Chapter Text
Iteration Zero
Beep. Beep.
The smell of burning electrical cord assaults Keith’s nostrils, jarring his subconscious from oblivion and into reality.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Groggily reaching around, he tries to orientate himself within the small cockpit of the pod, barely enough room for a single passenger with the controls. Keith vaguely notices the firework display of the panel before him, colours flashing into his vision as his tries to clear his bleary eyes. He can taste metal at the back of his throat, and wonders if he’s sustained a mild concussion.
Beep. Beep.
He grinds his teeth in response to the incessant alarms piercing his aching head. Finally regaining control, he notices the pod’s warning that the external seals have been compromised. Keith scans the levels of the spaceship. Pressure is fine, temperature a little lower than normal, and oxygen levels hadn’t been affected yet. That would explain the burning he thinks, double checking his helmet is secured. He’s still not sure how long he was knocked out for, but he knows it couldn’t have been for long.
Beep-
Slamming his fist against the control panel, the alarm finally stutters and stops. Keith leans forward to survey the damage around him. There are a few Galra ships around, mostly blown to shit – damage he did himself. Kolivan and his ship are nowhere to be seen, but Keith isn’t surprised. After his collision with the last enemy vessel, he no doubt left with the intel they were able to gather on the mission. Keith finally lets reality settle in. His ship is fucked and getting worse fast. Okay, he thinks trying to ignore the tremor in his hands, breath and internalise. He presses down on the controls to open the pod. A hiss sounds as it tries to equilibrate with the outside environment, but the damage to the seal causes a warning to flare up again and the pod stays closed. Groaning at having to move his stiff limbs, Keith kicks up into the roof once, twice – the roof pops open on the third try. He’s briefly enveloped in bitter cold, before his Marmora armour automatically begins to self-regulate, pulsing a brighter purple. Pushing himself out of the cockpit, he propels himself towards the nearest Galra cruiser that looks mostly intact. He peers in, but it’s completely dark. He can vaguely make out a destroyed drone, before propelling himself to the next ship. This one is still alight, the drone inside convulsing as it short-circuits. Opening the safety latch, Keith pries the hatch. Grabbing the drone, he pulls it out and tosses it, not turning to watch it spin away into open space. Pulling himself in, he places his hand on the console. It lights up in recognition of whatever Galra DNA is present in his body, the lights glowing purple. The pod takes a moment to stabilise, then Keith is able to input his destination coordinates as it takes off with a stutter before smoothly sailing back towards the castle.
Miscellaneous whirring and beeping of the small spaceship are the only noises that disrupt the otherwise-silence of space. Keith uses the time it takes to reach the castle to try and compose himself. Focusing on steadying his breathing, he runs shaky hands over his head, face, arms and down to his legs. Despite the viscous ache that slugs through his veins and muscles, he decides that no serious damage has occurred. He feels a little claustrophobic in the small pod, surprised to realise how accustomed he’d become to the high ceilings of the castle and immense size of the Lions. Peering out into space, he knows that it must be close to midnight in the castle, but it’s easy to forget about time when days and nights don’t exist. In many ways it reminds him of the desert. The bitter cold at night, endless expanses of nothing, and the feeling of being utterly alone. However, unlike Earth, being in space was never dark. The blackness that seems to stretch on infinitely was regularly punctuated by stars, galaxies and planets that lit up the screen of the pod with coloured lights like a cityscape that stretched completely around him. It didn’t take long until he could see the Altean castle.
Standing in the hangar, Keith faced the lions of Voltron. He felt a tug of longing towards Red, the sliver of their bond still present despite the time that had passed since he last flew her. He couldn’t help but think of Lance, and hoped that he was able to fly her properly. Looking at the other lions, he can’t help the stab of pain in his gut, knowing it comes from missing the team. He desperately wished he could still fly with them, but knows they don’t need him anymore. Now that Shiro can pilot Black, Keith didn’t have to keep screwing up as their temporary leader. He could be more productive with the Blade of Marmora – despite disagreeing with Kolivan’s methods. Trudging through the dark halls of the castle, Keith slowly makes his way to his room. The door opens for him, and he tosses his helmet into the corner of the room before collapsing on the bed.
