Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway
Is that it's you
And that you're standing in the doorway.
Going to Georgia, The Mountain Goats

--

Allura meets him the morning Lance is getting his new legs put in. She intercepts him smoothly, in fact, on his way to the infirmary - a fancy alien tea in her thermal bottle and two bagels in her hands - and swiftly deviates him from that plan.

"It's time," she announces, as though this is something already agreed-upon, "to talk to people."

"I hate doing that," Keith deadpans, trying to walk past but Allura simply steps in front of him and pushes a bagel into his chest. "Uh. Thank you?"

"Doc has already informed me Lance wants no one else present during or immediately after the operation," Allura says, and Keith sighs, taking the bagel and letting her twine her arm through his so she can lead them both away. "Doc and Hunk will be involved in the operation itself. Pidge is looking after Shiro. They think Lance will wake up later, since his operation will be longer. And he seemed happy to take the legs, but Doc warned me we have no idea how he will really react... With... Since there's so many...things affecting him, so..."

"So...we're not going to go see him any time soon?" Keith says, a few passing rebels raising their brows at his quietly murderous stare. "Are you sure?"

"Doc will call us should Lance need us. Okay? I want to see him, too. But we have other priorities, and if he doesn't want us there..."

"Fine," Keith mutters, hurrying to keep up with Allura as she hastens up a flight of stairs. "So, who are we talking to? And why? And why am I here?"

"Coran's doing his own investigating for some of the people we listed yesterday, confirming arrangements with Krolia and Matt and so on...but I thought we could...look at the other side of things. Um...our side of things."

"Our?" Keith repeats, frowning at the quieter corridors they've reached, fewer impatient rebels flitting around and none of the relentless chatter found anywhere the rebels number more than three.

"The...rest of us," Allura says softly. "Whose experiences do not include kidnapping and torture but nontheless left us damaged and therefore in need of help."

"I'm not damaged," Keith says, holding in a wince once he hears the words exit his mouth. Allura props up a brow in utter disbelief.

"I am," she challenges back, voice low but run through with a grief Keith can barely comprehend. "Waking up after so long asleep...and everything I loved destroyed? Trying to lead you all? Trying to help Lance? I'm not... I don't think...other people feel like this. I'm just exhausted, Keith. I barely feel like myself... Like I'm running on empty. And just terrified, all the time. For all of you."

"And for yourself?" Keith asks, and Allura gives a small smile as her gaze hardens, lines round her eyes.

"Sometimes," she says, and turns them round another corner into a dead end with three doors on the walls. "Look... I am not equipped to handle this alone. Okay? Not the way everything happened. So I am going to go and talk to these people and see what works and what doesn't. You're welcome to join me. Otherwise, you can see none of the paladins as they're involved elsewhere, neither Coran, Matt, or Krolia, because they're all speaking together about a similar issue to us, and not Kolivan because he and Captain Olia are engaging in talks with each other and their people about what to do with Lotor's generals. So are you interested?"

And she thinks she's not up to leading Voltron? But even this is an effort, the blase disguise Allura erected trembling, its fakeness revealed in her shaking hands, fingers clutched round her bagel and beverage, a thin sheen of sweat at her temples. It's true, most of Keith's options are busy, and Tarandi will probably be by Zorah's side and therefore off-limits in the infirmary. And he does...want to help, doesn't he? That doesn't always take the form of holding Lance's hand or delicately making converesation with him. It could just be...this. Allura isn't wrong, after all. Damaged is a mild way to put it.

"Fine," he grumbles, grabbing Allura's drink as she passes it to him so she can whip out a holopad and start scrolling through a list. "What is that?" he asks, squinting at the tiny letters on the screen, unfamiliar to his eyes.

"Just some names, compiled by the rebels and the Blades and Coran, thankfully. I think I'll... My plan is to just. Talk to them. They're in a room waiting for us. Just explain the whole situation really...as much as I can...and ask how they would help us. Like a job interview, I guess."

"Huh. And I just...?"

"Ask questions," Allura says, pulling him from the deadend and heading down another corridor. "Follow my lead. I'm sure you have your own interests to pursue...so feel free. We're fairly confident Lance will end up picking Doc for himself, since they've been in the most contact and seem to get on...so maybe a few people for the rest of us... I'm undecided. Which is why we're meeting!"

"Wow," Keith mumbles, fairly dazzled by her speed and determined attitude, and follows along until she picks a door and knocks, smiling graciously at the pink-scaled alien who welcomes them inside, bowing both to Allura and Keith in turn. Inside is a generous handful of alien doctors, some dressed in white coats like Doc but most in the simple, worn attire most rebels don, with perhaps a few gadgets and holopads in their hands. They look...nice. Different, of course. A few species Keith recognises. Most not. A couple galra, decked out in Marmora uniforms. Keith makes a mental note to check them out, then turns to Allura, who has already begun speaking.

"Thank you all for agreeing to meet us, and especially on such short notice. You've all been informed of the situation, I'm told. We're happy to hear your thoughts on Lance, of course, but my fellow paladin and I will mostly be looking for those of you who can help us. Myself, Keith, Shiro, and Hunk, though I'm sure Coran would like to confide his own stories, too. Due to our castleship and our connections to the Lions, communication will be no problem. We have plenty space for people to stay. If you have extra skills in other areas, like cooking, gardening, um...please just let me know. Keith and I would love to speak to you all...so shall we begin?"

They begin; Keith makes for the Blades but a lilac alien with tentacles for hair darts in front of him and introduces herself, her home planet, how she got caught up in it all. Keith nods, still glancing round at the others talking between themselves are congregating round Allura, until she changes course rather bluntly: "When my home was being invaded by the galra, they took all the young men and boys in the town away and into one of their ships. I've looked, but I haven't found them anywhere. I joined the rebels to find my brother - I can't deny the idea I could join the Paladins and use your resources to find him is part of the reason I looked into this. But I'm qualified. And I know what it's like to lose somebody. I hear that's...quite a theme on your ship."

Keith nods, considering her different, the flat narrow line of her nose shared by a man already dead, or breaking his back in a workcamp, or on a table, cut off from the world. Her tentacle hair, shifting minisculy as she speaks, tensing at the mention of her brother. She joined the rebels ten deca-poebs ago, she said. Those lines round her eyes, he sees them on Allura. Like Matt, and Hunk, and Lance, a scar down her cheek. Keith can understand a personal vendetta. Frankly, Keith encourages it.

"I lost Shiro...twice. And my mom. We lost Lance. Pidge lost her brother. Coran and Allura..." Keith halts. "They don't, um, discuss it much. But they probably need to, right?"

"Of course," she says, and Keith glances down at the holopad from Allura, matches the name to her face: Manvi T'Kreia. "My approach to those who desire it would be learning how to handle the grief. To those whose loved ones are believed alive, I'm also happy to help track them down - I've got my own resources and I've done plenty of my own work cracking open systems to dig out pertinent information. To the rest...I believe your term is traumatic grief. I can teach you the tools to manage it; to live with it, and potentially let it go. Would that be helpful to you?"

Keith looks away, back down at the holopad. If he can pry his ribs wide enough he might be able to bare his heart a little more. He needs it, after all. There is so much guilt...and so much shame. "Yeah," he finally mutters, pressing his thumb against the corner of the holopad before looking back up, nodding. "Everything with Shiro...and Lance...is a lot. And I have...shit with my mom. I don't know how to fix it. And I get angry a lot."

"Who are you angry at?" she asks, and Keith wonders briefly if Allura's understanding of testing people includes having a mini-therapy session. It doesn't hurt, right?

"Everyone. Everything." Gladiators at the Marmora base who reminded him, once, of Lance. Women with black hair when he was in the city with his dad, who never looked at him nor looked at all like him. Himself, most of all. For being wrong. "I fucked up so much. If I'd just- done something different, Lance would be- it might not be like this at all."

"And is it so wrong for things to be like this?" she asks, and Keith narrows his eyes.

"Like this? Like- we're stuck here because we're too weak on our own, we're supposed to be saving lives and helping people and we're all- everyone is just- a mess! I could have prevented it. All of it."

"Do you really think that - if the druids had never intervened at all - the Paladins would've remained strong enough to never request support? You think you wouldn't have been traumatised by some other horrible aspect of this war that, as you rightfully point out, is ending lives at this second? These thoughts are traps our minds set up for us because it requires no action. We ruminate, and we stagnate. Actual growth requires challenging yourself. Often enough, it includes asking for help."

She isn't wrong. That's the glaring issue Keith has with her words. He wants her to be wrong, so he can keep enduring his own guilt. It's easy, to hate this situation, every fucking thing about it. But it brought their organisations closer. Keith got the Marmora experience he wanted, even if at the time he thought he would never recover again. He and Hunk are real friends now, close friends, he's never spent hours talking to someone the way he does with Hunk. Shiro is really the only exception, rating Hunk somewhere between close friend and best brother territory. It's strange. It feels wrong to think like this - what the druids did to Lance can never be justified - but...Keith supposes..that isn't what she's telling him.

"Okay," he says finally. "I get it. I'll talk to Allura." He gives her another look, her thoughtful eyes, the smile hovering at the corner of her mouth once Keith gives up his fight. "I need to deal with the others," he mutters. "I guess we'll let you know..."

"I look forward to it," she says, smiling brightening as she reaches forward to clasp Keith's hand before nodding her head and melting away into the group. He never spots her again, busy as he is enduring more mini therapy sessions and figuring out whether such sessions are useful ship-wide, but her visage, composed despite her lively hair, casts a beacon over his mind. She isn't the only one, but the most significant one - the one Keith comes back to again and again as someone who could help him.

She's right, after all. Asking for help is typically the first step in fixing things - a lesson long taught by Shiro even if it's never quite been internalised. Lance refused it, time and again it sounds like, and the Paladins, too, crashed and burned right behind him, but they have choices to make. They'll need to decide how long to stay here. How many lost lives and worlds and systems Lance's sanity is worth. Keeping people on the ship, protecting them, somehow, and protecting themselves. Keith doesn't envy Allura at all. She's strung out thinner than him. Across the room, she has no privacy like Keith has just endured; flocked on all sides, holopads to the ready, Allura speaking slowly and concisely, her wise tone ringing about the dull buzz. She's so focused, somehow. Keith can't achieve that, even though he knows otherwise occupied he would still be left wanting.

After more private inquiries, he moves onto the Blades he'd spotted earlier. They have some friends in common, express their concern for Zorah's wound. Keith has nothing on her, either, unconscious when he last saw her, but stable, alive, breathing through the nightmares. Keith asks about previous Blades' experiences - reasons they required this kind of help. Similar stories to Lance's and Shiro's emerge, of course, but there's something else Keith hadn't noticed also nudging at his soul - the resignation.

"They come in all the time," Keith will recall this Blade saying for years after this moment, "all ages, all jobs. A ten thousand year old battle requires older fortitude. But not all of us can access that strength so easily. And not all environments foster that attention, either. They're sick of killing, sick of fighting. Sick of sneaking around, falling in love against orders, losing everything they cared about. Sometimes we station them in calmer systems, to guard resources, look after endangered citizens...remind them there's hope, somewhere. Not everywhere. Not all the time. Long as a couple planets are Empire-free, there are...tangible people, with lives and jobs and families, they can protect. It's not for nothing. It's for everything."

