Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ONE

RIFT

Lance POV

“I knew it.”

When Keith didn’t even bother slowing his pace or turning around to grace him with so much as a glare, Lance raised his voice, irritated at being ignored on top of everything else. “I knew something was going to happen. I had a bad feeling all morning.”

Keith’s only response was to let out an irritated grunt as he slashed out with his hand at a low hanging branch.

“It was like my brain was trying to tell me Hey, Lance, today is gonna be the worst fucking day ever.” He ducked away as the branch swung back toward him.

“Well too bad your brain wasn’t specific on the details about what was going to make this day so bad, or we could have avoided this.”

Lance glared at the back of Keith’s head. “I’m sorry. Is that blame I hear in your voice, Kogane? Because I never asked you to follow me.”

That finally made Keith pause. He drew in a long breath before letting it out on a sigh, and turned around to face his teammate.

Lance clenched his jaw and braced himself for an argument, but when Keith spoke he only sounded tired.

“Look. It was a freak accident. None of us saw the wormhole – or whatever that was – until it was too late.” He hesitated for a second before reaching out and placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I’m just frustrated. But we’re both okay, and we’re gonna get out of this mess like I promised.”

Lance remembered the day Keith had reunited with the team – taller, broader, and more level headed. So many things had happened in such dizzyingly quick sequence, it had all blurred into a mess of danger and mayhem. All except one thing. All except one moment his mind retained with vivid clarity, as if all those other things couldn’t even compare in importance to the one event that day that seemed to overshadow all else:

Hey everyone. Keith’s back!

He remembered where he stood, what he said, how he felt – and because that one moment had stuck in his mind, he often caught himself watching Keith in the days and weeks that followed when he should have been paying attention to other things.

It was because of his acute attentiveness that he had begun to really take notice of how much Keith had changed since he had left to join the Blade. It gave Lance an uneasy feeling – a dull ache that settled into the pit of his stomach – because it felt like Keith had changed too much too quickly for being gone for such a short period of time.

More than anything, he wanted to ask about it. He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to know what had happened to Keith since he walked away from them, and he wanted to tell Keith what he had gone through in the interim. He wanted to talk about how things used to be; he wanted to talk about how different things were, now.

But that was not a conversation to be had over comms during a battle or a rescue mission. It was not a conversation he wanted to have with others listening in. And the one time they’d actually had a quiet moment alone on top of the Black Lion on their last night on Earth, the moment had been wrong.

There had been something bittersweet in the sound of Keith’s voice. There had been a sad sort of finality in his eyes. There had been a soft melancholy in the slump of his shoulders as he smiled at Lance and instructed Kosmo to take him back down to ground level so he could go on the date he had always dreamed of.

It had all been wrong, because there was something about the Keith that had returned to them that wasn’t the Keith he remembered.

It made the dull ache in his chest deepen. It made him feel like he had missed something important; something that flitted away like a shadow every time he turned his head and tried to see it.

It made moments like this particularly difficult. Moments when Keith’s voice got soft and serious, and his eyes held Lance’s with some unnamed expression that made it difficult to breathe.

It made Lance’s fight or flight instincts kick in, and his default response take over.

“Black Paladin Keith,” he teased, letting a smirk pull at one corner of his mouth as he jabbed a finger against Keith’s sternum. “Look at you being all…leader-y. You gonna give me some rousing Shiro-inspired speech about our duty to the universe and how we just need to be patient and focus on the task at hand?”

That got him the dark glower he was used to, and Keith whipped around, stalking forward once again. “Just shut up, Lance.”

“Aw, man. I was being complimentary!” Lance hurried after him, wincing a little on his sore ankle. “Don’t be mad.”

***

It had happened out of nowhere.

They had been heading back to rendezvous with the Atlas after a successful rescue of a Puigan transport vessel. Lance had been excitedly chatting away to Hunk over the comms about exactly how many pirates he had taken out with his awesome and definitely-better-than-Keith combat skills, when Red’s cockpit had been flooded by a harsh, blinding light.

