Keith,” Shiro let out a sigh. “Buddy… This… this isn’t something—”

“Yes it is,” Keith interrupted, voice hot and yet there was a waver to it. “Just, just like in the homes—”

Shiro inhaled sharply. 

Lance was confused but also a different sort of dread was building in his stomach.

What did that mean?

“Has,” Shiro’s tone was still soft but there was an undercurrent of fear, of guilt to it, “has this happened be—?”

“No!” Keith nearly shouted. “No,” he repeated quieter. “No one ever…” he swallowed. “But, but it’s like that. I just, just want to forget. Besides,” his voice cracked, “this time I’m even healed. Nothing broken. Like,” and he sounded like he was about to cry, “like it never happened.”

“Keith—”

“Bet all my foster parents wished they’d had a cryo-pod.”

“Keith—”  

“Just pop me in and hide what they’d done,” Keith steamrolled right over Shiro, voice growing higher and words faster. “But then I’d never have learned my lesson, right?”

“Keith!” Shiro’s voice was sharp with worry and there was a small thud like…

Like Keith had just recoiled and struck the cryo-pod.

Lance felt breathless.

What?

What had he just…?

What? 

“I’m sorry for yelling,” Shiro said softy, “but that’s enough. Your foster parents… the system… they were wrong. What they did to you was wrong. You never deserved any of that. And what, what this Galran did—”

“Stop,” it came out a near sob. “Shiro, stop. Please. I don’t want to talk about it. Now. Ever. I just… I just want to forget. Please.”

Heavy breaths echoed.

And then...

“...okay,” Shiro agreed quietly “Okay. If… if that’s what you want.”

“Please,” Keith whispered in a voice that was too small to be his.

“Okay,” Shiro repeated although Lance could tell — and he felt the exact same — that this was not how it should end.

But, but right now…

If this was what helped Keith best…

Then he understood.

And as Shiro quietly suggested the juice pouch again and Keith just as quietly accepted it, Lance took that as his cue.

He backed away from the wall on his tiptoes and a few paces down the hall.

And then he ran.

But there was no outrunning the growing sense that no matter what Keith had just said…

There was no forgetting any of this.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day was...

Different.

And not necessarily in a good way.

Keith had obviously left the infirmary shortly after Lance had made his hasty exit — and while he hadn’t been able to deliver the clothes he’d left them in a neat pile on Keith’s bed and still dropped off one of his quilts and left the soap bar and some shampoos and conditioners in the bathroom —  but he hadn’t shown himself until dinner hour, where they were all gathered in the kitchen for a rather quiet for them meal after an afternoon of half-started conversations and tangents and no one really seemed to know what to say or do and there was a palpable air of  uncomfortableness floating over them all.

And at first glance nothing had seemed amiss.

Keith was dressed in his normal clothes, his knife in its holster — also recovered with their bayards and armor — and sort of holding himself in reserve as he tended to do, even now, although he normally had loosened up halfway through the meal.

But there was no missing everything that looked out of place.

Like the fact Keith’s shoulders had the faintest curl to them, as though that could make him look smaller.

Or that his eyes had been cast down and they had never lifted even once during the entire dinner.

Or how his, “Hello, I’m fine,” as he entered the room, as short and curt as it was, had sounded rehearsed and how his cheeks had flushed a pale pink immediately after saying it.

And then how he’d had a single spoon of the chicken soup — easy on the stomach, Hunk had said as Lance had assisted him in the kitchen later because he needed something to do, and something they all liked so it wouldn’t be completely obvious the meal had been designed with Keith in mind — and hadn’t touched his grilled cheese.

Shiro had gathered them all before Keith had arrived, informing them in an abbreviated version of what Lance had overheard that he’d spoken with Keith and Keith would… prefer not to talk about it. At all. And in accordance with Keith’s wishes, as much as they could be, they’d be returning to regular training tomorrow. 

“I am still not so certain this is a good idea,” Allura said quietly. “Keith should be resting. Healing. He needs—”

“He needs something to focus on,” Shiro had gently interrupted her and that Lance could understand and Allura’s face had softened too. “I’ll keep an eye on him, princess. And if it’s too much… I’ll step in.” 

