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Lance cruises over the planet’s surface, dipping beneath the peach-coloured clouds. Jabbing at the comm button, he says, “Keith? Keith? Are you there?” Radio silence. Lance swears and closes the line. No use there. Coran already said that Keith disabled his lion’s coordinate-sending procedures, so he guesses he’ll have to do manual search.
He hopes that Keith is okay.
After what feels like a lifetime (fifteen minutes), he finally spots a flash of red among the alien foliage of the planet. Relief flushes through his gut. Lance dives towards the clearing where Red is and lands. Thankfully, the planet is just plants and animals, according to Coran, and has a breathable atmosphere. Upon consideration, he puts his armour and bayard away; no use in making Keith think they’re afraid of him. Or more than he thinks already.
He flicks open the comm. “Hey guys? I’ve found Keith. He’s not hurt, I don’t think. I’m gonna go talk to him. Sending coordinates over, but don’t land yet.”
Shiro’s voice crackles through the line. “Thank god. But Lance, are you sure you want to talk to him?” Pidge’s voice murmurs in concerned assent.
“Guys.” Lance’s voice is firm. “I know we’ve butt heads in the past, but c’mon. Have a bit of faith. We’re both part of this team and I’m not going to see it fall apart because of this. I’m not, y’know, that petty. Besides, what would he think if I don’t come out? He’d probably just feel worse.”
“Don’t you think that–” Pidge begins, but Hunk interrupts firmly.
“Seriously guys. Lance’s got this. If you guys can trust me, you can trust Lance.” Hunk’s known him the longest, so Shiro and Pidge put their reservations aside.
Shiro says, “Alright. Go on ahead,” and Lance cuts the line.
He opens the hatch and leaps out of Blue’s mouth. Looking up, he can see the mass of the Red Lion shielding a much smaller, balled up figure. Breathe in, breathe out. He’s done this before, when his siblings needed someone to talk to. He knows he can do it again. Blue Paladin, leg of Voltron – supporting the team is one of his things. Should be one of his things.
Lance moves forward.
---
Keith didn’t know his cover was blown until after the battle.
It was supposed to be a routine clash with Zarkon’s forces; hop onto a group of transport ships, dismantle and destroy. What they didn’t anticipate was the fact that the main ship, their first target, was actually transferring a group of druids. It took them all off guard and let Keith get shot full of their magic before Hunk ripped through their concentration with his bayard. They retreated quickly, knowing they were outmatched. Through all the chaos, Keith didn’t notice the way everything seemed way too bright and loud until he took off his helmet at the castle.
The way Shiro yelped – off guard, ferally – was the first clue. The second clue was when he heard the unmistakable sounds of bayards powering up. The third clue was when he looked around, ready to find the enemy, and saw his reflection in the bay window. A rush of déjà vu sent Keith’s hand to his own bayard, because the purple skin and yellow eyes he saw staring back at him were unmistakably Galra.
“What the – oh, fuck.”
Five weeks ago, his right hand started turning purple and clawed. He wasn’t stupid – he knew exactly what it looked like. Fighting the Galra constantly made it impossible to deny the shade of mauve on his hand. He had figured it had something to do with the Galra druid in the Quintessence refinery.
Keith had always known there was something weird with him. His early memories only featured his mother, his 엄마. “조심해야대, 김수야.” You have to be careful, Keith. He remembered the strange knife that he held onto despite social services begging him to hand it over – he was told it was his father’s and he never let it go. He remembered the strange sigil on the knife unlike anything he’d ever seen before; the pull to the Blue Lion that nobody else felt; the way his nails were tougher and his teeth grew strangely sharp until a foster family took him to the dentist.
Keith was impulsive, not clueless.
He switched to wearing full gloves from the training room and avoided healing pods like the plague, paranoid that the scans could pick up on it. God, he finally found a place in the universe where he fit, and he couldn’t let himself lose it. Not now, not ever, never ever ever. This strange family in space that he picked up was everything he had left. He was still himself anyways, and that’s what mattered.
But could he trust them enough to tell them? When Shiro still froze up at Galra drones, or when Pidge’s family was taken captive by them? When Allura’s face sometimes contorted into a stunned rage and grief when she remembered her home was gone? He remembered every foster parent that had rejected him and the same looks of disappointment on their faces, and felt fear curdle in his gut.
That’s why he didn’t tell anyone.
That’s why he was panicking at the fact that they knew.
Oh god, they knew now.
Oh god.
Terrified, he dropped his bayard to the ground with a clang. He turned around to face his friends and swallowed. He needed to say something, but panic coiled in his stomach, clogged his throat and froze him. He couldn’t move. They stared back, wide-eyed and frozen like him.
