Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s been a full year now.

One year since Lance decided to leave Voltron and join the Blade.

At the time, he felt like it was the only rational thing to do because… he was a disappointment. He never managed to pull his own weight and had to rely on the team to help him constantly. Lance would cover his embarrassment with small pranks and annoying comments, which just made the team despise him more.

Of course, he tried to get better. He would push himself more in training and keep his mouth shut during briefings. But that led to worried looks and snarky comments from Keith.

“Look who learnt to finally shut his mouth,” Keith would hiss. He always acted like Keith’s words never stung, but deep down, his heart was a canvas full of scars.

Back then, he didn’t know who he was—and he didn’t know who the team wanted him to be. Lance constantly felt homesick and would feel guilty because of that. On most nights, when he would find himself sobbing into his pillow, he would feel ashamed because everyone misses their family.

Lance wasn’t strong like them, he could barely keep himself together mentally and physically. It was pure luck that the blue lion chose him. Anyone could pilot her; if Lance left, Allura would easily take his place.

If he left, he wouldn’t be a burden to anybody. If he left he wouldn’t constantly fuck up missions. If he left… the team would be happier.

So, on a quiet night, he left. He didn’t take much—just a few essentials stuffed into a bag. Slipping into one of the escape pods, he launched himself into the vast emptiness of space. Doubt gnawed at him, whispering that he should turn back, but he forced himself to keep going.

Initially, Lance hadn’t made a plan. He was so caught up on everything that he had just launched himself from the castle. So for a few days, that was Lance’s life—Floating in space.
He got by on space goo and a few small bottles of water—just enough to last him for a while. Time had felt weird out there; nothing but the hum of the pod and his own thoughts kept him company. He tried not to think too much. But just as his supplies started to run low, a huge vessel had pulled up right in front of him, blocking out everything else.

The ship was oval-shaped and massive. It had purple markings etched into some panels, and large windows which stretched for miles. Although the sight was unusual, Lance automatically knew what it was—The Blade.

Lance didn’t know a lot about them, but he did know one thing.

He hated the Blade.

He hated the idea of losing people daily, and calling it ‘normal’. So as soon as that ship had come into sight, Lance’s first thought was to flee the scene. But before he could move, he felt himself and the pod being raised.

He was being lifted into the ship. Great.

The inside of the ship wasn’t much different. A purple hue radiated from lights, which cast dark shadows everywhere. Lance felt uneasy, but all he could do was sit in his pod and wait for someone to explain what was happening. The platform his pod was on came to an abrupt stop, and Lance had to hold on so he didn’t completely lose his balance. He scanned his eyes around the room and saw a tall purple figure gliding over to him—Kolivan.

He quickly straightened himself, pressing the button to open to altean pod. The glass panel swished open, and Lance clumsily stepped out.

“Sir,” Lance said, authority lacing his voice.

Kolivan looked the blue paladin up and down, and then said, “What is a paladin like you doing so far from its team?” Kolivans' voice was deep, and echoed throughout the ship bay.

Lance gulped, wondering what parts of the story he should tell, and which he should leave out. Could he trust Kolivan not to give his location to Voltron? Lance had already come so far, and if the team found Lance it would all be for shit. Guilt was constantly tugging at him, but every time he just shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind.

So instead he settled for saying, “uh, well, Voltron found a new Blue paladin. So I’ve been floating around space looking for a job to do.”

He bit his lip, hoping that Kolivan would believe him. To his relief, Kolivan grunted in response, then said, “So what? You want a job here then?”

Lance actually hadn’t thought of that.

Joining the Blade.

Maybe… It was a good idea. Maybe Lance would finally have a place where he belonged—somewhere he was actually good at something. Somewhere he mattered. He could join a team and feel like he was important. That way, he would have a use. Yes… yes! It was a great idea, Lance looked up at Kolivan, a grin forming on his face, and said:

“Would I be suitable… to join the Blade?”

Lance prepared for a harsh answer in response, but instead Kolivan said, “Well, you’re not particularly Galra.”

Kolivan looked Lance up and down, and he tried not to show his disappointment. He really should’ve expected this, though. Where would he go now? Lance would have nowhere else to go; this was his only option, and he was not letting it slide that easily.

“Does it matter?” Lance retorted.

Each word boomed through the shipping bay, making Lance's voice sound much more threatening. Kolivan sighed and said, “Well… you were a paladin of Voltron, so I guess I could ask Kr-”

Lance quickly smiled and sighed in relief, cutting Kolivan off. “Phew, thanks, man. I was getting real worried.’ Lance then reached into the pod, grabbed out the small backpack of belongings he had brought with him, and said, “Where can I put my stuff?”

He looked taken by surprise, and said, “Slow down, paladin, I was not finished. I said Let me ask Kroila first, and then we will decide. You are not in any squad right now.”

Krolia.

That was Keith's mom.

The familiar wave of guilt came crashing back in, remembering Keith and the rest of the team. Keith had been reunited with his mom a few months back, but Lance had never properly gotten to meet her, as he had only seen her from afar.

Fuck. That would be awkward.

Kolivan rubbed his temple, quickly interrupting Lance's thoughts, “I suppose for the time being you could stay in one of the free rooms.”

At that, Lance almost jumped up in joy.

“You’re serious?” He said enthusiastically.

Kolivan scoffed, then said, “Yes, now leave before I change my mind.”

At that, Lance had immediately fled from the scene. Not long after, he managed to locate the empty rooms Kolivan was talking about. It wasn’t hard to find, as every room had had an indicator which signalled whether it was taken or vacant.

The room was nothing special. Purple lights radiated from above, and the same metal lined the walls. A small bed–almost like a shelf- was placed into the wall. Apart from the bed, the only other furniture was a little metal cabinet propped up against the wall.
The bathroom was tucked behind a sliding door that locked securely. The room itself was small but cozy, and Lance wasted no time settling in. He neatly tucked his few pieces of clothing into the cabinet, then set his tiny Blue Lion bobblehead on top of the drawers.
Eventually, Kolivan had come into his room to tell him the news. Kroila had said he could join, but only for a year or two. After that, he would have to leave.
Lance was thrilled at the news. He had a uniform, a schedule, and a real chance to prove himself. That night, as he lay in bed, he couldn't help but wonder what his new life had in store for him.

ꕥ One year later. ( The Present) ꕥ

His whole body aches. Each step is like stepping on a sheet of nails, and he can feel his eyes drooping shut. That mission had been a close one.
Lance and the other members in his squad had been assigned to infiltrate a nearby space dock. They had heard news that there was going to be an illegal trade at the dock, including some lethal galran weapon.

Turns out, the traders were armed with strong weapons, as they had anticipated that someone would try to stop them. Absolute chaos had erupted at the dock, and Lance only just dodged the lasers fired at them.

They all made it back safely, with the only major injury being one of Lance’s teammates taking a shot to the shoulder.

Lance was lucky he hadn’t been injured badly. As he limps through the dark hallways, he lists off what his body has suffered this time.

One: Probably a sprained ankle. Two: A nasty bruise which had already started spreading across his jaw. Three: a wound stretching across his thigh. Of course, there was the odd scratch or bruise somewhere else on his body, but those were less significant.

Finally, he makes it back to his room. Lance breaths in the familiar scent as the door swishes open. His room is the only place where he feels at home. The small belongings he had put in his pack were his most prized possessions.

His time at the Blade has been challenging, but most definitely worth it. Lance has enjoyed meeting all these new people and feels a lot better about himself now. Everything has been going fantastically up to now. Over the past month, the guilt has come back in an entirely new force. When Lance originally came to the Blade, he would, of course, feel bad about what he did. But eventually those feelings died away. However, for the past month, the shame and guilt has kept him up at night.

Every evening, he would try to keep his mind from drifting back to Voltron. Because even the thought of them made his breath hitch, and tears fill his eyes. He left to make a better person of himself and not get in the way of his teammates.