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Keith wakes up grumpy and sore. His headache has only gotten worse since his rest, and he has a bitter taste in his mouth. Heading into the bathroom he examines himself in the mirror for the first time since the mission. For the most part he looks better than he feels, which is a relief. He has a small bruise beginning to bloom on his forehead – no doubt from where his head smacked onto his helmet from the crash. He smiles at his reflection, noticing the blood still in his mouth around his teeth. Searching his mouth with his tongue, he identifies a cut on the inside of his cheek that stings when prodded. He can’t feel it bleeding anymore, so he rinses his mouth out until his teeth are clean. Scooping some more water into his hands he washes off the sweat and grime from his face, running his damp fingers through his hair to tame it into position. He works out the snags with his fingers, until he looks presentable. Stepping back into his bedroom, he pulls off his clothes from the day before, reaching for his black shirt and jeans.
He finds the team already in the dining room, seated around the long rectangular table. Lance has his arm draped over the back of his chair, leaning to face Hunk as they talk animatedly. He notices Pidge is sitting beside Shiro, engaged in conversation with Allura and Coran. Breakfast is dispensed on large white plates that line the center of the table, filled with green goo and a small selection of alien fruits that have been sliced and also placed on the platters. Small unidentifiable garnishes implicate the arrangement as another one of Hunk’s creations, which makes Keith’s stomach growl in anticipation of good food. He slides into a chair across from Shiro, and begins dishing himself large portions of everything he can reach. He notices Shiro studying his face with a frown, and ignores the gaze of his brother for as long as possible.
“Keith,” Shiro eventually starts, and Keith supresses a groan before meeting the older man’s eyes, “you’re injured.”
Keith remembers the bruise on his head, and shrugs his shoulders, “it’s nothing.” Shiro doesn’t look convinced, but also knows better than to press Keith in front of everyone. Their brief exchange draws Allura’s attention to Keith.
“How are your missions going? This most recent one had you away for a while,” she asks. Two weeks and three days to be exact, he thinks. Or possibly four days, he isn’t sure if he actually got in before midnight castle-time.
“They’re fine,” he answers, “we’re slowly uncovering more about the Galra bases and trade routes.” He doesn’t think about elaborating further, and before Allura can ask their conversation is disrupted by a snicker that grates Keith in a way that’s almost physically painful. He already knows the origin of the noise before he turns to face the offender.
“Well, you’ve been missing the real hard work here,” Lance says, leaning forward to brandish his spoon at Keith, “choreography, acting, spreading some razzle dazzle across the galaxy.”
Keith doesn’t bother trying to supress his eye roll, “Those poor innocent civilians, Zarkon’s rule would be more merciful than having to watch your dancing.”
He was pleased to see Lance’s cheeks puff in indignation. “Watch it Mullet! Jealousy looks about as good on you as your stupid haircut.”
Keith couldn’t help but get riled up himself. What was the boy’s problem with his hair? Lots of people have long hair! Keith smacked his hands on the table, ready to fire a retort back.
“Enough,” Shiro commands, before Keith can get the insult off his tongue. He sits back with a flop, crossing his arms across his chest as he broods. “Keith…” He says more gently, but Keith pushes himself away from the table and stands up.
“I’m going to go train,” he says, stalking out of the room. He can hear Lance being reprimanded, but the noises eventually fall out of earshot as he makes his way to the training room. Everything is how he remembers it – the soft mats that make up the floor of the room, the weapons lined along racks near the entry, and the various complicated electronic equipment ready to create fighting simulations. He grabs at some spare training clothes, and takes them to get changed. Once he’s done he surveys the weapons available. Picking out a knife from the rack, he weighed it in his hand. “Start level one,” he says loudly to the room. A whirring noise fills the large open space as a simple bot appears from the floor. Keith doesn’t hesitate to rush forwards towards it, dispatching the simulated enemy before the automated voice barely finishes announcing commencing level one. Keith waits for level two, anticipating the levels to creep in difficulty to distract his mind.
Eventually, Keith is panting hard as he feels the sweat trickle down his neck. He quickly pushes the strands of hair out of his eyes as five bots all equipped with knives of their own appear from the floor. He can barely hear the clicking of their mechanics as they advance towards him, his ears filled with the sound of blood rushing as his heart pulses in his head from the exertion. He can’t help the smile on his face as he leaps forward, his muscles protest but he lives for feeling of pushing past that pain, testing the limits of his stamina. He immediately sweeps the blade down shattering the metal casing of the head of the bot, ripping his knife out and dodging an attack aimed at him from his right. The broken foe disappears through the floor as Keith feints towards the bot that attacked him, and instead throws the knife directly into the head of the one to his left. Two down, he thinks, jumping over an advancing automation to rip his knife out of the fallen bot’s head before it too disappears into the floor. He pauses as the remaining three circle him slowly. Finally, one rushes forward to attack, Keith kicks out low at it, dodging the knife while sending it flying backwards. He spins remaining crouched, and bursts up at the enemy behind him, the thrust dragging the knife through the chest of the bot before flying out and upwards. It stutters and falls back, but Keith’s attention is fixed on the third bot, advancing upon him. It swings violently towards where his head had been a heartbeat earlier, but he rolls to the side, sweeping it off balance. He quickly slams the knife down into it before it has a chance to right itself. He rolls off the bot just as a knife swings down, the last bot back after been sent flying across the room earlier. It’s easy for Keith to finish the last one off, and once it too disappears into the ground he takes a moment to regain his composure. His arms are burning from the strain of slicing and stabbing through plates of metal, and he can feel his heart pounding in his throat. Lifting his arms behind his head to breathe easier he waits for his energy to return. Commence level twelve? The electronic voice asks into the room.
