Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ship creaks as it settles into the ground of whatever planet it crashed into, faint emergency lights blinking eerily and setting shadows dancing along the abandoned walls. Something low and wet dripped from somewhere in the dark bowels of the ship, indicating a breach from the conditions outside.

Dim blue lights illuminated the metal cockpit, stretching across to the broad console that faced outward. The crash had caused the hull to burrow deeply into the earth, allowing no external light to enter the eerily quiet machine.

A video played on the display. The quality was reminiscent of a VHS tape that had perhaps been taped over one too many times. Lines of intermittent static stretched across the screen, the audio the only thing that seemed to be undamaged.

“Hey, everyone.”

The faintly smiling face of a young man, dark hair long and framing his too-mature features appeared, blue eyes tired as he stared into the camera. He chuckled faintly, running a hand through his hair and glancing away for a moment. “I know, Blue. Just give me a sec.”

He inhaled deeply, nodding as if in assurance to himself before looking the camera directly once again.

“So. As you can probably see, I’m alive. I don’t know what kind of crap that Iverson or the Garrison tried to feed you, but they’re wrong. About Kerberos, about me and my team that went “missing”-“

He quirked his fingers in a quotation with the hand in view of the screen, rolling his eyes-

The video turned to static for a long moment. When it returned, it was mid-sentence.

“-ouldn’t believe some of the things we’ve seen out here in space. Turns out, there’s a pretty big war going on that Earth doesn’t know a damn thing about. All of us- Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, Keith and I… we’re all paladins of a universal guardian called Voltron. And Matt, I guess, even though he doesn’t pilot a lion. Hey Blue, you ever think that an extra lion would have been helpful?“

The video cut out into static.

Nesting as a group was still mildly uncomfortable to wake to, despite having done so for the last several weeks. Then again, considering Lance’s aversion to it for so long, it was hardly a surprise that he was usually the first to extract himself and begin his day.

However, a rather firm grip from his sleeping partner was enough to deter his efforts.

Sighing, he shifted, somehow managing to twist himself so that Shiro was no longer spooning him and instead facing him without the other man so much as stirring. A bit of a feat, if you took into consideration how lightly that both Lance and Shiro slept. Hypervigilance at its finest, Matt took great pleasure in telling them.

(To be fair, Matt was just as bad as they were, so they let it slide.)

But mornings like this were quickly becoming Lance’s favorite thing. During the evenings, the flock gathered in the main living space, the indented floor the perfect space for an impromptu nest and/or blanket fort. Depending on who got there first, sometimes it would be a combination or one of the two.

Coran had taken it upon himself to begin regaling the paladins with stories from the prior generation- something about “carrying on legacies” muttered under his breath and passed along by a wary Hunk one night as he brought in the nesting materials. Some of the tales were interesting, giving insight to the paladins of old. Others, certainly not so much- there were several of Zarkon while he was still just the king of his own planet tripping over his feet for an Altean chemist who would later become his wife.

Those tales tended to be short and to the point. Lance suspected it was to be courteous to those present who had had some particularly foul interactions with them.

(Not to point fingers at himself or Shiro or anything, no.)

Up close like this, Shiro was soft. The hard edges that usually lined his jaw were relaxed in sleep, the deep furrows between his brows slack. Granted, he did tend to furrow them and make some quite frankly adorable sounds in his sleep, but that was unrelated.  

His wings spread over the both of them like a thick blanket, shielding the pair from prying eyes- Pidge- and the camera that she, Hunk and Matt had built at some point in the not so distant past. Since they were now clearly an item, every single person on the ship seemed to make it their business to be as sappy as was humanly possible in order to wish them well. Which didn’t particularly make sense to Lance, because he and Shiro were the ones who should be sappy, but who was he to judge when everyone else was just latching onto what small joys they could while they tried to hunt down Lotor’s whereabouts.

Lance huffed out a short breath, carefully lifting his prosthetic hand to trace the shape of Shiro’s face, gently rubbing his thumb over the small bumps, scars, and pockmarks that lined the black paladin’s jaw before leaning in to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

Shiro made a sleepy rumble in the back of his throat, grip tightening around Lance as his muscles automatically flexed and stretched under his skin, and ladies and gentlemen, Lance’s brain has left the building because this man is precious when he’s waking up from a decent night’s rest.