But back then he was only thinking of himself. He hadn’t even thought about how the team might react, or if they would try and search for him. Lance didn’t even think about what would happen to Keith.
Keith.

Bloody Keith was another reason he yells into his pillows at night. When he was at Voltron, Lance had felt maybe he could call Keith something other than a rival—a friend.
They had been getting along so, so well. But then eventually those emotions that Lance had felt towards Keith slowly blossomed into something far greater: Love. He left because he felt pity for himself. But over the past year, Lance has realized what he’s truly lost.

Lance plops himself down on his bed and reaches for the medical kit. Inside is some antiseptic cream, bandages, and a bunch of tubs that have writing in another language. Before Lance does anything, he strips himself of his armor and jumps in the shower.

He winces at the hot water, but soon becomes accustomed to the temperature. Lance scrubs himself of any filth that is on his body and then steps out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his lower half and then fishes around for his cleanser.

Even though Lance left Voltron ages ago, some small things still remind him of the castle. For instance, doing his skin care. Lance always loved having clear skin, but something about this insignificant act kept him at ease.

Lance grips the cleanser tub, flicking the cap open with his thumb. He squeezes some into his palm and gently massages it into his face. Once he’s done in the bathroom, he limps back out into his bedroom, getting ready to attend to his injuries.

The worst of his injuries is probably the one on his thigh, so he looks at that first. An inflamed line of crimson is etched along his skin. It’s already started to scab, but blood still leaks from the cut.
Lance holds out a roll of bandage in his hand and gently starts to maneuver it around his thigh. Whilst he’s doing this, he realizes he forgot to use antiseptic cream.

“Oh well.” Lance thinks, as he ties off the gauze. “It’ll come right in a few days. The cut isn’t even that deep.”

He spends the next 15 minutes searching his body for more injuries, treating them, and then doing that all over again. Eventually, when he thinks he’s attended to the majority of them, Lance gets changed back into his armor and waltzes out the door.

As he heads toward the training quarters, a familiar hand slaps onto his shoulder. Lance grins, already knowing who it is.
Rilak.

Rilak was the first one in the Blade that Lance clicked with. Of course, they weren’t the best of friends, but they knew each other enough to hang out and laugh at each other's jokes. Rilak is Galran and takes the missions very seriously. He never manages to get hurt and is a skillful fighter. They met in a squad briefing. Their commander had accidentally banged his forehead onto an overhead cupboard, and both Lance and Rilak had a hard time containing their laughter. Today he is dressed in the Blade uniform, but has his hood down, exposing his fluffy purple hair.

Lance has already spent the time explaining everything that has happened to him with Voltron, so Rilak knows Lance better than anyone else on the ship. He knows how Lance has complicated feelings about Keith, he knows how distraught Lance is because he left Voltron. Rilak could summarize Lance’s life story if he wanted to.

“Hey Lance!” He chirps, his hand still placed on Lance's shoulder, “Heading to the training hall?”

Lance sighs and then nods, “Yep, Commander Torva instructed that I get more training in before our next mission. Stupid, right?”

Rilak lets out a sound of agreement, and they continue walking. In the silence, Lance’s thoughts immediately drift to Keith. He missed that stupid mullet so much. He missed getting up every day and seeing his face, Lance missed him.

He missed Keith.

Sometimes he wonders what would happen if he ever went back to Voltron. Would they even take Lance back? Well, by the looks of it, probably not. Lance had left them with nothing but a single note, which had read; I’m sorry.

That note had taken him hours to write, as he wasn’t sure what he should and shouldn’t say. Keith's face fills his thoughts again, and Lance wonders what he might look like now. It’s only been a year, but people can change a lot in that time.

Lance was so in-depth with his thoughts that he hadn’t even registered Rilak smirking at him.

“Whatcha thinking about..” Rilak quips. He says the words as if he already knows the answer, which makes Lance worry.

“N-nothing.” He says a light blush starts to dust his face. Fuck, Rilak would never let him live this down.

Rilak smiles even more. “Let me guess… Is it….” He pauses, and Lance bites his cheek, “Keith?”

Fuck. Now Lance was blushing even harder.

“No.” He says a bit too quickly.

“I knew it! You like Keith, don’t you. I can imagine it.’ He then makes a kissy face and starts to rub his back with his hands. Lance cringes and walks faster.

“No, no I don’t,” Lance says, trying to hide the grin forming on his face. This is definitely not the conversation he wanted to have today. Lance keeps walking faster, and soon he is almost jogging. Even though it seems really stupid, he still finds himself laughing at Rilak's stupid jokes.

After a lot of hassle, Lance and Rilak make it to the training deck. Beforehand, after Rilak had given up, they had discussed what skills to work on in training. Both of the boys had agreed on practicing some long-range shooting.

Previously, Lance had put his mask back on (mainly to hide the furious blush on his face, but he would never tell Rilak that). In all training rooms, it’s mandatory for everyone to wear their masks.
Lance eyes up the rifles, glides over, and snags one. Rilak has already found a weapon and has left Lance to himself. The familiar weight of the firearm is comforting in his hands, and he’s hit with yet another wave of nostalgia. Shaking it off, Lance finds a vacant target and walks over. He props up his gun, and takes aim.

“Just like old times,” He thinks, as he sharpens his focus.

Inhale

Aim

Exhale

Fire.

The rifle fires with a deafening crack which echoes around the room. Lance looks up at the target to examine where the bullet went. A surge of pride fills him as he sees his shot hit dead center on the target.

“Hah,” Lance thinks, “Take that Rilak.”

Lance’s hands automatically reload the rifle, getting ready to shoot again. He rubs his finger on the trigger of the gun and breaths in, taking aim.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Just as Lance is about to fire the weapon, an alarm blasts through the training hall. He jumps, and almost sets off the gun in the process. Startled, he sets the rifle down and looks for Rilak. They spot each other almost instantly and waste no time firing off questions.

An automated voice starts speaking on the loudspeaker, Lance and Rilak listen closely.

“The following Squads, please report to the shipping bay immediately.”

Lance really doesn’t want to do another mission today. He is already burnt out from this morning. The automated voice continues to talk.

“...Squad A82, Squad H99, Squad E24…”

Please don’t say T12, please, please, please.

“...Squad U53, and Squad T12, please report to the shipping bay immediately.”

Fuckkk.

This is the last thing he wants to do. Right now he wants to get into bed, and maybe work on some skin care.

“Hurry up, Lance! We have to go.”

Rilak grips Lance’s wrist and yanks him out of the training hall. They break into a run, weaving through the chaos as others sprint alongside them. The pounding of boots echoes around them, but all Lance can focus on is the thudding of his own heartbeat and the sharp pull of his breath. Every step sends a fresh jolt of pain through his leg. His thigh burns, and a dull throb builds behind his eyes. But he doesn’t stop.

After what feels like running a marathon, Lance and Rilak burst into the shipping bay—straight into chaos. Teams scramble in every direction, racing to launch. Lance barely takes a second to catch his breath before scanning the crowd. Spotting Torva, he takes off into yet another sprint.

“Lance, Rilak, hurry up!” Torva shouts out to them, “Masks on, get into the ship!”

They waste no time, cracking open the ship's door and piling inside. Lance sits in the back seat with Lexi, whilst Torva and Rilak pilot in the front. He glances over at Lexi sitting beside him. She has brown hair, and some purple spots scattering her skin. She’s half galra and was on the team before Lance. Torva, on the other hand, is fully galra and leads the team. She has a slightly different uniform than the other three, and is much older than Lance.

Comms crackle through their headsets just as their ship takes off. The initial shock has faded, leaving only Lance’s team racing toward the scene. The vessel Lance is in has a red interior with black accents. The metal and leather seats are stiff and far from comfortable. He’s done this so many times now that nerves don’t even register.

After about five minutes, he notices Torva and Rilak whispering in the pilot’s chairs. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he speaks up.