“No,” a voice answers from behind Keith, before he has a chance to calm his breathing and answer. He spins around, but relaxes when he sees it’s just Shiro watching with an amused smile. “I see your work with the Blade of Marmora has only improved your reflexes.”
Keith can’t help but smile a little at the praise, “it’s a lot harder when fighting enemies that are always trying to predict your movements.”
Shiro nods in agreement, “that’s true, want to test your skills on something with reflexes just as good as yours?” Keith looks at him surprised; he and Shiro hadn’t sparred together in ages. He nods and Shiro begins to twist his body to loosen up while Keith stores the training knife away. They stand in front of each other, both ready in defensive poses and waiting for the other to begin. Keith’s patience breaks first, and he quickly swings his arm forward aiming for Shiro’s head. Shiro’s reflexes are quicker, and he was anticipating Keith’s attack, so his arm blocks the punch easily. Keith bounces back on his feet lightly, having just enough time to land before Shiro swings his own punch towards Keith. He blocks on reflex, before swinging his leg up before Shiro has even drawn his arm back. Shiro grunts in surprise as he’s forced to twist out of the way, avoiding the kick.
They continue sparring like this for what feels like ages. Keith was already tired before they began, and he’s encroaching on exhausted at this point. He can see the sweat beading on Shiro’s forehead and the concentration creasing his brow as he goes through the motions of block, attack, block, attack. They had both began to fight a bit sluggishly, so Keith decides on a quick attack as he ducks under Shiro’s slicing arm, aiming for a body shot. Years of experience have Shiro side-stepping Keith on reflex and slamming an open palm down on his shoulder, while simultaneously sweeping his feet out from under him. Keith hits the floor with a loud oof! He quickly rolls over onto his back, only to have Shiro’s Galran arm pointing down at his nose. They remain in the position for a second before Shiro offers his hand to help Keith up. He takes the offer and shakes out his limbs.
“You’re good, but still not good enough!” Shiro teases, patting Keith’s back as they walk to get a drink and take a rest.
“There were times where I almost got you,” Keith grumbles, before Lance flies into the room with Pidge close behind.
“Why is there a Galran battle ship in the hangar?!” He accuses, pointing a finger at Keith. Keith sighs as Shiro looks at him with surprise.
“My pod got damaged. I just commandeered one that wasn’t of use to the Galra anymore.” He cringed at the concerned look Shiro gave him.
“Keith–” Shiro began, but Keith shook his head.
“I told you, I’m fine,” he glared at Lance as the boy tutted at him.
“Well we might not be fine! What if it’s some kind of weapon that could blow the ship up?! Or worse!” Lance cried. Pidge watched the exchange between the boys quietly pondering.
“I can check it out,” she finally says. Lance frowns at her, obviously having let her tag along to defend him. “I’ve wanted a chance to play with some Galra tech anyway, and I might even be able to get some info from it.”
Shiro nods at what she’s saying.
“I think that’s a good idea, but make sure you’re careful Pidge,” he says as he casts a look at Keith, “Lance is right, we don’t know if it’s dangerous or not.”
Shiro follows Pidge out, with comments that he wants to check the ship out too before Pidge jumps in and starts messing with it. Keith crosses his arms and regards Lance, who is still watching Keith unhappily. Keith wants to snap at Lance, to start an argument, but he stops himself. Breathe, internalise.
“I can get rid of it, if it bothers you that much,” Keith says instead. Lance seems to ponder this for a moment with a frown.