Lance only had enough time to gasp “What?” before he was being pulled toward the swirling vortex that had blinked into existence directly in front of his lion. His hands clutched the controls, but he could feel how useless even the power of Red was against this gravitational pull.

Keith’s voice shouting his name over their comms was the last thing he heard before his vision had gone sparkling white as he was dragged into oblivion.

The shifting, dappled light filtering before Lance’s eyes as he regained consciousness reminded him of being underwater. It reminded him of lazy days spent outside, surrounded by laughter and sunlight; sand between his toes and salt drying in his hair. Days that faded into nights of soft guitar music and crackling fires. Someone’s arm around his shoulders; a sense of calm and comfort enveloping him like a warm blanket.

The memories washed over him, dragging at his heart like a deep and agonizing riptide.

He forced himself to focus on his breathing – in and out, in and out, like the steady surge of a calm sea – until the longing faded back into the usual dull ache in his chest. He lay there, adjusting to reality, until his eyes could focus on what actually lay before him instead of all the memories that lay behind.

However, as his focus and his senses returned, comprehension seemed to lag. Because it made no sense that he was lying on his back in his jeans and baseball t-shirt, staring up at a canopy of gently swaying leaves.

Dread and panic reached out toward him with searching fingers as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, eyes sweeping the surrounding area – and immediately landing on a figure sprawled on his side several feet away.

The panic took hold – curling around his heart and squeezing – and he was scrambling to his feet, wincing as he put weight on his right ankle. The pain wasn’t enough to hinder him, though, as he hurried over to where Keith lay – his anxious mind taking an unhelpful note that his friend didn’t have his paladin armor either, but wore black pants and a t-shirt.

Lance dropped to his knees beside Keith and rolled him gently onto his back – relieved to hear him let out a groan that sounded less severe injury and more five more minutes, mom. His anxiety didn’t stay at bay for long, however, as Lance’s attention was caught by a tear in Keith’s shirt over his abdomen and a splotch of red peaking through.

Keith’s eyes blinked open and he groaned again, his face scrunching up as he pushing himself up to a kneeling position. One hand traveled to his side absentmindedly.

Lance’s own hands hovered close by in case any movement caused Keith to suddenly collapse. “H-hey, man, be careful, okay? You’re bleeding –“

Keith’s fingers came away clean as he raised his hand to examine it, which was only more concerning to Lance. Because that meant they’d been out here – wherever here was – long enough for the blood to dry.

Keith’s eyes met his, squinting in the dappled light. “You okay?” When Lance barely nodded, Keith’s eyes narrowed. “Lance.”

“My ankle hurts. I don’t know. It’s not terrible. I think we have more pressing matters right now!” The words stumbled out all on one breath.

It was only then Keith’s brain seemed to catch up to their situation. His mouth pulled down at the corners as his gaze traveled over Lance’s body. “Why are you wearing…” He broke off, turning to take in the tall trees and low hanging branches. “What the fuck?” He whispered.

“Right? Okay, I’m not crazy, am I?” Lance couldn’t stop his hand from shooting out and gripping Keith’s arm. He needed something to ground him; he needed to touch something familiar. “You remember Voltron and the lions, right? This isn’t some fucking Wizard of Oz shit, is it? There’s no place like h –”

“Congratulations,” Keith murmured, almost to himself. “You finally referenced a movie I’ve seen.”

“Keith, come on!”

“Yes, I remember.” He turned back to Lance in time to stop the impending freak-out. “No, it wasn’t all some coma dream. It can’t have been if we both remember it, right?” He glanced up toward the sky, still squinting. “It must have been that…whatever that was. That…space anomaly.”

“Great.” Lance’s sarcasm sprung to life, brought on by the nervous energy that had currently replaced the blood in his veins. “’Space anomaly,’” he quoted drily. “That’s super helpful, man. Might as well just say it must have been that thing that happened. Where’s Pidge when you need her? I bet she’d know what’s going on.”

“Relax. I’m sure they’re trying to figure out what happened right now, and once they do, they’ll come looking for us.” Keith hadn’t moved to free his arm from Lance’s hold. “And in the meantime, we have each other and whatever comes our way, we can figure it out. I know you’re a lot smarter than you let people see, most of the time.”

