Chapter Text
“On your left, Lance!”
Hunk’s voice came patchy through the intercom system. Keith ducked underneath the parts of a destroyed ship that were floating through space, sparks flying wildly overhead of him as more and more Galra ships charged their beams. They missed only by a fraction. Space was huge, but when they were cramped and cornered by the enemy, there were only so many directions they could turn to.
Keith swerved out of the way of a strike of something sharp and purple—some kind of lightning-charged weapon that would have undoubtedly sliced him straight in half. He kept his grip on his control stick as tight as possible, maybe even a little too tight. If he didn’t, he would be shaking.
“Thanks, man. Holy shit.”
Lance sounded stressed, which wasn’t unusual when they were fighting. But there was also usually excitement. Lance’s passion for justice and flying that drove him to become a pilot in the first place was nowhere to be found, and that was far more worrying. They wouldn’t win if they lost their resolve. Keith saw Lance fly awkwardly in between two beams, a criss-cross that even Keith wasn’t sure he would have been able to do.
“Holy shit,” Lance repeated, surprised just as much as Keith was. He was choked up and out of breath.
Keith swallowed, trying to steady his vision and gather his thoughts. They couldn’t form Voltron, not with so many ships surrounding them with their cannons already charged. They’d be dead before they even finished it. Maybe if they were a better team they’d stand a chance, but that wasn't them, as much as they would've liked to have said it was. They weren't perfect.
He blinked only for a moment, trying to readjust his hold on the controls. Why were his hands so clammy?
“There’s another wave incoming. Hunk, move to the rear. Try not to take any shots, but we need back side protection.”
The fact that Lance didn’t even snicker at back side protection made Keith feel a little sick.
Keith had known Shiro long enough to be able to tell when he was concerned. Even more so than before he had disappeared, Shiro was good at controlling his emotions. His hold over both his temper and his anxiety was impressive at the least, and almost inhuman at best. But the slight shake in his voice told Keith more than enough. Shiro was nervous.
“On it,” Hunk called out, moving through the array of ships to the back of their formation. His Lion looked small next to the sheer amount of Galra ships that were turned towards them. It looked endless, like an ocean of terror, built from Keith's most wildest nightmares.
The beeping of his Lion startled him, telling him that his pistols were ready. They wouldn’t be extraordinarily effective against the heavily-armored Galra ships, but he wasn’t able to get close enough to slash them. He tore through a group of lesser ships, gritting his teeth as the parts scattered into the dead of space.
“Um, guys,” Pidge whispered. “I think that’s a little more than just another wave.”
“What do you mean—” Keith started, turning his Lion to look at what was incoming. The words died in his throat.
Because there wasn’t just dozens of ships in front of them. There were hundreds, lead by the biggest one Keith had ever seen.
“Why the hell do they have so many guys here?! All just to try and scare us off?!” Lance yelled. No one answered him. No one had an answer to give.
The ships stopped in front of them, their fronts glowing as their cannons charged. Keith felt frozen in place, even as he maneuvered his ship to avoid the incoming blasts. His hands were working to move out of the way, but his mind felt stilted, like someone had pressed pause on his thoughts to replace them with carnal fear.
“I don’t think they’re here just to scare us off,” Pidge said. “I think they’re—they’re trying to do something else.”
“We’ll just have to take them all down,” Shiro grit out, but it was meaningless. They were so heavily outmatched the idea was laughable. “Or find a way out of here.”
“Hah, hah,” Hunk laughed lifelessly. “I don’t think either of those things are happening, Shiro!”
“I’m going to have to agree with that one,” Pidge sighed, shooting through another line of ships.
“Giving up is not an option,” Shiro said. “Keep firing!”
It didn’t make sense. Why were there so many ships there? Even if they did form Voltron, it didn’t warrant that many. The Galra weren’t that underconfident in their abilities. Unless—
His eyebrows furrowed. Driving his Lion through the fray, he looked over the array of ships. He could see some of them talking through the helms of their ships. One pointed out to the dead mass of space, and Keith gasped.