They would not, Shiro had emphasized be doing any mind-melding activities for at least a week. Not just for Keith but… but for all of them. He didn’t want any of them seeing anything they shouldn’t, his gaze lingering the longest on Pidge.

Shiro had looked to all of them then, his expression heavy. “I know this is… difficult,” he struggled to find the word, “and it’s going to become even moreso. And I know you all mean well, but… but for now, please respect Keith’s wishes. Focus on training and keep things…” Shiro swallowed. “Keep things normal.”

Shiro didn’t say it but Lance could hear his own unspoken wish.

That even if it wasn’t right now, that Keith wouldn’t keep this bottled inside. That he’d talk.

That he’d actually heal . 

And maybe…

Maybe not just from this incident.

Lance was still reeling from that revelation. He’d known, thanks to that jerk Griffin picking a fight, that Keith didn’t have any parents, but…

But for some reason he’d never realized…

That if someone had no parents and no living family then they had to go somewhere. And for Keith that somewhere had been foster care. And by the sounds of it, the families Keith had been placed in…

They were not nice people.

They were awful people.

And Lance had never known.

He could assume now, knowing what he’d heard, that since Shiro was aware of it that he’d played some role in likely not just Keith getting into the Garrison but maybe…

Maybe he’d become his guardian. 

It would explain a lot, actually. 

Shiro had saved Keith. 

Except, this time…

This time he hadn’t been able to.

And that was what had prompted Lance after dinner — the most awkward, silent one he could remember until Coran had piped up with a story and while it wasn’t quite the same it had lessened some of the tension — to seek Shiro out. 

Shiro had told them Keith wanted things to be normal.

He hadn’t said anything about himself and besides, checking in on each other, leaders included, should be normal.

So Lance had armed himself with another quilt, two mugs of Hunk’s space hot cocoa, and knocked on Shiro’s bedroom door.

And he told himself not to be upset that when upon opening it Shiro’s face fell slightly, clearly hoping it was Keith outside.

Lance more than understood.

“Is everything okay?” Shiro asked, and even though he knew Shiro was trying not to Lance could hear the exhaustion in the question.

He was forcefully reminded Shiro hadn’t slept in over 24-hours.

“Can I come in?” Lance asked instead. He held out one of the mugs. “I brought hot chocolate.”

Shiro’s lips quirked into a tired but at least genuine smile and he took the offered mug and gestured for Lance to enter.

Lance had never been in Shiro’s room, even though Shiro had always told them his door was open if they needed to talk. It was very…

Clean.

Almost as empty as Keith’s, although there were a few wall-hangings of abstract shapes in mostly black and white with a few splashes of color and a black and white striped rug on the floor.

It was there Lance took a seat and Shiro joined him a second later.

“Are you okay?” Lance asked point blank and whatever Shiro had been expecting it clearly hadn’t been that and his eyes widened and his mouth parted. 

“I’m tired,” Shiro admitted quietly after a pause, which was honestly more than Lance had been expecting. “It’s been… a really long last couple days.”

The understatement of the century. 

“How are you holding up?” Shiro asked, eyes giving him a gentle once over.

“I’m… okay,” Lance said honestly. 

All things considered.

But…

There was one thing he did need to address. Good intentions or not, accident or not, he’d eavesdropped on a private, very personal conversation. 

And while telling Keith about it would not end well on a good day (and this was not a good day) it felt wrong to keep it to himself.

He bit his lip. “Um… I, um… I sort of heard you and Keith earlier. In the infirmary.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance hung his head. “I didn’t mean to.” 

Shiro let out a tired sounding sigh, but there was no anger or disappointment to it. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “It was an accident?”

Lance nodded. “I was bringing Keith some clothes and I thought he’d still be in the pod. And I knew I should have left right away, but…”

Lance startled as Shiro’s hand landed lightly on his knee and he lifted his head. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “And it’s all right. It was an accident.” He let out another soft sigh. “It was probably bound to happen at some point, what with the mind-melding training. But I’d appreciate if you kept this to yourself. That’s for Keith to share, if,” Shiro’s voice held the slightest helpless tone, “he ever chooses to.”