“No… -It’s fine… -I guess,” he mumbles, “I guess it’s good that you were able to find a way back, anyway,” his voice is so low Keith barely manages to catch what he says. The strangeness of Lance’s words throws Keith off a bit, but he’s mildly impressed that Lance is capable of talking to him normally, or just being quiet in general. He doesn’t know how to reply without shattering the atmosphere, so he takes a while to chew over words in his head indecisively. His lack of immediate response seems to fluster Lance, who begins waving his arms about wildly. “But don’t think this means you can just do this whenever you want!” Keith shrugs with an almost-smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” is all he offers. It seems to be enough though, because as he turns to leave, Lance follows him out. As if forgetting the past morning had occurred, Lance starts chattering to Keith about the recruiting they had to do, using elaborate hand gestures to illustrate his descriptions of fireworks and streamers that rained down as they manoeuvred their lions. It seemed that Voltron was having success in expanding the coalition against the Galra Empire, albeit slowly. It warmed Keith to witness Lance’s enthusiasm, knowing how important Voltron was to him and yet how insecure he was in his place amongst the team. Lance thrived under the attention being a paladin brought; the attention Keith didn’t need, didn’t want. It had been an easy decision to leave Red for Lance to pilot so that he could stay a part of Voltron, and Keith was making more progress with the Blade. Despite knowing this, he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the adventures the team now had without him, missing the jokes they shared. Heck, he even missed Lance’s cocky attitude sometimes. Keith doesn’t realise how long they’ve been walking together until Lance stops outside his own room, giving him a nod and disappearing inside. It leaves Keith to collect his wandering thoughts, before he finishes the short journey to his own room several more doors down the hall. Upon entering he takes in the small and tidy space. His Marmora helmet still lying in the corner where he haphazardly tossed it when he came in, a wardrobe set into the wall that contained a modest set of drawers and his recently unused paladin armour. His bed was built into the wall on the opposite side of the room, the grey blankets pulled up messily from the morning. He went over and made it properly before picking up his helmet and putting it away as well. In the bathroom, he regarded himself. His hair was a mess again, and his bruise now a deep purple. Tugging off his training clothes, he steps under the hot water that soothes his tired muscles.
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The team gathers around the dining table, the first time in weeks they’ve all had dinner together. Keith can’t help but feel a little out of place since he’s so often away on missions, and the subtle changes that gradually occur are jarringly apparent. Allura seems more relaxed around the team now, joining in on their conversations without having to constantly question what a squirrel is and what do you do at a cinema? Keith can recognise that his brother is happier too, and although the weight of the war still sat heavily in the small downward angle of his mouth, he was laughing with the team and enjoying himself. There were other things Keith noticed about the paladins, such as how Pidge had gotten a little taller, Hunk a little slimmer, and Lance’s hair a little longer. The way they sat around the table had also changed. They were closer together now as Keith sat at the outskirts of the arrangement to compensate for the usually empty space, like the tide slowly drawing away traces of footprints in the sand. Despite this, Keith feels a muted sort of tingly happiness that comes from being able to sit with everyone again. He can almost pretend that he still pilots Red, and that Shiro never went missing so that he didn’t have to pilot Black. Sometimes, at dinners like these, he even pretends that they’ve already defeated Zarkon and they don’t have to worry about fighting in a war.
Lance leans over, still recovering from laughter after Hunk accidently spilled a fat green glob of goo on Pidge’s head. “Hey man, are you okay?”
“Yeah, really good,” Keith says honestly.
“You look constipated.”
Keith rolls his eyes. “Thanks, it’s called ‘thinking’ – maybe you should try it sometime.”
“Uh, I actually think a lot, and I definitely think better than you.”
“You can’t think better than someone, Lance.”
“Obviously you can, ‘cause I do!”
“Yeah Lance, you’re the best thinker I know!” Hunk chimes in, and Lance leans across the table to give his friend a high-five with a whoop. The ends of his jacket drag through the food arranged on the centre of the table and Pidge shouts a disgusted ew Lance! – Lance proceeds to flick it off him and onto Keith, who recoils with surprise.
“Ugh! Lance!”
The offending boy just shrugs with his characteristic grin, and Keith takes the opportunity to flick goo from his fork. The large blob splatters against Lance’s cheek, slowly sliding down his face as his expression is frozen in shock. The rest of the team waits holding their breath as Lance begins to smirk, reaching down to grab a handful of the goo on his plate. Keith manages to duck under the table before he’s hit with the alien food, and it takes all of three ticks before sounds of a fight start breaking out as Lance’s obviously misaimed throw hits someone else instead.
