A/N: Written for malgraw's birthday on tumblr, though I'm like a week late oops. Happy belated birthday, Izzy!
Enjoy!
So, this is it.
Keith doesn't know what he'd been expecting, really. Maybe that the bonds formed between paladins were stronger than bloodlines, maybe that the time spent together and trust formed over the last few months on the ship were enough to gloss over prejudice. But the look of pure disgust in Allura's eyes tells him otherwise, the wariness still present in Lance and Hunk and Shiro's faces certainly do not help, and Pidge...
Pidge.
He doesn't think he's seen such a volatile cocktail of emotions in someone's expression for a long, long time now. And there's one thing to say about volatile things above all else: you leave it alone in hopes that it won't blow you up.
Keith has a feeling that the blast from that explosion would take out more than just himself. Voltron couldn't handle it, he thinks. The team couldn't handle it. He can't do this to them, especially if Shiro's cautionary measures need to be used and Keith becomes the new leader of Voltron. Bitterly, he wonders if Shiro would have made that choice if he had known about the Galra blood.
He doesn't need Allura's acknowledgement for helping gather the scaultrite from the Weblum's belly, and he doesn't need the thoughts that his fellow paladins will have his back when only Hunk bothered to defend him. He doesn't need praise, or trust, or friendship, no matter how hard it is to have gotten used to it all only to have it all taken from him so soon after. He doesn't need any of it - he has survived for so long without it - and he certainly doesn't need the odd feeling of betrayal crushing at his chest.
Mostly, he just feels cold.
Keith Kogane curls up alone on the Red Lion, and wishes for a world where he has it all back.
There's a weariness in Pidge's face when they sidestep each other on the doorstep to the kitchens. Pidge, he wants to say, maybe ask how she is feeling, but then his eyes catch on the dark circles under her eyes, badly hidden by the glasses she doesn't need to use. The ones that are a keepsake from her brother, a memento from her family.
The brother that was taken by the Galra. The family that was destroyed by the Galra.
Galra, just like him.
He doesn't finish forming the first letter of her name before she looks away. There's- There's not the anger and the accusation he's been expecting, at least not that he can see, but perhaps that's worse. Perhaps it would be better if there were anger, if she could take it out on him and let things run their course from there.
Defeat is far, far worse, and Keith can't stand to see it.
Some would call it running away, Keith decides as his heart twinges when they both pretend not to see the other and move in opposite directions. Yes, some would call it running away, and as his boots pound louder and faster on the floor of the castle, there's no point in pretending he isn't doing just that.
Keith might have had nothing to do with the disappearance of Pidge's family, or with the genocide of the Altean race, or with the experiments and fights that took Shiro's arm, but it doesn't stop him from feeling like he's to blame for all of it. The fact that no one attempts to say otherwise makes him want to do the same as when he was a kid in the desert and there was a thunderstorm raging outside: curl up beneath his blankets, hands shoved against his ears to block out the sound, and cry and let his body shake and shake and shake until his bones feel like they're rattling inside his skin and the storm is nothing but wisps of clouds in the distance.
Maybe then he'd feel some peace.
So maybe he's hiding. Just a bit.
Keith Kogane isn't usually the kind of person who hides instead of facing things head on. But this isn't the kind of thing he can fight with fists and force and an attitude, and he's not feeling like Keith Kogane right now anyway. Prodigy pilot, paladin of Voltron, swordsman and friend to the rest of the crew; none of that describes how he's feeling. All of that seems to have been poured out of him by he wariness of his teammates, leaving him an empty shell of pumping blood and creaking bones and memories too painful to remember.
Red is a comfort, at least. A constant presence in the back of his mind, purring acknowledgement and acceptance when no one else will give it to him, when no one else even dares to come close or search for him when he skips meal times or when doesn't show up for his usual training routine. Maybe it's because they're all tense with the upcoming battle. Maybe it's because on a ship like the Castle of Lions, there's always things to do.
It doesn't stop him from nearly letting out a startled yelp when he turns around and Pidge is there.
"If you're looking for Hunk-" he starts to say, already starting a slow backwards walk in an effort to get away from her.
"I'm not looking for Hunk."
She has her arms crossed. Fuck. She has her arms crossed. This can't mean anything good.
"Shiro?" he tries again, foot inching back bit by bit.