“Were...” Lance said tentatively, but Shiro nodded at him to continue, “were all of Keith’s homes… bad?”

Hunk’s neighbors, a couple to two biological children, he knew had fostered before and they weren’t bad people. 

“Most,” Shiro said quietly. “He’s… he’s gone through a lot. Things no one, especially a child,” and Shiro’s gaze hardened before exhaustion took its place, “should have to experience. He’s always been a fighter though. And that’s not always good thing, but… but it’s helped him. I just… this time…” 

Lance laid a careful hand atop Shiro’s on his knee. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Lance said quietly.

He realized as he said it how much he believed it.

“He’s going to be okay,” Lance repeated, meeting Shiro’s overbright eyes. “He’s… he’s not alone anymore. He’s got you. And, and me. All of us.  And… and we’ll take care of him. He’ll be okay.”

“Thank you,” Shiro said, voice thick, and his hand shifted to squeeze Lance’s. “That… that really means a lot.”

“And, um,” Lance pushed forward, “when we were captured… you did all you could.  You… you didn’t fail Keith. You’ve never failed Keith.”

Based on the widening of Shiro’s eyes Lance had hit that right on the head.

And Lance let out a small yelp as Shiro pulled him into a hug.

He could feel the man shaking and Lance returned it as tightly as he could.

“You didn’t fail him,” he repeated. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, breath warm on Lance’s ear. “Thank you.” 

And as Lance crawled into bed that night sans two quilts — and Shiro had quietly thanked him for it, fingers smoothing over the yarn, and said he’d return it later next week although Lance told him to keep it; that his room needed some color — he knew things were by no means better right now but…

But they could be.

And he would make them be so.

Chapter Text

“Getting a head start, huh?” Lance kept his voice light as he entered the training room where Keith was in the process of punching the living daylights out of a dummy.

Training wasn’t supposed to start for another fifteen minutes, but of course Keith would start early although by the look of him…

He’d been at this for much longer than a little bit.

Keith didn’t answer him, delivering another punch, breath a gasp and sweat beading at his hairline, short-sleeved black shirt clinging to him and his cheeks red from exertion.

And that had nothing on the dark rings beneath his eyes and the way his eyes were both hyper-focused and dull, seeing something beyond the training dummy. 

“Keith,” Lance said, louder, as Keith struck the dummy again, his entire arm trembling from the effort.

Nothing.

Lance shifted to stand behind the dummy, in clear, visible sight.

Keith didn’t so much as glance at him. 

Lance bit his lip as Keith delivered another punch.

He was completely oblivious to his surroundings and the last thing Lance wanted to do was startle him, but…

But he’d be startled regardless and probably better to do it just in front of Lance than the entire team, right? 

So when Keith punched the dummy on the next strike, Lance shoved the dummy back — not too hard, he didn’t want to break Keith’s nose or anything — and it’s weighted head bumped into Keith’s chest.

Keith’s sharp inhalation was like a gunshot and he staggered backwards, raising his hands in front of his face — not in fists anymore, Lance observed, spread wide as though…

As though he was expecting to get hit.

He lowered them a couple seconds later, chest heaving and that time purple eyes laser-focused on Lance.

And pink crept across Keith’s cheeks before he abruptly looked away, arms crossing — defensively, Lance realized with a start, not because it was a ‘cool guy’ pose and Dios, what else had he missed? — against his chest. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, voice both low and high and clearly trying to let on how off-balance he was.

Lance knew not to pursue right now.

“Training starts in a bit,” Lance said with a small, nonchalant shrug. “I sometimes try to help move some mats and stuff for Coran and since Shiro said at dinner last night we’d all be practicing with swords,” of which Lance was admittedly excited for because swords were cool and hopefully he’d have better luck with them than unarmed close combat as Shiro had said all of them should be somewhat cross-trained as they never knew what kind of situation they’d be in, “I thought I’d pull the dummies out and get them set up.”

“Oh,” Keith said, posture relaxing the slightest. “Okay. Um,” he glanced down at himself and winced. “I’m… I’m gonna go get changed.”

“See you in a bit.”