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After the chaos of dinner everyone heads to their rooms to wash and then to take the opportunity to relax. Keith feels a little conflicted, torn between wanting to spend more time with his team-mates that he misses but also wanting to give them the space they probably enjoy when they can get it. He sits down on his bed, tapping his foot as he wonders when his next Blade mission will be. He hasn’t heard from Kolivan yet, not even a reply to his message stating he made it back to the castle. This wasn’t entirely unusual, as Keith often wouldn’t hear from the rebel Galran until he needed to be briefed on an upcoming job. Not wanting to fall behind in his training, Keith decides to practise some knife techniques with his Marmora blade. He lightly runs through different attacks and defensive manoeuvres until the castle lights subtly dim, indicating it was entering the night-cycle. He decides to pack up and have an early night, after the few hours he only managed to get the night before.
What feels like several hours later, Keith still lies rigidly with a frown. The air in the room curls around Keith’s legs and sits heavy on his chest. He flipped from his back into his side, pulling his knees up into a more comfortable position, but it didn’t help at all. Rolling onto his back again he stared up at the ceiling above his bed, glaring into the dark as if it was the room’s fault he couldn’t sleep. And maybe it partially was – it wasn’t often he went to bed without being exhausted. Normally he was asleep before his head had touched the pillow after missions with the Blades. He lies like that for several more ticks before he gives up, hoping that a walk might remind his body that it was tired and needed to sleep.
The hall is quiet and dark, the castle’s cycle set to late at night, as Keith chooses a random direction to start walking in. While the silence is peaceful after an obnoxiously loud day, something about the endless empty halls and wide, plain rooms feel like looking at a gaping wound. Like something was supposed to exist here but was savagely carved out, leaving a husk as the only remnant. Keith supposes this was why Allura never wandered around the castle – it was probably too raw a memory of the people that once filled those rooms. Keith can sympathise in his own way after having lost everything himself, left to rot on his own with only his hope of finding Shiro to keep him sane. But he had gained something since then. He hadn’t just got Shiro back, but realises he’d also gained a family again as well. As much as Hunk was a mystery to him, how Pidge secretly scared him, how Lance annoyed him, and how Allura and Coran struggled to understand him, they had become his own dysfunctional family. As if conjured into existence by his thoughts, Keith turns a particularly sharp corner in the hall and bumps into Lance, with the boy emitting a surprised squeak.
“Did you just make that noise?” Keith asks, rubbing his nose.
“What noise?” Lance answers indignantly.
“That squeak.”
“I did not squeak!”
“Then who did?”
“Allura’s mice must be around,” Lance says, spinning around as if he expected to see them. Keith rolled his eyes at the display.
“Can’t sleep?” Keith asks.
“No, I just walk around the castle late at night looking for alien stowaways.”
Keith frowns – surely Allura would know if aliens were hiding on the ship? And what would they eat? Keith thought the only food was found in the kitchen and then they’d definitely know if someone had been in there.
“That was a joke, Mullet.”
“Oh,” Keith said, tilting his head, “aren’t jokes supposed to be funny?”
“Hey!” Lance protested, before frowning, “wait… are you being sarcastic now?”
“You’ll never know.”
“Keith!” Lance complained, following him as Keith continued his trek through the castle. “…I couldn’t sleep,” he answers the question seriously this time. Keith wonders if he should ask why, but doesn’t want to try and navigate another sarcastic response from Lance. “What about you? What are you doing walking around so late? Or early,” Lance says, scrunching his nose up at the thought of how much sleep he’s probably going to end up getting.
“Yeah, couldn’t sleep either.”
They both lapse into a silence, and Keith is vaguely aware that he doesn’t really recognise this part of the castle. There are several small windows lining one wall, and they pass a few airlocks. The opposite wall has the occasional door, and Keith imagines it must have served as some kind of delivery bay as the main entrance seemed too extravagant. The place now lay desolate, much like the rest of the castle. Keith takes a peek at Lance through the cover of his hair, and frowns at the strange expression he sees there. He’s overcome with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he doesn’t know how.
“Lance–,” is all he manages to get out before a jarringly loud siren begins echoing through the castle. Fluorescent lights illuminate the halls in flashing red and white.
“What the hell?” Lance cries, spinning back to face the way they had come. “What did you touch?!”
Keith just shoots him an unimpressed glare. “We need to get to the others,” he says before taking off at a run back in the direction he hoped was the control room. He didn’t need to turn around to know Lance was running close behind him.