Keith thinks about it for a very long time, even after the questions have died down a little and Keith is at Allura's side in some barren office, mumbling out his thoughts whenever she pauses long enough. That sense of hopelessness - when the passion dies out, that's all there's left. Keith sees it in Shiro. In Allura. In Lance. Lance thinks there is nothing left for him. Lance is tired of the very concept of living. But to save his life saves everything - more than a victory against Lotor or proof the druids can't win, but that the body and soul are not so easily divorced as others would desire them. That a person cannot be made a puppet and, when their usefulness has run out, be disposed of quietly. Keith wants Lance to live. Keith wants to live, too.

"But what are your thoughts?" Allura's voice finally presses. "Keith? Really, you've barely said a word since we sat down."

"You haven't given me the chance," Keith points out, and her smile wavers and almost slips. Frowning, Keith adds, "But I get it. I only really have a couple names... Manvi...T..." He racks his brains, trying to conjure anything other than her searing words or her animated lilac tentacles, but Allura is already tapping at her holopad.

"Dr T'Kreia?" she asks, and Keith nods in recognition. "Oh, sure, her credits are quite good, and of course her background is familiar... What did you speak of?"

"My issues," he says dryly, and Allura's marks glow a little brighter as she laughs, leaning her chin on her hand to watch him speak. "And...grief. Trying to...help people...carry it." He speaks in fits and starts as Manvi's words overlap in his mind. It felt a little like a confrontation - but not, ultimately, a bad one. She made an impression, aced the job interview. "I thought that'd be...useful."

"Yes," Allura replies distantly, and Keith cocks his head, watching her drifting eyes, the calm hand vacant by her holopad. "Yes, that sounds...and did she help? You?"

"A little," Keith admits, "as much as you can in ten doboshes. I thought...I said...we'd get in contact. Even if no one else- wants that...I do."

"Me too," Allura says, and smiles at him, her eyes touched with the very grief they wish to dispell. "I'll put her on the list."

They speak a little more after than. Some discussion on whether they should really recruit a Blade therapist, when the Blades probably need them enough. Eventually, they concede that Krolia's help alone would make up for another professional, and though another Blade would be a great asset, it's simply too much to ask. Allura discusses her favourites - a rebel who's worked primarily with elite squads in the past, an alien whose past work was diffusing bombs on their civil war-ridden planet, who seemed both a competent worker and a useful friend. They discuss pros and cons only for a short while; they both know no real decision can be made until they present the others with their findings. Until then, the conversation, quite naturally, turns elsewhere:

"He seemed quite cheerful when we had dinner together last night," Allura observes, her chin in her hand, "and Shiro's there if he needs him, so there's no need to fret, Keith."

"I'm not fretting," Keith counters, despite having just wondered aloud for the third time in ten minutes if the operation was done yet. Digging his fingers into the hem of his shirt, he adds, "You've seen how quick he can change. I just need to get in there and see it for myself. And then...deal with what comes next. Whatever it is."

"I really don't know, Keith," Allura admits quietly, looking down at her desk and sighing. "What can come next? I don't dare to expect anything. We don't know... And Shiro knows better than us. Either of us. I just think...we need to give him some space."

It's not hard to read between the lines. Something gnaws on his heart as Keith says, "We? Or just me?"

Allura exhales, long and loud, pushing her holopad around with her fingertips, refusing to meet his eyes. "We," she emphasises, but adds, "I just think we should all be careful. I don't think any of us should rush into anything. Like you said - he changes so fast. I don't think it's wise to..."

"Whatever," Keith mutters despite the roaring fire searing his insides - quelled only by the knowledge that it makes sense she'd think this. That anyone would. That it's kind of insane for Keith to repeat the same mistake he made upon Lance's return - going to his side despite all the evidence against it. But it was different, then. Lance was a storm and an enigma, draining and electrifying at once. He was stronger than anything and he didn't give a shit about anyone. That he began to care, in whatever twisted, unnatural way he'd cared, had been intoxicating to Keith. It had been stupid, and Keith had been careless. Keith accepts he was ultimately in the wrong for getting into it with Lance when Lance was seriously compromised, but it hadn't felt like that at the time. It had felt like Lance was dead, and the stranger in his place would take on a little of his ghost's colour when Keith was with him. Keith thought he was helping.

But he truly is helping now, right? Calming Lance down. Giving him something to hold onto. It's the right way forward, isn't it? Is Keith in too deep, too quick? Is Allura...

"I'm serious, Keith," Allura murmurs, and she does lock eyes with him now, staring him down with open concern in her features. "Let's just take things slow."

"I'll try," Keith accepts, because talking to Lance is already in his plans. There's so much left to clarify...it scares Keith to think of the words passing his lips. It isn't enough to apologise when Lance is out of his mind with guilt. They need to be genuine for each other, not just to satisfy their ingrained need for remorse. Keith knows that much. Keith remembers Shiro letting him stew in his sadness or thrash out his anger before they'd hug and make up. He hadn't really understood as a kid. He understands now.

The atmosphere never quite recovers. Allura outlines her schedule for the day, offers up a few things Keith might be interested in, but despite all the potential distractions pulling at his conscious, Lance's wellbeing is all he can think on. Keith //wants// to go train, with Allura or Matt or whatever rebel will offer; wants to find all the others except maybe Shiro and sit in judgement before Olia; wants to shoot the shit with Hunk and Pidge and forget everything else but he can't because they're with Lance and Shiro's with Lance and Olia will just lecture them on Lance, and... And even Keith is scared of the path before them. Lance gets legs and...then what? Lance goes through a couple operations, finds someone to talk to, moves back onto the ship and resumes life as before? That can't be right. There aren't enough lions for him, Lance, Allura, and Shiro to all remain pilots. Who's going to make the sacrifice? Is it even ethical to let Lance keep fighting the way he has been? But then again, was it ever ethical to have teens fighting for the safety of the universe to begin with? It's not like they used to kill galra before - somehow, with Lance's return, it just seemed normal...

"Keith," Allura stresses, again, planting the holopad flat on the counter and frowning at him. "Have you listened to a word I've said?"

"No," he says, scowling back like a tantrumming child, insisting, "I can't think, okay? Can we just check? Don't you want to know?"

"Of course," she responds stiffly, then sighs as he remains staring, unblinking, at her. "I suppose it can't hurt. Your mother might be there, will she? I could always confer with her..."

As if Lance alone isn't reason enough to go. Keith doesn't comment on it; he can't care enough. He shouldn't judge Allura, anyway. Even if he wants to. Her reprimanding of him the previous morning is still sharp in his mind, Hunk's soothing voice, all of Allura's precious humanity shining through the cracks in her professionalism... She does a better job than him of keeping it together. One wrong move and Keith is simply a blade in motion, unwilling to hear anything but the slice of skin, of real injury. He knows it's stupid. He knows he needs to calm down. He spent years meditating alongside Shiro and learning his patience yields focus bullshit, but somehow it never quite stuck. Some people are just born like this, the way Allura is born regal and elegant and efficient, standing, sweeping up her holopad, and casting him a glance as his wandering thoughts drag him slower to his feet than usual.

"I know it's difficult," she sighs as they head down the corridors. "It is for everyone. I can't claim to understand your feelings for him - that sounds...too complicated - I just... I'm trying to be...objective. About everything. Before Captain Olia lines us all up to interrogate us on our wrongdoings. If I can claim to understand the ways we went wrong, maybe..."

"Don't," Keith mutters, as tired as she is to even discuss this again. "Olia can chew us out, whatever. She'll probably be right. But what the hell is she gonna say to Pidge? I think a fifteen year old is allowed to be scared. Hunk was scared. I... Kolivan was right. We fucked it up from the start. I just don't think everything was our fault."

"Maybe not our fault," Allura says, staring straight ahead with her fingers white on the damn holopad, "but my responsibility. Fault doesn't matter. Consequence matters. The way we treated Lance makes me sick. I just can't think about it. But I was...scared too. Maybe that was wrong of me."

Keith doesn't answer, but he isn't so sure - fear and caution are suitable responses, he thinks, to whatever stepped out the healing pod two weeks after they retrieved Lance's barely intact body from the druids. What happened on that ship was simply beyond their understanding. That they didn't reach out for help was foolish, but...how could the paladins of Voltron admit to the broken, bleeding truth of it? That the galra empire still had such strength within them? That even Voltron couldn't protect their own? It would've been demoralising. It would've been a mess.

But this isn't preferable. Keith can understand that too, even if it makes his heart twist and burn in shame, rage, sadness. He doesn't know. Can't stand to think on it too long, these days.

Their route to the infirmary is familiar, now, and Keith's heart paces a little faster with every step in its direction. Lance, with legs, without pain, hopefully, or in a different pain that denotes reconfiguration and healing. Awake or asleep, howling in agony or perfectly at peace, Keith simply can't predict. What greets them at the infirmary, however, defies all expectations: "Oh," Allura utters, as they survey the room empty of Lance and Shiro both, Doc and Krolia lounging near their beds, Pidge and Hunk also retreated. "Oh," she repeats, and strides forward, engaging Doc and Krolia in conversation at once. Making a face, Keith takes a few steps in that direction when a hand clamps down on his shoulder.

"Bad timing," comes a familiar drawl, "they just went for a walk."

"Who?" Keith demands, spinning on his heel and pinning Tarandi with a glare before a different hand launches in the air and starts waving. "Zorah? When did you- what happened? Did you- is he walking already?"

"Well, no, he's not walking," Tarandi says, manouvring him over so he's stood by the side of Zorah's bed.

"They did try, but it was messy," Zorah interrupts almost instantly, beaming at him despite the subject matter. "You know, I woke up at the break of presumable dawn and there he was, writing in some little notebook and completely nonthreatening, contrary to so many reports. He even helped me call the doctor, cowboy, so thoughtful. Of course, he broke down immediately after he got the legs - it took quite some convincing from Mr Team Leader for him to accept them, and then the failing to walk, and I think Krolia found a wheelchair so they could go talk in private. And then you and the princess come in. Tarandi's filled me in a bit - what's been going on?"

"He tried to kill himself again," Keith says bluntly, and Zorah's face screws up. "I guess we should've seen that coming. I don't know. He still isn't really speaking. I'm not convinced he's accepted...that we're trying to help him."

"Can't blame him," Zorah says bracingly, sitting herself a little more upright and assessing him with sharp eyes. "And how are you? Last thing I saw of you was an attempt on your life by your beloved, so forgive me a little concern."

Keith can see it, too. Not just in her eyes, open and wary at once, but the tight grip she has on Tarandi's hand, the blanket coiled beneath her free fingers, the incessantly tapping foot beneath the blanket. Keith worried about her, too, but there's only so much room in his head and heart before things start to slip. Besides, Tarandi's been here, keeping her company, keeping stock of all goings-on so they could gossip about them later. A little like what Keith wants to do for Lance.

"I'm fine," he mutters finally, casting his eyes downwards. "He didn't want to shoot me, you know."

"I know," Zorah says, and smiles up to her wife. "The old guard ritual, I remember. Lotor was always a sick-minded bastard. Sounds right up his alley."