“It’s nothing, Lance,” Rilak responds immediately, “We should focus on the mission.”

Lance grunts, realizing he actually has no idea what this mission is about. Before, he hadn’t even thought about it, as he was too preoccupied rushing onto the ship. “Well, how am I supposed to focus on the mission if I barely know what it’s about?” Lance quips.

That seems to make Lexi perk up, “Yeah,” She agrees, “What are we doing on this mission?”

The tension in the spacecraft has grown severely, but before anyone else gets a word in, Torva says, “We’ve been called in for back up by some first responders.” Her tone is set and serious.

This makes Lance frustrated. He barely has any idea what he’s diving headfirst into, and no one will give him decent information. “Who is it?”

Even in the ship's dim lighting, Lance can still see Rilak cringe at that question.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lance…”

“Goddamitt Rilak just bloody tell me!” Lance raises his voice; he’s in a sour mood, and doesn’t have time for this. He has already been through a lot today: training, trying to stop illegal trades, having a breakdown here and there, so he doesn’t have an ounce left of patience in him.

Rilak glances at Torva, his expression silently asking a question. Almost like they have telepathy, Torva nods her head, and Rilak glances back at Lance.

He takes a breath and continues, “The team we’re helping isn’t a… normal one.”

Outraged, Lance says, “What the fuck do you mean by normal?”

“Lance, it’s Voltron.”