And as Keith walked away Lance felt a pang that that was… the most normal conversation they’d ever had. And, Lance winced, he knew why that was. Normally — assuming this was any type of normal situation — he’d have made some comment about how violent Keith was, what did the dummy ever do to him? Or say something like how was training the only thing mullets knew how to do? And he had never meant them to be mean, but…

But they were.

They implied things about Keith’s behavior and his interests when Lance… really didn’t know those things because he’d never actually asked. And then when Keith snapped back at him he’d grin and push him further and…

And he’d been wrong.

He’d been so wrong.

And, unfortunately, if he tried to apologize now Keith would take it the wrong way, assume Lance was only doing it because of what had happened. And maybe some of the events of being captured had made Lance re-evaluate, but…

But it was so much more than that. 

For now though he did what he’d told Keith he was here to do and went about pulling the dummies out.

They’d all be practicing on the dummies, which Coran was going to program to read the pressure of their strikes, accuracy, and speed between hits while Allura and Coran walked amongst them to correct forms as needed. It would give them all — both beginners and those more advanced, Shiro said, looking at Keith — a good measure for where they were at have some data to track their process in the coming weeks.

It also, unspoken but true, removed the chance for nearly any contact and it was an exercise Keith would do well that should set him a bit more at ease than something he’d need more coaching on. 

It was actually very, very smart.

So Lance didn’t know why there was an inkling in the back of his mind that something was going to go wrong. 

An hour into training, the feeling had abated for the most part as everyone was striking their dummies and the only issue cropping up was how sore Lance’s arms were feeling from the repeated motions and how apparently out of shape he was. 

“Come on, Lance,” Pidge taunted where she was lounging behind him, having finished her set, and sucking out of a water pouch. 

Lance knew his mamá would never approve so he raised his sword in the air, hoping it conveyed enough, and Pidge let out a bark of laughter and saluted with her water pouch.

“Paladins,” Coran sounded over the loudspeaker. “Break time.”

Lance gratefully lowered his practice sword, glancing to his right where Shiro was conversing with Allura and then to his left where Hunk…

Hunk was heading for Keith, who was still striking at his dummy.

Oh no.

“Keith, man,” Hunk called, “Coran said we can stop.”

Keith didn’t.

“Keith,” Hunk raised his voice, stepping closer. “Coran said—”

And Keith whirled around.

But his eyes didn’t see Hunk.

He didn’t appear to be seeing anything in this room.

And he still had his sword raised. 

“Whoa!” Hunk held up his hands, unintentionally lifting his own sword high. “Keith—”

And Keith charged. 

Hunk tripping over his feet saved him from the first strike as he went down, sword dropping to the ground.

Defenseless.

Keith pivoted.

Lance dove.

And he intercepted the strike with a clang that reverberated all down his arm, awkwardly crouched over Hunk’s legs. 

Unlike the dummy earlier the impact didn’t seem to bring Keith back to the present. 

“Keith,” Lance grit out as Keith pushed down harder, sending sparks flying.

Keith didn’t respond except to push harder.

Lance was aware now of people shouting around them and Keith flinched at the noise.

He didn’t let up on the sword, chest heaving and breath coming in harsh pants.

Lance was starting to lose his grip, already tired arms trembling.

And Keith shoved at the same time Lance pulled back, knowing this wasn’t a fight he was going to win and his armor (should) protect him from being impaled. 

The momentum sent Keith stumbling forward, sword scraping harmlessly across Lance’s chestplate, and knocking Lance backwards into Hunk and all three of them became a heap of tangled limbs. 

And it was in that moment Lance could tell Keith returned to present, his breath hitching and what could only be a whimper sounding as he tried to go backwards but his armguard had snagged on Lance’s belt and he was stuck.

“Keith, hey,” Lance tried to keep his voice low as he raised his own hands to free Keith’s arm. “Hold on. I’ll—”

“D-don’t,” Keith stuttered, tugging again and going nowhere. “Don’t touch me.”

His eyes, while seeing now, were wide with remembered fear and panic and he looked terrified. 

Behind him Hunk sucked in a sharp breath and froze from where he’d been trying to sit up.

Lance stopped moving too, hands wide open and displaying no threat.

“Okay,” he said softly, trying to get Keith to look at him but Keith seemed to be going out of focus again. 

Checking out.

Protecting himself. 