"He's really dug his claws into that one," Tarandi says, her eyes on the door like she's as impatient for Lance and Shiro's return as Keith is. "He only accepted the legs because Shiro said they would help... That he was capable of fighting against Lotor. He's in his head, right? The ritual said..."

"The ritual didn't used to be like that," Zorah says with a sigh, presumably more familiar with its existence than the rest of them. "My grandfather did it. It was corrupt then, of course. I don't even remember what he used for it. It wasn't capable of intelligent thought - it really was just a monster alien he tracked down and burnt his name onto. It's about taking dominion of someone's entire body and soul, you know? If Lotor's messing with him that deep, probably feels unnatural to get new legs. So that's why he..."

Keith worries his lips, hands clenching on automatic. He can imagine the scene, has borne witness to it before; Lance, awakening, and hating half of himself. Before it had been a memory issue, easily resolved with patience and explanation - but this is real. He can't even walk yet. What little Shiro spoke of his galra arm is ingrained in Keith's mind, and amplified tenfold as he imagines it applying to Lance. Hating it. Wanting to get rid of it. Feeling like the whole self is tainted because one part came from the enemy. But the new prosthetics are meant to help that, right? Except Lotor is in his brain, making him think anything good and healing and safe is the enemy...

"What happened?" Keith asks, quieter this time. Tarandi and Zorah share an uncomfortable look, and as one the three of them look over to Lance's unoccupied bed, where Allura now speaks in hushed tones to the doctor and Krolia. Probably asking the same things as him. Probably imagining, probably conjuring the same memories he does. "I'm not a kid, you know. I can take it. He already tried to shoot himself in front of me. Twice."

"Calm down, cowboy," Tarandi drones, patting his shoulder and drawing him in a little closer until Zorah is able to paw at his hand. "You don't need to prove anything to us."

"Except your sense of humour," Zorah says, beaming. "But what can I expect from Krolia's son?"

"Zorah," Tarandi begins.

"I'm more than my mother's son," Keith says, a little bitterly but not out of anger. Zorah's teasing doesn't bother him. Mostly. "She didn't even bother raising me. You call that a mother?"

"Ah, honey-" Zorah now responds, changing track entirely, but Keith shakes his head.

"I said I don't care," he cuts across, raising his voice to do it, and Tarandi frowns in his direction but doesn't comment. "Just tell me, okay? Was it really bad? Do you know if it's Lotor? What did Shiro say to him?"

"We're pretty sure it's Lotor," Tarandi says promptly, glancing at Zorah, who nods in response. Tarandi squeezes his shoulder a little bit as though to ground him, but it's so disconnected from the thoughts crashing around his mind like sparks off a flame that it barely registers. "I think it was bad. But this one likes to exaggerate."

Zorah rolls her eyes, lifting her chin in defiance. "Never," she retorts, and Tarandi's smile is small but so warm it makes Keith's heart ache again. "The kid was all freaked out, enough that he was speaking! That means it's bad, right, cowboy?" Frowning, Keith dips his chin in agreement. "From the sounds of it, Lotor was in his head, making it feel all wrong. Shiro was trying to help him, telling him to fight back. I guess the druids still have a hold on him too, huh?" Again, she waits for a swift nod from Keith before continuing. "So...eventually he quiets down. Lost the will to fight, but you know, in my experience, that's never a good thing-"

"Zorah," Tarandi grumbles again.

"Oh, honey, you know what I mean. In a situation like that... Well, it doesn't matter. Your captain Shiro said some real sweet stuff. And some not so sweet stuff. He really had some things to get off his chest...but...at the end of it...he said he and Lance were like twins. Because of the... Because of what happened to them, I guess. I don't know enough about Shiro to judge. But Lance accepted it. Eventually. There was laughter, there was crying, I think they hugged... A good emotional catharsis, all in all."

Tarandi is rolling her eyes again.

"So it was good?" Keith says, since his brain is rapidly overheating from the influx of information combined with the weight of it all on his shoulders. "It went well? I don't have to worry?"

"You always have to worry," Zorah says, and Keith's gaze snaps back to her. "Just in general!" she adds quickly, Tarandi patting Keith's shoulder quickly now as if to ward off any impending rage. "I mean, no, cowboy, for now...Shiro seems to have a handle on it. What he doesn't, the Doc does. Krolia's good with him, too. But also...the kid is going through it. So yeah, I think everyone in this station is on some level worried about him."

"Great," Keith mutters, "at least we're all in this together."

"Exactly!" Zorah chirps, brightening like a jewel in the sun. "It's a bonding experience, honey."

"He did say he didn't want to see anyone for a while, though," Tarandi says in a low voice. Keith's face falls a little, his heart clenching up inside him, but he tries not to take it personally. It's not about him. "I think he just needs to get used to it. Probably feels more vulnerable than ever. But I'll be in here with Zorah. I'll come update you if anything changes, alright, cowboy?"

Sighing, Keith says, "Yeah, alright," and turns back to Allura, who's now disengaged from conversation but studying a holopad, which she offers to Keith once he drifts over.

"Some brief notes on the operation," she explains, and leans against a counter as he reads, brows furrowed at the medical jargon and the occasional line that enshrines Lance's physical and mental wellbeing. Some things stand out that Zorah had neglected to mention: Shiro's heartfelt apology to Lance, his fear for him, for all of them. Having flashbacks in the corridors, alone, at night, where no one could ever witness it. And- a suspicion Lance was depressed like Shiro even before he was taken. Keith couldn't say. His offer of stepping back from Voltron still looms its head in Keith's mind now and then, the precursor to all their problems and all their fears. Keith can't speculate anymore than that. It would make sense, he supposes. If Shiro thought that way...

"So?" he says to her after scanning the document several times over, leaning his hip against the nearby counter and raising a brow at her.

She stands hunched, one hand on the counter and the other clutching the holopad. "I suppose it's the best we could expect," she says, then sighs. "I'm glad Shiro was here to help him. He'll understand the best. It'll be a long, hard road, or...so everyone tells me."

"Yeah," Keith mutters, "me too. Apparently Lance doesn't want to see anyone yet. We should..."

Allura lets out a quick sigh, but straightens up before Keith can decipher if it's from disappointment or relief. He can't blame her - he's desperate to see Lance but he's not sure what he'll see and what state it'll all be in. Delaying it...isn't easy. But it's their only choice.

"That's fine," Allura says. "I'll inquire about dinner later. I'm going to get lunch with Captain Olia then go over our earlier discussions with Coran... I think Pidge and Hunk might still be in the lab, or something like that...?"

Keith nods, getting the message quite clearly, but as he turns to leave, a hand takes him shoulder and, jerking away from the touch, he twists to see his mother. She retracts her hand, slowly, glancing at it for a second as if scrutinising what flaw it possessed to provoke such a reaction in Keith, but it isn't even her fault. Keith doesn't like strangers. It's not his fault she counts as one.

"Hey, cowboy," she murmurs, and he scowls even at her picking up the nickname from her friends. "Rough stuff, huh?"

"Yeah," he says, crossing his arms and waiting. In the corner of his eye, Allura and Captain Olia begin towards the exit, nodding a little at Zorah and Tarandi, before they disappear behind the doors and leave Keith to fend for himself.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asks, and Keith barely resists rolling his eyes.

"No," he says, uncrossing his arms, turning back the way he came, and leaving.

--

Except he does want to talk about it. Which is why, after a few hours of solo training, trying to get his heart pumping for reasons other than concern over Lance's fate, he finally slinks into the lab designated for Pidge and Hunk. Well, not them specifically, though they seem to have the run of it. Olia has offered an area just to focus on Lance's recovery, on figuring out what every crack and strain in his brain and body means, on dissecting every fissure they can get their hands on. It's where the prosthetics were built; where Pidge sits now, hunched over her computer while R2 hovers over her shoulder. Across the room, Hunk converses with a bunch of other mechanics, pointing at something in his note book. The others lean in, asking questions one on top of the other, and Hunk flushes, scratches the back of his head in pleased modesty.

Pidge it is.

"Don't ask," she says dryly before he can say a word. He squints first at her, then the screen, which contains a blueprint of Lance's brain with a bunch of jargon next to it. "I'm not even a biologist. But apparently this isn't just biology. Which means they can drag me into it." She shrugs, scrolling down the screen to reveal more jargon arranged in long, dragging paragraphs. "Something about linguistic capabilities. I'm not a linguist either. But technically it's not really about linguistics. It's about- function, and communication, and- so technically I can help them."

Keith's head tilts so far right he thinks a tendon will crack open. "Uh," he says, "you sleeping okay?"

She wheels round to look at him. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" she asks without heat. "Why is Keith Kogane asking me this? When you're Keith Kogane?"

"Uh," Keith repeats, "sorry?" Trying hard not to scowl.

"Forgive me, but you don't exactly have a track record with sleeping yourself. And you know Lance used to check on me all the time. It was a weird deja vu." She shrugs, only a little bashful, and returns to her work.

"Can we talk about Lance?" Keith asks, and Pidge heaves a sigh.

"Must we?" she asks. "Won't we talk about him tonight, at dinner? Shiro can explain everything better than I can, anyway. They're like, besties now."

"Huh," Keith says, thinking about twins, what Zorah mentioned earlier.

"I want to tease you about getting replaced, but this is probably exactly what you want, isn't it? Don't need to worry about the in-laws bonding. Shiro will be so happy when you two get married 'cause then he'll be a brother to Lance in law and not just, like, because of shared trauma."

Keith mulls this over. "You think we'll get married?"

"Uh, if we make it out of this war and back to Earth I'm double daring the both of you to propose and making a film reel over you guys trying to do it first to show at the reception. Are you done asking stupid questions? I have to figure out how likely it is that Lance will ever talk again. They already told me it's partially psychological. As in, not something that can be calculated based on science. As in, not in my fucking wheelhouse. I should programme R2 to sort this shit out!" Eyes wide and shining, she latches onto the robot to do just that, and Keith understands he has been dismissed.

Hunk is still entertaining his court. As Keith approaches, his voice filters above the lab fuzz: "...just an idea I had, you know, assessing the prosthetics so much. Unless you cut them open you didn't realise they weren't human legs, you know? And I kept wondering why that was, if it was magic or quintessence or special space stuff I hadn't learnt about yet, so... Yeah, I spent a long time researching it. But it's difficult - neither Lance or Shiro wanted prosthetics like that. I guess it's different for everyone."

"And you can produce this material right now? In what quantities?" asks an alien on Hunk's right, a gap wide enough between them that Keith kind of hovers just outside the space. The others lean in, too, some holding holopads and copying down the information. In return, Hunk practically glows, beaming and turning a page in his notebook.

"Well, yeah, I can produce it! We have everything available here - but not a lot. Obviously the galra had tonnes of this element here" - he points at a tiny sample taped onto the page, notes scrawled next to it - "because they ransacked every planet they met. We don't do that! But I think there are like, organic ways of extracting it? I dunno if you guys want to check with Olia or...whoever's in charge of it...but I think it could have a lot of other uses. Really good for disguises, I think, but maybe a cheap way of creating shelters? It's light, but it's super strong, and you can basically manipulate it to look however you want it..."