“Morning.” Lance murmurs, chancing a glance out between the feathers to see that they are, indeed, the first ones awake. Keith stirs at the far edge of the nest, but otherwise his grip is fairly solid on Matt’s leg, his lower half completely splayed out across Hunk. How he could possibly be comfortable in such a position is beyond him, but the closer they get, the less embarrassment they have when they wake up in a strange game of “where the hell is my foot and why do you smell like cheese” the following morning.

“Morning.” Shiro grunts, one eye prying itself open to stare sleepily at Lance. He can imagine how absolutely gone he looks, knowing full well how sappy his smile must look considering the lazy smile that curls Shiro’s lips in return. The beginnings of stubble are starting to poke through the skin- Lance imagines that he probably looks the same at the moment, but he settled for instead leaning his forehead under Shiro’s jaw and sighing contentedly. “Sleep well?”

“Better than usual.” Lance admitted, rolling his prosthetic. “Little sore in the shoulder, but I think your wing was crushing it last night.”

“Pretty sure that was Pidge, actually.” Shiro snorts, nodding over Lance’s shoulder at the suspiciously Pidge shaped blanket burrito that had been tucked against Lance for most of the night. “I almost want to check if she’s breathing, but I’d like to keep the arm that still works.”

“Fair.” Lance hums, wrapping the arm not currently trapped under him around Shiro, minding the sensitive feathers with the prosthetic joints.

Feathers and prosthetics did not get along well, and they did not speak of The Incident in question.

His chest has been feeling pretty light as of late- in part due to taking care of the extreme touch deprivation that Pidge claimed he’d put himself into. Also due to some of the scarring from the brandings Haggar had left on him fading. Coran and Team Punk had done some tinkering with a healing pod to see if they would be able to take care of specific scarring, and thank whatever God was watching them, they’d done it. It was still faulty as hell, and there were a couple scars that were remnants from some interesting escapades as a kid that had also been zapped around his shoulders from his brief stint in a pod, but for the most part, it did work.

Given that Lance still did not do well in confined spaces, the pod was likely to be a one-time thing for the near future.

“Ready for a big day of training and drills?” Shiro asked, untangling his arms from Lance so that he could stretch more fully, wings doing much the same before relaxing again.

“I really hope that was sarcasm.” Lance deadpanned, staring his heart-mate dead in the eye. “Because if it wasn’t, I’m going to get up and go find something to eat. Preferably after I shower.”

Shiro offered him a cheeky grin.

“I’m leaving.”

“Nooo…” Shiro whined as Lance wriggled free, nudging Pidge closer as he did so and blowing a kiss towards Shiro’s pouting form in the nest as he went in search of some form of sustenance.

The video resumed playing, a sheepish grin on the man’s features as he offered a wave to the camera.

“Sorry about that. I had to sort out a theoretical conversation with Blue about having a couple extra lions around in case of emergencies. I don’t think I won that round, though. She’s awful smug about it.”

As if to prove the point, a low rumbling purr echoed around the cockpit. The man rolled his eyes, fond exasperation in his tone as he turned away again, some other tongue leaving his lips before he refocused again. The smile vanished as he leaned forward, the shadows behind him creating a painting of dark blues and greys against the metal walls.

“Look. Considering that I don’t know if you’ll ever see this, I need to get some things off my chest. Since I’m literally millions of miles away, I hope that you never have to see the shit that we have, so I’m going to give you an apology. I get that none of us have really gotten along or been close since…”

He trailed off, looking away and swallowing heavily. Composure gathered, he turned back to the screen, features sad. “-since Mama passed away. And I get that it wasn’t my fault, but to this day, it feels like it is. Pidge keeps telling me I have some kind of complex that I just beat myself up over things that I shouldn’t, but hey. Depression will do that to a guy, I guess.

I need you all to know that I am so, so sorry for everything about that day. I don’t remember a lot of it, but I remember enough to know that it was my fault that everyone was fighting. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when abuela passed away. I’m sorry that I made everyone so angry when I decided to leave to go to the Garrison. I’m sorry for a lot of things. And even though my girl’s got some pretty impressive tech, I don’t think she’d have enough storage for all the apologies I have for you.