Pidge huffs out an exasperated sigh. "Keith, I just want to talk to you."
Nope, Keith's brain desperately supplies. Can't be. Keith Kogane is not home, please leave a message never. Beep.
"No," he says slowly instead. "I don't think you do."
Pidge sends him an irritated look. You know what? Fine. Let's do this the hard way."
The hard way, for Keith, has always meant one thing: pain. So as Pidge locks the entrance he's already tensing up in position, ready to remain unresisting even in the face of the sheer panic that is turning his forehead sweaty and making his hands shake. He deserves this. He deserves this.
Keith screws his eyes tightly shut.
The attack never comes.
Instead, there is a soft exhale coming from Pidge's direction. "I just- I just want to talk. About the Galra thing - about all this."
"I understand," Keith chokes out. "I get that you don't want to see me. I really do. I understand."
"For the love of the lions, would you shut up for one second?" A shove comes against his shoulder, but it's downright gentle near what he'd been expecting. Then again, this is Pidge, this is a fellow paladin and someone he'd consider a friend. Panic isn't helping his mind keep steady enough for logic, though, so he still has to focus on his breathing and on keeping still so he doesn't lash out. "You're not understanding shit."
Fine. Fine. So maybe he's not thinking straight; the instinct to fight or flight is screaming at his brain to get a move on a little too loudly for him to reason. He tries to open his eyes, mentally yelling at himself to get a fucking grip, and catches a tiny peek of Pidge worrying at her bottom lip as she stares at him.
"Can we sit down?" she asks, not harsh or unkind. "Please."
"I-" Keith exhales. Slow. Steady. "Yeah. We can."
Pidge nods at him; he hesitates, but ultimately nods back before they pick a corner f the room to sit on. Pidge flops down inelegantly; he curls himself down fairly more slowly than she had. Keith can feel her eyes picking him apart - she's always been the observant one in their group, though they keep forgetting about it outside of battle.
"Now," she says. "What is this really about? Or should I go first?"
He nods stiffly at her once more, giving her the go ahead. She sighs.
"Feel free to stop me if I ramble on too much," she says as she looks down at her hands. They're splayed out, stretched as much as she can, and there's a smudge of grease smeared next to her thumb; she rubs at it contemplatively. "But I just- I think that- I think we've been unfair to you lately. About the Galra thing."
Keith sucks in a shaky breath, opens his mouth to speak.
She notices. "Let me get this out first, okay? We're all biased when it comes to Galra; it's the truth. Allura and Shiro and I most of all. But it's not like it's your fault, not when you weren't involved with any of it and when you didn't even know and-"
"Pidge, it's fine." The words blurt out of his mouth before he can stop them, even if he did want to. He finds himself following Pidge's example, looking down at the calluses littering his hands. Hands made for fighting, for holding a sword, for piloting a lion. "The Galra took your family. I didn't expect a party when I found out about... About that."
"About having Galra blood," she says, finishing his thought. He nods, thankful not to have to speak it. "It's not fine, Keith. And it's not fair - not of me, especially, but by the time I got my head on straight it was too late to defend you against Allura or to reassure you and then I couldn't stop myself from being awkward and- Keith, you're my friend. We came from Earth and there's been wars upon wars on there, yet people aren't prejudiced against the nations that took over the globe. We shouldn't be prejudiced against you. You didn't know. You couldn't have known. And you're our friend and you've been fighting with us against the Empire from the start, so I just- Keith, I'm so sorry."
He pulls her in.
She's a warm, quiet thing in his arms, her face buried against his shoulder and neck. Her breath is tickling at his skin there, raising goosebumps all over the place, but he only holds her tighter, pulls her closer. He hides his face in the wild curls of her hair - pretending that he isn't damn near tears, pretending that his chest isn't the lightest since the whole situation had exploded into an emotional cold war.
"Yeah," he says, and they both pretend they can't hear his voice cracking. "Thank you, Pidge."
This is something they're both good at: pretending that feelings aren't a thing when it makes either one of them uncomfortable. Keeping quiet. Respecting the other's privacy. Using gestures instead of words, because words can be misleading and should only be used when there's no other way to figure things out. He thinks that's why they can understand each other so well in and out of battle, and quietly wishes for more moments like this.
As if she can hear him, her hands curl on the fabric of his shirt. She doesn't move away.
She's warm, and Keith feels like Keith Kogane again.