A few of the aliens are tapping frantically at the holopads. "I'll ask," says one, shoving their holopad into a pocket. "I'll ask right now. Thank you for sharing, Paladin. I'll return once I've consulted some other divisions."

"I have a friend who might be interested," says another as the initial one takes off, not even glancing at Keith as he races out the room. The final one is fully absorbed in whatever she's copied onto her holopad, scrolling up and down then tapping as if making her own notes on it. Keith raises a brow at Hunk, who is blushing and bashful, before taking a step closer to his friend. Hunk steps back, too, leaning against the counter so their conversation is a little more private.

"So," Keith says, and Hunk sighs, nodding.

"So," he responds, and for a second it is quiet, gazes held in understanding, before Hunk thunks his head onto Keith's shoulder and lets out another tremendous sigh.

"That bad?" Keith asks rubbing Hunk's shoulder as he's learnt is customary, thinks of Hunk saying it's different for everyone, Hunk having every option to have a prosthetic or glass eyeball and refusing, opting for the visible, mysterious eyepatch instead. Is it so different for Lance and Shiro? Sometimes pretending to be whole takes a greater toll than simply bearing it to the world, scars and all.

"Not bad," Hunk mutters, "just exhausting." A pause, then, "I mean, it was pretty bad."

"Uh huh," Keith says, waiting patiently even though the desire to know itches under every fingernail, boils in every vessel of blood. Bad how? Bad operation? Bad reaction? Bad beforehand? Bad because anything gory or gross is vomit-inducing for Hunk? Pidge made a face and mentioned shared trauma, what the hell does that even mean? Keith wants to know. God, does Keith want to know.

"I mean..." Hunk lifts his head and leans against the counter, crossing his arms and staring at the wall. His eyes reveal nothing Keith can understand. "Like...he was nervous before. I kind of had to talk him round. But. The fact he even listened to me... I dunno, dude. It kind of surprised me. I guess I'm not used to him being..." Like this? Human again? After everything. Despite everything. "Like, you know, he looked at me like he was so guilty before this. And before we realised what he was feeling, he hardly looked at me at all. If he did, it was like I was some kind of, like, blueprint under a lens. And now he's like...listening to me and...making serious, life-changing choices based on what I say... I mean, it was fine. He was scared. He's kind of...always scared. Right?"

"I think so," Keith says slowly, dropping his own gaze to his hands, where his fingers tangle together, casting his memory back. The very first thing Lance felt was fear. On the floor of the Red Lion, brain burning before Keith's eyes. Every mission. Every time Keith was in danger. Every time his feelings existed too strongly for him to push back. Keith can't even imagine what it was like all the time he was gone. The druids devouring every inch of his soul... Lance, speechless to stop it. Keith feels guilty. He also doesn't want to.

"So like...yeah, the operation wasn't great. It was hard. But we kind of knew it would be. We've locked his galra legs up, but we need to study them and stuff. We think they have all the nasty galra quintessence locked in them, so now it's like, oh, how is this going to affect him on that level as well as just. How long until he walks, and...how comfortable they are. I mean, none of that was even the biggest issue. He hated them when he woke up. The druids and shit. I was on the side. Shiro took care of it. But he was speaking, you know, at the start. Telling us he wanted them gone. Then Shiro helped him, and he stopped speaking again... I don't get it, dude. Is it, like, psychological, do you think? Like, conditioned? Like, is he scared of us? Or is it the druids? Is it something from being imprisoned? Because it wasn't an issue before the quintessence ritual..."

You're the scientist, Keith wants to snarl, but Pidge is across the room, programming R2 to figure this out. "I don't know," he confesses instead. "Before the quintessence ritual, he got more like himself when he was hurt. Like, really hurt. Maybe it's like that."

"Like hurt...emotionally?" Hunk tries, and Keith remembers Shiro on the videocall, trying to explain Lance on the floor of the kitchen, begging Coran to let him take his own life. Lance saying I'm sorry I'm sorry Keith I'm so sorry, Lance on the training deck all those months ago, nearly shaking apart by the weight of his feelings for Keith.

"Yeah," Keith says, "maybe."

"Maybe," Hunk mumbles, and sniffs. "Allura said he spoke after he took my eye out. And then," he pauses, "immediately-" and has to stop.

"Don't, don't, who could've known," Keith says, but would he have? Would he have stayed those nights with Lance and let Allura have her peace? Would it have been his eye or would Lance see him the way he never saw Hunk? Or would Keith have been a monster too; another galra general to fight off? "Besides, I read the note. It probably wasn't- like- he probably..." Lance, already so uninterested in protecting his life even before the ritual. Throwing his body away to protect the rest of them. Shiro said he was dying to keep the druids from assassinating the paladins through Lance. The druids whose voices took such root long before Hunk stood in that room, shocked or terrified or thinking of Lance, real Blue Paladin pre-kidnapped Lance, as a monster struck out towards him. "He said all that to me because he knew I'd figure out he was different... He knew it was too much to bear. He probably...from that point on...was looking for a way out. Don't you think?"

Hunk smiles wanly. "I try not to think about it," he admits, and Keith nods, sighs, presses a hand against Hunk's arm. "Knowing Lance...he probably blamed himself immediately. I just wish... I just couldn't tell. He was so quiet, Keith. I guess that alone should've given it away. But it just made him seem like more of a monster. Like he really didn't exist outside of fighting galra or going crazy on the training deck. And now it was Lance all along... And he couldn't feel anything. He couldn't speak. I realised," Hunk says, gripping his fingers tight together and looking down, all bitterness and shame, "that he must've tried to hurt himself before Shiro found him in the kitchen. Why else would nunvil be involved? And I can't stop wondering when it happened. After we went to the facility? When we started going on missions? After...the nightmare thing? I feel so blind, Keith." A brief pause as he snorts, rolling his eye, before despair infiltrates again. Looking Keith in the eye and saying, "And the worst thing is...this is the most I've recognised him since he came back."

Keith winces, releasing a harsh breath as he, too, looks away, eyes on the steel wall, a familiar churning in his chest. It's true, is the issue. Keith saw glimpses of Lance when he was well-fought and ready to have fun, laughing in the Red Lion, muttered conversations at dinner. But even then it wasn't really Lance; there was a thoughtlessness that underlaid all his actions even then. Now...the belief that the only way to help Voltron is to exterminate himself from it... It sounds so familiar. Lance, stepping back. He'd accepted Keith's advice, his consolation, but he hadn't believed it. Keith worries what his next steps would have been had things not fallen apart the way they did. If he would've ran; if that depression Shiro is so convinced Lance always had would've forced his hand to this same point.

"I know," he finally mutters, and Hunk's wide-eyed glance at him proves he was hoping Keith would've disagreed. "Before the ritual...something was missing. Or...not fully there. He was beginning to feel stuff. Fear, and love, and... And he really was being selfless, in the end, trying to defend us all because he could take it. But it was never the same as- before. But this is...just so like him. To hide the problem until he couldn't handle it... Trying to get rid of it without letting anyone know..."

"Man, I fucking hate the druids," Hunk grunts, low and hard in his mouth. Keith considers him, his lined eyes, his sketchbook full of Lance's prosthetics and notes on how to fix everything. "If they'd- done what they meant to, this would already be over. We'd be dead, or he'd be dead, or everyone would be...but they failed. And I keep thinking...I still see him in there. In the cracks. In the little moments. Thinking he's about to laugh at a joke, maybe. Except I haven't heard him laugh once since he came back. I keep thinking...I can find him. He's not going to be the same but he's in there, and he..."

"He is in there," Keith determines, hard and tight, fidgeting with his Marmora blade. "I know he is, okay? When he woke up, he called me over and all he did was apologise. Why would the druids want a guy like that? Whatever the ritual did...it made him the kind of guy they would never want." He pauses, and tightens his grip on the blade. "It made him Lance. And they did everything to make him anything but."

Hunk releases a long, slow breath. "I just hope...he's able to get help here. Because if I think about all he's gone through, and how I'd feel like that...and like, I don't even blame him for doing what he did. Even though I...hate to see it. Like when he went for his bayard on our way here. I thought I'd throw up. But I get it... I wish I could tell him that. But it feels like...how can I even say that when I don't even know what he's been through? I'm glad he has Shiro. Shiro gets it."

"Yeah," Keith mumbles, reminded at once of Shiro's long nightmares and his shaking panic attacks, his cold eyes on Lance, his fiery hatred once Keith revealed the heartbreak. All of that reconciled in ways Keith can't recognise, but he's glad for it. Shiro needs help too, even if he won't admit it. He's needed help since he crash-landed on Earth. "I get it. With you, I mean. I want to help him, but I can't. Not really. Not like that. And I-" He grits his teeth, staring down at his blade flickering under the lab lights, shoulders too tense to disguise his feelings. "I don't like. How we were together before. It was bad- I hated hiding like that, keeping secrets from everyone. I felt totally out of control. And now Kolivan says it's me who's wrong because I shouldn't have started shit in that- situation. And I agree. And now Lance needs help, and I just want to go to his side again, and it feels wrong because... I already did that and look what happened. But- it isn't the same Lance. Right? Because I don't know..."

"Hey," Hunk says, warm enough that Keith finally looks up and takes a deep breath. Hunk is smiling, no teeth, but his eyes are sad enough to counteract any happiness it may portray. "How long have you been sitting on all that?"

Keith scowls, looking away. "It's hard to explain. And stupid- Lance needs help-"

"I'm pretty sure us coming here highlighted how we all need help. I'm still freaked out by the eye thing. I try and be strong in front of him, but I think he knows, a little. He definitely still feels bad. And he was...fighting you every night, right?" Head cocked, gaze thoughtful, it's easy to glance back at Hunk and nod. He gets it, is the thing. Lance took his eye out. Lance may have ripped out Keith's heart but at least it wasn't that physical. At least the evidence didn't linger so visibly. "So like...it makes sense. Just 'cause Lance isn't like that anymore doesn't mean... Like. Your brain adapted, right? To think of Lance in a certain way. So you have to...take time to re-adapt. And in the mean time, maybe he's still a little scary. Or- unsettling, I guess. He's not really threatening stuck in the infirmary, so...that makes it easier, for me. But then I feel bad. Because he's only there because he's been through such shit. And I, like, am choosing to cope and heal from his one negative interaction with me by focusing on how, because of Lotor and because of his own stupid selfless streak, Lance is stuck in a hospital bed barely able to walk. Does that seem ethical to you? He's still my best friend... I still want to paint his nails and shit. So like. I feel bad too. It's confusing. I don't know, like...what the right thing to do is."

With every word Hunk has tensed up, folding his arms tight over himself, hunching his shoulders, looking away...but Keith gets it. Yanking on Hunk's arm and pulling him into a hug, Keith says, "I get it," with such relief that Hunk sniffs and hugs back. "I want to help him. And I want to be with him. And it's kind of easy now because he's not demanding anything...but I don't think it'll last forever. Then what do I do?"