“Keith,” he tried to call him back, still not moving and aware that all noise around them had stopped. “Keith, listen to me. No one… no one is going to touch you, okay? You can pull your arm free. Just,” Lance glanced down as best he could with just his eyes, “push your arm towards me. And then pull up.”

Keith only trembled.

“Keith,” Lance tried again and Keith’s eyes moved to meet his.

They were pinpricked with fear but…

But Keith was once more back in control.

“Push your arm towards me,” Lance repeated, holding that scared gaze, “and then pull back.”

Keith slowly did so.

And he fell back on his rear, arm now freed and legs splayed in front of him.

His eyes darted around to where the others had formed a large, loose circle about them, a dark flush stealing over his cheeks.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice was low and gentle even though he did not move. “You with us?”

“I…”

Keith trembled.

A moment later he was scrambling to his feet, backing up even as his legs shook beneath him and he gave the faintest shake of his head too.

“I can’t.”

And he ran.

“Let him go,” Shiro said quietly, throwing his arm out as Lance surged to his own feet. 

Lance though shook his head.

He normally agreed with Shiro, he knew Shiro generally knew best, but…

But if Keith ran now and no one ran after him…

He’d told Shiro that Keith wasn’t alone now, that they would take care of him.

They’d tried what Keith wanted, what Shiro had advised.

Now it was Lance’s turn.

And Keith was not going to be alone anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, meeting Shiro’s eyes, which widened with realization before he nodded.

“Go,” he whispered, arm dropping.

And Lance ran.

Chapter Text

Lance admittedly didn’t know where Keith would run to and he was already gone by the time Lance reached the hallway outside of the training room. 

Lance paused before he went anywhere, thinking. Keith wouldn’t go to his room because he didn’t want to be found. By that logic he wouldn’t go to the lounge or the kitchen either. And the training room was obviously now out.

He could have run to the Red Lion, but Lance struck that one too as while Red could put up a particle barrier it was another obvious spot and Keith would be trapped in the Lion and Shiro had said Keith didn’t like to feel crowded.

He could go to a random hallway, down into the belly of the castle where no one but Coran really knew their way around to find a hiding spot, but those weren’t familiar, weren’t comforting.

They were grounded.

Lance’s eyes widened.

Keith didn’t go down.

He went up. 

The bridge; currently empty and with huge windows on the upper level that looked out into the universe. Lance had found himself up there more than once and he knew firsthand how… how calming looking at the stars could be.

He nodded, decision made.

He stopped running though, a brisk walk instead, to give Keith time to situate himself. A few minutes later he entered the darkened bridge but didn’t let the lack of lights deter him, speeding towards the staircase that led to the overlook. 

And then he slowly climbed, making sure his footfalls were heard but not too loud where they sounded angry.

Keith was sitting, legs drawn up to his chest, in front of the middle window.

“Keith?” Lance called quietly and even though there was no way Keith hadn’t heard him climbing the stairs, he stiffened at the address. “Can… can I join you?”

“Do what you want,” came the quiet, terse answer. 

“What do you want?” Lance asked instead because that wasn’t a real answer.

It was an attempt to push Lance away.

Keith didn’t respond.

“Keith, what do you—?”

“I don’t know,” Keith interrupted him, voice hot. “I, I don’t know, okay?”

He hunched further over, forehead pressing against his knees.

Lance carefully made his way over and sat down a few feet away.

He waited.

If Keith didn’t want to talk, that was okay too.

Just…

At least he wasn’t alone now.

And if he really wanted Lance to leave he’d have told him. And he hadn’t. 

The silence continued.

Lance kept his gaze focused on the stars outside, even though in his peripherals he saw Keith slowly, slowly start to uncurl.

And then...

“I want…” Keith paused.

Swallowed.

Lance patiently waited, not moving as Keith found his words.

“I want… I want to forget,” Keith said quietly. “I want to forget how, how helpless I felt. I want to forget him. I, I want to forget what he…” a tear trickled down Keith’s cheek and Lance’s heart twisted. “What he did to me. What, what I did. To him,” and even in the dim lighting Lance could see Keith’s face flush and another tear trickled down. “But…” his hands tightened around his knees. “I… I don’t think I can.”