Their heavy footfalls and laboured breathing were the only sounds they could hear over the siren until they rounded a bend in the corridor. Keith skidded to a halt that almost sent Lance crashing into him, but managed to recover into a fighting stance as he noticed the large group of Galran sentries and general before them. Keith grinds his teeth in frustration. They had no weapons or armour on them, but the way back to their team was on the other side. They would have to fight their way through with only their fists, Keith realises. He casts a quick glance to his left, where Lance looked ready to fight. He knew that Lance wasn’t the best at close combat, especially against an opponent with weapons. The Galra general, expecting paladins to appear after the alarm sounded, recovers from the surprise quickly and shouts orders to attack. The sentries raise their guns simultaneously, and Keith manages to lunge to the side and taking Lance down with him behind a forgotten crate, as bullets are fired at where they had been standing a breath earlier. Keith recovers instantly, and dashes forward from where he had landed on top of Lance to attack. He managed to take a slow sentry by surprise, grabbing its gun as he kicked it backwards and using his momentum to send it stumbling away. Feeling more confident with a weapon in his hands, he rolled to the side, dodging the barrage of bullets sent his way by the other sentries. He immediately started firing at them while ducking from a swipe of a close enemy’s sword. Keith manages to squeeze a blast off that hits its chest plate and sends it careening, but noticed too late as another sentry had been lining him up. Keith clenched his teeth, expecting to take the hit and hoping it wouldn’t incapacitate him, when suddenly its head exploded sideways in a shower of sparks, cable and purple fluid. Keith spun to look behind him, where he realised Lance had managed to fight his way to one of the fallen sentries that Keith had dispatched and claim its weapon.
Lance noticed Keith staring at him and quickly gave him a firm nod of his head before he started firing back at the other sentries. They were clustering in the hall, deliberately blocking their path. Keith dashes forward, knocking one over with the butt of his gun. He starts taking down the sentries to the left that were taking up most of the space in the hall, while he leaves Lance to take on the ones to the right. They seemed to be endless, swarming around him and forcing him to dodge more than he could attack. His body groaned in protest, his bruises from the previous day throbbing with each time he bumped them. Keith was almost through the other side, with a clear path to escape to where the rest of the paladins were when he heard a grunt from Lance.
Turning back, Keith saw Lance fighting with the Galran general. He has a long knife drawn and was swinging violently at Lance, who had no option other than to block the blows with his gun, unable to shoot from the proximity. Keith raises his weapon, ready to shoot, before sentries jump in his path and block his way to Lance. Growling furiously Keith kicks and shoots his way through the Galra but it seemed like whenever he took one down another just took its place. He watches helplessly as Lance manages to catch the knife in the hook of the grip of gun and twists causing it to spring from the general’s grip and clatter away on the floor. While Lance had been performing the manoeuvre the general’s other hand had shot out and gripped Lance by the throat, slamming his head violently against the wall.
Lance groaned loudly as he tried to blink away the dizziness and blood that had started to run down his forehead. Keith watches in horror as a cruel smile comes over the general’s features as he smacks a hand against the control panel on the wall, causing the airlock interior door to slide open. He tosses Lance inside, slamming down on the “open airlock” button. An automated voice soundes over the din of the battle, airlock opening in one minute: decompressurisation beginning. As Lance managed to pull himself together he groggily stood up from the floor, a look of horror overtaking his face as the general shot at the control panel, destroying it. The airlock continued to function normally, and decompression began.
Lances eyes meet Keith’s. “Keith,” he chokes out. A yell rips its way through Keith’s throat as he begins to fight back against the sentries, energy he hadn’t had before pumping through his veins as he clawes his way towards Lance. Suddenly the Galra general appeared before Keith, smirking as he saw Keith’s gaze constantly snapping back towards Lance. A hissing sound began filling the air as the airlock chamber started to equilibrate with the external environment. Lance was pounding against the doors, throwing himself repeatedly in the attempt to get them open. The Galra general attacks Keith with his knife as he had done with Lance. However, unlike Lance, Keith had extensive experience in close combat. He sidesteps a jab aimed for his stomach, swinging his arms down at the same time as he brings his knee up with as much force as he can muster. A terrible snap fills the halls, accompanied by the Galra’s wailing as he clutches at his broken arm. Keith swipes the knife from the floor, plunging it into the general’s neck, raggedly slicing through rope tendons and hard cartilage that severed with loud pops.
Keith didn’t hesitate as he rushed over to Lance, who now lent against the clear wall of the airlock as he heaved in breaths violently – but the oxygen levels were too low. He looked groggy and his eyes began to droop as his brain began to shut down. Keith began screaming and pounding on the door, willing Lance to last a little longer, to stay awake a few more ticks as he tried to revive the panel uselessly as it crackled. His attention returned to Lance as he heard him groan his name softly.