Chapter Text

~~~~~~~

Outraged, he says, “What the fuck do you mean by normal?”

“Lance, it’s Voltron.”

Voltron.

Lance’s breath hitches, and he furrows his eyebrows. Not believing what he just heard, he says, “Pardon?”

Even the word Voltron makes Lance feel sick, he can never ever face them again. Lance is practically swimming in a pit of guilt and sorrow. All those countless nights where he would stay awake, creating fake scenarios in his head. Those are the nights where he would feel the worst.

Rilak just sighs and massages his temple, “Lance, we just need to–” before he gets in another word, Lance abruptly cuts him off.

“What do we need to do, Rilak? Help them?” Lance’s voice is rough and angry, he isn’t himself right now. “Voltron doesn’t need assistance! Let’s just turn around, there are already enough teams helping!” If not for the seatbelt holding him down, he would get up and stand his ground.

“Lance, I’m sorry,” Rilak says calmly, “We didn’t want to tell you because we knew how you’d react.”

A pang of guilt strikes him, but he refuses to let it affect him, “What do you think I’m not strong enough to handle it? Or did you think I would have a breakdown and start crying?” His tone is sharp and poisoned with sarcasm.

“That’s not what I meant!”

Lance’s heartbeat accelerates, and he lashes out, “Ok then, what did you really mean then? If you’re so strong, why don’t you–”

“Lance, that’s enough!” Torva’s voice bounces off the walls in the craft, silencing everyone. “I’ve had enough of this! You’re part of this team, so you better start acting like it. I don’t give a fuck on who we’re assisting, and it shouldn’t matter.” She takes a breath then continues, “I’m disappointed, Lance.”

Ouch.

Lance is left completely shaken, and it takes all of his willpower to keep the tears from escaping his eyes.

She’s disappointed.

In him.

No one dares to speak, Torva only swears when she’s beyond mad. Lance already knows he crossed several boundaries, and he can feel Lexi staring. The silence is filled with the engines' soft whir and the comms' slight crackle.

God, why’d he have to be such a fuck up.

He left Voltron to get better, but in reality, some things never change.

Just so he doesn’t seem like an absolute moron, Lance mutters out a quick apology. He doesn’t dare make eye contact with anyone, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

He can’t imagine what it would be like to see them again. What would their reactions be if they found out Lance had run away to work with the Blade? He can imagine the horrified look on Hunk’s face, they would all be so mad at him.

As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Lance wouldn’t mind seeing them. Well, as long as Voltron didn’t see him. He could keep his mask on and go through with the mission.

The silence is filled with quiet chatter between his team. Lance takes a breath and blurts out, “I’ll do it.”

Everyone stares at him, dumbfounded. Lexi speaks up, “Lance, you never had a choice.”

He is hit with a small wave of embarrassment, “Well, um…” not sure what to say, Lance comes up with the worst reason ever, “ I could’ve… forcefully turned this ship around,”

“Lance, first off, Torva would’ve stopped you, second…” Lexi’s expression turns soft, “I’m glad you’re finally cooperating.”

Before Lance gets a chance to respond, the sound of battle fills Lance’s ears. Suddenly, he’s now extremely nervous for this mission.

“Everybody, mask up.”

Lance clicks the small button on his neck, and the purple mask swishes around his face. The spacecraft accelerates as it enters the battle zone.

Lance gulps as he stares out of the window. Explosions flicker in the distance, lighting up the black with bursts of orange. Wrecked ships drift around, their sides torn open like paper.

A wave of dread washes over him once again. After a whole year, you’d think that Lance would come to peace with his decisions, but it’s quite the opposite.

As Torva debriefs the mission, Lance zones out and thinks of all the possible things that could go wrong.

He could get caught by the enemy and get killed. His family would have no idea what happened to him, and neither would Voltron. Or he could accidentally be uncovered by Voltorn. At this point, he’s not sure which would be worse.

Now, the shuttle is hovering above the drop zone. Lexi and Rilak have jumped, leaving just Lance and Torva.

He doesn’t even notice her eyes boring into his skull until he tilts his head slightly.

“Lance,” She says, “Focus on keeping the innocent safe, we’ll take down their comms from the outside. Do not get distracted.” Torva adjusts the ship's position and takes a breath. Lance notices the way her eyes droop, and how the corners of her lips tilt down.

She looks tired.

Before he can get a question in, she jumps, gliding effortlessly through the air. Her purple hair flutters against her back, and just like that, she’s gone.

After realizing the time it’s taking him, he quickly launches himself into open space. It’s unnervingly quiet, so Lance hustles to get inside the Galran base. He uses the jets on his back to quickly propel himself forward, and just like that, Lance is crouching on the smooth steel of the ship.

Soon after logging his position, he feels around the metal for a hatch. His hands glide along the smooth surface until he feels an indent. Smirking, he reaches and pulls the hatch open.

Lance quietly shuffles his body over the opening so he can peer down it. Quickly, he realizes it leads to the shipping bay. Tons of sentries patrol the bay, equipped with weapons that could kill him in one blow.

His job is simple enough.

He just has to retrieve the innocent and bring them back to safety.

Easy peasy.

Due to the zero gravity in the shipping bay, Lance can easily float into the room. He slips through the hatch and immediately clings to the roof. Staying in the shadows, he shuffles along the ceiling, heading toward one of the many entrances.

Down below, Lance watches as a variety of different ships depart and arrive at the port. He watches the bots scan the parcels handed off to other people. Quickly realizing that he’s gotten very distracted, Lance bee-lines for the entrance.

The door up ahead is being guarded by yet another bot and is made of thick metal, which probably requires a key card. The bot is armed with a rifle, but isn’t focused on Lance. Whilst it’s distracted, Lance swiftly twists its neck. A sickening crunch rings out from the sentry, which is now a crumpled corpse lying lifeless on the ground. Hoping no one saw, Lance reaches out and snags the Key Card from the body. He scans it, and the door swishes open.
Slipping through the door, he bolts around the ship looking for the cells. He occasionally sees the odd sentry, but he makes sure to duck out of the way, trying not to get spotted. The ship is like a maze, all the hallways look the same, and just when Lance thinks he’s made progress, he finds himself at the same door he’s passed 3 times.

Now he’s getting worried he won’t find the hostages in time. Quickening up his pace, he storms through the hallways, his boots marching in a steady rhythm. But then, he hears something. First, it’s a gunshot ringing out through the empty space, but then it’s a series of banging and shouts.

Whoever it is, it sounds like they’re in trouble. It could be some of the blade members for all Lance knows. Now he’s trying to decide what to do: Go assist the nearby shouts, or save the hostages.

He’s slowed his run and bites his lip.

The hostages, they’ll be safe in their cells for another 10 minutes, right? In that time, he can go assist the team, take out the enemy, and retrieve the hostages.

Easy Peasy.

Lance smirks, playing his plan through his head—it’s idiot proof. So instead of running toward the cells like Torva had told him to, he continues moving towards the noises.

With each step bringing him closer, he realises the voices echoing through the hallway don’t sound like his own team at all. Suddenly, he remembers that Voltron could be up ahead. But the chances of that are slim, as Lance assumes they’re in the lions battling the Galra ships. After all, this is just a ship full of prisoners. Why would they be here?

It’s probably just another Blade squad. Either way, Lance is keen to help out. He grasps his rifle, hugging it tightly against his torso, and pats his head, making sure his mask is fully covering his face.

Up ahead, the corridor bends left; that’s where the noises are coming from. With a few more reassuring breaths, Lance hops up and down, then sprints into the corridor. As restricting as the mask is, Lance still manages to even out his breaths as he runs.

His feet beat the ground beneath him as he gets nearer the battle.

Finally, after what felt like running a marathon, Lance turns the corner.

Even though he’s barely puffed from the small amount of running, what he sees in front of him sharpens his breath.

Oh.

Oh

Fuck, no. Not here, not now.

Lance wants to scream, he wants to run. He can’t face them right now.

Voltron.

The amount of guilt he’s felt over the year has been intense to handle. As pathetic as it is, Lance never wanted to have to face that guilt. He should’ve known that they were going to be here; he should’ve called in sick.

No, no, no, no.

They’re right there. Voltron is right there fighting Galran soldiers right in front of Lance’s eyes. It’s the same team he once knew, except they’re older, taller. From all the chaos, Lance manages to pinpoint the red paladin.

Keith.

Even from all the armor, Lance can spot him. His shoulders are broader, and he’s violently slicing up a soldier. He’s a lot different from the Keith Lance once knew. Looking at Keith makes Lance's face heat up, and that brings up an entirely new type of guilt.

Then he spots Pidge, she’s so much bigger now. Her hair has kept the same length, but she’s grown a few inches taller, and she’s a whole ton stronger, effortlessly shielding off the enemy.

The last paladin battling away is Allura. She hasn’t changed much, apart from her hair being longer and the fact that she’s now a paladin.

Shiro and Hunk are nowhere to be seen, and this disappoints Lance (As pathetic as it is).

He must look stupid just standing there, watching paladins of Voltron take on dozens of soldiers. And even though it’s mesmerizing, Lance shoves away all the negative thoughts and focuses on the situation