What I mean to say is… at the end of the day, we’re flock. And since coming up here, I think I’ve gotten a little better at realizing what I had.”

The video cut again, but the audio continued.

“I hope that one day, I can come home. But I’ve seen some things up here. Done things I’m not proud of. Had to kill people. Some of them were probably innocents. And I hope to God or whoever is out there that I may earn your forgiveness. And if I can’t… that’s okay too.”

“Okay. So today, Allura and I have decided that we want to try the trust exercises that we had to do when we first got up here.” Shiro announced as everyone stood in the training deck. “The invisible maze, the gladiator training, the whole nine yards. But,” He paused, fixing them all with a firm gaze, “If anyone is feeling unsettled or uncomfortable, I want you to tell us to stop immediately.”

The last word seemed to be directed at Keith, and it took Lance a moment before he realized why. Keith had been beaten with electrified rods while being interrogated by Lotor’s henchmen. His anxiety would probably still be pretty high about anything sparky and electric for a long while.

So would Lance’s, actually, considering his last encounter with electricity had almost led to his death.

Good times, good times.

“Alright then. If there’s nothing else we need to do, let’s get to work, team. Lance, Keith. You’ll be up first on the maze. Hunk, you’ll be with Pidge, and I’ll go with Pidge after that.”

“Alrighty. No biggie, right Keith?”

Keith snorted, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms. His iridescent black wings had been preened to perfection the night before and quivered with the usual tension that Keith somehow managed to keep powering them with. (that reference had come about after several glasses of nunvil and an embarrassing number of memes one night, and it had not been spoken into the light of day since.)

“I’ll go first if that’s cool with you.” He followed up with, trying not to think about the rather sharp electric shock that would be awaiting him if he managed to walk into an invisible wall. Most of his flashbacks were getting somewhat easier to deal with, figuring what triggered particular ones and how to avoid starting others. But electricity was one that would bother him for the rest of his life, he was certain of it.

“Alright. See you on the other side.”

“Ominous.”

“It’ll be fine. We’ll be on the other side.” Hunk assured him, patting his shoulder, broad dappled wing shifting to brush against his own. “Just focus and everything will be fine.”

“And if Matt laughs, I promise to punch him later.” Pidge beamed, shooting a glance up to the control room where Allura, Coran, Matt and now Keith were taking their places.

“Thanks, Pidge.”

“No worries. It’s what we do.” She shrugged, flapping her tawny barn owl wings to gain some ground and glide over to where Shiro was already waiting. Lucky she was still growing into her not-so-downy wings- otherwise she likely would have bowled over the head of Voltron and caused quite the scene.

“Alright Keith, let’s go.” Lance gave him the thumbs up, taking a deep breath and shifting his weight on his feet as the maze sprung up for a moment in front of him before shimmering and vanishing from sight. He could see the group on the other side of the room, knew they were at the exit, but had no idea what was waiting for him between point A and point B.

“Take two steps ahead, one step to the left.”

“All about trust.” Lance breathed to himself, putting one foot in front of the other.

It was the quickest he’d ever made it through the maze.

The next clip that appeared on the screen was dated later, obvious by the lack of civilian clothing and the bloody presence of a large wound on the side of the young man’s jaw. It steadily dripped onto the white armor that he now wore, slowly sliding down with sickening slowness. The cockpit was rattling around him, but he looked determined as he yanked back on the controls, grunting as something slammed into the ship, everything whirling dizzily for several long moments before righting itself once again.

“Come on, baby girl.” He muttered, reaching to tap a screen out of sight and sighing as a light came on in response. “You’re sure this is recording? Okay? Alright.”

He coughed wetly into an elbow, a metal hand coming into the frame, pale blue bands decorating what little of the wrist that was visible.

“Ow. Definitely going to feel that one tomorrow.” He groaned, leaning back in his chair for a moment. “So as you can probably tell, things aren’t going too well for me right now. Blue thought it would be a good idea to make one more video just in case something happens.”

A tinny alarm blared from somewhere to the right of the camera.