“They’re not aiming for us, they’re aiming for the planets!”
Lance made a pained noise through the receiver. It probably wasn’t even intentional. “Fuck us.”
Keith’s eyes narrowed, watching as the ships began to turn themselves around. A single Galra fleet wouldn’t have enough sheer firepower to blast an entire solar system. But a dozen was more than enough.
“Take out as many as you can! They aren’t focused on us!” Shiro ordered.
Hunk barreled into a ship directly in front of him, his Lion’s claws slicing through the alien metal. But even with the others shooting as fast as they could, the fleet never seemed to end.
They weren’t even shooting at him anymore, but the terror he felt ran right down to his bones. Allura and Coran were still in that direction, along with everything they had ever loved and cared for. He was not going to let that die. Not just for five of their lives, which would be gone moments after if they didn't figure out a way to escape without being cornered again.
He had an idea.
“Keith, what the hell! Fight!” Lance screamed.
“Keep them distracted,” Keith said, ignoring Lance’s sharp command.
He weaved through the small spaces between each ship. They ignored him, just as he had expected, instead focusing on the small twinkles of light in far-off space.
God, he couldn’t stop his hands from quivering. Get it together, Keith.
“Keith.” Pidge sounded out of breath. “What are you doing?”
Keith began to charge his flamethrower. He drummed his fingers impatiently on his control stick. Every second felt like agony.
“Keith?” Shiro prompted.
“Just distract them!”
His Lion purred in his head approvingly, a deep noise that reverted in his brain, trying to calm his nerves. He stroked over the base of the control table, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and hide himself away.
“I don’t understand--” Shiro said, before cutting off, pulling back sharply to avoid crashing into a ship.
“Let’s do this,” he whispered to his Lion.
He could see the beginnings of the Galra ships’ charges reaching completion. It manifested as a murky purple light at the front of their ships, crackling with heat and electricity.
“Guys.” Keith inhaled slowly. “Get back.”
“What?” Hunk asked.
“I said get back!”
His flamethrower signaled itself ready just as the first Galra ship set off its beam towards the solar system.
“Move back!” Shiro said. “Keith, what are you--”
Setting off the flamethrower, his Lion roared as he slammed into the nearest ship.
She wasn’t built for crashing into things, but she took it like a champ. Keith would’ve been proud if he hadn’t felt sick to his stomach. The beam of the Galra ship touched the flamethrower from his Lion and it imploded instantly, blinding him, blocking his vision from having to see her fall apart.
His Lion, the damn bastard, did one last glorious thing to save him by ejecting him wildly into space.
Keith would’ve liked to have said that time slowed down for him as he was sent hurtling into the great unknown. That he had deep, introspective thoughts about what he was truly doing; about the millions of people he was saving and more importantly, his friends.
None of those things were even remotely true.
“Keith?!”
“What the fuck—”
“He’s outside the Lion!”
“It’s going to blow up—!”
“Someone catch him!”
Their voices became faint as he was sent flying through space, forced to watch as his Lion blew up.
The good thing was that it was just the sheer pressure acting inside the container which sent her into pieces. If they could recover all of them, or even most, then putting her back together would be easy, even if she’d look a little more charred on the outside. But he could feel her tearing apart if she was his own body, a pain that rang throughout his entire being.
He tried to breathe instinctively, only to be met with the crushing feeling of nothing in the space around him.
He saw Lance and Pidge both swerve towards him as Hunk and Shiro flew out of the blast range, but when he blinked, his eyes stayed closed.
Beyond them, the Galra ships blew up like dominoes, the blast from his Lion and other ships flying through their cannons and exploding them from the inside out.
It was only after he had seen his friends’ panicked faces, horrified but alive, lit up by the bright lights and screams of the Galra behind them, that he was okay with it.