Pulling back, Hunk wipes briefly at his eyes and gives a weak smile. "Talk about it? Some way or another. Lance probably wants to explain himself, too. Like...he knows better than the rest of us what happened during the quintessence ritual. Maybe there's a reason he treated you the way he did after. I mean- I don't excuse it, of course not! Maybe he thought you not being around would make things easier... I don't know, man. I feel like I have no idea what he's thinking about."

"Except killing himself," Keith can't help but mutter, and Hunk shudders.

"Don't," he only whispers. "I can't bear it."

"Sorry," Keith mutters, and Hunk just leans his forehead on Keith's shoulder for a minute. Keith raises a hand and pats his back again, sending a bemused look over to Pidge, who's watching with a raised brow across the lab.

"Look," Hunk says into his shoulder, "we'll figure it out. He's my bestie. He's still my bestie. And he had a crush on you since forever. And you still love him, right?"

"Right," Keith says, narrowing his eyes at Pidge, who has chosen to make faces at him while trying to guess what they're saying.

"And he loves you?"

"I'm... I..." Keith swallows. "He...asked for me first after his legs got removed... He kept looking at me when I came back... I think so. I- hope so."

"Okay, so that's a yes," Hunk says, and finally straightens up with a watery smile. "So it'll be okay! Love is the answer. I think I watched some anime based on that premise. Maybe once or twice."

"Shiro liked Naruto," Keith says, rolling his eyes, and across the room Pidge yells, "Who the fuck is talking about Naruto!"

"Apparently Shiro likes it!" Hunk yells back, while Keith simply stands back, nonplussed at the swift change in tone.

"Of course!" Pidge shouts, and Keith looks round at the other occupants in the room, who are deigning simply to ignore Pidge and Hunk. Is this normal? "He's gay!"

Stung, Keith says, "Why would you say that? That's stereotyping! Besides, he liked it because-"

"Bro," Hunk says, "she's joking. But also correct."

Pidge giggles to herself and Hunk nods reassuringly, so Keith just shrugs and takes it. "Whatever," he mutters, "what are you doing for the rest of the day?"

Because Keith has no idea what to do with himself. Hunk says something about this material he's working with and the people in the lab who are into it, and Pidge with R2, and Allura and Coran constantly dealing with other officials in the base and Shiro with Lance...and Keith, wandering around, avoiding his mother, missing Tarandi and Zorah, focused always on Lance and everything he did wrong, what he'll do wrong in the future. When Hunk returns the question, Keith can only shrug, shake his head.

"You can stick around," Hunk offers with a gentle smile. "As long as you don't get in the way."

Keith smiles back. "Okay," he says, and sticks around.

--

At dinner time they go to the infirmary. Peeking their heads in, Doc meets them at the door and says, "He's passed out," with a kind of tired joy in his eye. Maybe that means it was a good day? "Your good captain Shiro also. May I recommend checking in lunchtime tomorrow? There's no guarantee he'll be ready to see anyone, but I can at least gauge his feelings before then."

Allura, who'd quickly bid some rebel or another goodbye upon seeing them in the corridor and rushed to join them, heaves a little sigh. Again, Keith cannot tell whether it comes from relief or frustration, but she straightens her back and thanks him all the same. "We'll dine with the rebels tonight," she says, then glances at Keith and adds, "unless you want to stay with your Blade friends?"

Another glimpse past the door reveals his mother sat with Tarandi at Zorah's bed, and he ducks back, shaking his head. Allura frowns, and Hunk quirks an inquisitive brow, but neither pry.

Pidge, of course, sees no reason not to. "You really don't wanna see your mom, huh," she remarks dryly, and Keith scoffs.

"I have too much to think about right now," he snaps back, and she raises her hands, alright, alright, and he shakes himself. "Sorry," he mumbles, "but she cares more about Lance than me, right now."

"You don't know that," Hunk protests, and Pidge's eyes take on a considering look, weighing up whether she agrees or not.

"It's a difficult situation," Allura, of all people, inserts. "She's far more knowledgeable than us on the issues surrounding Lance. Perhaps she thinks taking good care of him is a way to reach you, after all. Maybe she knows if Lance is in a better place, you'll be happier too."

This only makes Keith scowl, unwilling to consider it even if it makes his heart twist up and tremble in his chest. "Maybe she can't face me, either," he says darkly, and he vaguely registers Hunk rolling his eyes with a smile and patting his shoulder.

Dinner is a more intimate affair than the feast. Rebels show up when they want across a couple hours, and Olia sits away from the head table with Matt, not far from them. The rebels keep their distance, for the most part, and Keith is glad for it, able to unwind a little listening to his friends talk as he parses about his own feelings. He misses Lance and Shiro. He wants to know how things went, though he understands it must've been exhausting for them. He repeats it over and over to relieve the ache of disappointment in his chest, the phantom hand in his own that he longs for. It's not a necessity, after all. Just the ghost of a human he misses, had thought was lacking all humanity till so recently. It wasn't fair on Lance, Keith thinks, but Lance wasn't fair to him, either. Lance had wanted him gone too much, and Keith hadn't questioned his motives. The quintessence ritual, he'd assumed, had turned Lance into the brick and steel robot the druids had designed, incapable of love or physical affection.

It wasn't like that. Keith is still a little hurt that Lance didn't trust him enough to explain that it wasn't like that. But it's past now - what Lance did or didn't do means nothing unless Keith does his best in helping Lance return to himself again. Hunk is right, he thinks to himself, clings to the notion, eventually they'll talk about it. Eventually Lance will explain, not just apologise. Keith will try to do the same.

That night, Hunk drags Allura and Keith to Pidge's room, where she snuck in her gaming console and hooked it up to one of her million monitors. They sprawl across her roomy bed, Allura curled up and dozing on Hunk's chest while Pidge sits squashed between him and Keith, bolt upright with all attention fixed on the game. Keith takes turns on the second controller, not as familiar as Pidge and Hunk but urged to win by his competitive spirit. Hunk laughs. Pidge screams with rage. Allura snores a little in her sleep.

Keith feels happy. He also wishes Lance were here. He'd be more than happy to pass out on Lance like Allura has done with Hunk. Or maybe hold Lance while he rests, curled up like he'd been in the hospital bed, warding away all the nightmares for as long as possible for him. Maybe Lance would remember how to play. Maybe he'd laugh with Hunk, giggle at Pidge.

Maybe one day it'll be like that again. For now, Keith accepts it for what it is and slopes back to his room, late, late at night, and falls asleep embalmed in soft, gentle warmth.

--

His mother awakens him the next day.

"Guh?" he says when a cold hand shakes his shoulder, blinks a few times only to register purple, and purple, and purple... "Mom?"

She breaks into a smile. "Hi, Yorak," she says, and Keith scowls. Did he give her permission to call him that? Wasn't she stealing nicknames from her friends? "I thought we'd see Tarandi and Zorah then go train for a bit."

Keith is still half asleep. "Bu' Lance?" he says, vaguely remembering some idea to go find him at lunch. Keith's pretty sure that's what he dreamt about, actually, except he kept opening the door to the infirmary only to find another corridor, and the others calling his name while he raced to find them...

"They're actually moving him out the infirmary today," she says, which conflicts with the plan made yesterday. "He no longer needs any equipment, and it's better for privacy... They're putting him in with Shiro and Coran, in fact. So he won't be entirely alone. But it takes a while to move him... I believe they left some of his things in what was meant to be his own room? So..."

"Hmmm," Keith says, and falls back to sleep.

Lance...and corridors... Ahh, there's no infirmary because he's not in the infirmary-

"Yorak."

"'s not my name?" he says, and a sigh from above him. Ah, right. His mother is here.

"You really don't like it? I suppose Keith will do. Will you get up now? If I leave you'll just fall asleep, clearly."

Is this what nagging is? Oh, god, Keith didn't realise what freedom he once had... What he should have relished...

"Up!" Cold hand on his shoulder. He jerks, and finally shoves himself upright, rubbing his eyes and rolling out his neck. "Is this what you've been like with the Blades? Be honest, Keith. I won't stand for this lazy behaviour."

"I was up late last night," he mutters, blinking a few more times till his gaze refocuses. Krolia stands, arms crossed, to the side of his bed. She frowns with raised brow at him, and he's just sleepy enough that the anger isn't edged all searing hot like usual. "I was good with the Blades... Ask T'randi..."

"I have," she says, frowning at him, "which is why this behaviour concerns me. What were you doing last night?"

Setting his feet on the ground and scowling, Keith replies, "I was with my friends. What, do you think I was up all night crying over Lance or training myself insane? I'm not allowed to have fun?"

Her features relax somewhat, and she takes a step back. "I see. Shall I wait for you outside?"

Nodding curtly, Keith says, "That would be appreciated," stiff and formal in a way that clearly grates on her. As the door shuts behind her, Keith collapses back in bed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and holding back a low groan. He can't figure out how to be normal around her, and it seems the feeling is mutual. She keeps trying to be close in all the uncomfortable ways he hates, despite acknowledging she isn't entitled to that since she left him. It took long enough for him to be friendly with Tarandi and Zorah, and that was before this strange new Lance held a gun to his head once, twice, more if he wished. It's too complicated for Keith to process at once.

But he's already said yes. So he changes into some training clothes and goes, thinking of his friends congregating round for breakfast or Lance and Shiro in the infirmary, waiting to leave, Coran keeping an eye on them both. Keith, separated, again. It has to be okay, he tells himself, hesitating at the door. Allura keeps getting drawn away into serious discussions of the future, and Coran often with her, and Pidge and Hunk always in their lab, and Lance, with Shiro, so it's okay, everyone accounted for, safe, unafraid.

It has to be okay. Maybe he projects his fear onto the others just because he doesn't want to face it himself. Dealing with his mother. A stranger. But Tarandi and Zorah... Keith would like to see them again, see what his mother is like around them. And training is fine. Training has to be fine.

The girls are easy enough to deal with. Zorah beams and Tarandi does her closed-mouth corner twitch, pressing her hand to Krolia's shoulder then Keith's as they arrive. There's little to discuss that his mother and them haven't already discussed, it seems - Lance already gone, in a wheelchair with Shiro, Coran, and Doc at his side, his infirmary bed empty, the rosary vanished from its place on his bedside table. Keith tries not to linger on it, but the place seems so much emptier for his absence. He wants to go see Lance. He wants to make sure he's okay. But he can't just do whatever he likes. He has to think about what's best for Lance.

Turning to Zorah, watching her hands move animatedly while she tells some tall tale to Krolia, he thinks it's time to think about what's best for himself.

They have breakfast. Light, and small, so they don't disturb their training. Krolia's eyes are sharp when she announces it to the girls, and Zorah raises her brows, Tarandi breaking out a little smirk. "Don't let us stop you," Tarandi says, all serenity and pleasantry which only means Keith is about to descend into hell. "Cowboy - good luck."

"When you die, I'd like those photos I gave you back," Zorah adds, sharing a glance with Tarandi and smiling all sickly sweet at them. Keith frowns, Krolia rolls her eyes, and then they're away again.