“Lotor has you. Or he did, and now we’re walking right into another trap. You wouldn’t believe how many of those we get into on these damn missions.”

An uncharacteristically sour expression crosses his lips as he glares at a point just above the camera.

“If I don’t manage to find you, I know that Blue will. Somehow, she’ll find you. Or you’ll find her. It wouldn’t surprise me if Lotor wanted to play some kind of game with my girl… but that’s not the point.

I hope that all of you know how much that I love all of you. And if I don’t make it… I want you to know that I did everything that I could to make sure that you get to go back to Earth.”

His voice thickened as he let out a choked sob, rubbing his eyes as another rattle shook the cockpit.

“And I hope you can forgive me for what I might have to do to come home. Can forgive me for what I’ve become if I do.”

There was a rattling rumble as something exploded, the lights in the cockpit dimming as metal creaked and glowed a bright white. The video paused, the static across the screen warping on the young man, his features frozen in a permanent expression of grief.

And then the lights went out completely.

Chapter Text

Keith bolted upright, heart pulsing in his throat as he sucked in heaving, desperate breaths against the afterimages still flickering behind his eyes. Had to take several more before he felt like he might be able to close his eyes again and remember that he wasn’t back in that cell on Lotor’s ship, wasn’t screaming as they drove bolts of electric fire along his spine and hip with their batons.

His entire body was trembling, sweat-soaked even through the thin Altean fabrics, and he felt it along the arches of his wings as well.

Their mocking laughter still rung in his ears.

Hot heat rolled down his cheeks as he reached out, remembering belatedly that he was not sharing a nest with anyone and that he was alone in his quarters.

Had it been any other time, he would have acknowledged that fact, realized it didn’t mean anything. But in the dark, alone, on the tail of a horrific nightmare, it jumpstarted his heart back into overdrive and had him kicking free of the blanket he had somehow become tangled in.

Now, he was frantic, needing to reassure himself that it wasn’t all some twisted trick, that he was alone or that they were dead as he hunched into himself and started down the hall.

He couldn’t stop the shaking- it started in his hands and radiated everywhere until he could feel even his wingtips trembling like leaves in the wind. In the back of his mind, his traitorous thoughts related it to the aftershocks of the electricity leaving his system.

Despite the air he was clearly breathing, he could still feel the crushing weight of the blow that he’d taken in the last fight, leaving him heaving and suffocating as his lungs contracted, unable to suck in the so desperately needed oxygen to keep him alive and breathing.

His breath shook as he exhaled, trying to center himself around the wet heat trailing down his cheeks and crawling down the column of his throat.

Hunk was tucked away securely in his nest, the soft ambient glow from several healing crystals Shay had sent him from the Balmera illuminating his peaceful features.

Pidge was, for once, in her nest; surrounded by technological shrapnel and the dim lighting from her data-pad glowing a pale green along the walls, but nonetheless present and still okay. Matt had taken up residence in the further corner, the bare minimum needed for his own nest, but enough for the elder Holt sibling.

Lance’s nest was empty when he checked, but that panic subsided when he continued on and found the blue paladin tucked into Shiro’s side, wings tangled with Shiro’s. They both looked… not peaceful, but certainly content, in one another’s embrace.

Keith wouldn’t interrupt that, his lone wolf mindset kicking back into gear. It was just a dream. Everything was fine.

He turned away, the soft hiss of the door clicking closed behind him.

Sleep was out of the realm of possibility at this point. It had very likely only been a couple of hours since they’d all turned in, but some nights it seemed to be worse than others. Tonight being one of those nights, it seemed.

Choking back a sob, he curled his arms around himself and made for the kitchen. Perhaps he would be able to choke down some tea and then hit the training deck. Wear himself out until there was nothing on his mind save for the sensations of the air across his wings and the heavy weight under his hands as he boxed with one of the training programs. Until he was too exhausted to think of anything else, fall into his nest and sleep until the inevitable call to arms Allura would announce.

It wasn’t a bad thing. Keith was probably the only paladin- save Shiro, for different reasons- to take to being a paladin so well. It focused his energy, gave him something to care about. Back on Earth- well, it hadn’t exactly been the best of circumstances. First his mother leaving he and his father, followed by his dad dying when he was only eight and leaving him to the rather unforgiving world of foster care. Got picked up by the Garrison the moment he was able, found a family in Shiro. Lost Shiro, found him again. Came to space.