The cold crept over his body until he stopped breathing.
*******
The first thing Keith expected to see when he woke up was definitely not Lance crying.
“Um,” he said hoarsely, trying to adjust his eyes to the light. He blinked a few times. His eyelids felt heavy and clammy and the bright lights burned overhead, his vision blurring.
Lance’s whole face shifted from complete despair to nothing short of a kid in a candy store when he spoke, eyes huge and red from crying, his mouth open in shock. “K—Keith? He—Guys, he’s awake!”
Someone’s hand—Lance’s?—grabbed his shoulders, helping him sit up. His brain felt muddled and slow, as if it was working slow motion. He tried to take a deep breath, but there was an invisible pressure in his lungs. He choked.
“Hey, hey,” Lance said softly, running his hand over Keith’s shoulder in a way that he had never touched Keith before. “Don’t push yourself.”
Suddenly, his body was being tugged forward against a broad, warm chest. He would recognize those arms anywhere and he relaxed just a fraction into them. “Keith,” Shiro whispered against his ear. “Don’t scare us like that again.”
Shiro ruffled his hair and pulled back to look him in the eyes. He smiled, but his eyes looked devastated and tired, as if he hadn't slept in days or more. Keith tried to look around, frantic, but the others were blocking his view. How long had he been asleep?
He was tugged to the side so Hunk could hug him as well. The big guy was a blubbering mess, sniffling back tears and shaking like a leaf. It felt more like he was the one comforting Hunk, but it was heartwarming to know that he had missed him that much. His own eyes watered and he gently patted Hunk's back.
He hadn’t even considered surviving, let alone that they’d worry over him that much. He felt a twinge of guilt tug at his heart, even if his actions had saved them all.
Pidge seemed even smaller than usual somehow, tucking her face underneath Keith’s and giving him a long, gentle embrace.
“Just so you know, if you do anything like that again, you’re never going to be able to leave your dorm again.”
Keith laughed, strained but genuine. “I know,” he mumbled, smiling weakly.
After a moment, it fell.
Dorm?
Lance wrapped his arm over Keith’s shoulder, forcing Keith to lean against his chest. He heard Hunk and Lance talking over his head, but the words became a buzz in the back of his mind as he looked around the room.
This was not their ship. This wasn’t one of their Lions.
This was Earth.
“Holy shit,” Keith whispered.
“What?” Lance asked quickly, turning his head so he was in the middle of Keith’s vision. Keith tried to shift away but Lance’s hold was tight, keeping him in.
“I—” Keith started, but the words seemed to die in his throat as he took in the sight before him.
Shiro was in his Garrison uniform. As if he’d just gotten off a student mission. The room was clean and clinical. Keith had been there a dozen times before for medical examinations.
Before, as in, over two fucking years ago.
He tried to steady his breathing again, but the pressure on his chest only seemed to get bigger. Hunk said something about the monitor on the bedside going out of control and Lance shook his shoulder lightly, his voice practically a squeak.
“Keith? What’s wrong?”
Keith shook his head, looking over at Shiro.
The scar was gone.
“Keith?” Shiro’s eyebrows furrowed. It was all wrong. There was no white in Shiro’s hair anymore. It wasn't just that the scar over his nose was missing; he looked younger in every way. He looked his age for once, like Keith remembered him from when they were teenagers.
“I, I think I need a moment,” Keith whispered, his whole face suddenly hurting as if he was about to pass out again.
“Lance, give him some space. He’s having trouble breathing,” Pidge said.
Lance bit down on his lower lip, then nodded, releasing Keith. He wanted to curl up into a little ball, but the way they were all looking at him—What were they even expecting? Where the hell was he?
This must’ve been the afterlife. A paradise that his subconscious created of the happiest part of his life; the Garrison, with Shiro, with his friends added.