Krolia resolves the problem of thinking too much on Lance and other distracting issues by simply not giving him the time to think about anything at all. The girls' warnings had him concerned, but all attempted familial warmth and softness sloughs away once they enter the training room. Krolia is faster than him, has greater reach than him, and has far more experience than him. It's a little like fighting Lance, in fact, because she prefers guns but will switch to a knife if she has to, and she's absolutely relentess. Something burns in his heart as he realises this, stubbornness entwining with envy and appreciation, then curdling back into rage and grief and too many things to name. He raises his swords, he slashes his blade, he ducks and rolls and dives but never quite escapes her.

Ultimately, he loses all his fights against his mother but the last - and even that was because he pulled a dirty trick, hissed a few scathing words at the right time and struck. It didn't feel good, and Krolia wasn't impressed either, and the first person he runs into as he hobbles back to his room to shower is Allura.

"Have you heard?" she asks, her hair fluttering round her cheeks as though uncontainable with nerves. "They moved Lance out of the infirmary. I wish they'd told me; conferred, at least, whether that was the best plan... I suppose if doctors say so then it must be - but we got terribly lost at lunch and couldn't find him - or you, for that matter - and now they say he is trying to walk or inconsolable with rage or asleep and..." She gives him a once-over, having joined him on his walk with barely a glance his way. "Are you quite alright, Keith? Where have you been all this time?"

"Fighting my mom," he grumbles, and her brows perk up. "Just sparring but...she totally beat my ass. It was humiliating. Zorah and Tarandi told me about Lance today. When are you going to try and see him? Are you going to...make plans to get him on the ship any time soon?"

She eyes him curiously. "Are you so eager to leave?" she asks, and he shrugs. "Well, I have meetings all afternoon about staffing and therapists and so on. Dinner, too, I believe Captain Olia is gathering myself and Shiro and Coran for a spectacular scolding - of course, you can all check in on Lance, or we can ask Krolia..."

"We'll go," he insists, not looking away from her until she nods.

"I'll try again tomorrow," she says, eyes forward and nodding a little. "Yes, tomorrow, and..." Her fingers clench and loosen upon the sides of her dress. Keith tilts his head, calculating, but says nothing. "What has Lance been like, with you? Angry or...upset? Does he hate us for what we've done?"

"Kind of," Keith says, shrugs. "I mean, I don't know. I guess. But I think he blames himself most. He's obviously not in a great state to...talk about...stuff."

"I miss him talking," Allura sighs, then pauses as they reach Keith's door. "I suppose I'll see you again tomorrow. Wish me luck."

Keith smiles, blissfully free of Allura's busy afternoon and her evening with Olia. "Good luck," he says, warmer than he intends, and some of the stress sloughs off Allura's shoulders. "It'll work out."

She smiles, and he steps behind his door, watching for a second before it slides shut again. She seemed apprehensive, but Keith can't blame her. Facing Lance was scary before. Monster, specter, love of his life and all. Now it's terrifying, but Keith can't imagine anything else. When Allura sees him, she'll understand. If she has to bear the brunt of him attempting to form words before her, she'll feel what they all do. That intolerable grief, tolerated. Hunk had been close to tears as he'd relayed the way Lance has struggled not once or twice but three times to say the word 'good' all in one, and failed every attempt. And this is the same Lance who spewed those words at Keith to force him from the castleship? Keith is dying to know how he regressed so far. Suicide and druids and speech, all too tangled to separate, now. Isn't that bizarre? Keith can't think of the days he'd dreamt of Lance shutting up. They were younger, then, after all. And so much stupider.

He spends the rest of the day avoiding his mother, tagging around with Hunk and Pidge, and dropping by the infirmary to supply gossip to Tarandi and Zorah. The adults have vanished, presumably swept into the whirlpool that has taken Allura, and without prosthetics to work on, Hunk and Pidge are devising more and more ridiculous ways to mess with Matt when he's training. Forge smoke bombs concealed in walking, talking monkey robots while they discuss real plans for the resources on offer, hatching vague ideas for a communicator that can reach Earth. They test the toys on Matt, laugh with his squad at his reaction, bounce more ideas off him. Keith hangs around, toys with a rubix cube Pidge made him out of scrap, and talks with some of Matt's squads about their techniques. It's pretty productive. It's good fun. It never quite distracts him enough from Lance and his problems and Allura and her problems, but it's nice to see everyone messing around like this. It's been so long... Keith can't think about how long it's really been.

Accepting it for what it is, he laughs and learns and practises in his room that night, a few postures Matt's rebels taught him, what few flips he can manage in his room, imagining Lance or Pidge or Shiro opposite him, their attacks working together to overwhelm the enemy. Maybe one day it'll be like that again. Maybe even that's too much to hope for. Mostly, Keith just tries to be thankful that they're safe and happy for another day.

--

Allura declines to see Lance the next day, though she collapses into Hunk's side at breakfast and gives them the entire downlow on the scolding from the previous day. In all fairness, Lance is declining to see the lot of them, embarrassed, Shiro says, about his inability to walk or speak. It's better to leave him with the few people he can handle, right now, lest they exacerbate any lingering suicidal tendencies that such deeply rooted humiliation triggers. It leaves Keith with fuck all to do, so he checks on Zorah, exchanges info with Tarandi, trains with his mother, and goes over the whole boring day with the others at dinner every night. More often than not, Hunk corrals as many of them as he can to his or Pidge's rooms for games or films. Matt accompanies, from time to time. Brings his whole squad just the once, before they're set to take off on a mission without him. A week or so passes like this, maybe more - anxiety itches at Keith every second so he tries not to count them, tries to enjoy the free time, the training, how death is unable to threaten them here. It's nice, kind of.

On account of his time spent with Lance, Shiro barely pops up either, and when he does it's with a tired smile, an exhausted happiness in his eyes. He tells them it's going well, that it's private, that Lance is getting a little better but don't expect miracles, it's hard, he's doing better but it's still hard, and yeah, Keith drones, time and again, we know.

He just wants to see it, that's all. Real, breathing proof that Lance has legs and can smile and even gets on with Shiro again. Coran shares no details and rarely sees them as he's too busy with Allura and the other adults, busier than any of them even realise, Keith thinks. The whole lot of them are waiting with baited breath, it seems, every morning, for Shiro or Coran or someone to come tell them it's okay to visit. Keith doesn't presume to think it would be easier with them there, but he feels so useless if he can't offer Lance support. Training his body and calming his mind, sure, he knows that's useful, but Shiro is with him and Pidge and Hunk are endlessly figuring out to help him, and if not him then the entirety of Voltron, or the alliance, and Allura is dealing with the rebel leadership so no one else has to, and what does Keith even do? Eventually, bored of sitting in the lab while Pidge and Hunk work and he stares at them both in confusion, he asks for some galra language books, and settles back into his academic studies.

Had he bothered to learn the alphabet before, if he'd studied in classes instead of daydreaming of fighting or holding back whatever rage or torment ambushing him, things might've been different. He could've figured everything out, before Lance was put in danger, before Lotor was anywhere near them. They don't have tech with them all the time. Even Allura admits the galran language is one she's neglected learning recently. It'll help, in some limited way, today or tomorrow or five weeks ago. It passes the time well enough, though studying language has never been his forte. Now and then the others bother him or Pidge points out random words or letters she recognises from her constant hacking. By the end of the week, he feels like he knows two of the alphabets off by heart and can at least explain the differences between all four different ones. Hunk sits with him at lunch and tests him, actually. It's nice.

It doesn't completely dissipate the gnawing worry and confusion for Lance, though. Shiro shows up pretty sparingly, and gives minor updates, but it feels like he's hiding something. Keith doesn't want to be paranoid, but it scares him, a little. He tries to rationalise it every single way he can, but ultimately Shiro and not telling me something never end well together. And with Lance involved? He focuses on his language work. He talks to the others. Fights out all his anxiety and rage with his mother, or Tarandi, or Matt when given the chance. It's manageable, but far from ideal.

So he's already feeling a little frazzled when he strides into a training room one day and straight into Allura, dressed in her training suit and staring at her holotablet. Her brows are creased in concentration, lips pressed together, the wooden stick she'd been practising with discarded on the ground.

"Princess," he mutters, "sorry," and steps back a bit. She doesn't respond immediately, scrolling down then back up her tablet, brows pinching as she worries her lip. He looks round the room again, trying to spot anything that would cause concern, but it's just them, the dropped weapon, and the dummy before them. The fabric of it has been ripped in places, thin shreds of it littering the ground. Maybe she was angry, he thinks. Maybe she was trying to let her feelings out the only safe way either of them can. "Uh. Allura?"

She blinks and looks at him, straight through him. "Oh, hello," she says, a little belatedly. "I was just..." She looks at the tablet, then sighs quietly.

Keith can identify the correct social response here. He says, "Are you, uh, okay?" He waves a hand at the tablet, shifting from foot to foot as restless energy tides over him. "Do you need...?"

"Well, I suppose you would like to know," she murmurs, more to herself than to him, then breathes another great sigh and straightens up. "Well, I've received word that Lance is open to visits again. I suppose I should go straight away, but-"

"Lance?" Keith interrupts without thinking, already looking back through the door to remember the fastest route to where their rooms are located. "Who said that? They messaged you? Shit, I wonder if he's-" He breaks himself off, mind racing at the possibilites - can he speak, can he walk, is he happy, is he coping? Alive and well and healing? Sick and tired and needing something, anything, anyone? No, he would've requested someone specific, like when he asked for Keith just to apologise. So happy, then? Coping? Alive, well, healing? One or three or all? Neither, none of it, another in-between space Keith can't understand but must accept with all the love he can muster. And Shiro will be there, right? And Keith can see, for himself, the relationship between them. Twins, aliens, the only two taken and changed indisputably by the galra. God, Keith just wants to know everything. He isn't entitled to it. But he still wants it.

Without realising, he's grabbed Allura's wrist and started marching towards the door, considering calling on Hunk or Pidge or messaging them through Allura's holopad, and Coran, will Coran know or is he busy? Is he with them or entertaining the leaders or hashing out plans and strategies for things so mundane and ordinary the others never think for a second on them? The doctor, will he be there? Captain Olia? Is it such an event, or is Keith too dramatic, too singleminded, too desperate-

He doesn't even make it to the door before he's ground to a halt by a steel force clasped in his hand.

"Excuse me," Allura says, plucking his fingers off her wrist and narrowing her eyes at him, "just what do you think you're doing?"

"Wha-?" Keith says, "seeing Lance, aren't you-?" He takes in her cool stance, how she rubs her wrist a little, and guilt floods in. "I mean- sorry, I just got- sorry, I didn't mean to grab you. Really. Allura, I-"

"Seeing Lance, and hauling me along with you just like that? You won't even take time to consider if this is the right move to make? Your need to see Lance overrules everything else?"

Something cold starts trickling down Keith's neck. "They wouldn't have told us if he didn't want to see people," he reasons lowly, staring across at Allura and wondering at her indifferent features, her sharp posture. Was she always like this? No- well, sometimes but- with Lance? But when was she last with Lance? At that group dinner, before they even gave him the prosthetics? And before that? Keith can't remember. "You haven't seen him in ages. You should see him."

