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“I’m Galran.”
The stagnant, recycled air in the hangar hummed as the team stood frozen, staring back at Keith.
“Well, maybe part, or a distant relative. I don’t really know.” Keith stumbled over the words, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. Beside him, Shiro gave his shoulder a steady, grounding squeeze.
“Are you sure?” Allura asked.
Keith kept his eyes fixed on the floor, but he could feel her stare cutting straight through him.
Through the blur of his battered vision, he scanned the others. Pidge’s expression was sharp and analytical behind her glasses, already turning over the countless possibilities of how he could exist. Hunk hovered beside her, shifting uneasily, glancing between him and Allura.
Keith couldn’t meet her eyes. Not yet. There was still a small, fragile part of him that hoped, maybe, she’d understand. None of this had been a choice. He’d only wanted answers. A piece of himself.
Instead, all he could think about was what she must see when she looked at him.
A monster.
A reminder of everything the Galra had destroyed. Her home, her people, and countless lives.
He shifted his gaze towards Lance.
He didn’t dare meet his eyes, settling instead on his mouth. Lance’s lips were pressed together, something unreadable held there. Not the usual smirk, not a joke waiting to spill out. It was quieter. Tense. Like he was holding something back.
Lance opened his mouth—
“You’re a traitor!” Allura cut in, sharp and immediate. “What is this? Some elaborate ruse to gather intel for Zarkon? You were part of this team, our family. We should have known you’d betray us.”
Each word landed like a blade, digging deeper into wounds that hadn’t even begun to close.
Family.
Keith had spent years drifting. Foster homes, empty rooms, no place to belong. And now, finally, he’d found something real.
And it was slipping through his fingers.
“You think I planned this?” Keith snapped, anger breaking through the exhaustion. “That I’m some kind of spy? I didn’t even know until a varga ago!”
Allura scoffed. “It does not matter. You are Galra, and no being with Galra blood can be trusted. End of story.”
“That’s enough.” Shiro stepped forward, pushing Keith back slightly.
Keith flinched despite himself. The adrenaline had worn off; the pain came rushing in to replace it.
Shiro noticed. His voice softened, “We’ll continue this later. Everyone needs time. Allura, observation deck, twenty dobashes. Keith, med bay. Now.”
Keith opened his mouth to argue.
“Now.”
He didn’t fight it.
——
Keith hovered outside the med bay doors, restless.
There was too much to do. Too many questions. One truth had unraveled everything, and now there were a thousand threads to chase. He should be searching records. Asking Pidge for help. Training harder. Not sitting around waiting to heal.
He turned away.
“Oh nope, no you don’t.”
Keith stopped short.
Lance stood in his path, arms crossed, entirely too confident for someone blocking a clearly bad idea.
“What are you doing?” Keith snapped, already calculating how to get around him.
“Saving you from yourself,” Lance shot back easily. “Now get in the med bay.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, and I’m a wild yalmor.”
Keith tried to sidestep him. Lance moved with him.
“Lance—”
“Med bay.”
With what little energy he had left, Keith gave in.
Once seated on the table, Keith watched as Lance moved around the room, pulling supplies with surprising familiarity.
“I don’t need babysitting,” Keith muttered.
Lance snorted. “Please. We both know there was no way you were going to take care of yourself. The lack of conditioner in your mullet is a good indication that “self care” isn’t in your repertoire.”
“That’s it—”
Keith tried to stand, but Lance was already there, pressing him back down.
“Uh-uh. From the way you’re limping, and the fact that you haven’t punched me yet, I’m guessing your left side is wrecked. So let’s take a look.”
Keith sighed, tension draining out of him. No point arguing.
He reached back to unzip his suit—
“Fuck!”
Pain shot through his side, sharp and blinding.
“Okay, yeah, that’s bad,” Lance said, stepping closer. “Here, hold still.”
Lance’s hands were careful as he pulled the suit down, hovering over Keith’s skin, hesitant to make any direct contact.
Cool air prickled against Keith’s skin, and he exhaled.
Usually, being this close to Lance he’d feel on edge. The only moments they shared contained sharp words, and constant friction. With Lance’s blue eyes constantly trying to see through every layer of protection keith had put up.
But now, It was quiet. The usual tension between them had taken a momentary pause.
With the suit now pulled off his chest, Lance could see the deep purple bruises covering his left side. Lance sucked in a breath “the blades really did a number on you, huh?”
Keith turned his head away, hair falling into his face, “Yeah, well nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Right of course Buddy, nothing gets past the samurai.” Lance said, softer this time. “This might sting.”
Keith braced himself.
The medicine burned, but not as much as he expected. Or maybe he was just distracted.
Because Lance’s touch—careful, hesitant—felt different. Gentler.
“There,” Lance murmured. “Almost done. Just bandages.”
Silence settled between them again. Not awkward. Just… still.
“Lance,” Keith said suddenly.
“Yeah?”
“Why are you doing this?”
Lance didn’t answer right away. He focused on wrapping the bandages, slower now.
“Because you’re an idiot who won’t take care of himself,” he said finally, but the usual bite wasn’t there. “And if you’re down, then Voltron won’t have an arm. In case you didn’t notice, A one armed Voltron makes it really hard to defeat zarkon.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Keith turned his head towards Lance, and took in a breath. “I- Why don’t you hate me?”
Lance stilled.
For a moment, something flickered across his face, surprise, then something deeper.
Something honest.
“Keith,” he said quietly, “you being part Galra doesn’t suddenly erase everything else about you.”
Keith’s jaw tightened. “It should.”
“It doesn’t.” Lance sighed and paused wrapping the bandages, “You’re still the guy who runs headfirst into danger for people you barely know. The guy who stayed up three nights straight trying to fix the training sims, because Hunk was balancing too many other responsibilities. The guy who—” he huffed a small laugh, “—who annoys the hell out of me, but still shows up. Every time.”
Keith swallowed, something tight forming in his chest.
“I know what the Galra have done,” Lance continued. “I’ve seen it. We all have. But that’s not you.”
Keith looked away. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Lance said firmly. “Because I know you.”
That landed harder than anything else. Making a hole into Keith’s impenetrable walls.
“You’re not a monster, Keith,” Lance added, softer now. “What Allura said was wrong, it will take some time but she’ll come around.“
The words settled into the cracks Allura’s had left behind.
Not fixing them, but holding.
Lance tied off the last bandage, his hands lingering for just a second too long before pulling away.
“You should rest,” he said, quieter now.
Keith nodded, but didn’t move.
For the first time since the trial, since everything, the weight didn’t feel quite as crushing.
And Keith glanced back at Lance, their eyes locking. And just for a moment, he didn’t look away.