The unexpected compliment caught Lance so off guard, his grip on Keith’s arm went slack.

He went so long without a response, Keith shifted nervously beside him. “Do I…need to check you for head injuries?”

Shaking off his temporary stupor, Lance ran a hand down the length of his face, feeling strangely warm. “No. No, my head feels normal. But –“ he batted one hand toward Keith. “Let me check you. I can see the blood through your shirt, man, and I wanna make sure you’re not hiding some grievous injury from me.”

It was Keith’s turn to hesitate, now, and the longer he did, the more Lance’s eyes narrowed.

“Seriously, tough guy?” he finally snapped. “There’s no way in hell you’re gonna leave me here all alone to fend for myself and take care of your unconscious ass if you pass out from blood loss.”

Keith’s expression softened as he relented, shifting over until he knelt directly before Lance, their knees barely brushing. He let the tiniest of smirks play across his lips for a moment before it disappeared. “I’m fine, and I’m perfectly capable of checking my own injury,” he said. “But if you’re so impatient to see me shirtless –“

Lance snorted, leaning in and taking the hem of Keith’s shirt in his fingers. “First of all, like 93% of your shirt is staying on. And second of all, I’ll get all up in your business if it means you’re not gonna die and leave me alone out here.”

For a second, both of them stiffened, then Keith was nudging Lance’s shoulder, pushing him back up to eye level.

“Hey. Do you still trust me?”

It was just the proximity that made it difficult to concentrate, Lance assured himself. It had absolutely nothing to do with the intensity in Keith’s eyes. “Y…yeah?”

“I promise I’ll get you home, okay? No matter how annoyed you get with me, I won’t leave you alone, here. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.”

If anyone had asked Lance the one thing he was least prepared for in life, he could have easily answered that it was the rare moments when this particular side of Keith decided to show itself.

This strange mix of vehemence and gentleness that made Lance’s heartbeat skitter away like a frightened animal. The contradictory combination of strength and softness in his eyes and his voice that Lance had encountered before – surrounded by soft purple light, or the fathomless darkness of space, or the warm glow of a sunset –

There was something different about it, now, however; something hidden beneath the surface of Keith’s words. Something dark and forlorn and wrong, that Lance couldn’t quite put his finger on, like a shadow constantly flitting out of sight when he turned his head to look.

Something that made words spill from his mouth, hushed and urgent after holding them back for so long. “What happened to you, Keith?”

For a second, that intense gaze flickered – flames darting away from a gust of wind – but then Keith’s eyes were softening, lifting toward his hairline before slowly rolling back down to meet with Lance’s again.

“It’s literally just a scratch. But if you really need to check for yourself, then –“ He motioned toward his side, pulling up the hem of his shirt a couple inches.

And Lance let it go, feeling for the first time, that he had taken a shot and missed.

They moved on, each briefly checking the other’s injuries and confirming both were nothing serious. Their best course of action, they decided, would be to find either shelter and water, or – best case scenario – some form of civilization where they might be able to get in contact with the team.

So they moved away from the patch of sun-dappled grass and fallen leaves where they both had woken up, and Lance tried not to dwell on the strange emptiness he felt slowly growing inside his chest.

***

It did not take long for Lance to reach the conclusion that the forest they were currently trudging through was the hottest, most humid place he’d ever been. A fact he made sure Keith was also aware of in great detail.

“I’m from Cuba!” The collar of his shirt was soaked with sweat, and he was trying his best to avoid having any part of his body touch any other part, while attempting to maintain the pace Keith had set. “I grew up there until my dad had to move for work, and even then, we went back during summer vacations. I can take a bit of heat, believe me. So when I say this is ridiculous, I mean I think this place is literally hell!”

Keith threw a hand up in the air. “And I grew up in Texas and the Arizona desert.” He sounded exasperated as only a person dealing with this level of discomfort could. “I get it. It’s hot. But unless you think you can complain away the humidity, then can you please knock it off?”