There was nothing for him back on Earth. Nothing that mattered, anyway. Shiro was here, his flock was here. The training gave him something to do outside of flock bonding and fighting for the universe.

But nights like this?

He wished he had something else.

Couldn’t put a name to it, only knew it was there by the deep longing that thrummed through his veins in the dark hours of the night when he lay there staring at the ceiling and contemplating just how big all of this was.

He was halfway through filling the kettle (which looking nothing like anything one would find on Earth) when he realized he wasn’t alone. Hand going for his knife, he snapped his head around, wings flaring warningly, before freezing at the sight of Lance and Shiro in the doorway.

“You alright?” Lance asked carefully, stepping into the room further, mindful of the knife in Keith’s hand.

He very likely appeared the opposite of alright; red rimmed eyes, hunched shoulders, the overall aura of a cornered animal- but he said nothing, instead returning to his original task. Turn the stove on, place the kettle on it, wait. The motions of familiarity, normality. Tried to ignore the still present tremors that ran through every inch of him.

Non-verbal, Pidge had informed him one night when she had found him wandering the halls clutching a blanket and trying to shake off his ghosts. Dragged him into her workshop and set him on one of the reinforced metal tables and hopped up next to him, her legs dangling off the metal as she tapped away absently on a data-pad.

“Keith-“

He stiffened, curling further into himself at the tone. Shiro. He knew that he wasn’t in trouble, but the instinct had never truly left from his days running around the Garrison.

“One of those nights, huh?”

Lance quietly slipped into his space, somehow unobtrusive as he brushed one of Keith’s wings to grab down a trio of mugs. Gentle energy, Keith mused, crossing his arms over his chest to conserve heat. Lance had gentle energy.

“It’s okay. We’re just going to sit here and keep you company for a while. No need to talk if you don’t want to.”

Shiro was already sliding onto one of the stools, folding his arms on the counter and relaxing into a slouch. He must have woken when Keith opened the door, as had Lance. Or maybe they hadn’t been asleep at all. Lance still had fairly frequent nightmares, Shiro equally as frequent muscle cramps in his prosthetic. (Not that Lance didn’t, just that his weren’t as often nor as traumatic since he’d gotten his Altean one).

The silence was comfortable as they waited for the water (was it even water?) to boil. Lance had already grabbed some of the juniberry leaves for the tea and gotten the mugs lined up in a neat row next to the stove, so when the cheerful beep sounded all Keith had to do was pour it.

Lance slid Shiro’s tea to him across the counter, mindful of the slouched position the older of the pair had assumed, before gathering his own mug into his hands, palms enveloping the sides. Keith mirrored him, allowed the near scalding heat to seep into his palms and ground him. His hands were still trembling.

What a group they made, Keith thought to himself.

Lance’s complexion had gotten better now that he was actually getting some measure of rest in the night, but he and Shiro still had dark circles under their eyes. At this point, Keith was pretty sure he was beginning to look the same.

Pidge and Hunk seemed to be the most stable of the group at this point; Pidge had Matt back, and the pair seemed to have some kind of support system in place that kept the pair from losing it in front of anyone else. Then again, Pidge always seemed to bounce back from whatever was thrown in her direction; Keith knew that Matt was much the same from their days back in the Garrison.

Hunk- well, Keith knew that Hunk didn’t always show people what was really going on behind his mind. They knew about his anxiety and the ways it could manifest, but since the entire clusterfuck with Lance had come about it seemed like Hunk was able to mask some of that even more from that.

Either that or he was becoming desensitized to it. And perhaps to an extent they all were; their brains trying to keep them from losing their minds amidst the horrors of the war they fought on a daily basis.

Lance’s toes touched his shin; he must have been looking a thousand miles away if the look the other man was giving him was any indication. At meeting his gaze, Lance offered a small, warm smile.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Shiro said quietly, shaking his head. “We’ve all been there. At least us, anyway.”