The room is some type of control room, there are panels of buttons and levers propped up against the wall. Large windows run along the walls and Lance swears he sees a crack in one. He won’t be much of a help at close range, as his strength is long range.

So he crouches down near the wall, propping his gun up and peering through the scope. Mindlessly, he starts shooting down the enemy. One by one, shot after shot. Lance will not look at them, he can feel their eyes staring at him but he ignores that and continues.

Inhale

Aim.

Exhale

Fire.

He’s wiped out the vast majority on his side, so he starts to move in. The room is destroyed, control panels have been fried, and corpses lie lifelessly on the ground. Lance finds himself standing near the wall, It’s a terrible position, but more and more galra keep pouring in.

What is so special about this ship?

At that moment, he notices Keith battling yet another soldier, and for a second, Lance forgets why he’s here. But something in Keith seems different now, he looks tired—no not tired, he’s…limping?

Oh.

He’s injured.

Without a moment of hesitation, Lance rushes toward Keith. He blasts the enemy Keith was fighting square in the shoulder, and it turns its head. Quickly, Lance shoots it again and pounces on its head. Almost as though he’s straddling it, Lance grasps its head and
twists it. He almost gags at the noise, but it’s body falls to the ground beneath him. Lance now refocuses on what’s important–Keith.

He spins around and is met by Keith. He’s right there. Keith is almost the same height as Lance now, his mullet is longer, peaking out of his helmet, and he’s still as beautiful as ever.

“Thanks,” Keith grunts out, clutching his thigh.

Unexpecting the appreciation, Lance says, “What?” He hadn’t even realised that he was trying to make his voice deeper.

At this Keith furrows his eyebrows, and says, “For saving my ass? What did—actually never mind, come with me, I’ll need the extra help.” At that, Keith starts running toward another door, and Lance mindlessly runs after him.

Keith runs in front of Lance, and he’s immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia. Just like old times. Except Keith doesn’t know it’s Lance, and Lance refuses to tell him. They’ve left the rest of Voltron to the battle in the control room, leaving a heavy silence weighing down on Lance.

He so desperately wants to ask Keith something, he would take anything at this point. It just can’t give his identity away.

So when he notices Keith's limp again, Lance asks, “Are you hurt?” he tries to make his voice deeper, hoping to avoid suspicion.

Keith looks back, and for a second, Lance is worried he doesn’t have his mask on. But he does, like always.

“I’m fine.” He grunts.

Not taking that as an answer, Lance says, “Are you sure? You should sit down.”

Keith, obviously getting frustrated, says, “I already told you I’m fine, so shut up now, would you?”

“I just really think you should—”

Footsteps echo through the hallway.

Fuck.

Someone is coming.

Lance looks around, surveying his options. The hallway walls are clean metal either sides, and the only way is backward or straight. He looks over at Keith and notices his face paling. Lance’s gaze drifts down Keith's body, and the moment his eyes land on Keith's thigh, his jaw tightens. It’s not a pleasant sight.

Blood drips from a wound like a leaky faucet, pooling on the floor. And even though Keith can’t see Lance’s face, he knows how he’s reacting.

“It’s really not that bad–”

Not letting him finish, Lance turns around and guides Keith around the next bend of the hallway. The footsteps are still getting closer, a steady rhythm of strides.

“Sit down,” Lance says firmly.

Keith scowls, “And why the fuck should I listen to you, I don’t even know you.”

Lance chuckles nervously. Keith never did drop that temper of his. That’s what he loves about him. Lance misses the petty little arguments they used to get into. Sometimes they would last for days, but in the end, they sorted it out, and immediately went back to being semi-friendly. But right now they don’t have time for this.

“Just stay here, I’ll be back in like 5 minutes.” Lance tries to usher Keith, but he can see his temper flaring.

“No! I’m not letting you leave me here, I’m not some weak child that needs protecting bitch ass.”

Now that Keith is the same height as Lance, he’s a lot more menacing. But Lance can’t keep his anger down; he hasn’t seen Keith in a year, and this is the first impression he gets when he finally sees him again?

“I didn’t say that, just sit down please.”

“I’m leaving. I never needed help from some blade member anyway.”

Keith starts to limp away now, and it’s at this point where Lance loses it. He’s trying to help! Why does he have to be such a bitch about it? He remembers Keith being annoying, but not this annoying.

“Keith, get the fuck back here.”

Shit.

Shit, shit shit shit.

Keith turns around, looking stunned. His already pale face has gone a shade whiter. “What the…How… do you know my name?” The anger in his voice has faded away, leaving only confusion and sadness. In between the argument, Lance didn’t register another presence. A shiver rolls down his spine as a gravely voice interrupts, “Look at this, the red paladin of Voltron–injured, ready for capturing.”

Turning around, Lance is greeted with a familiar face—Sendak. Although Lance has faced him many times, he’s still just as menacing. Sendak's singular eye scowls, whilst the other implant is unnervingly bright. He towers over Lance, and out of instinct, Lance closes the gap between Keith and Sendak.

Sendak just chuckles, unamused, “Look at this, a silly little blade soldier, thinking he can protect a paladin? Pathetic.” At that, Sendak raises his hand and slams Lance into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. The gesture was so unexpected that Lance lets out a small yelp. He stays pinned against the cool metal, a bony hand wrapped around his neck.

Struggling to breathe, Lance realizes the situation he’s put himself in; He’s currently being choked by a galran leader with the most handsome man on earth watching him.

Fuck this is embarassing.

He notices Keith wrestling behind him and realizes that he’s being held back by two Galran bots.

No.

He will not go down this embarrassingly.

“Pathetic… weakling,” Sendak says through a clenched jaw. When he speaks, Lance gets a waft of his rotten breath. He would be close to retching, but the icy hand around his collar restricts him from doing so.

“Put them down,” He hears Keith say, and although Keith’s badly injured, he keeps his voice steady.

If Keith found out that it was Lance currently being strangled, he thinks he would be outraged, especially because of the embarrassing fight Lance is putting up.

He needs to get out.

He’s going to choke.

He brings his hand up onto the arm holding him up, trying to free himself. His vision is blurred as he tries to claw his nails into the forearm that’s keeping him pinned.

“Haha, how cute.” Through Lance’s spotty vision, he can make out Sendak's twisted grin, as well as the arm reaching over to his face. Desperately trying to escape, he tries to plead but that only comes out in gurgles.

“Let go of the soldier, it’s me you want, not them!”

But Sendak's hand only comes closer to his face, his fat fingers reaching for Lance’s mask. If his mask does get removed, Lance thinks he would just want to be killed right then and there, he can’t bare face Voltron. Not now, not ever.

So when Sendak finally does tug off Lance’s mask, he barely feels it. The fingers around his neck unfurl, and he plummets to the ground.

It is only now, Lance realises what has happened.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Keith.

The day Lance left, everyone was in pieces.

His absence was completely unexpected.

No one had understood why he had just left so suddenly. Maybe he was trying to find his way back to earth? Although he never showed it, Keith knew how much Lance missed his family.

They had searched all over the castle, top to bottom, and had only found a small note on Lance’s bedside table. The paper was crumpled up, and the writing was rushed and messy. It had read: I’m sorry.

That note destroyed the team even more.

Pidge had been in tears, clutching the note like a life support. She said, “Shiro, what’s Lance sorry for? What did he do?” Her sniffles were the only noise filling the room that day, and as the team discussed further, they couldn’t decipher it.

At some point, every member of the team had shed a tear. None of them knew why this happened or what was wrong with Lance.

Coran noticed one of the escape pods missing, and despite his best efforts to track it down, it was lost. Everyone worked for hours on end, hoping to find any trace of Lance, but wherever he had gone, he had covered his footsteps well.

No one was pleased with the news, least of all Hunk. Hunk was Lance’s best friend, and whenever the topic was brought up, Hunk would say something like, “He would’ve told me if something was wrong; why didn’t he tell me?”

So over the next month, the team worked on finding him. They all chipped in, and Keith would occasionally help by scanning nearby solar systems. But as time passed, everyone started to lose hope.

The castle was unnervingly quiet. No one talked about what happened, and everyone kept to themselves. It was only when Shiro demanded a training session did they communicate with each other.

Time continued to pass, and throughout the months, the team got multiple distress calls. Allura filled in as the blue paladin, and soon everyone got into a rhythm.

Till this day, Keith doesn’t understand why Lance left. They had been getting along great, even training with one another sometimes. Lance had even snuck into Keith's room to work on missions when the rest of the team was asleep.

Battle after battle, Voltron never missed a call for help. Even with Lance gone, they managed. But every single day, Keith missed Lance a little bit more. It had become unbearable for him. Keith would sometimes sit in Lance’s room, taking in his scent that had almost faded away. Keith would dig through Lance’s wardrobe and pull out his old jacket, slipping his arms into the sleeves and hugging his legs.

Keith would sift through his phone and delete any photos that had Lance’s smile in them. But when he checked it the next day, he couldn’t bring himself to delete it.