Allura scoffs, though her hand free of the holopad clenches into a fist. "Oh, I should see him? So now you're going to dictate to me what I can or can't do with my own time? You know I'm extremely busy, Keith. I can't run about Lance all the time." Like you, is unspoken, but it hits him right in the chest, hot and painful. How dare you, he can't help thinking, staring at her like he's never seen her before. She has Allura's face, her marked cheeks, her long glowing hair, but her eyes are suddenly so unfamiliar. Cold and angry and completely unforgiving. Keith doesn't think he's asking that much.

The confusion, the hurt, makes the anger run hotter. Before he realises, he's letting loose a torrent of words, aiming to hurt, to maim, to strike back. "You can't run after him ever! Every time there's been an opportunity to see him lately, you ignore it! You were glad we didn't have lunch with him because he was moving rooms! What is your problem? We should all be taking care of him at this point! We already fucked up enough before, now we have the chance to make things better and you're abandoning him? Why-"

"Oh, that's rich," she spits out like fire, the words burning into Keith as he swallows, tightening his fists. "I'm abandoning him? Me? And what were you doing, Keith, before Shiro told you what had happened? Were you on the castleship? Were you looking after Lance then? Did you see him the way I saw him?! Because I was there. I was looking after him. I gave my everything-!" Despite her initially cool demeanour, rage has shaken Allura loose, her cheeks flushed, her fists clenched, voice rising with every word. It doesn't matter, Keith keeps trying to insist to himself, because Lance wanted him off the ship and he can't change the past and it's the future that matters now, right? If Keith can help now, then-

"Well it clearly wasn't fucking enough!" he shoots back without thinking it through, and she flinches so hard he must've imagined it - except he can't help analysing how she pulls her face back to getting, yanking her lips into a straight line, closing her eyes as she unclenches her jaw. "What help did you fucking give him, that he kept trying to kill himself? You're the one who sent him on missions! He said it felt like being controlled by the druids again, but it was you! You act like you knew him so well, but you had no fucking idea - and you didn't even tell anyone. Maybe things would never have gotten so bad if you'd just been honest with everyone!"

"Yes, because you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Keith?" she demands, glaring through wet eyes. "You're so full of shit!" she cries, and Keith's insides shudder uncomfortably. He's been through this, over and over and over again. He thought he knew himself. Suddenly he's become a smokescreen of a person. "You can't even imagine what it was like when you left! Everyone worried and scared and he was silent, totally silent, breaking everything he touched, barely capable of cooperating in teamwork! We could feel how wrong everything was, but how were we supposed to know what it was? I did my best, Keith, and you don't even know the half of it! I did everything I could for him! Everything, and it still wasn't enough! I helped him work with everyone else, I took him to the beach facility like he asked, I looked after him after he brought the structure down... I did everything and now you're taking your guilt for doing nothing out on me! Because I'm still trying to help us all while we're here, but you just want to hear about Lance! You never change, Keith. You always make the same stupid mistakes."

"You're no better," he spits, "thinking you saved everyone before and you can do it again. But you can't face reality! He isn't some science project for you to fix! He's a fucking human being! He needs help, all the time! It doesn't just stop when you get tired or bored or pissed off! Do you even realise what he's like now? He's fucking scared! He can barely talk, we don't even know if he can walk, he got these new prosthetics in which he fucking freaked out over and you don't even care to check personally that he's coping alright? When he's your paladin who when through this on your watch?"

"My watch," she repeats darkly. "Who was Black Paladin at the time of his taking? Who was in charge of battle plans and strategy? Which was always your weakest point, not that you ever tried to fix that even after we lost him! And then he comes back and you decide to start- fraternising with him as though we have any idea what he's gone through? And then he ends things and you run away because you can't handle it, you couldn't bear the truth that he was a human being who needed help! You're so full of shit, Keith!" Shouting, now. People outside can probably hear them. Keith's face is red, and his hands are shaking. "You're so stupid!"

"Wow," comes a totally seperate voice. "Have you tried meditating, Keith? Allura, you might find it helpful, too."

As if in slow motion, they both turn on their heels to face Shiro, leaning against the wall, staring mildly at them, eyebrows just slightly raised. Next to him, framed by the doorway, is-

"Shit," Keith says as Allura's breath escapes her. "Lance-"

Lance raises a hand, as much as he can. He's on crutches, but he can balance enough to wave at him, Allura. He tries to smile, but his eyes are concerned, his mouth downturned. How much did they hear? Shit. They shouldn't have fought in public. Shit...

"Hey," Shiro says warmly, "it's okay to have disagreements. But maybe not by a hallway where everyone can gawk at you? If we go back to our room... Allura, there's so much to catch you up on- come on, it's okay. Don't stress. You don't need to be stressed."

Keith rips his eyes away from the two of them to look to Allura's, whose unshed tears are finally dripping down her face, her fingers clenched in her dress as she sniffs, blinking rapidly.

"Ah shit," Keith says for the millionth time. "Fuck, Allura, I didn't-"

She holds a hand up in his direction, and he bites his tongue as she withdraws a handkerchief from her pockets and dabs delicately at her cheeks.

"Come on," Shiro says, and Allura nods, Keith acquiesces, and the four of them troop down the hallways. Lance is fast on the crutches - the strength, Keith presumes - but he wobbles a little when he sets them aside to sit down on his new bed. Shiro is at his side instantly, and Keith's heart bursts with warmth and adoration at the sight of them. So they are close, he thinks. Best friends-close. Twins-close. Shit, maybe Keith will cry. He can't stop watching them, Shiro setting the crutches against the wall, within easy reach, and murmuring with Lance, is he okay, how was it, does anything hurt. Lance can only gesture, anxiety slipping into his eyes when he glances over at Keith and Allura, but Shiro is so solid and reassuring. The scene produces such a sense of deja vu that Keith has to sit down, too, dizzy over Shiro's capacity for kindness and understanding when everyone else lacks so severely.

Keith and Allura don't even try to speak as this goes on. She sniffs now and then, clears her throat and looks away, to the window. Keith watches everyone, picks at his nails a little. The atmosphere is horribly tense and awkward in their corner, balanced only by the casual and comfortable familiarity of Shiro and Lance. Allura is all elongated neck and set shoulders, thumbing the last of her tears away till she returns to her perfect princess facade, but Keith crumples, shoulders hunched, defending himself from her affected and haughty air.

Lance's bed is by the window, clearly shoved in here when the room was only meant for two beds. Shiro's water bottle is on the metallic bedside table, next to a touch-activated lamp and a collection of his own medications. The table by Coran's bed appears to hold gadgets Keith could not name, and a small collection of framed photos he must have grabbed in a hurry and brought with him. They're too far to see clearly, but Keith wonders if it's deceased family, or Allura's parents, or the Paladins themselves, either generation. Keith doesn't pry, simply looks at the window sill where a few things of Lance's sit. Another photo, here, and if Keith peers close enough he can tell it's from Earth, if nothing else, though he couldn't say when or where it appeared from. There's lip balm, though Keith imagines someone brought it for him rather than it being a conscious decision Lance made. A notepad, a pen. No rosary, though. It sets alarm bells ringing in Keith's head, but he can't even think of broaching the topic now. He could be wearing it, after all, hidden below his clothes. Maybe he asked Coran to carry it for safekeeping. It's useless to get worked up over something like that, isn't it?

He's sure Allura hasn't even noticed. They sit in the two chairs dragged over to Lance's bed, a yard apart, staring straight ahead. By contrast, Shiro and Lance move with well-practised ease, Lance sitting on the edge of the hospital bed and rolling his ankles while Shiro checks in with him, glancing around the room to grab some water for them both. Though quiet, Keith can just hear what they're saying: "And nothing hurts, nothing?" Shiro asks, eyes darting round Lance's body. "How are your arms holding up? No shoulder issues? And the weight's fine, right? Sturdy, not heavy?"

Lance nods and shakes his head in quick movements, clearly accustomed to this, but then he pulls up the edge of his shorts and rubs his thumb along the seam of his skin and the prosthetic. Even Keith can see it's red and irritated, and moves to call Hunk or Pidge, find the doctor, anyone- but Shiro just reaches into a drawer and pulls out some gel, some pills, and asks more questions.

"Worse than yesterday? I don't think so. It's getting better - here," he points at the outside of Lance's thigh, "although I think the back might get irritated more when you're sitting or lying down. Maybe we should look into different fabric options for your clothes to lessen the impact?" Lance tilts his head, considering this, then nods. Keith hadn't even realised he'd been wearing shorts, that he'd been in anything new at all. Lance has spent most of his time here in the patient gown, and suddenly he's in an old pair of blue sports shorts Coran must've grabbed off the castleship, and a black hoodie Keith can only assume is one of Shiro's. It's just a little baggy on him, hides all the nightmares etched into his arms, the name burnt into his back. The neck scar is still visible, but it looks older than it ever has, a thin, thready line of white barely noticeable unless you're really looking.

And Keith's really looking. It's all he can do after so long apart.

Lance shifts and pulls his knee up so they can examine the back of the thigh, and Shiro nods to comfirm his theory. Lance takes the gel from Shiro, shoos away the pills, and applies it himself, a crease forming between his brows, jaw tensing as he does so. Pain, Keith remembers. He can feel pain again. Surely his whole body must feel like a stranger's now, like he's lived in plastic all this time and suddenly has to face all the pollution and contamination of the real world.

"You need painkillers, just let me know," Shiro says, then heads back to his own drawer. "I'm gonna take a few. I don't think my arm agrees with the prosthetic just yet."

"Have their been issues?" Allura finally questions, her voice rising above all others as everyone looks to her. "Anything problematic or is it proceeding as planned?"

Lance's eyes drift down to his thighs, then into the distance. Shiro downs the painkillers with water and says, "It's nothing we weren't warned of. It takes a while for prosthetics to be integrated fully. The process is certainly...unique, in some ways, but..." Shiro just shrugs, glancing at Lance for a moment before he sits next to him on the bed. "That Lance is on crutches already is impressive. And I've been feeling pretty mobile in my arm... I think the connection is coming together. It just means we have to wait a little longer to be fully functional, let alone thinking about being combat-ready."

Lance's face scrunches up, and Shiro notices immediately. "If we want to be combat-ready," Shiro adds, and Lance shakes his head, scowling, frustrated already. "Look, we can discuss it later."

Allura leans in closer, surveying the two of them, but Keith stays silent, training his eyes on them both, trying to understand the root of the issue. It'd make sense for Lance to not want to be involved in combat missions. Lotor could be anywhere, right? But then again, Lance wasn't involved in the combat mission - and they reached him anyway...

"Has this been a discussion?" she asks, and Keith resists the urge to snarl about how she'd know if she bothered looking for them, tempering the hot flare of rage in his chest with worry for Lance. "Are...either of you conflicted about combat missions? Or combat in general? Has this been ongoing?"

Lance shakes his head again, his shoulders, all of him shaking, and Shiro quickly says, "Briefly, it's, briefly, it's come up, but- I think there's been a misunderstanding- Lance, it's okay. You don't have to fight - you don't have to do anything! I know Lotor and the druids made it seem like it's all you're good for but-"

Lance jerks his head, and Keith holds his breath, enraptured and horrified. So quickly the tentative balance just shatters, Shiro tense with worry while Lance tears into himself. "It's," he grits out, like his throat is being squeezed, and Allura gasps audibly, "complicated," and then stops, heaving for breath. Like it cost him all his energy. Like he had to fight for his life just to get the damn words out. Keith swallows back bile and sees Allura wipe her eyes in his periphery.