“It’s hard to shut off everything that’s been going on.” Keith admitted, cradling the mug to his chest and allowing the heat to further settle into him. “Sometimes it just feels like there’s holes where there shouldn’t be but everything on the outside is fine.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it.” Lance said sympathetically.

Under normal circumstances- if that was even such a thing, anymore- Keith would have called Lance out under suspicion of poking fun at him. But they’d seen some serious shit since then; in this arena, Shiro and now Lance knew way too much about the dark corners of Zarkon’s reign. Or rather, what was left of it.

Which had, in part, probably led up to Keith’s sudden nightmares.

Lotor had vanished since the paladins last encounter with him, and no amount of searching or probing with their allies had turned up any leads. And as the days turned weeks dragged on, it was leaving Keith feeling unsettled about the entire situation.

“Keith?” Lance touched his elbow. “You want to go for a flight?”

He could do that. That was a lot easier than to try and find the train of thought he was struggling to grasp onto to speak; a gaping chasm of uncomfortable subjects that he would much rather hold close to his chest rather than trying to air them to anyone else.

Even if those others present possibly knew more than he did about what secrets he refused to reveal to anyone.

He nodded in lieu of speaking.

Non-verbal.

Again, the words rattled around his brain as he reluctantly put down the cup of tea, immediately missing the warm comfort that the heat brought his frayed nerves. Lance didn’t say anything else, letting Shiro take the lead and noting the haunted look that lingered in Keith’s eyes.

Lance knew that look well; saw it reflected in the mirror every time he braved his fear of it and knew it even better on Shiro’s features in the quiet moments that they stole whenever one or the other had one of their night terrors.

It wasn’t fair. Not fair on any of them.

They saw the briefest glimpse of Coran down a hall, the elder Altean aboard the Castle of Lions apparently unable to find peace himself, russet feathers disappearing around a corner as his feet took him on his own night paths.

The current planet they were using as a base was, thankfully, oxygen rich and suitable enough with its gravity that the winged paladins and company were actually able to take flight. There were planets in the past that they hadn’t been so lucky, the gravity so heavy they could barely hold their wings against their backs, others so light Pidge had shot off like a rocket into the sky and it had taken some panicked scrambling and a lot of laughter before they’d managed to get her feet back on the ground.

The thought was enough to bring the faintest of smiles to Keith’s lips as they made it to the balcony they were evidently using as their launch pad. It was easier to ultimately throw themselves out a window to catch air under their wings than to try gaining ground from the ground.

Not too long ago, Coran and Lance had rediscovered an old Altean clothing manufacturing machine that was repairable; needless to say, Lance had very quickly programmed in designs similar to Earth. Namely, massive sweaters. They had immediately become popular to both Allura and Coran, who marvelled at the ingenuity of the humans for being creative enough to create clothing suitable for their wings.

Keith pulled on his red sweater and revelled in the soft Altean fabrics. It was plusher than any fabric he could remember from Earth, and unlike usual Earth fashion, no matter how many times they were cleaned they remained just as soft and comfortable.

Shiro and Lance did the same, black and blue sweaters settling around their shoulders to shield themselves from the cold nights this planet was unfortunate enough to suffer through each night.

Shiro was the first one out, massive wings snapping out with an audible swoosh of noise and beating several times to help him gain height. Against the trio of distant moons of the planet, his silhouette painted a dramatic picture against the dark purple of the atmosphere.

Lance followed, his dark brown wings unfurling easily. He’d come a long way since their first days of trying to re-teach the man how to fly again. Going from one wing to one wing and a massive mockery of one, back to none, to having both returned to him by a priestess of Delphinol. He was still a little shaky at times; after so many years of being without both of his wings, they all knew he had a way to go before he would feel more secure in his abilities again.

Keith waited a few moments longer, basking in the pale green light of the moons and the slight wind that never seemed to settle in the atmosphere. And then he took a flying leap out of the balcony and felt the wind beating against his face. Felt tempted to close his eyes for a few seconds, maybe tempt fate, but opened his wings and felt it catch him.

He tried to think of anything but the dark thoughts that were still clustered at the fringes of his mind like wolves in the dark as he rose to join Lance and Shiro. The pair were lazily looping on a current that was barely visible, the light cutting through it like sunlight on dust motes.