It had been a year since Lance left, and nothing more had changed. Everyone was still quiet and well-managed. On a seemingly normal day, Voltron got a distress call from a nearby ship. Hostages were being held in prisons, and the Galra were smuggling illegal goods onto that ship.

So, of course, they couldn’t say no.

ꕥ The present. ꕥ

Keith effortlessly slips into his armor, having done this way too many times. He bolts down to the shipping bay, hops into red, and flies her into open space. They have to hurry, as the hostages could be in danger.

Following Shiro’s lead, the team arrives at the scene: a massive Garlan ship drifting in the open, completely unguarded. Most of them find it slightly suspicious, but they press on anyway. With the ship growing closer, nothing out of the ordinary seems to be happening. Well, that’s what they thought.

“Shiro,” Keith implies, “What’s wrong with this place?” Everything is quiet–too quiet. The Galran ship is showing no sign of danger, and all of the paladins are silent.

Last night, Shiro, Coran, and Allura stayed up late to investigate a prior mission. Having nothing else to do, Keith, Hunk, and Pidge joined them. They dug into snacks and played video games all night long, all whilst Shiro, Coran, and Allura worked hard at the other mission.

Keith had enjoyed it; everything felt semi-normal again.

Shiro, interrupting Keith's thoughts, says, “I’m not sure, Keith. But keep your eyes open as there could be—”

Whoosh, Something speeds past the lions. It almost sounded like a bullet, but without the initial bang. Whatever it was, it was fast and stealthy. Everyone looks at each other through the lions, and Keith knows everyone is just as confused as he is.

But as time passes and nothing happens, Keith starts to shrug it off. Only when Coran's comms crackle through does he realize it might be more of a problem than he first anticipated.

“Pal-------------ins get---out------------there!” Coran's voice comes through static. His words come in and out of silence. But Keith listens closely, “G-get out-------------of th---------It’s-----trap.”

Fuck.

The quiet atmosphere suddenly becomes very eerie. Keith presses down on the side of his helmet and practically yells into his comms, “Guys, we need to get out of here! It’s a—”

But before Keith can finish his sentence, a powerful blast throws him to the front of his chair. The seatbelt holds him back, but ferociously digs into his shoulders. His lion spins erratically through the air, and everything blurs into one. He can’t determine what’s coming through his comms and is struggling to get his lion under control.

Before his situation can get any more out of hand, his lion quickly halts to a stop. His vision spins, but he can make out what's on the other side of the glass—Shiro. Shiro had used his lion to stop Keith from spiraling out into space. Keith swiftly mutters a quick thank you as he regains control of his lion.

“What happened?” Keith says, still finding it challenging to think straight. Looking out of the glass, he can see tons of Galran ships all around them; they’re cornered.
Pidge responds quickly, “It looks as though they used a small ion blast to distract us, as they brought in their fighter ships.”

This time, Hunk speaks up, “So what do we do?”

The silence is very present, and all of the enemy ships are still waiting for a command. They’ve lost connection to the castle of lions and have no other option.

Shiro speaks up and says what everyone expects, “We fight.”

ꕥ - ꕥ - ꕥ - ꕥ - ꕥ

Voltron fought for hours. Destroying ship after ship, and dodging blast after blast. But the Galran were relentless. Every time a ship went down, a new one would appear in its place. They were wasting time, the hostages were still in danger, and they were nowhere near reaching them.

So Shiro did the only rational thing a team leader would do: he sent out a distress signal, asking for backup.

Word spread around the galaxies nearby, and soon enough, a transmission came back to them. The Blade of Marmora was close. It was perfect. Krolia discussed their coordinates with Shiro and promised they would send some teams out to assist Voltron ASAP. Keith wasn’t too pleased, but with the situation they were in, he would take any help he could get.

See, Keith has never been a fan of the Blade for two reasons. One reason, is that the commanders don’t give a shit about any of the members. If a team were to die in a tragic bombing, the leaders would just brush it off and continue with life as normal. The other reason is that Keith never got to join. Although the BOM seemed harsh, Keith had always been passionate about becoming a part of it. That was until Lance seemingly disappeared, and they didn’t have any more spare pilots to take his place.

All that guilt and sorrow of Lance leaving had vanished. It was selfish and childish of him to do such a thing. If he ever saw Lance again, he wouldn’t cry or smile. He would tell him what a dick head he was. Because no one makes Keith Kogane feel this way. No one makes Keith feel guilty or sad. Let alone Lance.

Although he would never ever admit it, Keith had always had deep feelings for Lance, and since he left, it’s made Keith feel a whole ton of emotion. So fuck him. He didn’t need Lance. What is he kidding?
Keith continues destroying ships, dodging missiles, and staying alive. It’s beginning to get quite repetitive.

After some time, Keith sees the familiar-looking purple ships fly in. They immediately start fighting off the enemy aircraft, making Keith’s job a whole ton easier. He almost sits back in his chair, but the crackle from his helmet makes him rethink.

“Keith,” Shiro says, his voice comes in sounding gravely and uneven; they must fix their comms.

“What’s up, Shiro?” He quips back.

Shiro responds quickly, “I want you, Allura, and Pidge to go protect the hostages while we try to take down the mothership. We’ll come and collect you guys once everything is sorted. Is that alright?”

Keith knows that Shiro's question has only one answer: yes. Having no choice, Keith responds, “Yes, that should be fine.” He then switches his communication to the open channel, listens to Hunks ramble for a second, and informs Allura and Pidge of the plan. They all agree and fly towards the bigger vessel off to one side

They arrive at the ship, and it looks closed off; smooth steel envelopes all sides of the ship, but in reality it has multiple entrances. They know this because Pidge had scanned that exact ship beforehand.
They discreetly park their lions atop the vessel and sneak inside. Now, they stand in the control room west of the ship, which is like any other. Large windows let them stare out into space, and many levers and buttons are scattered along the wall.

Pidge has a hologram of the ship open in front of her, and as she examines it, she speaks up. “Ok, the hostages are currently located in the north wing, though they could move to the south wing at any time, so we have to move fast.”

Keith responds in a heartbeat, “Right on, you pidge, how are we looking for time, Allura?”

“We have exactly 14 doboshes until these ships are scheduled to leave,” Allura says.

Keith pauses for a second, trying to convert it to Earth time. Pidge sees him struggling and says, “That's around 20 minutes, Keith.” A smirk dances across her lips, and Keith finds himself defending himself.

“I knew that, now let’s g–”

Before Keith can finish that word, a noise echoes from the corridor into the control room. Heavy footsteps, like a stampede of elephants. Whoever, or whatever it is, is coming fast, the footsteps amplifying each second.

“Everyone get down,” Keith yells in a hushed tone. He drags the two behind a desk and waits silently. The people walk into the room, heels clicking on cold steel. Keith’s heart races for no particular reason–he’s used to this, so why is he nervous?

Keith looks to the right of him, over at Pidge and Allura. They are both pressed firmly against the back of the desk. Allura has her bayard in hand, and Pidge is quietly checking the digital map.
Behind them, a deep, gravelly voice talks slowly, “I assume we have already initiated backup.” They sound angry.

“Yes, Commander,” responds a smaller voice. They sound scared and quiet. Keith listens closely as the conversation continues.

“So, how many ships do we have left fighting?” Says the deeper voice.

There’s a pause, and for a second, Keith thinks no one will answer. But then, once again, the smaller voice talks, “A little below half.”

Another pause. Then a loud bang, ringing around the room, and a frustrated huff. Trying to get a better view, Keith pokes his head around the desk, and what he sees makes his breath hitch.

Fuck.

Sendak.

Voltron had a bad history with Sendak. Every battle Voltron had with a Galran force, Sendak was there. Whether he was watching from afar or ordering the fighter ships, Sendak would never miss a battle with Voltron.

They hated him, and he hated them.

Why would he be here on a prison ship? Keith thinks.

“Pidge,” Keith whispers, keeping his head low, “Send a note to Shiro, informing him of the number of ships left. And also tell him we might need a little more time.”

Pidge looks up from her watch, “Keith...are you—”

Pidge is cut off by…footsteps. Heavy, dramatic steps, entering the room. Followed by rushed breathing. It sounds as though the person just ran a marathon. Keith has the urge to have another look at who it is, but restricts himself and stays put.

“Commander!” The new person says.

Another bang erupts from a few metres away, and Sendak shouts, “What!?” His tone is angry and sharp, “What is it?! It better be good or—”

“The lions!” The person says again, spluttering out their words like bile. Their talking is rushed and in between heavy breaths; they must’ve full-on sprinted to get to Sendak. “The lions,” He says again, “We found three, they’re on the exterior of this ship.”

That seems to pique Sendak's interest; he speaks slowly, obviously intrigued, “Where?”

“West wing, it’s the Green, Blue, and Red lions.”

Keith can almost feel Sendak's smirk. This is not good. If the Galra take their lions, they will have no way of retrieving the hostages safely, and no way of getting back. Keith doesn’t know what to do. What does he do?

His mind is a flurry of panic.

Contact Shiro?

No. Shiro is mid battle with the fighter ships. Shit, shit shit shit. What does he do? Keith looks upon Pidge and Allura, but they seem to have to same reaction as him.