"I know," Shiro says, eyes serious and fixed on Lance. "So we don't need to talk about it now. Maybe with Doc? Coran? Or- would it be easier in a mindmeld, so we can see-?"

Wrong move again. They can all see it, Lance dropping his head so he can grab his hair, eyes squeezed shut. "No," he hisses out, almost entirely air. "No, no, no. Stupid. I can't- I can't- kill, can't- already-" He can barely breathe, like a panic attack. Jesus, is it a panic attack? Or is this- god, is this just how it is? Lance is in tears, too, his cheeks red with humiliation. Keith steels his heart, but it aches that he can't do anything. He's too raw from Allura's telling off to even reach forward, to even believe that's allowed. "I'm a- monster- can't keep killing- can't- keep-"

"Ah, shit," Shiro whispers, blinking furiously and taking a deep breath before continuing. "Lance, we don't have to kill anyone. I'll explain it later. But your bayard - I'm pretty sure it has a stun setting. We'll check later, because I'm pretty sure that's what you used to use before- before all this. So don't- don't think about that, okay? Later, with everyone- we can figure it out later. You're not a killing machine, Lance. You're not a monster. You're human. You know that."

Lance only shakes his head. He's weeping, now. Allura is, too. She delicately blows her nose in her hankie, and Keith just swallows again, blinking past the lump in his throat.

"But they're bad people," he says, so quiet and raw, like fresh meat dragged through tar. The amount of damage done to Lance so visible, audible in those words alone... Keith can't think about it, he can't, it only leads down the path to guilt and rage and hopelessness, the kinds of feelings that make him think of Lance and blood, blood everywhere, and yeah, Keith has thought, more than once, of course he would. Anyone would. Maybe even earlier than Lance had.

He can't think about it, he can't. Not right now. Maybe with Hunk.

"Lance-" Shiro says, trying to stop him, but he's on his own downward spiral right now. It's obvious in how the words get clearer, heavier.

"If they're bad people, I should kill them," he reasons out, low and desperate. "Or they'll hurt others. And I can kill them. So why... So why..." A fresh wave of tears depart, and a stubborn tear drips down Keith's own cheek. He rubs it off with his jacket, presses into his eyes with it just to soak up the excess, but the ache in his chest is killing him, and it gets worse with every word out Lance's mouth. "If I can't kill them what's the point. If I can't fight I can't help. If I let them live and they keep hurting people it's my fault. But if I- I try and think about killing and-" Lance shakes all over, it's definitely a panic attack, right? He's so deep in his own thoughts, Keith wonders if he even remembers he and Allura are there. If he even remembers them fighting. "Because I've killed so many people, and only- only monsters-"

"That's enough," Shiro says sternly, and Lance grits his teeth, hunching over further. "That's enough," Shiro adds, more gently, and starts pulling Lance upright. "You're right. There are lots of questions about the loyalty of the galra soldiers and if it's worth keeping them alive or dead. Often, they're not the opponent we face, though. There are bots that can be dealt with easily. And times when death is the only option - when we find galra enslaving other peoples, for example. It's not a one size fits all situation, Lance." As he speaks, he presses his hand to Lance's back, another to his shoulders, so that he's sat upright. "That's it," Shiro murmurs, exuding that calming energy so quickly, so easily, "just take some deep breaths and think about it. I know Keith struggles with this too." Keith blinks as Lance's eyes lock on his own, and he tries to give an encouraging nod, straightening up a little, too. "Since we've trained together for so long, I know his default is just to knock out his opponent. Sometimes, that's come back to bite him - an enemy reawakening to attack him in secret. And sometimes it's been beneficial - often, galra pit us against other races so we can do the killing for them. If we prevent that until we come to a mutual understanding, it's better for everyone involved. But sometimes in the heat of the moment, Keith gets carried away - mistakes are made - and there's a lot of guilt and confusion to deal with. Wouldn't you say?"

Keith nods, an answer desperately trying to formulate in his head, but Allura takes charge again: "I thought the only answer was death," she admits quietly but resolutely, staring down at her knees. Her gaze is flinty, her fingers like steel. "You must understand, what it was like before the cryopods - and awakening only to see the death and destruction of my home, my planet, my family... Why should any galra live, when they'd taken everything from me? Life is not always so black and white, but it seemed reasonable to me. They killed innocents. Millions of innocents. And why...? I still don't fully understand. Death was an easy answer. I didn't have to think about it. If galra are all evil and murderous, then anything they say is a lie so they can get away from me and kill more people. If I give even an inch, they would take everything, again, and I didn't have much left. Of course...certain people challenged that idea," she says, and her eyes, for the first time since they've sat down, meet Keith's with a reluctant smile. "The Blade of Marmora were very eye opening for me, also. And I wonder, too...if we defeat Haggar and Lotor, if we dismantle the empire, will all those galra soldiers renounce their loyalty and accept a peaceful treaty? Will bands of them still fight and terrorise and enslave galaxies? How hard should I fight, and what's the best answer for everyone? It's so hard to think about... Coran gives me lots of advice. He's far more experienced in this are than I am, of course."

Lance's eyes have shifted from Keith to Allura, blinking again, until the colour returns to his face a little. His edges all soften, his heaving chest slowing. He nods, eyes wondering, brows still a little furrowed, but understanding nontheless.

"You see?" Shiro says, with a small smile. "Now think of the answers you'd get if we dragged Krolia here. And what about Pidge, huh? She's so young. She thinks about it all the time."

Lance nods again, opens his mouth, making a shape over and over again before giving up, hunching in again a little. For a moment, it seems he will sink into the depression, but he reaches over to the side table and grabs a pad of paper, scrawling something down and passing it to Shiro.

It's so complicated is written in Lance's scrawl, and Keith grins as Allura lets out a little laugh. "You are quite correct there, Lance," she says as Shiro takes the pad back, and brightness shines in her eyes for the first time in a millenia.

"We have more pressing matters to discuss, anyway," Shiro says, and aims his gaze at the two of them. Allura stops laughing immediately. "What was that fight all about? Because I expected better." He pauses. "From both of you."

Straightening up immediately, Keith points to Allura and opens his mouth to explain, but once again she beats him to it: "He would not stop berating me for taking my time in visiting Lance! As if I don't have enough to deal with. He wouldn't understand for a second what I have to do or what-" She falters, looking into Lance's sea eyes, soft and confused, awaiting explanation. "What it would mean for me, to come see you. After everything." She sniffs again, and looks down. "After all the pain I've been responsible for. And every mistake I made between us. But of course Keith wouldn't want to hear it. Nothing matters to him but you. But he doesn't understand!" She looks to him, her face anguished, eyes teary and hard at once. "Keith, you don't get to decide what I've done wrong when you weren't even here! Trying to berate me for not doing enough when- when I did everything- and where were you? When we needed you? Were you on the castleship? Were you looking after Lance? Were you helping?"

"Uh huh," Shiro mutters quietly, glancing quickly at Lance before looking back to them. "Uh huh, I see. And Keith, you reacted to this...how?"

"It's irresponsible!" Keith bursts out, and Allura scoffs. It only flames his blood hotter. "If she feels so bad about the mistakes she's made, why wouldn't she want to help Lance as much as possible now? Avoiding doesn't help anyone! Especially when you kept lying to me about it or pretending like you had other things to do! So suddenly diplomacy and - what - getting chewed out by the rebels is more important than making sure Lance isn't suffering? That they're actually helping him here? I know I fucked up before but I'm here now. I'm trying to help Lance now. Why can't you? What's so hard about it? You did it before, so surely this should be easier?"

"That's rich," she says, gearing up for another verbal spar, but Shiro just holds his hands up, stopping them effectively.

"Yeah," he says, "I get the picture. Kind of sounds to me like you're using each other as punching bags for your own guilt over your mistakes. Or am I wrong? Why drag Lance into this? If you wanted to help him, you'd be here, helping him, not fighting. That said" - and here he looks pointedly at Keith - "sometimes the best way to help Lance is to give him some space while arranging future plans for everyone. So now who's really in the wrong?"

"Keith started it!"

"Allura said she wouldn't-"

"Guys!" Shiro exclaims, but they barely hear him.

"So unbelievable to accuse me like that, as though I haven't done enough-"

"-so why shouldn't I fight back? If she's not going to visit him, then she's basically giving up on him, which-"

"-oh, giving up on him, I thought you were trendsetter there-"

"-the fuck are you talking about, I had reason-"

"Reason!"

"For fuck's sake," mutters Shiro, and everything comes to a halt as a ragged kind of giggle tumbles into the air.

It's not Shiro, Keith can see that much. He's looking around, confused like the rest of them. It wasn't Keith, he's about to give Allura the definition of reason, and her mouth is half-open as her gaze finally falls on Lance.

Lance, Keith realises now. The corners of his lips twitch and his nose scrunches up a little and that strange little noise is coming from him. He's laughing, Keith realises.

He's laughing at them.

Keith turns red and ducks his head immediately, peeking through his lashes to see Allura crying again and Shiro breaking out in laughter, too.

"That's what I thought, too," Shiro murmurs aside to Lance, who snorts, his giggles wheezy and barely-there. God, Keith loves the sounds. Suddenly, the need to blink and the lump in his throat return with a vengeance. He can't wait to debrief with Hunk tonight. Hunk will probably cry with him. "Stupid kids," Shiro says affectionately, smiling warmly at them all. "Keith, how about you and I take a walk and leave Lance and Allura to it?"

The lightness dissipates instantly. "What?" Keith asks, hurt at being made to leave. "But I- but Lance-"

"Come on," Shiro says, hopping up and offering Keith a hand as to yank him up, too. "We have some catching up to do. We'll come back in an hour and go over everything. Okay?"

Keith stares back at Lance, head tilted to the side, frowning, then Allura, eyes still red from crying, shoulders tense even as she raises her chin. The tugging on his arm is persistent, and Allura's gaze shifts back to Lance as she presses her lips together, ducking her head only a little. Lance looks back at her, shoulders high, arms crossed tightly. Keith doesn't want to leave it alone. He wants to mediate. He wants to be angry again. But Shiro is pulling him from the room, and Allura and Lance aren't even paying attention to him, and the door is already shut.

An hour isn't so long, he supposes. And he doesn't want to think of all the things Allura will need to say to Lance, about what she did and didn't do for him, what she's doing and not doing now, and if she's sorry, if she's upset, if she needs him to forgive her anyway.

And he has so much to tell Shiro, anyway. "Did you know," he starts, "that only gay people watch Naruto?"

"Pidge told me," Shiro deadpans. "Did you know that only twelve-year-olds have screaming matches in public where everyone can hear?"

"Duh," Keith retorts, "I learnt it from you."

Shiro's grin is so bright, so fantastic and joyful, that Keith puts his dismay and anger and fear behind him momentarily, and tries, harder than ever, to accept things as they are. And currently, they're pretty good.

Lance is almost walking, Allura is talking to him, and Shiro is smiling with his whole heart again. More than pretty good, Keith thinks as they walk, and getting better all the time.