Lance didn’t think Keith could forget either. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance said quietly, knowing that it wasn’t close to helping, not really, but it still needed said. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Keith. That you went through that.”

“It’s my own fault,” Keith said, voice bitter. “I goaded him. I, I was as reckless as everyone always tells me. If I hadn’t—”

“No,” Lance interrupted him and Keith finally looked at him. “None of that was your fault. That Galran—”

“I couldn’t do anything, Lance,” Keith snapped at him, eyes flashing. “And, and when I tried to fight back…”

He trailed off, cheeks even darker spots of color.

“He threatened to…” Lance swallowed, “to hurt you,” and Keith flinched at even that barely there description, “in front of me and Shiro.”

Keith gave a short nod.

“I was so… so weak,” he whispered. 

“You were scared,” Lance countered. 

“So?” Keith fired back. “I’m, I’m not a little kid anymore,” and he winced and Lance tried not to react as he shouldn’t know about that and this wasn’t the time to bring it up. “I’m a goddamn Paladin of Voltron. And I still couldn’t do anything when he… when he... ”  

“And you think any of us could?” Lance asked. “You, you think if he’d been interested in me,” he felt his cheeks heat, “or Shiro we could have done anything either? He was stronger, Keith. He was bigger. He threatened you and you darn well know if he’d needed to he’d have threatened me or Shiro to get you to comply. You are not weak, Keith. You didn’t do anything wrong. He did. He hurt you. ”

Keith abruptly stood up, turning his back on Lance, arms wrapping around his stomach.

A hug, Lance faintly realized standing as well, as Keith’s shoulders curled in.

And…

Even under the amour he could tell they were shaking.

Keith was…

He was crying. 

And other than a slight hitch to his breath…

He was doing so silently.

Lance’s eyes widened even as his heart broke a little more.

“Why?” Keith whispered, voice cracking. “Wh-why did he…?”

“Because he’s a sick creep,” Lance said quietly but no less firm, and while that might not be all of it that was what it boiled down to. Tiger had wanted something Keith would not give and rather than taking no for an answer he’d forcibly taken what he wanted with no care as to who he hurt in the process.

Keith let out a wet sounding huff at the answer even as he shook his head and started speaking before Lance could protest that head shake.

“They, they always told me I, I deserved it when they… that I brought it upon myself. And, and maybe…” his next words were barely a breath. “Maybe they were right.”

Lance wasn’t aware he could be more horrified but he was apparently being proven wrong.

Keith hadn’t just been physically abused as he’d gathered when he was in the system.

Those foster families, they’d…

They’d hurt him in so many other ways.

Not the way Tiger had, or so Lance prayed and he didn’t think so, but they’d carved wounds and left scars and broken parts of Keith that had never fully healed. 

“They’re wrong,” Lance said vehemently, not caring if he outed the fact he knew about the things he’d overheard because Keith needed to hear this now. “They’re wrong, Keith. You’re, you’re a good person. And whatever they punished you with… they’re the ones who deserved it. Not you. They were wrong and they hurt you.” He swallowed, hands curling into fists at the fact he’d been so blind, “I hurt you.”

Keith stiffened.

“Maybe, maybe not like them,” Lance continued and Dios, he hoped he hadn’t, it had never been intentional and if he’d realized he’d have stopped, he knew he would have, “but… but I still hurt you. And I’m sorry.”

Keith was looking at him then with wide, bright eyes as though he was seeing Lance for the first time.

Maybe he was.

Lance tried to muster up a smile and while Keith didn’t return it he no longer looked quite so breakable.

So small.

“And I’m going to do better,” Lance continued, softer. “And not because of what happened there,” and Keith flinched. “I know you don’t want pity and that’s, that’s not what this is. I just… I realized a lot of things and I realized that I haven’t been a good friend. I’m not even sure I’ve really even been a friend. And I want to fix that. If you’ll let me. And if you don’t,” Lance’s stomach clenched but this wasn’t about him, this was about listening and respecting Keith and what he needed, “I’m still here for you.”