Lance lowered his bayard tentatively. “. . . Keith?”
It was the look, etched in every line of Shiro’s face, that said you’re one of them, not us –
Keith bolted.
---
Red curled around his mind protectively as he took the controls and jetted out of the hangar. He didn’t know where he was headed, he just followed his instincts that told him to run like hell. He blasted off before Allura could close the doors and flew blindly, blindly. Shut off his coordinate procedures without a second thought. Red told him, “there is someplace safe and I will guide you,” and he flew with her. Kept flying until he thought his breath could even out, until the panic subsided. He glided through the atmosphere and landed with a thud in a field.
Out of morbid curiosity, he took off his helmet to look at his reflection in the visor.
The face that stared back at him was unfamiliar. Glowing yellow eyes, purple hair, purple – was that fur? What? He touched his cheek and recoiled. Short, velveteen fur met his fingertips. He looked at the ears – no. No, he can’t deal with this, he can’t deal with all this, what happened to him –
Red hushed him gently. He blinked, realizing tears had gathered in his eyes. His lion told him to step outside and breathe, not panic in the tight space of her cockpit. He tossed his helmet aside and stepped out. Sat down.
He felt empty.
---
It’s an eternity until Lance settles down on the grass next to Keith. “Hey,” he says. Keith swallows but says nothing. Surprisingly, Lance doesn’t press him to talk. He doesn’t stare at him or prod for answers.
They sit side-by-side, watching the planet’s two suns make their way to the horizon.
Keith blows out an unsteady breath. “Um, I. I guess I should explain.” His voice is hoarse. He swallows thickly and tries to make the words come out.
“Take your time,” Lance says. “I’m not going anywhere.” He looks at Keith evenly. Not scared. Keith takes another breath.
“When I was little, weird things would . . . happen to me. I. Well. My knife,” he says, taking it out of its sheath, “I was told it was my father’s and I never let it go. Sometimes a kid would try to steal it but I’d beat them up and they’d leave me alone after that.” He unwraps the fabric winding around the hilt and holds it up. The purple sigil says it all.
“Sometimes my eyes would look weird and yellow in the right light. One of my foster families–” Lance’s eyes widen a bit “– had to take me to the dentist to get my teeth fixed because they were growing weird. Sometimes I could feel things that nobody else could. Like the Blue Lion. And, uh, stuff like that. I, um.” His voice peters out again.
Quietly, Lance prompts, “You were in the foster system?” Keith nods.
“Yeah, I was. Umma died when I was four. Car accident, I was told. I don’t really remember much of my early childhood but I remember we lived in an apartment. I think it was in Houston.”
Lance looks down at his feet. “Must’ve been lonely,” he says. “I grew up in a big family, so I can’t really say I understand. I just miss ‘em. But hey!” Lance smiles, broad and wide. “You guys are like family too. Including you, dropout.” The nickname is a familiar relief.
Keith smiles a bit, but his face drops again. “I don’t know if they’ll. Y’know. Be okay with this. You guys – you guys are pretty important to me. I’ve never really had a place where I, well, belong. Like I’m safe and important to someone-” His voice cracks and he chokes on words. His eyes are burning with tears. He blinks, feeling them sink into his weird new fur. This is gross and humiliating and Keith hates it.
“Hey, hey. Keith. Buddy. Look at me for a sec?” Keith meets Lance’s gaze – it’s stubborn and honest. “Dude. You’re part of us. Paladins of Voltron, you hear me? We’re in this together. They still care about you. You know how worried we were when you ran off? We were, oh man, so scared.” Keith’s eyes widen.
Lance starts gesturing, emphasizing his words. “We thought for a second that you might’ve been captured by the Galra when your coordinates shut off! Everybody was so relieved when I found you. I was talking to them, dude.” Lance carefully does not mention Shiro and Pidge’s doubts about himself.
“Keith, you’re one of us. We’re not gonna let you go. You’re still you, stupid mullet and all. So whaddya say, mullet man?” Lance elbows him.
“Ow!”
“Whoops, sorry. Bony elbows.” He smiles sheepishly at Keith.
“Heh. Hehehehe.” And then Keith starts laughing like he just saw the funniest thing in the world. Lance joins in.
After all they laugh themselves out, it’s quiet and calm. Not an awkward silence. Keith likes it, but there’s something he needs to say.
“Hey Lance?”
“Mmmhmm?”
“Thanks.”
Lance stands up and dusts off his pants. “No problem buddy. Race you to the castle?”
“You know it, cargo pilot.”