It wasn’t Earth, but it was comfortable.

Earth wasn’t home.

The closest thing that might have been would have been that shack out in the desert where he felt as wild as the wind, no one trying to put him in a box he didn’t fit. Home was people and flock- wherever they were he would call home.

Keith banked, wing catching the edge of the current that Shiro and Lance had found, flaring as he felt the slightly warmer temperature of it run over his feathers. He fell into an easy formation with Lance, following about ten feet below the other man as they wasted no energy on words. They didn’t need to speak when they were like this.

Rather, while Keith was like this.

He tried his voice once before realizing that it was still too soon to try and say anything; not that he particularly wanted to. More likely than not he would default to his original plan of going to the training deck and working off whatever excess energy he had left until he dropped into a semi-comatose stupor.

Shiro dipped lazily, looking like he was ready to drop back into sleep at any given moment. Regardless, he offered Keith a small smile and a brief brush of his feathers against Keith’s as he glided along. Over the paladin bond, he was greeted with much of the same, soft familiarity smoothing over some of the cracks that he was sure were visible on the surface of his thoughts.  

He could pretend that he was okay like this. The moonlight on his wings and the ground far below them.

And yet there were still flickers of starburst pain and leering faces at the edge of his psyche.

Matt was waiting for the trio when they returned, his pale blond wings tucked loosely against his back. Some of their original darker gold had grown out, but Coran and Pidge had examined them thoroughly and deduced that like Shiro, the color might never return to what it once was. Likewise, he still had yet to meet the weight requirements for him to be cleared to fly again- Haggar had done quite the number on him and starvation had been something of her go to in order to get him to remain under her thumb.

It was still dark, the first moon only just beginning to descend beyond the horizon as the trio landed on the balcony, wings splayed as they tried to cool themselves.

Matt caught Keith’s eye, offering the red paladin a short nod as he landed, Lance and Shiro already moving out of the way and pulling their sweaters off.

He hoped the look he returned didn’t look like the grimace he felt it was.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Matt asked the group.

Shiro shrugged, Lance quirking a brow in silent question as they hung up their sweaters.

“Right. My bad.” Matt laughed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the wall. “I felt a disturbance in the force and came up to watch you guys fly.”

“You’ll be back up there with us in no time, Matt.” Shiro’s features softened. “Hell, Katie can probably give you a run for your money by now. Lance and Hunk did a great job teaching her how to fly.”

“She’s just as mean as always, you mean.” Matt chuckled, shaking his head. “The only hope I have is that I’m still faster than her.”

“Well, she hasn’t managed to catch Keith yet. I’d say you still have a chance.” Lance added with a yawn. “Damn. Okay, I’m going to go nap and hope Allura doesn’t try to sound the alarm before I make it back to the nest. You coming, Shiro?”

Keith didn’t wait to hear the reply, taking the diversion to slip down one of the halls toward the training deck. It didn’t seem to matter where he ended up on the Castle of Lions; he always somehow managed to instinctively find his current place of refuge without too much fuss. Keith’s skin still felt prickly and uneasy- the reason he was still wearing his sweater as he followed a vaguely familiar path down the quiet, dark halls of the castle-ship.

The training deck was, thankfully, abandoned at the early hour as he entered, the sensors automatically bringing up the lights that lined the walls.

With movements born from countless nights of restless feet, Keith found the bandages that he’d had made for his “training”- really just a layer of protection so that he wouldn’t shatter his knuckles from all of the abuse he put them through.

It didn’t take long for him to wrap his hands up to his elbows, pulling the cuffs of his sweater back down over them, wordlessly inputting the simulation he wanted to use into the room’s computer before taking to the center of the massive room. He’d picked a higher level than usual, aiming for something that would definitely serve to keep his mind on the present unless he wanted to end up getting the shit kicked out of him by a gladiator.

He flicked his wings in an attempt to get some of the additional tension out of his shoulders before falling into a crouch, arms up and waiting for the first strike.

Matthew Holt was a great many things. Brother, rebel, human from the planet Earth, technological genius… and occasional idiot.