“I can’t control the climate, but I can complain to you until you realize I’m a human being who needs a break, oh wise and powerful leader.” Lance took a couple hurried steps, catching up to Keith and grabbing him by the shoulder. “Seriously, man. Just for a minute? We’ve been walking for like…five years.”

Keith seemed to weigh their options for a moment, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees. Then he gave a begrudging nod. “Fine. But just for a couple minutes.”

Before the confirmation was even out of Keith’s mouth, Lance had found the nearest fallen tree and all but collapsed onto it with a drawn out groan of exhaustion and relief.

Once he settled, and the ache in his legs had eased up, he glanced up to see Keith watching him from the exact place he had been standing.

Lance rolled his eyes and patted the log beside him. “Don’t be afraid,” he drawled, sarcasm as thick as the sweat he felt running down his spine. “Join me on my throne of luxury and comfort.”

Keith’s eyebrows pulled upwards in a slightly sheepish expression. “Um…if I sit down I actually don’t know if I’ll get up again. An object in motion, and all that.”

Lance sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes. “Wait. Are you – are you saying you’re…tired?” A slow grin began to stretch across his face as he leaned back. “The great and powerful Keith Kogane, fearless leader of Voltron and savior of the universe –“

“Lance –“

“– is actually revealing that he might, in fact, experience human weaknesses like fatigue?”

Keith shot him a feeble glare. “You know what? Since you chose to make fun of me for it, I am going to sit down.” He took a few steps over toward Lance. “I’m going to sit down and immediately fall asleep, and then you’re going to have to carry me the rest of the way like the good right hand man you are.”

Lance was still grinning. “You’re saying that like I can’t carry you.” He pointed a finger up at Keith’s face. “You missed a lot of stuff while you were off playing Blade hero. I got along just fine without you.”

It had, of course, been meant as a joke, but the minute the words left his mouth, he knew how wrong they were.

That feeling was confirmed as Keith’s expression immediately drained of all emotion. He teetered in place for a moment before taking a step backwards and giving a quick nod. “I know that,” was all he said before turning away from Lance and stepping over to a nearby tree, leaning back against the trunk and folding his arms.

Any exhaustion Lance had felt suddenly seemed less important, and he was on his feet, one hand stretching out. “I didn’t mean it like –“ He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say, only that he felt he had to fix whatever had been screwed up. “We’re all glad you’re back, Keith. You know that, right?”

Keith’s shoulders hitched up in a shrug. “Sure, Lance. I was gone for a while, though. I didn’t expect everything to just go back to the way things were. I know it was out of necessity, too, but I’m still surprised Black accepted me so quickly after two years. And I know you all –“

“Wait. What do you mean two years?”

The sharp edge to Lance’s voice must have caught Keith’s attention enough to finally make him glance up. “That’s how long I was gone. I know days can start to blur out here, but –“

“Um, no? You left for the Blade, and then six months later you showed up with your mom and your wolf and Romelle.” Lance’s voice rose. “Where’d you get two years from?”

Keith pushed away from the tree and faced him, the corners of his mouth pulling down into a deep frown. “I was stuck on that space whale traveling through the Quantum Abyss for two years, Lance. I kept track of every single day because it was one of the things I needed to do to survive!”

Lance was glaring at him, now – the dull ache in his chest flaring into something bitter and fierce. “And I know it was six months because I also kept track! Six months was bad enough – you think we would have been fine for two years without you?”

“You just told me you were fine a second ago!” Keith snapped. “I made sure you were all going to be fine before I left. Six months or two years, or… Look, it wouldn’t have mattered because –“

“Wait.” The ache was spreading out, traveling down Lance’s arm and into his fingertips, making them curl tightly into fists. “Ok, correct me if I’m wrong, but it almost sounds like you weren’t planning on coming back at all.”

Keith opened his mouth to reply, but then changed his mind – his jaw clamping shut and his lips pressing together in a tight, stubborn line. “We’re not doing this,” was all he said, pushing himself away from the tree. “We should keep moving. We don’t know how much daylight we have left.”