“Shit!” Keith cried, “Lance, NO!” he pounded against the glass. His world was plunged under icy water, his body numb as he was forced to watch in excruciating slow motion as Lance became unresponsive to his calls. It felt like an eternity, and Keith’s veins froze over, his heart stuttering as the external doors opened. The remaining difference in air pressure pulled Lance out and into space, but by the time he had disappeared from Keith’s sight Lance was already dead.
Keith fell heavily against the door as he heard the vague shutting of the airlock. A loud ringing noise was filling his head, and was the only sound over the pulsing of his temples. He groaned as he struggled to breathe, choking on the sudden and unforgiving emptiness that Lance left behind. His whole body was in agony as he shook, like a knife has been lodged in his belly and was slowly dragging up and tearing at his ribs. Rocking on his knees he whispered to himself over and over, “no no no no no no,” while the tears fell uninhibited down his face.
Sirens still wailed in the background, and the sounds of distant footsteps drew his attention to the situation again. He tried to swallow the hot coals in his throat but it stayed as a lump he struggled to breathe around. He swore to make sure no Galra got off this ship alive, for Lance. Picking himself up off the ground, he grabbed a discarded gun and knife that sat in a pool of blood.
He made his way down the hall following the sounds of battle, not being able to feel his body at all as he ran to the rest of the team. Rounding the corner he spotted Shiro, Pidge and Hunk on the other side of some Galra sentries. Hate pulsed through his blood, scalding and bubbling as it reached his fingertips to sear the knife in his hands. Dashing forward, he began slashing at the sentries where the team finally noticed him.
“Keith,” he distantly heard someone yell, although their voice sounded far away and underwater. A sentry he hadn’t noticed fired at him, the plasma bullet skimming his arm as he failed to dodge in time. Intense shocks flared at the site of the wound, travelling up his arm as the pain bloomed. He could smell the burnt skin, but the pain also cleared his head. He could feel, and the fog over his brain lifted briefly.
“Keith!!” The voice yelled again. Keith snapped his head around to see Shiro desperately fighting his way towards him, Galran arm slashing through enemies easily. Keith fought his way over to him, his arm burning each time he lifted it to fight, but the pain kept him grounded. Kept him from thinking about things other than the task at hand, to fight and survive. Finally, Keith reached Shiro.
“Shiro,” he gasped through panting breaths. Shiro gripped his good shoulder firmly, visibly relaxing once he could confirm Keith was mostly intact.
“We just need to find Lance now,” Shiro said and Keith stomach seized up painfully. Keith began choking on his words, trying to find a way to say, to tell–
“Uhh… Guys!” Hunk calls out to them, swinging his bayard around. He and Pidge both had their bayards – they had been working late into the night with them close. Keith turns to see what he was talking about, and sees a new wave of Galra sentries spill into the room.
“Allura!” Shiro called, “we need to wormhole soon!” Keith began ruthlessly fighting back the Galra easily cutting down any that stood is his path. Pidge and Hunk joined his side, as they manage to push against the wall of enemies that tried to overwhelm them. Hunk and Pidge had improved, Keith noticed, as their fighting was more polished and precise than he remembered. With their combined efforts they manage to take down the Galra sentries, broken electrical automatons littering the floor.
The team stumble into the control room, exhausted, as Allura prepares the castle to wormhole. Hunk collapses on a chair and Pidge falls on top of him.
“The castle is almost ready for wormhole travel,” she began, “where is Lance?”
Shiro had a firm set to his jaw. “We don’t know,” he says, “we can’t leave until we find him to make sure he’s alright.”
“Check his room, he’s probably been sleeping this whole time,” Pidge tries to joke, but her voice is ragged with exhaustion and worry. Keith’s chest clenches painfully – he needs to say something, to tell them what happened. He tries to form the words, but can’t push his voice past the blockage in his throat. He realises he doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to make it true by everyone else knowing. But he knows it’s a reality he can’t escape.
Shiro turns towards the door. “Alright everyone if we split up we can cover the area faster and then get to safety quicker, we don’t know if more Galra forces are on their way.”
Everyone gets up to leave except Allura and Coran who are manning the controls. Hunk has worry creased deeply into his forehead, and Pidge looks like she’s trying to be light-hearted about it, but the grooves around her mouth betray her true feelings. Keith is internally screaming, TELL THEM TELL THEM NOW, trying to force himself to move, to talk – to do anything. The numbness has come back, the fog clouding his head again making everything muffled and distant. His arm still throbs painfully, and he focuses on it to try and keep himself present. The team are at the door now, almost out of the room. Keith pushes a finger nail deep into his wound. White hot pain flashes across his vision and he has to swallow back his scream. But it grounds him again, and he forces his mouth to form words.