The person yaps over his thoughts, still not registering that the paladins are in the room, “Sir, we have also found an open escape hatch in the West wing. We have the right to suspect the paladins are on the ship with us.”

Shit. Now they were really in trouble.

“Find them,” Sendak says without hesitation, “And bring them to me.” He then storms out of the room, his heavy footsteps resonating behind him.

What do we do…

Quiet chatter erupts around the room, and it’s a miracle they haven’t been spotted.

That’s it.

Keith has it.

He quickly forms a plan in his head—simple, foolproof. First, he’d need to contact a Blade squad to help with the hostages (even if he despised working with them). Then, he, Pidge, and Allura could distract the guards.

Simple as that.

But how should he distract the guards?

Currently, the Galra are talking in hushed tones between each other, oblivious of the paladin’s presence.

Pidge suddenly looks up at Keith, and Keith gives her a confused stare. She furrows her eyebrows and starts to sort through holograms furiously. Whilst she does this, Keith tries to get a better look at the room. Galran sentries guard all sides of the room. How would they get past that? Just as he’s about to try and shift to the other side of the desk, Pidge grabs his arm. Keith grunts quietly and stares at her wide eyes. She holds up another hologram, this time with writing. It says:
Create a distraction.

What? Keith glares at her again and gestures towards himself, his expression confused.

Pidge just nods and whispers, “Hurry.” She turns back to Allura, and small strands of her hair peek out of her helmet.

Great. Just what he needed. Now he really needs to figure out what to do.

It’s only a distraction; he could pop up and start fighting off the sentries. But that would give away the other's position. Keith continues to think of an appropriate plan, but can feel Pidge burning holes into the back of his head; he has to hurry this up. Scanning his surroundings, Keith sees some chairs in front of the desk, unorganized bits of paper, and…a pen. Yes, that will work well.

Thinking on his feet, Keith grabs a pen from on top of the desk and hurls it across the room. It clatters to the ground loudly, and just like Keith had hoped, all eyes were on it. Giving Pidge one final nod, he storms out into the open. Shouts erupt around the room, both from him and the Galran. He slices through the nearest sentry, cutting its head clean off, before moving onto the next.

Slicing, stabbing, and killing is routine for these types of missions.

“Pidge!” Keith yells into the comms, (although she is in the room), “Call for back up… preferably a Blade squad!”

She responds almost immediately, “Already done, they’ll be here in a few doboshes.”

Pidge never fails to surprise Keith; she practically read his mind. He just chuckles and says, “Thanks, Pidge.”

Allura and Pidge get out from behind the desk and help Keith. Although it’s only the three of them, they are dominating the battle. Keith doesn’t know how long it goes on for, but he definitely knows all those training sessions have paid off. Sentry corpse lay on the ground, as well as surrendered soldiers. Everything was going incredibly well until one single soldier took a swing at Keith from behind.

Keith yells out, spinning around and spearing the little bitch. He’s filled with glory and triumph, but that is quickly replaced with blaring pain. The back of his leg is on fire, and each step sends red-hot pain dancing up his thigh.

As more sentries close in, holding them off is getting harder. Pidge and Allura are tied up elsewhere, and Keith is on his own. He ducks and weaves through the swarm of bots, but it’s becoming overwhelming. Pain blazes through his leg with every step, and white spots flicker at the edges of his vision. Then he sees it—a bot lunging straight for him. He knows he won’t be fast enough.
He closes his eyes and waits for the brutal hit. But…it never comes, when he opens his eyes again, he sees the same bot lying lifeless on the ground. What?

He blinks once, twice, it’s…dead. Keith frantically looks around, shock and adrenaline carrying him. Then he sees it. A Blade soldier crouched by the entrance of the door.

Great.

Nothing like having my ass saved by a fucking Blade member, Keith thinks.

How embarrassing.

Keith pushes it away, dusting his armor and looking for the nearest enemy to tear up. But he keeps getting a weird vibe from the Blade member. Something about them…Just looks—

“Fuck.” Keith curses under his breath as an entire desk gets hurled at his head. He only just dodges it, being slow with his injury. Keith looks back at the Blade member; they’re gone. Slightly disappointed, Keith just shrugs it off, and continues his duty.

But something about that person. It was something strange, the way they stared at Keith, almost worried for him.

Keith almost laughs at himself. What is he thinking? This is absurd. Shock and adrenaline really do do a lot.

Keith finds himself fighting sentry after sentry, like a never-ending carnival ride. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving Keith wrecked. But he can’t stop; he pulls out his bayard, but before he can swing, the sentry plucks it right from his hand. He tries to get the knife from his pant leg, but is quickly stopped as the sentry hits his arm. Heart beating, Keith swings at it, but misses pathetically. Keith is so fucking useless today, he’s tired injured, and wants to go have a rest. He keeps trying to fight the bot off, but his attempts are slow and pathetic.

He already knows he’s not winning this one. A heavily armed 200-ton metal robot programmed to kill, against Keith. This was never fair in the first place. Each hit the robot delivers decreases Keith’s willingness to fight back.

Bam!

Out of the Chaos, a loud gunshot is fired. The bot slowly turns, and in that time, Keith gets to see who fired it.

There they are, the person who saved him earlier. The Blade.

Another shot goes off, and the bot forgets Keith, focusing on the soldier.

Keith grunts, he probably would’ve preferred to be beaten by the bot, than saved by a Blade soldier. Let alone the same one as earlier. Leaving Keith, the bot marches over to the soldier. Keith expects the person to maybe sever the bot's wiring, or maybe shoot it; something short and fast.

But no, the Blade full-on straddles the bloody thing, and Keith almost feels bad for the robot. It squirms in protest as the person twists the bot's head and drops it to the floor.

Keith, unamused, grunts out, “Thanks.” His hand moves to his thigh, checking the real depth of the wound.

Through all the chaos, Keith had forgotten the real reason for being here—the hostages. Shit. They have to move quickly.

“What?” The Blade says, Their words are awfully strained.

Keith stares at them blankly, but just says, “For saving my ass? What did—actually never mind, come with me, I’ll need the extra help.” Not checking if the soldier is following him or not, Keith breaks out into an uneven run toward the door.

Soon, the corridor grows silent, only their footsteps echoing through the space. Out of the blue, the soldier asks, “Are you hurt?”

Keith looks back at them, getting annoyed, “I'm fine.”

Still persisting they say, “Are you sure? You should sit down.”

Why did Keith take this soldier with him? Right now, they were really getting on his nerves. “I already told you I’m fine, so shut up now, would you?”

The blade keeps talking, “I just really think you should—”

Something cuts off the Blade, and it’s only after a couple of seconds that Keith hears it. Footsteps. Slow ones beating evenly down the corridor, someone is approaching.

Keith doesn’t register much now; all of the shock is gone, leaving Keith tired and sore. He glances down at his wound–it doesn’t look good. This would be a pathetic way to go, and slightly embarrassing.
So when Keith notices the Blade glancing down at his wound, he just says, “It’s really not that bad–”

Suddenly, their hand grabs his and guides him around the next bend of the hallway. The unexpected action sends a wave of butterflies through Keith. Even though Keith hasn’t known them very long, they seem kind and protective in a way.

In a second, the moment is gone. Leaving just the soldier barking orders at him, “Sit down.” They say.

All the soft feelings Keith had for them have been flushed down the drain. Speaking now takes a toll on his energy, but he would so waste it arguing with this person. “And why the fuck should I listen to you, I don’t even know you.”

The soldier chuckles nervously and tries to usher him, “Just stay here, I’ll be back in like 5 minutes.”

No

“No! I’m not letting you leave me here, I’m not some weak child that needs protecting bitch ass.”

Keith really doesn’t know why he’s so angry. This person has only done good, haven’t they?

They respond, saying, “I didn’t say that, just sit down please.”

What was Keith doing? “I’m leaving. I never needed help from some blade member anyway.”

He starts walking, his steps sloppy and uneven. But that’s when the soldier says one more thing. One more thing that sparks his interest.

Their voice is angry now, “Keith, get the fuck back here.”

What the fuck.

Chapter Text

Keith

He starts walking, his steps sloppy and uneven. But that’s when the soldier says one more thing. One more thing that sparks his interest.

Their voice is angry now, “Keith, get the fuck back here.”

What the fuck.

Did they just say… My name. Keith thinks.

Keith spins his head around, fear and curiosity gnawing away at him. He feels his face paling, and looks at the blade member with a shocked expression. “What the…How… Do you know my name?”

But Keith doesn’t receive an answer, the Blade just stares back at them, their stupid mask covering their face. He’s close to reaching out and ripping it off. Suddenly, the soldier looks away from Keith and makes eye contact with something behind him. Confused, Keith just furrows his eyebrows until he hears “Look at this, the red paladin of Voltron–injured, ready for capture.”

The voice is scratchy and menacing, and Keith immediately knows who it is.

Sendak.

Without a moment of hesitation, the Blade jumps between Keith and Sendak, closing the gap. Keith reels backward.