Thoughts of the weariness in his legs, or the sweltering heat of the forest, or even thoughts of how they were going to get out of this mess faded into the background of Lance’s mind as they continued their grueling trek through the trees and underbrush.

In the absence of his immediate issues, his mind was assaulted by the hushed, painful thoughts he was used to suppressing every time they tried to surface.

Why did you leave us in the first place?

Did you hate being with us that much?

Were we not good enough? Was I not good enough?

And above all, the one thought that refused to stay hidden, no matter how many times he tried to fend it off:

Are you going to leave again?

Lance was so focused on his inner turmoil, he wasn’t paying attention to anything else. He didn’t know how long they walked. He didn’t know where they were heading.

So he almost yelped in surprise when Keith grabbed him out of nowhere, yanking him off balance. Keith must have anticipated any startled noise he’d make, however, because one hand was clamping firmly over Lance’s mouth as he dragged him down so they were crouched low to the ground, hidden in the space between a tree trunk and the leaves of a large, fern-like plant.

Despite whatever time they had spent apart, their battle camaraderie had remained, ingrained in them like a childhood habit. In the midst of chaos and danger, Lance knew Keith in a way he’d never known another person. He knew his thought process, and how to anticipate his decisions. And he knew, from the swiftness of Keith’s actions now, and the slightly accelerated pounding of his heart where Lance’s back pressed against his chest, that there was something out there Keith perceived to be a potential threat.

As the slight tremors of approaching footsteps radiated up through the soles of Lance’s sneakers, he placed a firm hand on Keith’s bent knee to let him know they were on the same page. Keith’s hand lingered over his mouth for a moment longer, before it slipped down to find a place on Lance’s shoulder.

The two of them ducked even further into the shelter of the undergrowth as the footsteps drew closer. Lance instinctually pressed back against Keith, barely daring to breathe, as a small group marched by their hiding spot. They had the appearance of mercenaries or guerilla soldiers – their uniforms pieced together and worn, and their weapons mismatching, as though they were using whatever they could get their hands on. Strangest of all, though, was the fact that every one of them appeared to be fully human, from what little Lance could observe past the leaves obscuring his view.

As the group passed by without incident, and the soft snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves underfoot began to fade, the tension began to bleed from Lance’s shoulders. He had just been about to turn around and look at Keith when the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking somewhere behind their heads made his adrenaline spike.

“Let him go,” commanded a voice, low and threatening. “I won’t ask again.”

Lance only realized, as Keith’s arm tightened around him reflexively, that the entire time they’d been crouching there, that arm had been wrapped snuggly around his waist in a protective hold.

“Let him go.” The voice came again, each word falling with potent intent.

Lance felt cold and naked as Keith’s arms slid away to raise above his head.

“What do you want?” Keith kept his voice low.

They were still pressed so closely together, Lance felt the small, abrupt shock that radiated through Keith’s body before his limbs dropped and he slumped onto his side.

Lance was already twisting – reaching for him, terrified of what he’d find –

“What are you doing out here? You’re not on patrol until tomorrow.”

A hand caught Lance’s wrist just as his fingers grazed Keith’s shoulder. He struggled against the stranger’s grip, his mind hyper-focused on his friend until he could confirm the smallest shift in the fabric of Keith’s shirt that meant he was still breathing.

“What did you do to him?” Lance hissed.

“Tranquilizer.” Lance’s captor gave his arm a shake. “So let’s get out of here while he’s still out. Who is this anyway? Is he Galra? How’d he find you?”

Tranquilizer.

Not bullet.

Which meant Keith was only unconscious, and Lance could stop panicking and focus on getting them both away from whoever this was.

The face was definitely human, he noted as he raised cold eyes to the stranger. Short dreadlocks peeked out from behind a bandana and light brown eyes met Lance’s from a face that did not appear to be much older than his own.

But the minute Lance raised his head, those eyes were widening, and before he could even open his mouth to speak, the gun in the man’s hand was raised.

Lance flinched as the sharp point of a tranquilizer dart embedded itself in his shoulder. He didn’t even have enough time to utter a sound before the world was swimming, and his mind washed away into darkness.