Lance couldn’t seem to keep his hands off him, it seemed, even with Pidge’s urging. He rubbed Keith’s back, and four pairs of eyes were fixed on him so intensely it felt like he was drowning.
No. That couldn’t be right. If it was truly a world built by his subconscious, Allura and Coran would’ve been there as well. And it felt real. This world was tangible. He could feel the pulse of whatever medicine he had been given in his body, ebbing away most of his pain. Hell, even the anxiety in the room was palpable, between Lance’s loud, heavy breathing and Hunk playing with the drawstring on his pants to distract himself.
“Do you want us to leave you guys alone?” Shiro asked gently.
Keith blinked. Why the hell would he want to be alone? If they really had been waiting as long as he thought they had for him to wake up, why would he want to be alone with Lance, of all people? He would probably give him a nagging into the next century.
“If it’s okay with Keith,” Lance brushed his fingers over the nape of Keith’s neck. Keith shivered.
The other three looked at him expectantly.
His best chance at getting answers was from Shiro or Pidge. Lance was probably the worst person. Hot-headed, emotional, naively empathetic. Clearly, his situation in this world was vastly different from his one back home if they thought leaving him with Lance was a good idea.
“I—I don’t really want to be alone right now,” he admitted.
“That’s okay.” Shiro gave him another half-smile. “Pidge, Hunk, you guys go and get food and another batch of medicine for Keith. I need to go tell the advisor that he’s awake. It’ll only be for a few moments.”
Fuck, Keith’s nose scrunched up. Why did Shiro even ask if he was just going to leave anyway?
Lance rolled his eyes a little and shooed them all off.
Once Pidge shut the door behind her, Lance instantly put his hands over Keith’s cheeks. Keith’s eyes widened, and again, he felt the wind get knocked out of him.
“Keith,” he whispered. “You don’t need to—fuck, You don’t need to act strong right now, I promise. We thought you were going to die.” The pink tinge around his eyes ran deep. Keith wondered how long Lance had been sitting by his bedside crying. “I thought you were going to die, and I—I thought I was going to lose you, and—”
Not knowing what to do, Keith shifted his arm around the wires that were attached to the monitor by his bed, patting one of Lance’s arms. Lance’s hands were big and soft and most alarmingly, uncalloused. He hadn’t been piloting any ships, apparently.
“I’m awake now,” he muttered. “Don’t worry over it anymore.”
Lance snorted, screwing his eyes shut for a moment. A few tears leaked out, dropping down his cheeks and onto Keith’s bedsheets. “I don’t know what I—I would do without you. Don’t you dare ever do that again.”
And then Lance was kissing him.
Keith sputtered, his mouth moving against Lance’s, but no words were coming out because Lance was covering his lips with his own and they were kissing. Lance's eyes were shut and Keith watched him, his brain short circuiting, his ability to function rationally apparently lost out of sheer shock. Keith struggled his hands against Lance's chest until he instinctively shoved him away, fighting fiercely against the weight pressing down on his chest again. For the second time in what was hours for him, he thought he might've almost died from panic.
It threatened to cave him in, making him dizzy with confusion. Lance's alarm was written all over his face, as if he hadn't imagined Keith would push him away. He hastily grabbed a glass of water sitting on the bedside table. His hand was shaking uncontrollably, the water sloshing inside the cup and threatening to spill over the edge from how quick he moved to try and pass it to Keith.
“Oh my god, Keith, I’m sorry, I—Fuck, I didn’t think, I’m sorry,” Lance stuttered, shoving the glass into Keith’s hand. When their fingers brushed, Keith jerked away. Some of the water splashed onto the floor. “You need to rest. I’m sorry.”
Keith tried to sip the water, to give himself time to collect himself, but even the liquid going down his throat seemed to choke him despite how smooth it was.
Now, the crying, the intense elation at Keith being alive—it all made sense.
In this world, Lance and him were together.
And if that wasn’t the most surprising thing this world had to offer, then Keith was completely, absolutely fucked.