What the… Keith thinks to himself. He’s about to protest, but Sendak gets there first, “Look at this, a silly little blade soldier, thinking he can protect a paladin? Pathetic.” At that, Sendak raises his hand and slams the Blade into the metal wall. They let out a small cry of protest, but Sendak shuts them up by wrapping his bony hand around their neck. Keith’s eyes go wide, and he tries to run forward to help, but two Galran soldiers grip onto his arms. Ignoring the pain from his leg, Keith wrestles them—he’s outnumbered.

“Pathetic… weakling,” Sendak says to the Blade, his jaw clenched. Keith has to help them, but why isn’t he helping? He’s a paladin of Voltron for crying out loud, and currently, he has proven to be completely useless.

He finds himself speaking to Sendak, “Put them down.” his voice comes out in ragged breaths, still struggling against the soldier's grip. But Sendak just laughs and focuses back on the blade. Keith is starting to get frantic, the Blade member is going to choke, and he’s going to be the one who watched them die. He hears Sendak speak some more, but barely registers it.

“Let go of the soldier, it’s me you want, not them!” Keith practically yells, his feet scraping across the metal, and he is acting hysterical. Sendak's hand is moving closer to the soldier's face, and Keith thinks he might just kill them then and there. But something unexpected happens. Sendak reaches for the Blade's mask, and even though the Blade soldier is almost completely gone, they seem to hate the idea of that. They squirm and try to move away from Sendak's hand, but Sendak only sees this as motivation. He grabs the mask and rips it off their head, before unfurling his fingers and dropping them to the floor with a thud.

Keith is about to protest more, but is stopped when he notices something.

Brown hair…

Tanned skin…

That's…strange. Most blade members are of Galran heritage, and this one seems to be human. Keith stops fighting the soldiers holding him back for a second and squints his eyes slightly.

Who is that?

Suddenly, the Blade turns to Keith.

It can’t be…

“Lance…” Keith doesn’t even hear himself say his name.

What is Lance doing here? Why is he here?

Keith is filled with questions, but he can’t speak. They are on the tip of his tongue, yet he can't get any words out. Is it really Lance right there? That can’t be him, can it? Why did he leave, and why is he just standing there, staring at Keith? “Lance,” Keith says once more, his voice steadier this time.

Keith is quickly filled with rage, and is about to yell at Lance, but he gets there first, his words quick and shaky, “Keith, you have to listen to me here–” Sendak grips Lance’s collar and throws him across the hall.

“Enough of your shenanigans,” Sendak spits, turning to Lance.

What is happening…This must be fake. Is it fake? Why would he…leave? Why would he join the blade? Heavy anger blinds Keith's vision. Memories of Lance replay in his mind, from when they first met to when he left without explanation.

Why did he leave me?

Whilst the situation unfolds, Keith elbows one of the guards, freeing his arm. He ignores the pain in his leg and twists his way out of the soldier's grip. He barely focuses as he stands in a fighting stance, trying to dodge their pitiful attacks. The ache in his leg has worsened, and he feels like he might collapse any second.

He unmutes his headset and clicks the side of his helmet, “Shiro…I need some backup here.” He pauses and considers mentioning Lance, but passes on that thought.

Shiro responds almost immediately, “Keith, has something happened? What’s wrong?” His voice sounds slightly worried, making Keith feel a pang of guilt.

“Just a bit of a…well, things have gotten out of hand,” Keith says whilst limping past the guards. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep this charade going.

“Keith,” Shiro says, his voice gone serious, “What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Keith curses at himself for being so predictable. Of course, Shiro would realize something was wrong, he’s known him since the garrison. With Keith distracted, a soldier nails a direct hit into his jaw.
“Shit!” he curses, while trying to get out of range for the next blow. Hot-searing pain flares across his jaw, and he brings his hand to cradle his face.

“Keith? Ok, I’m coming over now, don’t move.”

Crap, he should’ve told Shiro about Lance.

Lance.

Where is Lance?

Keith frantically looks around, all while trying to avoid the constant attacks from the guards. Then, at the other end of the hall, he sees him fighting Sendak. His moves are graceful and well-placed. He’s gotten a lot better. But right now, Keith really needs to focus on his own battle. Three soldiers are attacking him from all angles, and he hasn’t done much in the way of beating them. Keith holds his bayard tightly as it activates.

His moves are slow and sluggish (Thanks to the gash on his thigh). So he has trouble dodging the now frustrated soldiers. He lunges with his bayard, but the swing misses—too slow, too tired. The soldier doesn’t hesitate to throw him to the ground. He struggles, but a heavy boot knocks him back onto the cold, hard metal. A rifle is aimed at his heart, and Keith panics. He pathetically tries to hit the rifle away—no use. Shit, this was it. Keith was going to die the most pathetic death, and he never got to be mad at Lance either. He scrunches his eyes shut and prepares himself for the killshot that would take his life.

Suddenly he hears Lance shout from across the room, “Heads up Galra scum!”

What the fuck

Lance then barrels in, taking down more soldiers with him. By this time, Sendak's backup had arrived, and they were severely outnumbered. Keith—realizing he just got his ass saved by Lance—quickly gets up, a blush settling down on his face.

Keith should’ve realized that this is still Lance he’s dealing with. The Lance. He desperately wants to bash his head in, tell him how selfish he’s been, and not look at him for the rest of his life. But something about his stupidly blue eyes makes Keith swoon.

He hates Lance so much. So, so much.

He hates Lance for leaving him and making him feel alone again, and he wants Lance to realize what he did was awful.

Keith only just dodges a swing from the guards; he needs to focus. Whilst trying to ignore the pain, he slices through a few guards, their corpses falling to the floor. The battle went on and on, where was Shiro?

“Keith,” Lance pants whilst shooting down soldiers, “We have to get out of here. Sendak left and is planning to fly this ship to a different galaxy.” He doesn’t look at Keith while he’s talking; he only focuses on the situation at hand.

Why is Lance acting like everything is ok? Nothing is ok, nothing about this situation is ok.

“What?” Keith snaps, his voice sharp, “so are we just going to pretend you didn’t vanish off the face of the fucking universe for a year?” Keith scoffs, “Fuck that.” Not many soldiers remain in the room at this point, and Keith is wrecked from the effort.

Lance pauses and looks at Keith, “Look, Keith,” he pleads, “I’m sorry, but can we please just talk about this later?” His eyes almost seem watery in the light, and Keith might laugh. They have both eliminated all the guards now, and they stand around a graveyard of corpses.

“Lance what the fuck. Like seriously, you disappear for a fucking year, no note, no nothing—”

Lance interrupts him quickly, “I did leave a note.”

Keith thinks back to when they found Lance gone; he had left a crumpled-up bit of paper that had said I'm sorry. Keith raises his eyebrows, “Really? That note barely fucking counts. You don’t even know how much you hurt the team, your selfish ass wrecked everyone. I hate you so much right now.” He then turns to leave, facing away from Lance. Shiro should be here soon so he can catch a ride with him.

Keith really wishes Lance had never left; they were getting along so well. Part of Keith hopes they might be able to be friends again. But what he did hurt everyone deeply; he should’ve known. Lance had only thought about himself. Even knowing it was Keith he was saving, he still hid behind that mask. He probably never planned to tell him it was him at all.

“Keith wai—Shit!” Lance cries out, then falls to the ground with a loud thud.

He spins his head around, and Keith sees him lying on the ground. Where was Shiro?

“Great,” Keith mutters. He should just consider leaving Lance there to rot, but he knows Hunk would never forgive him. He looks across the hall and sees one last soldier holding a rifle. Keith's eyes go wide as he looks back and forth from Lance on the ground, and the soldier.

Keith could leave Lance right now; he could go to safety and never see him again. Because what Lance did was awful, and he deserves to pay. He hurt Keith so much. But he doesn’t think he would forgive himself for that. Keith’s not that guy.

So with a long sigh, Keith activates his bayard. He dodges a bullet being fired at him before charging at the last soldier.

ꕥ-ꕥ-ꕥ-ꕥ-ꕥ-ꕥ-ꕥ-ꕥ

Lance

This was not how he wanted to reunite with Keith. When he got his mask ripped off by Sendak, the look in Keith's eyes was enough to shatter his soul a million times over. He looked so hurt and betrayed, and Lance just couldn’t bear it. He tried to act like his usual self, but when was that ever a good idea? He had put Keith in possibly the worst possible scenario, and injured himself during the process.
Now, as he lay on the ground, he realises that Keith will never ever see him in the same way. He’ll probably die from blood loss before anyone saves him. That’s if someone saves him. The blade definitely isn’t coming for him; they always put their missions before the people. So that was a lost cause.

Pain reverberates around his skull, worsening with each throb. Lance isn't entirely sure of what happened, he remembers talking to Keith…

Keith.

Could Keith save him? Well, the chances of that are extremely low. Considering the fact that Keith and the rest of Voltron has had no idea of where he has been for the past year. Maybe it would just be better if Lance bled out on the floor. He deserved it anyway. His face is pressed up against the cool, hard metal, and he’s starting to drift off. Suddenly, distant voices fill his mind, and he can make out some of them.

“Lance!---------talk to—----,”

“What----happened,----------ship can’t—----is—-----dead?”

Heavy footsteps thump around him, and he swears he heard Shiro’s voice. How embarrassing. The darkness has started to swallow him, clawing at his edges. But this time he doesn’t fight it, He lets it pull him under.