“–gone,” Keith forces out, and it sounds so broken and garbled even to his own ears. But it’s loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. Keith can see Shiro falter as he turns and takes in Keith’s expression.
“What, Keith?” He says before heading back to him. “Are you okay?” He notices how Keith is now visibly trembling.
Keith tries again, “gone– It... he– he’s gone.”
Shiro still looks confused, but it’s Allura who now speaks. “What do you mean gone? Is he not on the ship?” She gasps, “the Galra, did they take–”
“Then we have to get him now!” Hunk bursts out, and Keith can see how he grips the door frame for support.
Suddenly the room is too small, there are too many people staring at him, wanting him to say the words they need to hear, but he can’t, he can’t because Lance is gone. Keith crumbles to the ground, he can’t breathe, he’s going to suffocate – to die in the airlock and never see the team, see Lance, again. The ringing in his ears is now overwhelming as he tastes blood in his mouth. Just when he thinks this is it, he’s going to die because how can he possibly go on, Shiro is there pushing his head between his knees and soothing him with gentle words. With the reassuring hand on his back, Keith realises he can finally breathe again. He gulps hungry breaths down, choking on his tears, trying to keep composure but feels himself breaking apart into thousands of scattering pieces. When he raises his head again Shiro grips his uninjured arm, firm but soothing.
“Keith, we need to know what’s happened.”
“The Galra–,” he chokes, pauses, and tries again, “the airlock– he didn’t make it–,” he barely has the breath to finish ‘make it’ as another sob tears through his chest. But realisation dawns on everyone’s faces and now they know, know that Keith was there and didn’t save Lance, didn’t get to him fast enough. Let him die. They’re all still staring at him with wide eyes, and Keith doesn’t know how they can stand to still look at him. The sound of Allura’s sobbing cuts through the silence, and it’s like the first drop of rain to reach the earth before a storm, because everyone else follows. Hunk collapses to the floor, like Keith had done, while Pidge stays standing but sways dangerously. Shiro is no longer capable of comforting anyone as he sits back on his heels, his eyes not quite able to focus on anything.
Keith leans back against the wall, turning to look at the stars through the giant view panels. Despite knowing that so many of those glittering lights are planets filled with civilisations that need them– need Voltron, Keith has never felt so alone in the galaxy. His energy finally fizzles out and he doesn’t fight the exhaustion as he falls into a dreamless sleep.
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Keith wakes up disorientated in his room. An ache that seeps deep into his bones makes him groan as he tries to sit up. His head is pounding painfully, and he has a bitter taste in his mouth. He’s about to drag himself out of bed to check how he looks in the bathroom when memories of the day before violently crash into him. A strangled cry slips through his lips, as he remembers the Galra, the fighting, losing Lance – Lance. Keith stumbles to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet and begins heaving as his stomach churns painfully but has nothing to push out. Bile fills his mouth and nose, and he spits the acid out, taking a few steadying breaths before he faces himself in the mirror.
He recoils in surprise, a feeling of déjà vu overcoming him. Keith examines himself in the mirror, he’s somehow in his Blade of Marmora armour again, and his bruised face is still a pale grey. Almost too afraid, he struggles to open his mouth to examine his teeth, and sure enough the blood encrusting them is there too. He rinses his teeth, changes his clothes, and shakily sits down on the bed. This all seems so familiar, because it’s happened before, hasn’t it? Was someone playing some cruel, sick joke on him? Putting him in bed, dressing him in is Marmora armour? He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He’s already experienced this day, had already suffered through it, no fate could be cruel enough to make him live it again. He’s just overly distressed and his mind is messing with him, muddling his memory. That had to be the explanation, because the alternative would be Keith being in some kind of repeat of his day… a sort of time loop. He decides he can’t put off the inevitable and has to face everyone at some point. He wonders where they’d be, grieving in their rooms? Keith is sure Shiro would be waiting for him in the main living area, and he tries to convince himself he won’t break down again.
He leaves his room without fixing his hair, or cleaning his face, heading to find Shiro. He stops when he hears voices coming from the dining room, straining to hear – was someone laughing? Fury bubbles deep within his chest. How can anyone laugh when Lance isn’t here, when Lance will never tell another stupid joke –.
Keith freezes at the doorway of the dining room, staring in complete shock at what he sees before him. Everyone is at the table, chatting, and they all turn at Keith’s entrance. He must look awful, from the expression they’re all sending him, but his heart begins to thump painfully fast as he chokes on his words, trying to understand what’s happening.
“Whoa, who died?” Lance teases.