So perhaps it wasn’t the brightest idea to try and hunt down the reclusive red paladin in the middle of the night, but there was something that was nagging at him and he needed to do a follow up to make sure his hunch wasn’t right. Or was. Either or would be enough for his overreactive brain to confirm and then perhaps give him a damn break.

By the time he smacks his face and realizes that of course the little shit would be in the training deck, it was nearly an hour later.

Keith is well on his way to getting his ass handed to him; despite the doors sliding open, the man doesn’t even flinch, ducking a kick that probably would have landed Matt in the med bay in less than a tick before throwing a left hook that takes the freaking thing’s head off in one blow. Despite the clear signs that Keith was holding his own, there were also signs that the tide was beginning to change. His nose was bleeding profusely, his lip was split, and there appeared to be a couple of cuts along his jaw and along his hands.

He sighed, loathing to disturb the younger man but already knowing that if he didn’t stop it now, whatever was eating at Keith was definitely going to cause an accident.

“End simulation.” He ordered, still slightly unnerved at how the simulation and gladiators stopped mid-movement before dissolving and disappearing into the floor.

Keith didn’t show any signs of recognition at Matt’s voice, barely holding himself upright as he panted, staring into the floor like it wasn’t even there. His dark wings were trembling- the same way they had back in the Garrison. Seemed like some things would never change.

“Hey kiddo.” He tried, voice low and soothing as he moved forward. Slow movements wouldn’t get him any good results; it would trigger the kid’s (and yes, he was a kid in this moment because there was far too much vulnerability there to call it anything else) prey instincts. If he moved too quickly, it was more likely that Keith would try- and likely succeed- in taking him down.

Keith didn’t so much as twitch.

“Kiddo. Keith. Buddy.” Matt tried, moving closer, hands clearly in an open and nonthreatening way. “Hey. Looks like you managed to get hit pretty hard there.”

Matt hesitated for a second as he made it right next to the other man, hand touching his shoulder carefully. “Let’s get you to the showers, huh? Might do you some good to get that blood off of you.”

It worried him that Keith offered no resistance as Matt gently led him out of the deck and down to the nearest shower, double checking that it was empty before locking the door behind them. Better not to have anyone walking in on what was already going to be very delicate, if his instincts were anything to go by.

By the time Matt turned around, Keith had already parked himself underneath one of the showerheads and turned it on. Now, he was sitting with his knees up to his chest, arms draped loosely over the limbs. Blood dripped from his fingers onto the floor as that vacant stare settled against the opposite wall.

Whatever demons were haunting Keith, this was a long time coming.

Matt kept his wings neutral as he crouched in front of Keith, gently taking one hand into his own and rubbing his knuckles before pulling at the edges of the frayed fabric. Of course his thoughts were swirling around his brain, questions and things that he wanted to air vibrating uncomfortably through him. But he resisted; Keith was obviously in some form of non-verbalism PTSD or something along those lines. He’d seen a look between Shiro and Lance before they’d taken off.

The advantages of being able to read body language, he supposed.

He didn’t bother trying to get Keith out of the sweater; at this point, it was probably the only thing that was keeping him warm. The water, or whatever compound Alteans called water- was just bordering on being cold.

Instead, he just pulled the bandages from Keith’s arms and found a cloth to wipe away the blood on the younger man’s face before calling it good and settling down against the wall next to him. It meant that one of Matt’s wings was pinned uncomfortably against his back, but Keith needed some support and the older brother part of his brain wasn’t about to let something like a sore wing keep him from doing this.

He didn’t say anything when Keith leaned against him, nor when silent, heaving sobs tore themselves out of his chest like it was the last thing he would ever do. What was there to say to make the kid feel any better? Other than a psychiatrist- which Matt was almost positive weren’t a thing and weren’t readily available considering that the ones who needed the help most were the paladins of Voltron. Anyone willing to help them would be just as willing to sell them out or deliver them right into whoever was looking to make some quick cash.

Just because the main forces of the Galra had scattered didn’t mean that they didn’t have other enemies. Bounty hunters aplenty roamed the stars looking for anything that could be used or leveraged against anyone else.

Fuck, this is a mess. He thought tiredly, leaning into Keith as the younger man continued to vent his troubles to the air. They’re all just kids. We’re all just kids.

And didn’t the universe like to remind them of it.