 “...thanks,” Keith said after a moment, eyes flicking up to Lance’s before looking away. “I… that…” he was trembling again and arms wrapped tighter around his stomach in that really sad looking hug. “That means a lot. And, um… I’d like that. To, to be friends.”

Lance’s lips pulled into a real smile then, the knot in his stomach loosening. “I’d like that too,” he said quietly. His eyes looked over Keith, still in his sad, lonely, self-hug and it made something sharp pang in his heart.

“Would you like a hug?” Lance offered carefully and Keith immediately gave a harsh shake of his head, his hands twitching where they were on his sides. 

Lance had figured as much but he’d still wanted to put it out there just in case and to let Keith know that, if he wanted to, Lance wasn’t going to shy away. Keith might not be very tactile but Lance was and Keith would have observed that and if Lance started being reserved where he never had before, that might hurt him too even if Keith couldn’t quite voice it.  

However…

There might be one person right now Keith wanted to see, might accept a hug, a wanted touch, from.

“Do you want me to get Shiro?” 

Keith’s eyes widened before he ducked his head down, more pink staining his features. 

And then he nodded.

“Okay,” Lance agreed quietly. “I’ll go—”

“Wait,” Keith interrupted him. “Can… can you…?”

“Stay?” Lance filled in and received a small nod in response.

Something warm settled in his chest.

“Of course,” he said quietly. “Just let me text Hunk to get Shiro.”

The silence descended but that time it didn’t feel heavy at all.

There was nothing left unspoken here. 

Soft thuds of Shiro’s footsteps sounded not even two minutes later and then he was stepping onto the observation deck.

“Keith,” he murmured, and Lance stepped back to give the two of them some room although since Keith had asked him to stay…

He was staying.

“I’m sorry for running,” Keith apologized.

“Oh, buddy, no,” Shiro took a careful step forward. “I’m sorry I didn’t come after you. I know… I know sometimes space can help and I didn’t want to push, but…” his gaze shifted to Lance and Lance felt his own cheeks heat at the sheer gratitude directed at him, “that’s not what you really needed this time, was it?”

Keith gave a small shrug. “I… I didn’t really know. I thought… I thought if I could just forget, then I’d be better, but every time I close my eyes…” his arms tightened around his stomach. “I can’t forget,” he whispered. “And… and I can’t keep running. Or hiding.”

“You don’t have to face this alone either,” Shiro said gently. “You’re not alone, Keith.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I just…”

He trembled.

“I feel so… so weak.  That I let him… that I, to him… But,” his eyes darted up to land on Lance. “Lance said that I wasn’t.”

“And he’s right,” Shiro said gently. “You were not and you have never been weak. You’re so so strong. But that doesn't mean you still can’t be scared and being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak. What happened to you… that wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault. And no matter what you might be feeling, what he made you think because of things he did or you did, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing, Keith.” 

Keith nodded as another tear dripped down his cheek. 

“I know it isn’t going to be easy,” Shiro said. “I know it’s probably going to be scary. But I’ll be here. Lance will be here. All of us are here for you. And we’re going to help you through this.”

Keith nodded again. 

Shiro slowly held open his arms. “Only if you want to,” he said as Keith stiffened. “And if you don’t want a hug, or to be touched right now, that’s okay too.”

“I…”

Keith shifted on his feet.

“I want a hug,” he whispered.  

Shiro bobbed his arms. “Ready whenever you are, buddy.”

Achingly slow Keith crossed the expanse between him and Shiro, pausing a few inches before he reached him, taking a breath. And then he stepped into the embrace and Shiro’s arms gently closed about him.

“Is this okay?” Shiro murmured.

Keith nodded.

And as Lance watched the tension began to drain from Keith’s body, his own arms sliding down and then slowly wrapping around Shiro’s back, his head resting against Shiro’s chestplate.

Over the top of Keith’s head Shiro met Lance’s gaze.

He didn’t say anything, but Lance heard the unspoken words loud and clear.

‘Thank you.’

Lance’s smile, small as it was, felt far more genuine that time and he inclined his head. 

And while some things might still remain unspoken, kept to the dark recesses of Keith’s mind...

His feelings wouldn’t.

He wasn’t going to hide anymore, wasn’t going to run.

If he did then Lance would find him and bring him back.

And they would get through this together.